After enjoying two additional days at the cabin - the prolonged stay being of mutual interest once Hank started to fully recover from the snake bite on day three of their vacation and because neither detective wanted to risk returning to the city to get bombarded by nosy, obstructive reporters - the duo had returned home and set about their usual routines. Connor met up with Skye at New Jericho Tower for a nice visit and was informed of the new and quite numerous security improvements that the tower had undergone during his brief absence. In that time Connor was also reunited with both Markus and North as they at long last resumed their roles as leaders of New Jericho Tower full time.

While Connor was at the tower Hank had spoken to Rose over the phone to let her know what had happened at the cabin and reassured her that he was all right. His right forearm would be sore for a few more days but he wasn't in danger or even at risk of an infection with Connor constantly keeping tabs on his health. It didn't stop her from worrying though, and it only made Hank blush to know how she cared so much for him.

After taking a day to unwind and clear their heads the duo prepared for their first shift back at the precinct since the night CyberLife fell, but there was a slight delay that neither had expected. Whereas Hank had always preferred his more casual look of dark jeans and contrastingly colorful long-sleeved shirt over a well worn darker t-shirt, Connor had always worn a uniform; one that had been originally provided to him by CyberLife, but it was something now he no longer wanted to affiliate himself with.

"Connor? Are you ready to go or what?" Hank asked as he stood outside the deviant's opened bedroom doorway. "You're always ready to go before I am, so what's the hold up?"

"My wardrobe." Connor was sitting on the foot of his bed with his gray blazer in his hands and a conflicted look in his eyes. "I do not want to wear this blazer, but I do not want to wear anything less than that of a uniform. I've become accustomed to that particular style of attire while on the clock."

"You don't have another blazer to wear?"

"I have the leather jacket that you insist I wear during the colder seasons, but it is too warm to wear it without the risk of overheating."

"Want to borrow one of my older suit jackets?"

"Perhaps." The offer was tempting enough to pull Connor's attention from his blazer and directly over to Hank. "Would one be of appropriate attire?"

"Sure. I guess." Moving swiftly Hank walked into his own bedroom back down the hallway and slid open his closet to sort through the various suit jackets he had collected over the past thirty or so years since the police academy. Most were black or brown, but a few were Connor's seemingly preferred gray in color. "I have a couple gray ones that can probably fit ya'."

Moving just as smoothly Hank returned to Connor's bedroom with two gray suit jackets in his hands. One was a sports jacket that was pretty similar in style to the one Connor usually wore, and the second one was more of a suit jacket and a few shades darker than the first.

"Here." Tossing the first jacket to the deviant Hank watched as Connor quickly slipped it on over his arms and pulled it up to his shoulders. As Connor stood up from the bed and pulled the lapels down to smooth out the fabric Hank tilted his head a little and offered his opinion. "Looks good on ya', kid."

"This feels... acceptable." Connor opened his closet door to view his reflection in the mirror mounted on the wall inside the small compartment. The blazer was a two-tone design that matched Connor's original blazer, but it was longer than the original and didn't have any of the reflective material around the collar or shoulders. "Its appearance is an adequate substitute for my original blazer."

"Maybe you should go for more color in your wardrobe." The senior detective noted the lack of variety in the closet from where he stood in the doorway. "Gray blazers, black leather jacket, black t-shirts, white t-shirts, one forest green button-down shirt, dark jeans, black ties, black shoes, black sneakers, tan work boots... Not a whole lot of choices there, son."

"I do not require any additional clothing."

"It doesn't mean you shouldn't have more options, but we'll take care of that later." Motioning for the deviant to follow after him Hank made his way down the hallway and into the livingroom to head through the front door. "Come on, we better get to the precinct soon. I don't want to start my shift with Fowler chewing out my ass for the umpteenth time."

Continuing to keep a low profile upon their arrival at the precinct Hank and Connor returned to their desks in the bullpen and were promptly greeted by Captain Fowler who handed them a case report on a tablet screen and a gracious handshake for the two heroic detectives. The case itself wasn't anything too taxing or complicated for the duo to handle, which was welcomed by Hank himself, but it would require them to go to the other side of town to check in on a possible double homicide at an abandoned house. Exploring any abandoned location never sat well with the experienced detective as it usually meant the area was a trap or surrounded by shady people on all sides.

The high number of abandoned buildings marring Detroit was a somber sight. The wasted potential for so many loving homes, thriving businesses and community projects left the city wanting restoration from the inside-out.

"Nothing like an unsolved murder to start your morning, huh?" Hank asked in a sarcastic tone as he handed the screen over to the deviant to view for himself. "Can't say the day will be boring at least."

"Boring, no." Eager to get back to work Connor accepted the tablet and his right brow arched as he easily took in all of the details and loaded them into his memorybank for later use. "However, I can think of at least one other method of beginning the morning and avoiding boredom that is more pleasing than murder."

"Let's be really thorough with this investigation." Hank smirked at the witty humor that Connor was readily developing and appreciated his ability to joke around when appropriate. "You know, because we're both dedicated to the case, and not just to make sure there aren't any reporters still hovering around the precinct when we get back."

"Agreed. Though I suspect the news is currently more preoccupied with the story of the nine-year-old boy who carried his younger sibling out of their apartment after it caught fire last night."

"Good." The new flavor of the week seemed to ease Hank's worries about potentially circling reporters outside. "That kid needs to be praised as a hero. We're just detectives doing our job, nothing special."

"It appears that the homicide in question can be connected to a drug deal gone wrong." Connor passed the tablet back over to Hank as he readily made his theory regarding the details provided. "The two reported victims have a history of drug abuse and assault, but their identification needs to be fully and officially confirmed before I can continue with this current theory."

