The assault of a deviant at a local garage had brought Connor and Hank in to directly investigate the claim, and the investigation wasn't going as smoothly as either detective had hoped. During the investigation of the malicious assault the hotheaded human customer, who had thrown the first punch and managed to smash the deviant mechanic's head through the passenger side window of his own truck, was continuing to try to get to the bleeding and unconscious deviant while the rest of the garage crew restrained the man by his arms and waited for the police to arrive. Such a commotion readily caught a lot of attention and brought everything inside the previously busy garage to an abrupt halt.

The sight of the two arriving detectives did very little to calm the enraged man and he refused to cooperate with the police as he tried to get to the wounded deviant laying defenseless on the floor a few feet away from where he was being restrained. A sapphire puddle of blood collected under the damaged deviant's head and repelled the pool of motor oil on the floor beside it as the two foreign substances simply did not mix.

"All right, calm the fuck down!" Hank ordered as slipped his gun (with its safety on) from the holster and aimed it at the man's chest. The sight of the gun's barrel was enough to make the man stop struggling against the other mechanics holding him back and finally stop shouting. He became very still and very quiet to everyone's immediate relief. "Now, what the hell happened here?"

"The damn machine is trying to rip me off!" The man screamed again as he pointed to the downed deviant with a shaking and enraged finger. Connor was kneeling beside the deviant and checking his vitals while Hank questioned the suspect at the far wall of the garage. "He's lying! He's saying I need to pay for repairs that my truck doesn't need!"

Connor overheard the claim and informed Hank on the injured deviant's identity. "The deviant's name is 'Rome' and has been a mechanic here for nine years." The deviant detective finished his assessment over the bleeding victim and informed Hank of the victim's condition. "Severe damage to the intracranial processor causing emergency stasis mode. His memory has not been corrupted and I can confirm through a cybernetic transfer of his memories and overall databanks that there was no intent to deceive the customer."

"That's a lie!" The man shouted again as he realized that Connor himself was a deviant as well. "Those damn machines like to stick together! You can't trust those pieces of plastic!"

The owner of the garage had heard enough from the violent man and threw up his hands in anger as he motioned for one of the assisting mechanics to make some room. "Hey, asshole!" The righteously upset owner stated angrily as he approached the man with purpose in his steps. "Rome has been putting cars back together with his bare hands for almost a decade! You're the first person to EVER have a problem with his work, and that only happened AFTER he told you how much your bill was going to be!"

"He started it!" The man openly lied as he spat angrily in the owner's direction. "He knew I couldn't afford it and he was-"

"Shut up! Both of you! Hank had enough of the bullshit and brought it to an end. "We all know you got pissed off because of a damn bill." Slipping his gun back into the holster Hank pulled his handcuffs from the back of his belt and slapped them around the man's left wrist before forcing him to turn around and put both of his hands behind back to cuff his right wrist. "You're under arrest for assault, destruction of private property, disturbing the peace and for being a general dumbass."

While Hank used his radio to call in a patrol car to pick up the arrested man Connor cybernetically contacted emergency services to take care of Rome. The garage owner crouched down beside Rome next to Connor and pressed a clean rag to the back of the injured deviant's bleeding head in a gentle manner.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" The kind mechanic asked as he stayed next to the injured deviant. "Rome and I have been buddies for years. I don't want to see him taken out by some prick with an ego."

"Yes." Connor smiled faintly at the remark before nodding his head in the affirmative. "I didn't detect any permanent damage to his system or biocomponents. He'll just need a few internal Thirium lines repaired and two days to properly heal."

"That's good. I'll let him crash at my house until he's better. I'd hate for him to stay in his apartment all alone."

"That is very generous of you." Hearing such compassion reassured Connor that his and Hank's efforts to mend the fences between the humans and deviants in Detroit weren't misplaced. "I'm sure Rome will appreciate it as well."

As the responding patrol car arrived at the garage Hank was greeted by a very tired looking Gavin and a more alert Tina, who promptly escorted the cuffed man to their car to report back to the station. It seemed as if Gavin's paternity leave was spent taking care of Abby and Aria without Gavin taking a minute for himself.

Hank gave the returned detective a nod and an odd glance as he noticed the dark bags under the new father's eyes. "Gavin, you look like shit."

"Colic's a real bitch." Gavin yawned as he pushed the now cuffed man toward the opened garage door and to the squad car. "Let's go jackass, I've had a long night, and I don't need to hear any more crying from someone who ain't wearin' a diaper."

