"The Beginning of a Long Journey"

Hank Anderson's Home

Two weeks had passed since the bomb destroyed the interior of the Zeta Facility. In that time Connor had made enough of a physical recovery to return to work in the precinct rather than be stuck working from home. While the rookie detective wasn't afraid to return to work and resume his routine as if nothing had happened despite the lingering burn wounds still healing along his left shoulder, upper arm and side, Hank was leery of letting Connor resume full work responsibilities while still being on the mend. The senior detective was relieved to see Connor being fearless in the prospect of returning to work, but he was still righteously worried for Connor's overall health considering the younger man hadn't slept very well since the explosion. Nightmares were a constant disturbance to Connor's attempts to rest. Hank could hear him gasping for breath and being startled awake throughout the nights after returning home from the hospital. Connor was undoubtedly exhausted from the physical exertion of his recovery, and having his sleep constantly disrupted wasn't going to help matters as he tried to get back to living his life.

The kitchen smelled of fresh, warm waffles, eggs and bacon as Hank cooked up a hearty meal for his and Connor's breakfast that morning. Normally Hank would just settle for a cup of coffee and a bagel for his breakfast, but since Connor still needed to regain his strength and develop a healthier appetite, he was willing to go all out in the mornings to make sure the younger detective had a healthy meal. Sometimes Hank wondered if that compulsion was a result of his paternal instincts rising to the surface, or if he was going the extra mile simply because he was looking out for a friend.

In the end, he decided it didn't really matter. Connor needed some help, and Hank was going to provide regardless of reason or motivation.

Just as Hank turned over the eggs in the heated pan he sensed Connor, already dressed for work, slowly walking into the kitchen to begin his morning as well. A glance over his shoulder told Hank that Connor was fighting to remain alert while trying to ignore the lingering pain from the burns. The rookie detective had adamantly refused to take any kind of pain medication during his recovery, and Hank could only guess as to why he was so against the painkillers considering he didn't know much about Connor's past. The heavy, dark bags under the younger man's eyes confirmed he was exhausted and dire need of some sleep without nightmares to ruin them.

"G'morning, kid." Hank greeted Connor as the younger man trudged over to the pantry and make sure Sumo was fed before they left for work. As soon as the pantry doors opened Sumo made his way from the livingroom to sit right beside Connor's leg. "It's still fuckin' cold as balls out right now, so I'm making something hearty for us in case we stuck patrolling the streets today."

"Thanks, but I'm not-" Straightening up his posture Connor winced at the pain in his shoulder and tried to remain focused on their discussion. Slowly he rotated his left shoulder while using his right palm atop his shoulder to help support the tender muscles as they moved. "You know."

"Yeah, but that's okay. Just eat enough to help you wake up a little, and we'll head out when you're ready." Without needing to actually ask, Hank inquired about Connor's burns merely to gauge the rookie detective's reaction to the question. "How's your shoulder?"

"...Sore."

"I think that's an understatement." Hank noted as he slipped the four fried eggs evenly onto two plates alongside the steaming stacks of waffles. After slipping the strips of bacon onto the plate next to the eggs he carried the two helpings of the large breakfast over to the table for Connor and himself to enjoy. "If I were in your shoes, I'd be curled up in a ball under my quilt in a dilaudid-induced coma. The last time I got burned I just about passed out from the pain."

Skepticism was thick on Connor's tongue and challenged Hank's rather convenient claim. "You were once burned?"

"Yup. I was twenty-two and messing around with fireworks with my drunk buddies. Believe it or not, I was the sober one that night." As he sat down Hank placed his right elbow down on the table and rolled down his sleeve to expose his forearm to the younger detective. A faint burn scar stretched from the back of Hank's wrist toward the center of the back of his forearm. "Anyway, one of my friends got hold of an M-80, lit it, but didn't throw it like he should've. So, I grabbed it from him and threw it myself at the last minute and ended up with some gnarly burns for my trouble."

"You're fortunate the explosion didn't destroy your hand or fingers." Connor replied softly as he sat down at the table and rubbed his fingertips along his tired, heavy eyes. Having a strong will wasn't enough to push through sheer exhaustion. "How long did it take for you to recover?"