"Right. Let's go then." Tossing the tablet down on his desk with complete indifference Hank motioned toward the front doors of the precinct and let the deviant take the lead. "The sooner we get out there and solve a crime the sooner we can get back here and hide out."

The decrepit house at the center of the reported homicide was a massive brick structure that had been converted from a brownstone into a halfway house to shelter recovering junkies or criminals after they were released from prison. The house was then abandoned after a large surge of 'red ice' swept through the city in the mid 2020's undoing all the hard work of those in drug recovery. As a result, the converted house and the surrounding homes had been left to rot after many worried citizens fled the neighborhood for a safer location or left the city entirely out of fear for the lives and families. With no good people left in the neighborhood to keep it safe, the rotting buildings allowed crime and violence to flourish.

It seemed the only people left in the neighborhood were the responding police officers keeping the murder scene contained. The eerie emptiness of the entire block made the area feel more like an abandoned lot rather than a neighborhood designed to give people shelter.

"Damn, how did anyone know that there was a fuckin' murder out here?" Hank observed the vacated neighborhood as he stepped out of the car and made his way to the holographically taped off crime scene with Connor walking at his side. "There's no one else in the area."

"The report came from a realtor who had been checking the area for any possible sales or renovation when she heard the gunshots. She has since refused to return to the area."

"Smart woman." The Lieutenant acknowledged Connor and then Ben who had been containing and overseeing the crime and had waited for the two detectives to arrive at the scene. "How ya' doin', Ben?"

"Better than those two poor bastards in there." Ben motioned to the two bodies lying sprawled on the floor in a puddle of their own blood beneath white sheets. Other C.S.I.'s were already photographing the scene and collecting evidence as Ben showed the duo inside the surprisingly cold room where the two victims had been located. "No wallets, so no I.D.'s to use to confirm the victims. There's no sign of a break-in, no weapons, and no one else at the scene."

"Sounds like our kind of case." The senior detective sighed. "All right, we got it from here."

Setting about his experienced routine whenever it came to a homicide, Hank walked over to the sheets and stood idle as he watched Connor lift up the sheets in sequence to scan the victims' faces and confirm identification.

"What've we got?"

"Two males; both victims of a single gunshot wound to the back of their skulls. The first victim is Nathan Watson; twenty-two years of age. He had a history of drug abuse and theft. The other victim is William Martinez; nineteen years of age. He was reported missing by his family seven months ago after he ran away from home."

"Shit. We found him, but we were too late to do anything."

"There is a trace amount of 'red ice' on the fingertips, around the mouth and under the nose of Watson, but Martinez is entirely clean." Connor keenly observed as he motioned to the two victims one at a time while he spoke. "However, the healed scars on his fingertips and prematurely aging skin are indicative of previous drug abuse."

"Looks like Martinez got clean and was trying to help his buddy do the same when they were gunned down."

Connor agreed as he replaced the sheets over their faces and stood upright beside Hank.

"There is a very minute trace of fresh gunshot residue in the air leading toward the door. The shooter executed the victims and fled from the building shortly thereafter. Based on the footprints I can confirm the shooter is a male of six foot two inches in height, approximately two-hundred and eight pounds and fled west."

"Anything else to add 'Sherlock'? Like the color of his shirt?"

"No. But he was wearing a black woolen jacket."

"Wait..." Hank was dumbfounded by the unexpected response. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"There are traces of the material mixed in with the gunshot residue around the wounds to the victims' skulls. I believe the shooter used the cuffs of the jacket to keep his fingerprints off of the gun as he fired, but the violent kickback of the gun tore fragments of the fabric free as the bullets were fired and subsequently the fabric was embedded in the wounds of our victims."

"Oh. Well, what about the drugs?"

"Dominantly 'red ice', but I can also detect small amounts of cocaine and heroin on the floor." Connor noted with his advanced software. "I believe this building had been used as a drug den long before the victims arrived, and our victims were possibly seeking shelter from the streets."

"And the owner of this den shot and killed them to keep his little 'habit' safe."

"Correct."

"Fuck. Okay, let's check out the rest of the building and see if we can find anything else to identify that sick son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else."

"I don't detect any other human presences inside the building aside from you and the C.S.I. crew members. There are no other humans along this block, either."

"Great, we'll get patrol to monitor the area until we can identify the killer."

"I'll look for additional evidence elsewhere in the building." Always willing to help, Connor volunteered to take a closer examination of the property. "I may be able to find more information on the suspected gunman."

"Right." From within his coat's pocket Hank felt his phone begin to 'buzz' and he turned his back to Connor as he answered the call. "I'll tell Ben what's going on and what you're planning on doing."

With Hank temporarily outside the building Connor proceeded to run a cybernetic scan and examine the contents of the building's interior in an attempt to bring the killer to justice. Following a trail of shoe prints that didn't belong to either victim, Connor walked deeper into the cold desolate building. Checking over the numerous wooden crates, metal storage barrels and cans of garbage, the deviant detective used his enhanced senses to find the only plausible trail that was worth following.

"Connor?" Hank shouted with an accompanying echo as he caught up to the deviant scouring through the shadowy interior of the building. "Did you find anything yet?"

"Possibly." Pausing mid stride Connor gave a quick report on his investigation. "There is little evidence to be collected, but I will identify it in time."

"I got an update from Chris at the precinct." The senior detective stated as he held up his phone in his right hand. "Him and Tina just pulled a passed-out junkie out of a bush in the park downtown. He was wearing a black wool jacket and he smelled of gunpowder, dust and alcohol. They're still looking for the gun, but it looks like our suspect is already in custody."

"That is beneficial." Connor stopped short again and knelt down beside a massive wooden crate in the corner of the room. "Interesting..."

"What'd you find?'