"This wrong!" As the angry man was led past Connor he lashed out once more time and kicked a pan full of oil absorbing compound into the air and all over the deviant detective as he stood his ground and watched the man being escorted. "Fuckin' machine!"

Connor began coughing as the white powder filled the air and covered him in a fine layer of the debris. "Th-That seemed unnecessary."

"You dumb prick." Marching up to the man as he threw another temper tantrum Hank glared daggers at the bigoted human for his immature behavior. "Add a second count of destruction to private property AND assaulting a police officer to that list of charges, will ya', Gavin?"

"Sure." Happy to oblige in tagging on charges the groggy detective seemed to perk up a little. "I'm already in a pissy mood."

"Wait. Wait!" The arrested man begged as he was led out of the garage and promptly thrown into the backseat of the squad car by Gavin's less than gentle coercion. Tina slammed the door shut in the man's face as he began shouting pathetically back toward the garage as if his words could somehow undo all the damage he had caused. "I-I'll pay the bill! I'm sorry!"

Using his hands Connor brushed as much of the powdered compound from his clothing and hair as possible as the squad car took off down the street. Connor continued to cough in response to the foreign matter entering his ventilation biocomponents as he tried to rid the powder from his clothing. It was a thick material that clung to Connor's entire being and filled the air with a white cloud that reflected the lights of the squad car leaving the garage.

Hank walked over to Connor and patted his shoulder once, causing another white cloud of powder to 'poof' up from his clothing in the process. "You okay?"

"Y-Yes." Casually Connor nodded as he continued to cough and made his way toward the opened garage door slowly. "T-Technicians will be... h-here soon. Rome will be okay, too."

"What was that stuff?" Looking at his palm where the white powder had collected Hank shook his hand a little then wiped it off along his dark coat to rid himself of the substance. "Looks like corn starch."

"S-Sweeping compound." Connor managed to explain between harsh, cleansing coughs. "It absorbs oil f-from concrete."

"Jeez, how much of that stuff did you breathe in? That cough sounds nasty."

"N-Not a lot." On shaking legs Connor stopped short and doubled over slightly as he continued to couch harder and then suddenly wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. Such a reaction caught him entirely off guard. "...H-Hank?"

"What's wrong?"

As his breaths became constricted Connor couldn't speak anymore. Putting his hand to his throat he patted twice to indicate something was wrong without being able to say a word.

"You can't speak?"

Connor shook his head 'no' and stumbled forward a little as he became slightly dizzy.

"Can you breathe?"

Unable to convey 'a little' to the senior detective Connor just shook his head 'no' again in response.

"Okay, come on. There's a facility just around the corner."

Grabbing on to Connor's bicep lightly Hank guided the affected deviant over to their car parked alongside the other cars after responding to the scene. It'd be easier to take Connor to a facility than try to explain things to the technicians who were soon to arrive and treat Rome.

"Try to slow your breathing as much as you can, and I'll get ya' taken care of."

After practically falling into the front passenger seat Connor leaned back as far as he could and tried to breathe just as Hank instructed. The wheezing sound of Connor's strangled breaths and the shuddering of his chest gave Hank a horrifying memory of when Cole was a toddler and had an asthma attack after enduring a nasty chest cold. The sound and the sight were all too similar to be dismissed and it made Hank's flesh crawl.

"Shit. Connor, I know you can't talk," Hank stated in a contrastingly calm voice as he pulled the Pace out onto the street and made his way to the nearby facility. "but is your airway, or whatever you call it, swelling shut?"

Running a quick self-diagnostic Connor nodded frantically as he continued to force himself to take in deep, shuddering breaths through his narrowing air intake line. Each one was a horrible wheeze that made his chest rise and fall frantically in a shallow manner.

"Okay, I think you're having an android type of asthma attack. You need to keep your breathing calm and stay conscious, okay? Loosen your tie, it might help."

Again Connor nodded and he forced himself to cough a little more to clear his ventilation biocomponents as best as he could through his constricting airway. Pulling on the knot of his black tie Connor pulled the dressy garment free from around his neck and dropped it in the cup holder beside him. Through his teary eyes Connor watched as Hank drove the Pace into the parking lot of the closest facility and calmly located a place to park.

"Good thing the garage is next to a facility, huh? Come on."

Throwing the car in park Hank opened his door and walked around the other side of the car to Connor's door and helped pull the deviant out and onto his feet.

"We'll get you straightened out in a minute, kid."