"About a month. Lots of dressings, burn ointments, antibiotics and some very comforting painkillers helped me great through it." Hank rolled his sleeve back down and noticed that he could just barely see traces of the healing burns along the left side of Connor's neck around his shirt collar and just a few smaller burns spots along his left elbow beneath his shorter dress sleeve shirt sleeve. "I stopped hanging out with that particular 'friend' when he tried to act like me getting burned and him acting like a dumbass wasn't that big of a deal."

"Smart move."

"Yup, and you're right, I was lucky. The injury didn't keep me from my work as a rookie cop, so I didn't need to worry about a sudden career change. Now I just have this old scar to remind me to be very careful of who I choose to hang out with from now on." Casually Hank used the side of his fork to cut into his waffles and watched Connor use his own fork to poke his two fried eggs before taking a very small bite. "If you want more time to heal at the house, it's okay. Jeffrey will understand."

"I want to go back to the precinct." Connor confirmed as he struggled to just eat his breakfast. The chronic pain had destroyed his already weak appetite, and being in the smokey building made his scarred lungs feel like he was just getting over a nasty cold. "I dislike sitting around and not doing anything productive."

"I can assure you that sitting around while healing is incredibly productive."

"It doesn't feel like it."

Hank just patiently waited for Connor to eat some of his breakfast while doing the same. Casually the man slipped Sumo a small piece of bacon and watched as Connor struggled to resist the urge to support his still sore injuries with his unaffected right hand. It was clear that without some kind of pain management that the younger detective was going to struggle to remain focused on his work throughout the day.

"We should have a movie night when we get home." The suggestion was meant to help distract Connor's mind while also encouraging the steadfast rookie into actually sitting still and resting even after being cleared to return to work. "I'll even whip us up a couple of steaks for a damn good meal on a cold evening."

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary. I'd rather just go to bed once we're home."

"Nightmares are a real bitch to deal with." The sympathetic remark was entirely sincere. As Hank continued to eat his breakfast he watched Connor struggling just to get through a second bite of his first egg. "I have nightmares pretty regularly. Ever since I sobered up and stopped having the nasty headaches, I can even remember the nightmares now."

"You remember your nightmares?"

"Yeah, they're kinda'- Wait," lowering his fork Hank looked at the distant gleam in Connor's eyes and began to understand why he was struggling so much with his recurring nightmares as of late. "are you having trouble recalling your own nightmares?"

"...Yes." Connor sank down in his chair and folded his arms over the surface of the table to lean against as his fatigue wore him down. "I haven't really ever been able to remember my dreams. But these nightmares are something I can't seem to overcome simply because I don't understand what it is about them that are so frightening."

"Maybe you could keep a pad of paper and pen beside your bed so you can write 'em down as soon as you wake up. That could help you remember them."

"Doubtful." With a breathy sigh Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin to clutch in a tight fist. Slowly his grip lessened around the coin allowing the old quarter to dance along his trembling, white knuckles in a clumsy and stilted motion. "I've never been able to recall my dreams even when they've been pleasant."

Hank wasn't sure of what else to say and decided it'd be best to finish his breakfast and hope that Connor would be able to eat a little more while he proceeded to shower off and get dressed for the day. There was no talking Connor into taking the day off and all Hank could do was hope to have a quick and quiet shift for the younger detective's sake.

"Try not to sweat it, kid. You'll figure this out and get back living a normal life." Realizing what he just said Hank tilted his head a little and gave Connor a knowing look where he sat. "That is, as normal of a life as you can have considering your career choice, the city we're living in, and the world we're fighting to protect."

Detroit Central Precinct: Interview Room 'A'

An early morning arrest resulted in the bullpen feeling uncomfortably tense while the interrogation of the arrested suspect was underway. A 'red ice' dealer had been arrested in the act of deal by Gavin, and the cuffed woman was sitting in the interrogation room glaring at the arresting detective with a vile hatred that could only stem from years of abusing power and an utter disdain for anyone that couldn't be corrupted or bribed. There was a noted chemical stench lingering on the woman's entire person from her consistent close proximity to her precious narcotics while they were being created. Her prematurely aging skin courtesy of drug abuse and constant exposure to the noxious chemicals made the twenty-eight-year-old look like she was in her early fifties. The woman's long blonde hair was thin and stringy, her dark blue eyes were sunken in, her aged complexion was pale and marred with faint chemical burns, her teeth were decaying and black in color, and her entire body was skeletal in appearance due to the irreversible damage from the 'red ice' she willingly created, sold and used destroying her internally.