Locating an old torn up jacket tucked away in the corner of the room behind the crate, Connor retrieved the garment and checked the pockets, finding an worn, tattered wallet and two orange tinted prescription pill bottles with different names and dates printed on the labels. One of the bottles was filled with prescription pain killer pills, while the second bottle was half filled with a strange white powdered substance.

"I may have found the name of our killer." Opening the wallet Connor pulled out the expired driver's license and cybernetically uploaded the image to the precinct to confirm the identity of the man in Chris and Tina's custody. "...It's a match. Our killer has already been arrested."

"Good, saves us a trip around the city looking for his sorry ass." Gesturing to the two bottles in Connor's hand Hank asked about the contents. "What did he stash in there?"

"One moment." Opening the bottle of pills Connor picked up one of the white tinted pill, and identified it by the prescriptions number engraved in the surface of the round tablet. "Oxycontin."

"Shit. He had some good stuff, no wonder he hid it. What about the powder? Cocaine or heroin."

"Unknown at the moment." Carefully Connor switched over the two bottles and slowly opened the lid. Peering inside the bottle Connor ran a scan but his sensor was unable to identify the entirely vague white powder. "I require a direct analysis."

"Careful, you don't know what that shit is."

"It's important." Dipping the end of his pinky into the powder Connor pressed it to his tongue and immediately spit it out back out onto the floor to preserve his own well-being. "Poison."

"Poison?" The answer made Hank's shoulders tense up quickly. "What?"

"Rat poison." Connor explained in a calm tone of voice as he returned the lid to the bottle. "The killer must've used this to keep his stash from being infiltrated by rodents or even used this to lace the drugs of a competitor."

"Then this asshole really meant business." The fact that Connor willingly consumed poison was more important in Hank's mind than a junkie trying to protect his destructive drugs. "Are you going to be okay?"

"My system will run a self-diagnostic every ten minutes for the next hour to ensure my biocomponents haven't been damaged by the poison. The amount that I sampled was so minuscule that I don't suspect any lethal effects."

"I hope so." Hank motioned for Connor follow him back out of the building with a casual wave of his hand. "Let the C.S.I. team collect what you've found and let's get back to the precinct. After we stop for lunch."

"Our break isn't for another twenty minutes and four seconds."

"Yeah, and by the time we get back to the precinct those twenty minutes and four seconds will be up. Might as well take our break now."

"Very well." Such logic deserved recognition, not an argument or a counter offer. "I can cybernetically file the report during the drive and save us some time."

"See?" Strolling back over to the Pace with Connor right beside him Hank waved over Ben to give him a quick rundown. "No problems."

After making a compromise on his choice for lunch that afternoon for something slightly healthier than what he was craving, Hank returned to the car with his bag of food in hand and the small diet soda as Connor had requested in favor of the usual large sized regular soda Hank would always previously select. Connor himself seemed a little distracted as he sat quietly in the passenger seat with his eyes staring straight ahead through the windshield while he had his arms crossed defensively over his his abdomen. He was listening vaguely to the radio and to dispatch while Hank was getting his lunch for the afternoon and paid little attention to the senior detective as he returned to the car with his meal.

The lack of cases allowed the two detectives the chance to idle away from the precinct and get some space between themselves and work. It seemed the duo was set on finding stress-free activities for their own personal comfort and health.

"There. A small diet soda and I even said 'no' to the fries." Hank stated somewhat boldly as he took his seat behind the wheel and showed Connor the contents inside the white paper bag in his hand. "Happy?"

"Y-Yes." Connor snapped to attention and blinked a few times as he barely registered what Hank had said. "Thank you."

"You good? You seem a little off." Hank opened up the Styrofoam container holding his burger and turned down the volume on the radio. "Thinking about Skye again?"

"I do not allow myself to become distracted with personal thoughts or speak with Skye while I'm on the clock. It could prove to be a danger hindrance or-"

"Easy, kid." Cutting the deviant off mid explanation Hank took a big bite of his burger and spoke to Connor around the greasy food in his mouth. "I didn't mean anything by it, I was only teasing."

"...Oh. I apologize if I seemed defensive."

"You're not defensive, but you do seem preoccupied with something." Finishing his bite Hank then took a sip of the soda, grimaced at the comparatively bitter taste of it being diet, and put the cup back down in the cup holder to his right. "What's on your mind?"

"...It's not my mind that has held my attention," Connor admitted as he pressed his hand over the center of his abdomen. "it's my artificial stomach."

"Are you having another issue with your updates?"

"No. I have only recently begun experiencing physical discomfort with the past fifteen minutes and fourteen seconds."

"Are you sick?"

"I do not know. I haven't suffered any impairment that would result in any form of illness, nor have I been exposed to any viruses."

"You did sample that poison earlier." The seemingly needless reminder sounded particularly heavy in Hank's voice. "Are you having a bad reaction?"

"It's plausible, but my self-diagnostic hasn't identified any complication, error, or contamination to my system."

"Weird." Taking another bite of his burger Hank offered up a rather unusual alternative. "Do androids have allergies?"

"We do not have allergies in the traditional human sense, but we are prone to certain elements or substances that can cause negative effects."

"Such as?"

"You want to know the effects," Connor asked and then winced as he pressed his hand firmer against his abdomen as if he could quell the building discomfort with enough pressure from his palm. "or the substances that androids are prone to?"

"Since it looks like you're trying to not throw-up right now, I'll go with the substances. I can already see what the effects are."