Letting Hank lead him to the Epsilon Facility by his arm Connor continued to wheeze in weak breaths and fought the urge to lay down on the ground as he struggled to breathe properly. It didn't take the deviant receptionist at the front desk long to react and lead the wheezing detective into a treatment room with Hank still supporting his weight.

"I'll get the on-call technician for you." The blonde receptionist stated calmly as she helped Connor to sit down on the exam table for treatment. Her model was one of the 'WR-400' androids who had previously been forced into servitude at the 'Eden Club' and had long since found a better life to lice. "Stay here, it won't be more than a minute."

Connor nodded to acknowledge the kind and responsive deviant as he continued to wheeze.

Refusing to leave his son alone Hank kept his hand on the middle of Connor's back and could feel the deviant's chest shuddering violently as he tried to breathe. It was like his artificial lungs were spasming and trying to inhale while exhaling at the same time.

"Hey, you're going to be fine, kid. Help's on the way."

Once more Connor tried to speak but his voice simply wasn't there.

"Don't talk, just breathe."

Pulling on Connor's gray blazer collar Hank managed to slip the garment down and from the deviant's shoulders. He then undid the top button on Connor's white dress shirt and patted his shoulder twice sympathetically.

"Easy. Breathe slowly."

"Hello, there." A male, human technician walked into the exam room with a hasty clip as he observed Connor and immediately pulled the audioscope from around his neck and used it to listen to Connor's chest. "Now I know why my receptionist was so insistent on me checking on you."

Placing the bell of the audioscope to Connor's frantically rising and fall chest the technician listened to his struggling breaths and gave Hank an odd glance.

"Ventilation biocomponents only have mild congestion." Drawing back the bell the technician encouraged Connor to lay back over the table as he watched the deviant's chest violently spasming with each cough. "What happened to him?"

"Some powdery shit got kicked in his face and he breathed it in."

"What kind of powder?"

"The stuff used to clean up oil from concrete." Taking a moment Hank remembered what Connor had said back at the garage before his breathing became too constricted for him to talk. "Uh, that absorbing compound that's used in sweeping."

"Ah-ha!" Leaning forward the technician placed the bell of the audioscope against Connor's throat over his mechanical trachea and listened carefully. The deviant's air intake line was in distress and needed to be cleared before Connor would be able to breathe again. "All right, I know what to do for you."

"Connor." Hank stated firmly as the technician set about locating a bottle of sterilized saline solution from a nearby cabinet. "His name is Connor."

"Right. Connor." The sandy blond haired and brown eyed technician corrected himself politely with a kind smile on his face. "And I'm Dr. Hetfield."

"I'm Hank." The senior detective replied as he kept his voice calm. "We're detectives with the Detroit Police."

"Always happy to help a first responder in need."

"What's going on with him?" Putting his hand on Connor's shoulder again Hank did his best to hold the coughing deviant steady and leaned down enough so Connor could see his impressively calm face. "You sounded pretty sure of yourself."

"The powder is designed to absorb moisture." Dr. Hetfield explained as he returned with the saline in a small squeezable plastic bottle. There was a thin plastic tube attached to the end of the bottle and the technician carefully placed the end of the tube inside the corner of Connor's mouth. "And after he breathed it in, the powder caked itself against the interior lining of his air intake line. Like humans," slowly he began squeezing the bottle until the saline began to steadily run down Connor's throat without choking him further. "androids have a lot of moisture in their throats from breathing in and out warm then cool air, as well as drinking Thirium."

Connor instinctively swallowed the saline with a weak motion and did his best to ignore the warnings that popped up into his visual processors as his system detected the saline where there should only be Thirium. Dismissing the warning for a moment he waited for Dr Hetfield to continue his treatment and help remove the caked on powder from his throat.

"This will flush out the powder and let it collect in his artificial stomach for the timing being."

"Uh," Hank didn't entirely like the sound of that. "what do you mean 'the time being'?"

"You'll see..."

Steadily Connor began to breathe easier as the substance was cleared from his air intake line, but his throat was still swollen from being agitated by the foreign and somewhat abrasive substance. Though he wasn't coughing anymore he still had a difficult time catching his breath and continued to pant in an effort to calm himself thanks to his air intake line closing off the couplings to prevent further powder from becoming embedded deeper inside his vents.

Returning to the cabinet Dr. Hetfield retrieved what looked just like a human's asthma inhaler from the cabinet and shook it twice. Motioning for Hank to help him the two sat Connor upright on the table and Dr. Hetfield placed the device in Connor's mouth between his teeth.