On the other side of the observation room's window Chris and Connor took note of the interrogation and chronicled every word spoken to ensure that the arrest couldn't be overturned once the case made it to trial. Despite his dislike of Gavin's personality, Chris knew that the detective was honest and wouldn't take a bribe or look the other way on crime. Even so, it was important to properly document everything happening for the sake of justice and to ensure that no one could argue that the arrested woman had been mistreated while in custody.

Connor forced himself to sit upright with perfect posture beside Chris despite his marked exhaustion and the lingering pain stealing his strength. The rookie detective had to fight the urge to support his left shoulder as he hoped that no one would notice that he was still in pain and pity him for being injured so severely. It was hard for him to not see the little gifts on his desk as anything but monuments to his suffering despite knowing that they were left by his colleagues as a means of lifting his morale upon his return.

Recovery was always a strenuous journey, but for Connor, it seemed like it was an insurmountable obstacle in his way.

'You got quite the record following you, Amy Smith.' Gavin stated calmly as he placed the arrested woman's previous arrest records down on the table for her to see with her own eyes. The glowing tablet was full of details regarding her past run-ins with the law, and they were extensive to say the least. 'Or should I say Rita Ortez? Maybe LeeAnn Chambers? What about Crystal O'Hara? Anna McCarthy? Jocelyn Cooper? Alena Martinez? Martha Jones? Honestly, it doesn't matter. Your fingerprints and your D.N.A. signature are a perfect match to all of these aliases. Makes wonder if you even remember your real name after living a lie so long and smoking away your brain cells on a daily basis.'

'Fuck you, pig.' The woman's voice sounded as nasty as her appearance. The years of smoking 'red ice' had damaged her throat and caused significant scarring along her vocal cords that made her sound like she was well into her seventies. 'You think you're better than me?'

'It's not a matter of thinking, it's knowing.' Gavin countered sharply without throwing an insult in her direction. 'I may not have a crumbling drug empire to my name, but I do have genuine authority and genuine respect that comes from being an honest detective and not a poisonous entrepreneur.'

'You're just a glorified narc. Someone who only thinks they're doing anything memorable.' Leaning back in her chair the loathsome woman just scoffed and casually reached her hand down her baggy, stained top and pulled out a small glass pipe and a lighter that avoided being detective upon being arrested and frisked. Without thinking she flicked the flame to life and began heating the bulb of the pipe to ignite the small 'red ice' crystals contained inside the pipe. 'You're nobody special.'

'Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey?!' Gavin shouted as he reached across the table slapped the pipe and the lighter out of the woman's hands causing the pipe to shatter on the floor and the lighter to slide across the floor toward the window. 'What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!'

From the other side of the window Chris let out a small laugh at the arrested woman's audacity while Connor sank down in his chair. The incident would've been amusing if it hadn't been for the sight of the flame still burning on the floor putting Connor on edge.

"What a crazy- Connor?" Chris's smile faded as he turned to face his colleague and saw the wide-eyed stare of horror on Connor's face as his gaze remained transfixed on the lighter on the other side of the window. "Hey, you good, man?"

Silently Connor rose to his feet and tried to ignore the way his body was shaking. Turning away from the window Connor walked across the room and exited the observation room to get away from the interrogation for a while. Connor's stomach suddenly turned against him, a cold sweat began prickling his skin, and a strange echo began to ring in his ears as he trudged back to the bullpen without any purpose.

The way a single little flame on a lighter unnerved him left Connor wondering if he'd ever truly recover from being burned in the explosion at the Zeta Facility.

"How'd the interrogation go?" Hank asked without looking up at Connor as his rookie partner stumbled past their desks to get outside for a few minutes. Only when Hank didn't get a response did he finally glance up and notice how pale and sickly Connor suddenly looked. "Kid? Hey, are you feeling okay?"

"...No." The admission made Connor's stomach twist, and the younger detective had to let out a slow breath to keep himself from becoming sick. "I need some space. A lot of space."

Before Hank could even get to his feet Connor was hustling toward the front entrance of the precinct to get outside and away from the stress of the job for a few minutes. The brisk February air would be refreshing, but it'd freeze the younger man the moment he was outside with only his thin, black blazer to keep him covered from the lingering snow and wind waiting to greet him.

The distance from the little flame wasn't enough to calm his nerves as Connor tried to ground himself after being startled by the lighter in the other room. If he couldn't handle just the sight of a flame no bigger than a dime, then how could he handle any real emergency situation where the problem could be far larger than a tiny coin?