"As I've stated before," the deviant began as if he were a teacher standing before a classroom. "sodium chloride can corrode internal biocomponents and the couplings to Thirium lines in high enough doses. And chlorine itself can have a similar effect to our internal systems." Connor paused and swallowed once as if he were in fact on the verge of being sick. "...Th-The cold can also have a negative effect on androids; but prototypes are particularly vulnerable-"

"Hey, try to relax a little bit." Hank insisted as he took a third bite of his burger and gave Connor a few seconds to settle down again. As the deviant took in a slow, deep breath Hank took a second sip of his soda and kept an eye on Connor's reactions and body language. "That stuff I already knew, but what else can hurt you?"

"...An-Androids can be affected by Ethanol causing our Thirium to thin and dilute," he blinked once and shook his head a little. "as you already well know."

"It's okay, keep going after you take a moment to collect your thoughts. No rush."

"Right, of course." Connor breathed in deeply and let it out slowly to ease his nausea. "...Other corrosive substances can cause harm to internal biocomponents, but the substances in question can only affect sp-specific biocomponents as opposed to cause an entire s-system failure."

"Okay, I can follow that." Hank took another bite of his burger before putting it aside and waited for Connor to take another moment to steady himself. "Can you be specific, or are you a little too out of it right now?"

"I... I can-" Connor let out a weak sigh as he leaned forward in his seat and wrapped his arms around his stomach as if suddenly in great pain. "...H-Hank?"

"Take it easy." Coolly and compassionately, Hank patted Connor's back as he opened up his side door. Walking calmly around the front of the car to Connor's door he pulled it open and put his hands back on Connor's shoulder to help guide the sick deviant out of the car on his shaking legs and over to a nearby alleyway. "Slow steps."

Too miserable and confused to resist Connor let Hank guide him a few paces from the car until he was standing in the alleyway between the street and a dumpster. Leaning both hands against the brick wall Connor bowed his head forward and proceeded to expel a massive puddle of uncommonly bright blue Thirium all over the ground beneath his feet and around his shoes.

"It's okay, kid." Hank soothed as Connor threw-up a second time and spat once to clear the foul taste out his mouth. "I'll get you back to the precinct so Joel can figure out what's happening with ya'."

"N-No facility?" Connor asked in a stammering voice as he turned his head slightly to look at Hank with glassy irises. "Even though... I-I'm sick?"

"No. You talked the doctor into letting me leave the hospital early after I got bit by a damn rattlesnake, the least I can do is let the precinct technician look you over instead of dealing with a facility."

"...Thanks."

"Come on." Hank rubbed Connor's shoulder reassuringly and proceeded to help guide him back to the car. "Let me know if you're going to get sick again, I don't want to have to clean Thirium out of the floor mats."

"I will clean up the mess if necessary."

"Not while you're sick you won't." Sympathetically Hank guided Connor back to the car and helped him to sit down in his seat again. "Let's head back now and get you checked out. The sooner you're feeling the better, the sooner I can stop worrying about you."

Two minutes after returning to the precinct Connor was sick again and threw-up for a third time. Bright blue Thirium splattered all over the pavement around the parked car and against the front passenger side front tire creating a huge mess in the parking garage. Undeterred by the bloody vomit Hank kept his hand on Connor's shoulder until the deviant was finished with his bout of sickness before he guided the nauseated deviant inside the precinct. The senior detective was fighting the urge to grab a trashcan for the sake of sparing Connor's dignity in case he was sick again and discreetly escorted him to the elevator to reach the dispensary for an impromptu examination.

The last thing Connor wanted was to be seen as sick, weak and vulnerable by his peers. Connor wasn't an arrogant detective, in fact he was very humble. However, that humility left Connor feeling unnecessarily self-conscious whenever his behavior appeared more human and mortal than what would be considered normal for him.

"Still feel like shit?" Hank needlessly asked as the elevator doors parted on the second floor while he aided Connor in walking slowly to the dispensary only a few feet away. Fortunately, the elevator ride was short and gentle. "You look like shit."

"...Yes. I don't understand how I can be so ill despite not having an ailment."

"Maybe you got food poisoning from tasting rat poison."

"Unlikely."

"Just a thought." Hank joked in an attempt to make Connor feel a little better as he guided Connor over to the exam table against the wall in the dispensary and helped him to sit down. "Remember, I'm a detective and not a technician. Good thing, too."

Connor let out a weak single laugh as he sat down on the edge of the exam table and slowly laid back flat to keep himself from feeling sick a fourth time. It felt like his stomach was burning and he was begging for a means of dousing the flames.

"Hey, guys." Joel stepped away from his desk casually as Connor laid flat on his back only to suddenly curl up onto his side protectively around his aching and rolling stomach. "You don't look so good, Connor. Were you injured?"

"N-No." Connor replied firmly as he breathed through his returning discomfort and clenched teeth. "No damage."

Hank confirmed Connor's answer with a single nod. "But he did sample some rat poison while at a crime scene."

"Rat poison?" Joel proceeded to wrap his fingers around Connor's wrist and count his pulse. "How much, and why would you even sample rat poison?"

"He needed to identify a strange powdery substance and did so the only way he knew how."

"Okay, that's the 'why'. How much did he consume?"

"A small amount, just a taste." Crossing his arms over his chest Hank looked down at Connor sympathetically as the deviant looked like he was ready to pass out or throw-up again. "He's thrown-up three times since then and I'm thinking he's ready for a fourth round."

"Rat poison is a hemorrhagic type of toxin. It causes internal bleeding in organic lifeforms." Opening the door to the nearest supply cabinet Joel pulled out a Thirium pressure cuff and proceeded to slip Connor's arm from his blazer sleeve with Hank's help, then rolled up the white dress shirt sleeve beneath. As he wrapped the cuff around Connor's bicep Joel noticed the bright blue stains around Connor's lips and was immediately concerned. "Connor, open your mouth for a moment."

Connor obeyed the request and lowered his jaw as Joel instructed. The technician grabbed a penlight from the same supply cabinet and shined the small light into the deviant's mouth examining the odd shade of color of the Thirium that stained Connor's tongue and teeth.