"Connor this is an aerosolized remitter containing concentrated Thirium chrism. Do you know what it is?"

Connor nodded a little as he stared at the technician's face.

"I don't." Hank spoke up in a slightly embarrassed voice as he had never heard the term 'remitter' before. "Enlighten me."

Dr. Hetfield explained things as he encouraged Connor to exhale for a moment and then inhale as he pressed on the release valve of the inhaler to administer the medication into Connor's system. "This 'medication' causes the strained couplings and valves that line the interior of an android's throat; specifically, the air intake line, to relax so they can breathe easier and ingest necessary Thirium. It'll also allow them to expel the obstructing substance from their system to prevent further damage."

"When you say expel, you mean, uh..."

Right on cue Connor suddenly gagged and pulled the inhaler from his mouth as Dr. Hetfield shoved a metal waste bin under Connor's chin and caught the expelled substance inside of. The ill deviant threw-up the excess saline and a nearly a full cup of tainted Thirium with one painful heave as a massive clump of the powder was forced from his system.

"Yup. That's what I figured you meant." Hank patted Connor's shoulder sympathetically. No one enjoyed being sick. "But I bet you feel a hell of a lot better now, huh, son?"

Nodding weakly Connor spat out the remaining mixture of saline and Thirium from his mouth as he let Dr. Hetfield take back the waste bin. "...Y-Yes. I can breathe again." Dragging the back of his hand under his lips Connor tagged on another obvious detail. "And speak."

Putting the inhaler in Connor's hand Dr. Hetfield gave Connor's chest one last listen with his audioscope before he patted the deviant's arm in an approving manner to dismiss him.

"You're clear. Keep that inhaler just in case you encounter anything else like that powder." Dr. Hetfield warned as strictly to prevent further incidents. "Since you two are detectives I can only imagine what kind of substances you could accidentally be exposed to while in the line of duty."

"Yeah." Hank confirmed as Connor slid off the exam table and slipped his gray blazer back on over his arms and over his shoulders. "Not the first time he's been injured while on the clock, and I doubt it'll be the last."

Giving Hank a somewhat offended glance Connor slipped the inhaler into his blazer's left pocket and shook the technician's hand. "Thank you for assistance, Dr. Hetfield. We appreciate your prompt treatment."

"No problem." The technician beamed as he shook Connor's hand respectfully. "I hope we never have to meet again."

"Likewise."

With the emergency situation effectively resolved the two detectives returned to the carp haphazardly parked outside and set about returning to the precinct to file their report on the incredibly short tempered and bigoted human. As Connor slipped his black tie back around his shirt collar and began fussing with the garment to tie another perfect knot, he noticed that Hank seemed preoccupied. If Connor were to try to identify and describe the distant look in Hank's blue eyes, he would have to call it 'fear'. But what Hank was so frightened about Connor couldn't understand. The incident was over, Connor was going to be just fine, and they had no reason to worry about potential complications.

"Hank? Are you okay?"

"...Fine."

"I don't think you are." Pushing the matter gingerly Connor addressed the obvious to try to ease the man's concerns. "If it has something to do with my recent injury, I assure you that-"

Paling quickly Hank suddenly pulled the car to the side of the road and threw open his door. Marching around the car Hank disappeared into a nearby alleyway and began punching a brick wall with misplaced emotional rage. From where he sat Connor could see Hank being angry and immediately reacted to his father's distress. After he threw open his own door he joined the senior detective in the alleyway and wrapped his arm around Hank's chest to pull the detective back away from the wall to stop him from damaging it and his hand any further.

"Hank! Stop!"

As the senior detective stopped punching the wall he let his now throbbing hand fall limply at his side. Dark red blood began to drip from his swollen, bruised knuckles and his fingers were twitching from the self-inflicted damage.

"...Hank?" Connor let go of his grip around Hank's chest and focused on the senior detective's damaged hand. Very lightly he took hold of Hank's right wrist and held up the bleeding appendage as he ran a biometric scan over Hank's swollen knuckles. "What's wrong? Why would you do that?"

Steadily calming down Hank stumbled back away from Connor a few paces, his hand still in the deviant's grip, and leaned against the cool brick wall behind him.

"Your vitals are indicative of very high stress levels. Please." Putting his own hand to Hank's shoulder Connor guided the senior detective back to the car slowly. As he sat Hank down in the front passenger seat Connor stood beside the still opened door and watched Hank warily as he examined the fresh wounds. "What has you so upset?"