Casually Hank wandered outside and found Connor walking slowly toward the neighboring parking garage with his arms folded around himself. The way Connor was favoring his right arm over the left was undeniable. The healing detective's left shoulder and side were undoubtedly still tender to even the mildest of muscle motions courtesy of the deep, painful burns and the skin grafts he had endured.

"Here, kid." Without waiting for an invitation Hank shrugged off his dark, heavier coat and lightly draped it over Connor's shoulders to help the rookie detective to feel a little bit warmer while out in the snowy, windy weather. "I don't want you to catch another cold."

Connor didn't say anything as he looked at the coat now resting atop his shoulders. The garment felt much warmer than his blazer, but it carried the distinct aroma of Hank's aftershave making it hard to ignore the fact that he was wearing someone else's coat.

"Can you tell me what happened in there?" Sounding more paternal than ever, Hank stood alongside Connor as the silent rookie hovered near the doorway of the parking garage in deep thought. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Wordlessly Connor shook his head 'no' and proceeded to lean his right shoulder against the doorway of the garage to take some weight off his left side for a while.

"All right, that's fine. Stay out here and clear your head for a while." Hank hovered his hand over Connor's good shoulder but decided against giving him a reassuring pat since the younger man was so jumpy. "There was a report of a deviant being mugged downtown about fifteen minutes ago. The victim's in stable condition, so we don't need to rush for an interview yet. When you're ready we'll head out and talk to the victim and figure out what happened."

The distraction was greatly appreciated and helped Connor to feel more at ease. It was hard to focus on work when the smallest thing could prove to be a troublesome obstacle. Turning his head slightly Connor looked back at Hank and managed to catch the Lieutenant's attention before he returned to the bullpen to get out of the cold air.

"Lieutenant?" Addressing Hank by his rank rather than his name was a bad habit that Connor couldn't seem to shake, and it only got worse when he was stressed out or frustrated. "Where is the victim currently located?"

"Uh... He's at the Zeta Facility. Abby's watching him."

"Abby? The facility's... open again?"

"Not officially, no." Hank's breathy sigh was only detectable courtesy of the white fog passing over his lips. "The facility's been repaired inside and out, and it's had a proper security system installed thanks to Markus and Jeffrey collaborating on some of the details over the past three weeks, but it's not open to the public yet. For now, it's a private safe haven for deviants who need some extra security while they heal."

Connor fell silent again as he realized that he'd need to return to the very building where he had been burned and nearly killed just weeks prior.

"If you don't want to go, I can ask-"

"No, I can do it." Connor cut off Hank mid sentence and turned to face him directly. Stepping forward Connor acknowledged the emotional struggle that he was about to endure while actively enduring a psychological one. "I need to do it. I can't... If I let fear control me now, then it'll control me forever."

"Good answer, kid." Pride was heavy in Hank's voice as he admired Connor's willingness to not only admit that he was scared but show that he was ready to face his fear directly rather than avoid it. "We'll head out when you're ready, and ONLY when you're ready. Remember, no rush."

Holding his ground Connor could only nod and then close his eyes as he mentally steeled himself for the impending interview that they'd have to handle in less than an hour's time. When he sensed that he was alone again Connor rested his right palm along his sore left shoulder and felt the thick bandages still wrapped around his healing burns beneath his blazer and shirt. The presence of the gauze reminded Connor of how much further he needed to go in order to fully heal after suffering such painful and extraneous burns to his body simply because he was trying to do his job.

"...How I wish I knew what do right now. Everything's so confusing and difficult to handle."

Opening his eyes again Connor glanced about the somewhat busy sidewalk around him and hoped to see a glimpse of a familiar face looking out for him, but he knew for certain that he was now alone in the world with no family to watch over him.

"I guess I really am on my own now. Maybe in the end... that's for the best."

The Zeta Facility

What should've been a routine interview was proving to be a real challenge that Connor wasn't sure he could face. The sight of the repaired building was enough to make his heart start thundering painfully in his chest the moment the Oldsmobile pulled into the parking lot. A few black scorch marks marred the surface of the building along the doorways and a few of the replaced windows. There was a faint aroma of smoke, charred wood, splintered concrete and electrical haze still lingering all around the property and inside the building itself. The moment Connor set foot inside the facility he felt entirely nauseated and had to fight the urge to be sick just long enough to conduct a proper interview. The only saving grace was discovering that the victim was in an entirely different wing of the facility from where the initial explosion had rocked the building to its core and nearly killed Connor and Abby on that infamous day barely a month prior.