"Well, we can now confirm that androids have the same hemorrhagic reaction as organic lifeforms."

"That sounds like a fuckin' nightmare." Hank put his hand on Connor's shoulder lightly. "Is he bleeding internally?"

"In a way. I believe the poison has damaged his artificial stomach causing Thirium to leak into the biocomponent. The unusual brightness confirms that his blood is thinner than usual which is a direct side effect of the poison."

"All right." Remaining calm Hank kept his focus on Joel. "How do you treat him?"

"He needs to be sick." Picking up an empty metal trashcan Joel proceeded to help Connor sit upright on the table. "He needs to get the poison out of his system which is what his system is already trying to do."

"Why didn't his system tell him that he had been poisoned?"

"The amount was very sparse, and his system didn't have a previous record of such a poison, so it didn't have anything to identify as a foreign contaminant."

"But he will now?"

"Yes, his system will make a note of this poison and keep him safe from any future contamination."

Connor let out another pained sigh as he bowed his head over the trashcan and threw-up yet again. Each heave of his stomach left Connor feeling worse than he had been just seconds prior.

"Damn, that sucks." The sight of his son being so sick wasn't exactly the best sight to behold. "How long is he going to be doing this?"

"Until the poison's cleared from his system. Could be a few minutes or a few hours." Returning his attention to the cabinet Joel pulled out a fresh bottle of incrassation compound and poured a small amount into a second smaller bottle. "Connor, I'm going to give you a mixture of incrassation and Thirium. It'll stop your stomach from bleeding and keep your Thirium from getting too low."

Spitting out the poisoned Thirium from his mouth Connor lifted his head and stared at Joel with glassy brown irises. "...If I have to drink I don't th-think it'll stay down for long."

"Try." Joel mixed the two elixirs into one, the orange and blue blending together into an unappealing coffee color in the bottle. "If you throw it back up, then I'll give you an I.V. instead."

Lifting a shaking hand from the trash bin Connor reached for the bottle of the offered concoction and took it with a righteous grimace on his face. Closing his tired eyes Connor drank the contents and fought the urge to throw it right back up into the trash bin.

"I know. I know..." Joel put his hand on Connor's shoulder to steady him sympathetically. "And I know I said you need to be sick but try to hold off for at least five minutes. That should be long enough for the incrassation to stop the internal bleeding. I don't want to have to open your stomach up and manually deal with it."

Connor nodded and slowly fell onto his side while pressing his arm over his mouth as if he could stop himself from being sick through sheer force of will.

"Give him some time to rest," Joel lowered his voice as he addressed Hank in a steady voice. "then let him finish off his shift before returning home. I want to be able to monitor him here for a while before I release him."

"Sure." Hank patted the deviant's arm before draping the gray blazer over Connor in a comforting manner. "I'll go tell Fowler what's going on and I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you. Take it easy, son."

Connor turned his head a little to look over at Hank and gave him a single nod before closing his eyes and resting as comfortably as possible in light of his sudden illness. Being stricken by such a potent reaction left Connor drained of his energy and desires to solve any cases.

Sympathetic to Connor's discomfort Joel carefully coaxed Connor into rolling onto his back and propping his head up a little under his own arm so he could breathe easier and keep the deviant's potent nausea at bay.

"You'll be fine." The kindhearted technician promised as he watched over Connor with a concerned eye. "Just rest."

It took Hank about ten minutes to speak to Captain Fowler and to explain the situation to his superior officer, and in that time Connor had proceeded to throw-up for the fifth time. His Thirium was no longer dangerously bright blue in color from the lingering rat poison in his system, which meant he was in fact healing. Sitting up on the exam table with the trash bin still clutched in his hands Connor spit out the remaining tainted Thirium from his mouth, and kept his head bowed down just in case he was sick yet again. Such sporadic vomiting, chronic pain and fatigue resulted in Connor pining for yet another weekend away from the city at the always peaceful cabin just one hour away.

Joel kept his hand wrapped around Connor's wrist to monitor his pulse while also taking note of Connor's Thirium pressure on his bicep. All of the numbers being recorded were relatively positive, but that didn't mean something couldn't go wrong at any moment with little to no warning.

"Do you feel dizzy at all?"

"...No." Straightening his posture Connor tilted his head back and closed his eyes briefly. "But I do feel tired."

"Well, your Thirium volume is down to seventy-three percent, so that's understandable. Are you still feeling nauseated?"

"No, my emergency expulsion program has ceased its function."

"Good. You'll need to replenish your Thirium volume before the end of day." Taking the cuff from Connor's bicep Joel placed it back into the cabinet and handed him two bottles of fresh dark blue Thirium to take with him once he returned to the bullpen downstairs. "You don't have to drink it all at once, but you do need to finish this off eventually."

"I will replenish my volume throughout the evening."

"Good plan. I also see that you removed your L.E.D., which means I have to ask more questions." The technician observed with a coy smirk. "How do you feel?"

"Aside from this particular moment, normal."

"I'll make a note of that." Joel practically pushed the bottles of Thirium into Connor's grip as he nodded in approval. "Give your system a moment to rest before doing anything else. If you push yourself too hard too fast, you'll end up feeling even worse."

Connor accepted the two offered bottles and turned his head slightly as Hank returned to the dispensary and clapped his hand back down on his shoulder.

"You're on desk duty for the rest of the day, kid."

"I find that acceptable." Connor placed the Thirium down on the table beside himself to free up his hands long enough to replace his blazer over his arms and up to his shoulders. "I assume that you've been placed on the same regimen?"

"Yeah, we're both stuck in the bullpen until the end of our shift." Hank picked up the Thirium bottles and looked to Joel for answers. "So how bad is he?"