"...You scared the shit of me." Hank finally replied in a low mutter. "That's what."

"It wasn't intentional or anything I could've prevented. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault kid, it's just..." Running his uninjured hand down his face Hank took in a deep breath settle his knotted-up stomach. "You having an asthma attack brought up one seriously bad memory, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, but I suppose there's no point in trying to ignore the elephant in the room."

Connor's brow furrowed for a moment as he processed the analogy, then waited for Hank to begin speaking. "I'm listening."

"...When Cole was still a toddler, he-" Talking about Cole was still a delicate subject, but Hank was making progress. Clearing his throat to keep his voice from shaking Hank told the sad story from so long ago. "Cole had gotten a really nasty cold during the winter. I did everything I could to make him feel better, but it wasn't enough. And then one night when I was holding him in my arms trying to get him to fall asleep, he started wheezing and ended up have an asthma attack right in front of me."

"I'm sorry." Connor slipped off his still loose tie and carefully wrapped the garment around Hank's right knuckles to stem the bleeding and to keep the injuries as clean as possible. "That must've been a horrifying experience for both of you."

"I'll never forget that sound he made when he couldn't breathe." Hank's gaze appeared genuinely haunted as he mentioned the past experience. "And when you made the same sound, it was... It was almost too much to bear."

"It's okay." Unsure of what he could say to ease Hank's mind Connor just kept his hand wrapped around Hank's knuckles and then wrapped his arm around his father's shoulders to give him a light half-hug. "I'M okay."

"...Yeah. I know."

"I'll drive so you can try to relax and let your hand rest for a while." Connor volunteered in a compassionate manner. "You fractured your first, second and third metacarpophalangeal joints in your right hand."

"I did what to my what?"

"You broke your first three knuckles."

"Oh. Just say that next time I break anything."

"Noted."

Connor crossed around the front of the car and sat down behind the wheel. As he pulled back onto the street Connor looked over at Hank noted the senior detective's relatively pale face and shaking hands as he folded his arms defensively over his chest. A change of subject was sorely required.

"When Gavin arrived to take the suspect into custody," Connor began calmly and casually. "he said to you that 'colic is a real bitch'. What did he mean by that?"

Hank smirked at the question and his stern expression softened. "It means spending all night with screaming, crying newborn isn't very fun. In fact, it's exhausting."

"Oh." Filing away the term in his memorybank Connor's brow furrowed again as he stopped at a red light and kept thinking about the matter. "If Gavin is exhausted, wouldn't it be preferable for him to stay home and rest?"

"Like I said," Hank reiterated without missing a beat. "spending all night with a screaming, crying baby isn't fun. And it isn't restful for anyone. That whole house is going to be exhausted for a few months."

"Did you report to your shift while tired when you were taking care of Cole?" The light turned green, and Connor continued on through the intersection back toward the heart of the city. "That seems like a horrible deterrent to a consistent sleep pattern."

"Constantly. Like you wouldn't believe. But it was worth it. It meant I was working hard to keep the city safe for my son and I wouldn't take back any of the hours I lost walking him up and down the hallway trying to get him to fall asleep in my arms." Hank looked a little lost as he spoke of the past and stared into nothingness. "There are times when I actually find myself missing those sleepless, exhausting nights. At least then I had a practical reason for not being able to sleep."

"Well..." Trying to think of a way to lighten Hank's mood further Connor decided to make a joke. "If you wanted to, you could carry me around at night."

"No thanks, kid." Hank leaned back in his seat and laughed a little as his arms fell away from his chest toward his sides as he finally relaxed where he sat. The bleeding in his knuckles had ceased but he'd still need to have the joints examined by a doctor before the day was over. "I have enough 'fun' carrying your ass at work as it is."

"There's a walk-in clinic two blocks from our location." Connor astutely noted as he took in their surroundings. "Would you like to have your hand treated there or at the precinct?"

"Clinic." Hank responded without any hesitation. "There's less paperwork that way."

"Afterward we'll get some lunch. We should return to the Piquant Diner since they serve both humans and deviants."

"Yeah, good idea. Since you were sick, you'll need some Thirium to replace what you lost."

"Agreed." Connor watched Hank awkwardly flexing his right knuckles and inwardly wince. "I'm sure they'll give you a complimentary ice pack if you ask nicely."

"Smartass. Let's just get my hand patched and my stomach filled." Hank pleaded casually. "Today's been a shitty day."

-next chapter-