It only took Abby a single glance upon Hank and Connor's arrival to notice that the younger of the two detectives was struggling to just be inside the facility. While Hank conducted the interview in the victim's private room, Abby took Connor to another private room to give him a statement of her own. After she confirmed that the deviant had been found beaten and mugged earlier than morning, Abby decided to talk to Connor about the previous incident and to help her friend deal with the struggles that he was trying to conquer by himself.

"I'm glad to see that you're back on your feet." Abby's smile matched her sincerity as she traced her fingertips along the healed laceration that had previously marked her own brow. "The facility's almost back up and running too. Same for me."

"Your health is far more important than a building." A small shudder wracked Connor's body as he tried to ignore his twisting stomach just long enough to handle the interview and return to the precinct. "Don't forget that."

"I assure you that I'm very aware that I'm far more valuable than a single facility." Lightly Abby brushed a lock of her long hair from her face and tilted her head to the side as she took in Connor's appearance and body language. "Can I ask how you're feeling? You look pale."

"...Fatigued." The admission felt far too real as Connor told Abby the truth. "I haven't been sleeping well as of late."

"Nightmares? Me too." Instinctively Abby reached out toward Connor's left shoulder to check his wounds considering she was a medic and looking out for a friend in need of a little support. "And headaches every now and then. But I-"

"Please don't." Connor asked as he stepped back from Abby's touch and turned his left side away from her to keep his healing wounds out of reach. "The burns are healing and don't require any immediate attention."

"That's good." Lowering her hand slowly Abby took on a gentler tone and promptly kept the subject light. "You had some of the best care in the city, and I'd hate for you to still be in pain. Besides, I never had the chance to properly thank you for saving my life. It's not every day that someone uses their own body to shield you from a bomb, you know."

"Yes... I know."

"Being here is making you feel like shit, isn't it?"

Connor didn't know how to answer the simple and blunt question. There was no point in denying that he wasn't feeling well in every way, shape and form. Yet there was something that felt somehow damning about admitting that he wasn't at his best.

"To be honest, I felt like I was walking into a waking nightmare when I first returned to the facility." As she spoke Abby watched the way Connor's eyes seemed to glaze over and then brighten as his internal thoughts kept toying with his twisted emotions. "I had to oversee the repairs and make sure no one damaged or stole any equipment. The smell of the smoke and burnt wires made me wanna' puke."

"My own stomach feels unstable right now." Connor looked back toward Abby and slowly turned to face her more directly again. "I'm aware that I can't expect to fully overcome my current fear of being around anything that deals with flames or reminds me of fire in general, but I also can't properly perform my job if I'm being affected by the sight of a single lighter in someone's hand."

"Need to talk about it?"

"I wish it was that simple."

"How about this? You let me check your burns for my own peace of mind," Abby held up her palms as if need to stop Connor from going anywhere despite him standing firmly planted before her. "and then we can have a chat outside in the parking lot where there's some fresh air and no stench of someone else being a destructive menace to ruin the mood. Sound fair?"

"I previously stated that my burns don't need any medical attention."

"Yeah, but as a medic being able to see a healing wound with my own eyes always puts a smile on my face." With a very slow motion Abby raised her hand toward Connor's left shoulder again and waited for his permission to touch. "Please? Just this one time, and I won't ask again."

Hesitant to cooperate but unwilling to be intentionally difficult, Connor reluctantly agreed to let Abby check on his healing wounds. Slowly he shrugged off his black colored blazer, then loosened his black tie around his collar and unbuttoned his sky blue dress shirt to allow access to the bandages covering his burn sites. Connor had to turn away from the sight of his own injuries as Abby pressed her fingertips along the bandages and saw the way he closed his eyes and winced in pain the moment she applied pressure.

"I know you don't want to hear it or believe it, but pain is a good sign." Abby explained as she walked over to a nearby supply cabinet to use some sanitizer on her hands then slip on a pair of clean latex gloves. "Pain means your nerves are still intact and are responding properly to physical stimuli to a wounded area."

"I've already noticed that my nerves have managed to remain entirely functional despite the severity and depths of my burns."