"Already recovering." Joel was confident in Connor's chances for a full recovery and overall stability. "The poison is out of his system, he just needs to replenish what he lost before the end of the day."

"And if he doesn't?" Hank made sure to give Connor a stern glance as he asked the question. "What should we do?"

"Then his system will fail to recalibrate properly during his next rest mode, and he could end up with errors that'll hinder his ability to perform his duties as a detective. Nothing too critical, but it'd still be a pain in the ass to deal with."

Connor inwardly grimaced because he knew that meant Hank would be hovering protectively over him for the next day or two. Although he trusted Hank with his life the young deviant often felt like Hank was a little too overprotective whenever he was sick or injured. Connor also understood that Hank's behavior was a result of his deeply seated paternal instinct and as a result of his training as a first responder.

It was just a normal family reaction to illness.

"I'll consume the Thirium." Connor stated somewhat groggily in an honest tone. "I swear."

"You better." Hank replied rather tersely. "I don't want to have to force that stuff down your throat or hide it in a treat or something."

"Funny." The recovering deviant dryly commented as he slid off the table onto his feet and took a moment to ensure his balance wasn't going to fail him. "Perhaps I should begin hiding vitamins in your meals as well."

"Smartass. Thanks for your help, Joel."

Hank patted Connor once on the shoulder as the duo exited the dispensary side-by-side to return to the bullpen where they were assigned to remain until the end of the day.

"Let's finish that report." The patient father suggested as he picked up the Thirium bottles on Connor's behalf. "Then we'll go back home."

Having regained some of his strength after sitting down and resting behind his desk, Connor was staring blankly at his terminal screen as he slowly and automatically filed away the cybernetic report on the double homicide that he and Hank had worked on that morning. The killer had been correctly identified and caught earlier that same day by Chris and Tina, the two victims had been properly identified, and their unfortunate families had been notified of their tragic premature ending. All that was left to do was file the official report regarding the double-homicide, and the two detectives had plenty of time to do so. The single perk to being stuck on desk duty was having ample time to catch up on reports and keep other reports from slipping through the cracks.

From his own desk Gavin bounced a paper ball off of Connor's shoulder and drew a sluggish response from the weary deviant detective, causing him to turn his head a little to look at the obnoxious detective. Connor wasn't in the mood to deal with immature pranks, and his fatigued voice made that clear as he responded.

"...Yes, Gavin?"

"Did you finally get rid of that stupid light?"

"Yes."

"'Bout damn time." Rolling up another piece of paper into a ball Gavin theatrically tossed it into the small trashcan beside his desk as if he was attempting to score the winning point in a tense game. "You might as well have painted a red bullseye on the side of your head."

"Right." Connor turned away from Gavin and ignored the annoying human detective in an attempt to finish his work. "I'll remember that."

Having finished getting what he needed in the breakroom Hank walked past Connor's desk with two mugs in his hands. One mug was of water and the other mug was still empty. As he sat down at his own desk Hank studied Connor's demeanor with a knowing stare.

"You need to get some of that Thirium down."

"I'm functioning adequately." The very mention of Thirium made Connor's stomach churn angrily. "I'm okay."

"But that doesn't mean you aren't still feeling like shit." Raising his finger Hank pointed at Connor's right temple as he reached into the top drawer of his desk to grab one of the Thirium bottles he tucked away for later. "I don't need that damn light in your head to tell me that you don't feel well, kid."

"I don't think I can drink any Thirium at the moment." Connor explained in a low voice as he leaned forward against his desk and let out a tired sigh. "I am no longer experiencing nausea, but my artificial stomach still hurts."

"I get that." Opening the bottle of Thirium discreetly Hank poured a small amount into the empty coffee mug and slid it toward Connor. "Can you handle that small amount?"

Connor pulled the mug closer to himself and peered down at the meager contents that barely covered the bottom of the white colored mug. Running a quick scan without even so much as blinking Connor calculated the amount to be less than three ounces and would surely be small enough to not hurt his stomach if consumed.

"...Possibly."

Picking up the mug by its handle Connor slowly drank the Thirium and quickly placed the emptied mug back down on the desk as he felt a painful knot form in his stomach. The pain was etched on his face and was unmistakable to anyone who looked at him.

"Are you gonna' be sick again?"

Connor shook his head a little as he replied honestly. "No. It just hurts."

"What do you mean it hurts?"

"It feels like the entirety of my artificial stomach is a massive bruise. It's painful, but not a hindrance as long as I don't do anything that will apply pressure or strain the affected area."

"Oh." Hank understood fully. He's had his own distressing stomach issues in the past and sympathized with the deviant. "I get what you're saying."

"How so?"

"About two years after I fell into my alcoholic depression, I ended up drinking so much I gave myself an ulcer. It would bleed from time to time. I can tell you for sure, that shit hurts."

"An ulcer?" Connor cybernetically downloaded the information on the human ailment and gave Hank a sympathetic look. "A break in the skin or mucous membrane with loss of surface tissue, disintegration, and necrosis of epithelial tissue." The medical definition was impressive to say the least. "You've recovered since then, correct?"

"Yeah. I would get a little better, then I'd start drinking again and make it worse." Patting his hand over his own stomach Hank confirmed everything that Connor had just asked. "About a year after you got me sobered up it finally stopped entirely."

"I'm glad you're well now."

"Uh-huh, don't change the subject." Hank knew Connor too well and knew what the slick deviant was trying to do. "We're focusing on you."

"My Thirium volume has increased slightly."

"How much?"

"...One percent."

"Yeah, this is going to be a long night."

"Once the pain subsides, I'll finish the rest of the Thirium."

"Damn right you will." Shaking a scolding finger at Connor from where he sat Hank made sure the deviant knew he was serious. "And I'll make sure of it."