"I figured as much." With a pair of sharp scissors in hand Abby returned to Connor's left shoulder and cut away the gauze to reveal the healing wounds beneath. She was fortunately used to dealing with burns and knew exactly what to look for to ensure there was no sign of infection or tissue death. "This won't take long. You're healing very well."

"I'm also healing very slowly."

"Burns take time regardless of location or treatment provided. And I mean that on a physical, mental, emotional and psychological level." Abby confirmed as she checked over the reddened areas and made sure the burn scars weren't containing any festering infections or necrotic tissues. "The skin graft looks remarkable. It blends in perfectly with the rest of your complexion."

"I find that hard to believe considering all of the scarring that's surrounding the graft site."

"The scars will fade in time, be patient." With careful and precise palpations Abby pressed her fingertips all along Connor's left shoulder, bicep and along his side to check the rest of the burn scars. There was only mild swelling, a red discoloration and lingering tenderness to mark the areas that had been damaged. "Good thing the antibiotics used for burns have improved so much in the past five or so years. No signs of any infection whatsoever."

"Does that mean I can redress my injuries and go outside?"

"Sure. Let me put on an ointment that'll ease the pain without numbing you entirely, and it'll help keep your scar tissue hydrated without making your skin feel slimy in the process. After that," Abby returned to the supply cabinet to get the ointment and some fresh bandages. "I'll get you wrapped up and we can go outside and enjoy some of that nice, chilly winter air."

"I dislike the cold weather almost as much as I dislike being wounded." Connor admitted as he stood still and extended his left arm out at his side to ensure that Abby could fully access his wounds and dress them properly. "But, for the record, I appreciate this. I'm... not very good at asking for help."

"Don't worry, I've noticed." It didn't take long for Abby to treat and rebandage the injury sites just as she said she would. It was when she had finished wrapping up Connor's shoulder that she noticed that he was struggling to hold his arm up. "How's your physical therapy going?"

"Slowly, but efficiently."

"That's good. You're right-handed, right?"

"Actually, I'm ambidextrous. I do however favor my right hand since a majority of the population is right-handed and it's easier to use tools that way."

"That's lucky." With a gentle grip Abby took hold of Connor's left forearm and lifted his arm up higher and stretched his arm out to its full length to test his range of motion without hurting him in the process. "Try using your left hand a little more during your recovery. Flexing the muscles and tendons in your left hand will increase the blood flow all along your left arm and stimulate the other muscles and get them exercised while they're still recovering."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. You may also want to use a sling to hold your left arm and shoulder steady while you're sleeping to ensure you aren't tossing and turning on your injuries all night causing strain."

"What sleep?"

"Right. Nightmares." After securing the bandages Abby lowered Connor's left arm very slowly and then slipped off her gloves to be disposed of properly. "Okay, fix your shirt and then we can step outside for a few minutes. I could use some fresh air myself."

Connor just nodded as he slowly slipped his arm back into his sleeve and rebuttoned his shirt. Wearing short sleeves felt unprofessional in Connor's mind, but it was easier to navigate short sleeves with a damaged arm than long sleeves. It also kept him from feeling too warm while wearing a thick layer of bandages along his upper body.

"I think I liked your gray jacket better." Abby noted as she watched Connor carefully slip on the black blazer to layer up again. "The black one's just boring."

"Boring, but intact."

"Fair point. Come on." Opening the door to the exam room allowed a waft of the stagnant, smokey, burned air to fill the room as it passed down the corridor. "Ick, I hate that smell. Maybe I should light some candles and put them in all the rooms to help get that stink out of here once and for all."

"I doubt that this place would benefit from anyone lighting any kind of fires within its walls again."

"You know, your logic and quick thinking is unparalleled." As she and Connor walked down the corridor together to get to the front entrance Abby grabbed her coat that had been left draped over the front receptionist desk and slipped it on. "I'll just get some wax melts instead. No fires involved and I can make this whole place smell like fresh baked cinnamon rolls for as long as I like."

The fresh air passing over the parking lot felt like a wave of calmness washing along the shoreline. Being away from the noxious odors of the previous fire was an almost immediate relief to both Connor and to Abby. Standing together the duo glanced back at the restored facility behind them and felt a mutual sense of dread as their previous ordeal left painful scars on their minds.

"You said that you have nightmares about the fire." Abby cut right to the chase as she crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her palms up and down her forearms to keep warm. "What are they like?"

"I can't remember." There was no attempt at deception behind Connor's answer. He sincerely didn't remember the content of the nightmares, just the context. "I just wake up in a cold sweat and, according to Hank, I'm either gasping for breath or even screaming. I'm not sure why I can't remember such vivid nightmares if I'm having such extreme reactions to them."

"Sounds like your brain is trying to protect you from yourself. Are you familiar with the concept of repressed memories?"

"I'm aware that such a phenomenon exists." Connor replied coldly as he made a conscious effort to not look at the Zeta Facility beside him and focus entirely on Abby instead. "I'm not entirely familiar with how they work or how to make the repression stop."

"Well, me neither. I just know that they usually serve a good purpose to spare us from trauma, but that also means we can't deal with the trauma properly." The friendly medic and technician elaborated as she continued to try and help Connor deal with his own trauma. "Maybe you could try writing down any details that you can remember when you wake up to help you deal with the nightmares."

"Hank suggested that same solution this very morning."

"You could also try finding a hypnotist. They could help you too."

"I'd rather keep my problems to myself." Just as the words passed over his lips Connor realized what he had said. "At least for now."

"That's okay, just take it one step at a time." As a sign of good faith Abby reached out and took one of Connor's hands in her own to hold for a minute. "As long as you're making an effort to get better that's all that matters."

"Can I ask you what your nightmares are about?" The question felt too personal and yet Connor was compelled to ask anyway. "That is, if you remember your dreams at all."

"Well, my nightmares are pretty simple." Stepping a little closer Abby tightened her grip on Connor's hand to make herself feel a little stronger as she spoke. "I keep seeing myself inside the facility just as the bomb detonated. The only difference is, in my nightmares I'm entirely alone surrounded by flames, smoke and darkness. I don't have you there to save me."

The notion of being trapped somewhere without anyone there to help him was something that Connor was uncomfortably familiar with. To know that someone else was just as afraid of being alone and suffering seemed to motivate Connor into finally accepting that everyone needed help from someone else at least once in their lifetime. Connor himself was no exception.

"How... How do you handle your nightmares?" The willingness to learn and listen was enough to ease Connor's guard and lower it enough to keep asking for help. "I don't mean to pry, I'm just curious."

"It's all right, I don't mind talking about it. One of the things I use to cope with a nightmare that freaks me out is to take a nice, long hot shower. Sometimes I'll make myself a mug of hot chocolate, curl up in my softest blanket on the couch and watch my comfort movie until I manage to fall back asleep. That usually does the trick."

"Comfort movie? What's that?"

"Literally what it sounds like; a movie that brings me comfort." Abby explained matter-of-factly as she gave Connor's hand another squeeze. "I rely on one from my childhood: 'Mary Poppins'. Silly, I know, but it's the movie I watched all the time with my mom and my brother while growing up."

"I don't have such a comfort from my childhood to fall back on."

"It's not too late to find something comforting even as an adult. A movie, a book, a song... Anything, really!"

"I'll try to keep that in mind." A sudden cold breeze kicked up and both Connor and Abby shuddered from its unwelcome presence. "...We should go back inside. I don't want to do it, but I don't want to get sick either."

"Ditto. Come on," without letting go of Connor's hand Abby led the way back inside the facility to get out of the cold air. "we can chill in the doctor's lounge until Hank finishes the interview."

Hank Anderson's Home

The quiet evening didn't stay quiet for too long after Connor had fallen asleep on the couch under a thick blanket and with Sumo sprawled out over his lap. The rookie detective's exhaustion finally won out and he had no choice in staying awake beyond the opening credits of the movie that Hank had picked out for the night. While Hank had no problem keeping awake for one of his favorite movies and snacking on his popcorn, Connor was out like a light and completely unaware of the movie's rather interesting plot unfolding before him. The need to rest and let his body properly heal after enduring such a painful and traumatic injury was too great to be ignored any longer. The strong will of the stubborn rookie was impressive, but still no match for prolonged sleep deprivation or the physical limitations of being a mortal human being.

Hank had just finished the popcorn and put the bowl aside when he noticed Connor starting to breathe rapidly in his sleep. When Sumo raised up his head and whined sympathetically toward Connor as the rookie slept Hank knew something was wrong. The Lieutenant's strong hand had just barely touched Connor's uninjured right shoulder when Connor jolted awake with a sudden, loud scream that resulted in tears streaming down his face in torrents. Sumo leapt from the couch and stood beside the furniture as he whined again and pressed his paw against Connor's trembling knee in an instinctive need to protect his new guardian.