The day came to an end and the two detectives were free to clock-out for the rest of the day. Feeling a little weak whenever he moved Connor didn't protest when Hank intentionally slowed his own pace to let the deviant keep up with him while they walked, and he didn't complain when Hank practically pushed him from the car through the backdoor of the house to get some rest after finally returning home. Residing on the couch with Sumo stretched out over his lap, Connor pet the dog's fluffy back and watched as Hank crossed the livingroom with another mug of the crucially needed Thirium in his hand. Never before had the sight of a mug seemed somehow menacing.

"That first bottle is only halfway gone," the senior detective stated firmly. "you need to get more into your system."

"I'm aware." Connor accepted the mug in a shaking grip and felt physically uneasy at the additional amount inside. The mug was half filled and the larger amount made Connor feel a tad uncomfortable at the prospect of suffering from a physically painful stomach. "...I will drink this before the hour is over."

"Uh-huh." Planting himself firmly at the end of the couch Hank refused to budge on the situation. "What about the other bottle?"

"I will also consume that later on."

"Remember when I was going through withdrawal and being a huge dick to ya'?" Before Connor could reply Hank held up his hand to shush the deviant and continued on himself. "Don't answer that. My point is, I was violently sick, and I risked dehydration every time I threw-up. You wouldn't let me do that to myself and you kept me drinking water so I wouldn't have to go to the hospital. That's what I'm doing for you."

Staring down into the mug Connor remembered that night in every bleak vivid detail. "I admit, I would greatly dislike having to go to a facility because of this."

"Right, and I'm pretty sure they'll either open up a line in your arm or shove one of those tubes down your throat to force your volume back up."

"I believe the most appropriate option would be the equivalent to a nasal-gastric tube being inserted through my nose and down my throat."

"Gross."

"Agreed."

"So, drink that, focus on healing and try to ignore the pain in your stomach." Once more Hank wished he could do more to aid his friend and his son during his recovery, but knew he was limited by both his knowledge and the products available for deviant consumption. "By morning you'll be feeling much better."

Taking a deep breath Connor slowly began drink the Thirium and winced as his stomach started to protest the added volume pressure from the necessary blue blood. Curling around himself protectively Connor was clearly in pain and was starting to tremble.

"Okay, okay..." Hank grabbed on to Connor's shoulder with one hand and took away the mug with the other. "Breathe. Don't tense up, it'll only make your stomach feel worse."

Nodding a little Connor did as Hank instructed and did his best to not curl around himself anymore. Sumo lifted his head up and looked over at Connor and licked the side of his neck sympathetically.

"...Good boy." Connor ran his hand down the dog's back again. "I'll be fine."

"What's your Thirium volume at now?"

"Eighty-eight percent."

"That's better. Think you can get back up to one-hundred percent?"

Connor didn't answer which meant he didn't want to lie to Hank, or say something that would disappoint him.

"I have an idea. Just sit tight." Hank let go of Connor's shoulder and grabbed his phone as he stepped outside the backdoor and stood on the back deck to talk in private. "Be right back."

Unsure of what Hank was planning to do Connor took the moment to close his eyes and relax as much as possible, noting that Hank's suggestion about not tensing up did seem to ease the discomfort in his sore stomach. Leaning back against the couch cushion even further Connor continued to pet Sumo's back much to the massive pup's joy. The simple repetitive motion was soothing to the deviant's overwhelmed senses and let him relax a little more.

Just as Connor felt himself drifting off into a light rest mode a soft and warm palm pressed against his cheek. Opening his eyes he spotted Skye sitting on the coffee table across from him with a smile on her face and the other bottle of Thirium in her hand.

"...Skye?"

"Hi."

"What're you-" Glancing about the livingroom curiously Connor noted that Hank was absent, and the shower was running in the bathroom down the hallway. "...Hank called you?"

"Yeah. He told me you were feeling sick after a bad case and could use some tendering loving care."

"I'm all right, just uncomfortable."

"And low on Thirium." Skye reminded him kindly as she tried to hand him the remaining Thirium bottle. "Don't make yourself worse."

"I've been attempting to consume the Thirium but my stomach-"

"I know." Wrapping her hand around his hand in a comforting manner as he rested it on Sumo's back, Skye managed to quiet Connor long enough to slip the bottle into his free hand. "You should try to keep drinking anyway. Please?"

Looking down at the bottle of Thirium in his grip Connor slowly lifted it up and removed the lid before he drank a little more of the vital substance. Pausing for a moment to endure the mounting pain in his stomach he felt Skye's hand tighten around his and the support was greatly appreciated. Even Sumo began to wag his tail as if trying to encourage Connor as well.

"I've never seen a deviant with an upset stomach before." Skye laughed a little in an attempt to lighten the moment. "Nausea and bleeding I've seen, but not this. You look so very human right now."

"I do?" Lowering the bottle from his lips Connor gave Skye a somewhat perplexed glance. "...Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course not. It's just unusual." Running her hand through Connor's hair Skye kept trying to keep him as comfortable as possible while also trying to get him to drink a little more of the Thirium. "I wonder if all deviants can feel like this?"

"I honestly hope not." Without thinking about it Connor managed to drink a little more of the Thirium and capped the bottle as soon as he finished. An update popped up in his field of vision confirming his volume back up to one-hundred percent, but that did little to calm the pain in his stomach. "I think I need to lay down."

"Good idea." Skye stood up and watched as Connor weakly pushed Sumo from his lap so he could stand up as well, but he was shaking a little and would've fallen forward if Skye hadn't caught him by his arm. "Whoa, maybe you should just lay down on the couch for now."

"I-I can make it to my bedroom. I just... need to walk slowly."

"Or you can lean on me." Skye wrapped her arm around Connor's waist to help support him at her side as he gracelessly walked around the couch and toward the hallway. Sumo followed after the two deviants as Connor successfully made his way into his bedroom and nearly fell onto the bed as he kept his hand pressed to his sore stomach. "Do you need anything?"

"...Sleep." Connor sighed as he laid on his back and stared up at Skye pathetically as she guided him down against the soft bed. "Thank you."

Skye watched as Sumo trotted through the doorway and hopped up on the foot of Connor's bed to cuddle up beside the deviant once more. Giving the lovable young dog an amused smile Skye sat down on the edge of the bed and began running her hand through Connor's hair again.

"I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

"You don't have to do that." Sighing tiredly Connor closed his eyes and turned his head a little to lean more into her touch. "You shouldn't give up your plans because of me."

"I want to be here." Whispering gently Skye slowly pulled her legs up from over the edge of the bed and leaned slightly on her side as she continued to play with Connor's dark locks of hair. Every time she looked at Connor a smile appeared on her face and her eyes lit up brightly. "I want to be with you."

"Thank you for staying."

As Connor finally drifted off to sleep Skye laid down next to him and rested her head against his chest. It wasn't long until Skye herself had fallen asleep as she listened to the steady thrum of Connor's beating heart. Absentmindedly Connor's arm wrapped around Skye's shoulder, and he held her as she laid beside him. Even Sumo rested his chin over Skye's ankles affectionately as the small group cuddled together.

Quietly Hank exited the bathroom after taking a conveniently timed shower and spotted the two deviants laying together on the bed in Connor's bedroom. Sumo's tail was quietly wagging back and forth happily at the foot of the bed as he watched the deviants sleeping. Flashing a silent smile at the sight Hank reached for the doorknob and pulled the door partially shut as he made his way to his own bedroom for the rest of the night to give the young couple some space.

"A woman's touch."

Hank whispered proudly to himself as he looked at the photograph of Barbara that he had finally returned to its rightful place on the bookshelf and pressed his fingertips against the image affectionately.

"It works every damn time."

The next morning Hank was awoken by the smell of something being cooked up in the kitchen and the soft muttering of Connor trying to keep Sumo from begging for scraps yet again. Picking up his alarm clock just beside his bed Hank saw that the time was just after nine in the morning and was relieved to hear the deviant walking around the house and going about his usual routine during their time off from work. The fact that Connor wasn't laid up or sleeping in was a good sign that the deviant was recovering just as he should be. It seemed that the Thirium replenishment combined with Skye's comforting presence while safe in bed had been excatly what Connor needed to recover.

"Good, he's on the mend."

Getting out of bed Hank walked down the hallway and saw Connor with Sumo on the kitchen as he proceeded to perfectly flip an omelet into the air and catch in the frying pan like an expert chef.

"Looks like you're feeling better."

"I am." Connor confirmed as he continued to focus on the stove in front of him. "My stomach no longer hurts."

"That's good. Where's Skye?"

"She left twelve minutes, forty-two seconds ago. She needed to return to the tower to assist in the new security protocol regarding access to New Jericho's archives." Connor paused for a moment and gave Hank an odd glance as the senior detective proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot that Connor had already brewed earlier that morning. "May I ask why you invited her over last night?"

"It's simple; if I couldn't get you to drink that Thirium then I knew someone else, someone you always want to be strong in front of," Hank sipped at his coffee and gave Connor a sly look of wisdom. "would be able to get you to cooperate."

"Did you manipulate my emotions toward Skye against me in your favor?"

"Don't take it personally. Human or deviant, it always plays out the same."

"How did you know that she'd be able to succeed?" Such a clever ploy was worth discussing. "I was in just as much pain when I consumed the final amounts of Thirium as I had been all evening."

"It's part of being in love."

"...In love?" Connor questioned as he blushed a pale blue a little at the comment. While he did whisper his love for Skye at the cabin, he didn't think much of it until Hank mentioned his own observations regarding how Connor acted in Skye's presence. "How do you mean?"

"I was the same way with Barbara. She was the only one who could get me to admit when I was sick, and she was the only one who could get me to take care of myself when I was hurt. All she had to do was spend time with me and I was compelled to push myself through my own pain so I could get better just for her." Smirking at the fond memories Hank seemed to find a sense of peace whenever he reminisced about his late wife. "She was also the only one of us who could get Cole to take his medicine whenever he got sick. There's just something about a woman's touch that seems to be a genuine healing factor. Skye really cares about you and that helps prove it."

"I see." Connor prepared Hank's breakfast on a plate and set it down on the kitchen table for the senior detective to enjoy. "...I think."

"What's to think about?" Hank asked as he sat down at the table and shooed Sumo away from him. "Whoa, eggs and bacon? You must be feeling great!"

"Whenever I've been ill or you've been ill," the deviant stated in a confused tone as leaned against the kitchen counter. "we've taken care of one another."

"Right, but that's a father-son type of deal. You still put up a fight and make it way more difficult than it should be." Taking another sip of his coffee he raised his eyebrows at Connor. "Just like Cole used to do."

Cole. Still a sensitive subject, but one that Hank was no longer hostile about addressing.

"I don't intend to be difficult, I assure you." Remaining honest Connor sat down beside Hank at the table and gave him a sincere glance. Whether or not he'd bring up the subject of love was something he'd have to consider with a while longer. "I'm just attempting to make my own decisions rather than merely obey or blindly follow orders that are presented to me."

"You don't have to intentionally be difficult, son." Hank replied coolly as picked up a strip of bacon from his plate and took a grateful bite. "You're stubborn. It's going to happen no matter what either of us do. We just need to learn to accept it and learn to live with it. Heaven help us both..."

-next chapter-