"Connor!" Hank held tightly onto Connor's now tense and trembling shoulder as the younger man awoke with a frightened reaction. "It's okay, you're-"

The younger man quickly turned toward Hank and wrapped his arms around the man as if needing to make sure he wasn't alone. Silently Connor sobbed into Hank's shirt as he fought to recompose himself while his fingers curled into the fabric of Hank's t-shirt.

"Damn, you had another nightmare." Slowly Hank placed one palm on Connor's back and held it there to ensure Connor felt supported entirely where he sat. "It's okay. You're awake now and you're safe."

"It's not okay!" Connor blurted as he sat back without shrugging away Hank's hand in the process. "I won't lose another person I care about!"

"Easy. I need you to take a deep breath right now." Despite the intense reaction happening before him Hank remained calm for Connor's sake. "You had a very bad dream but it's over. You're okay now."

"Don't leave me alone." The shaken detective pleaded as he slowly released his vice-like grip along Hank's shirt. His hands were shaking, stark white, and painfully tense as he tried to calm down his racing heart. "Don't leave me in the hospital. Not again."

"You're not in the hospital. You're home." Hank replied in a reassuring and soothing manner. "You've been home for weeks, and you were never alone in the hospital when you were there."

"No. That's not- Was it?" Sitting back against the couch Connor ran a shaking hand through his hair and slicked back his sweaty locks out of his face. He was shaking inside and out after his latest nightmare. "Were you there with me? I don't remember."

"Yes, I was in the hospital with you. I couldn't be in the same room as you until you were taken out of the clean room and into a different recovery room, and Abby visited you too." The words of reassurance were meant to ease Connor's worries, but they were helping Hank too. "Markus was with you in the burn unit the entire time though, so you were never alone while you were in the hospital."

"That's... not possible. You and I didn't know each other when I was- When I..." Trailing off suddenly, Connor found himself struggling to just keep his thoughts clear and coherent. "When did Lucas show up?"

"Uh, Lucas didn't show up, kid." It was heartbreaking to have to tell Connor that his own brother never visited him in the hospital. "He's still out in D.C. doing his own thing."

"But I remember him being there beside me." The insistence in Connor's voice made him sound so certain of his memory. "He was talking to me until I was taken off the ventilator and allowed to breathe on my own."

"Ventilator?" Now Hank was confused by everything that Connor was saying and seemingly recalling. The last time Connor was on hospitalized on a ventilator he had just been treated for dry-drowning back in December. "You weren't on a ventilator when you were burned, only oxygen."

"No, I remember having a tube in my throat and being unable to speak to Lu-" Connor stopped quickly and his face paled as he realized that he was mixing up traumatic memories from two separate ordeals. "...You're right. Lucas wasn't there for me this time."

"What do you mean 'this time'?"

"Hm?" Seemingly drifting in and out of awareness, Connor realized that Hank just asked him a question. "What did you say?"

"You said that Lucas wasn't there for you 'this time'. What time are you talking about?"

"I- I'm not really sure." Shaking his head a little Connor tried to sort through his thoughts and memories to figure out what was happening to him. "I could've sworn that Lucas was with me when I had been hospitalized in the past. It feels like such a real memory."

"Maybe it is a real memory. You don't remember much about your childhood, so maybe the fire brought some of those memories to the surface." Hank sat more upright and looked down at Connor's hands to try to get an idea of how tense he was feeling at the moment. "Connor, were you hospitalized as a child?"

"I don't remember. I think it's... Well, there's no 'think' about it, it's entirely possible that I was hospitalized as a child." Connor admitted as he let his tense shoulders slump while he sank down where he sat. "I just can't remember a time when I was hospitalized or why."

"Kid, when you were in the hospital and on the vent, your doctor told me that you had a lot of scar tissue in your lungs from exposure to chemicals and other nasty shit." Speaking delicately Hank tried to bring up the subject without pushing too hard. "Do you think it's possible that you're having such extreme nightmares after the fire at the facility because you were also in a fire as a child?"

"That's- Again, anything is possible." Shaking his head a little, Connor turned to lock eyes with Hank and acknowledged something definitive from his childhood that could easily be proven or disproven if necessary. "However, the foster care facility I grew up in never had experienced a fire in the past."

"Yeah, that's true. If a foster place caught fire every first responder in the city would be talking about it when it happened and still talking about it to this day since so many dangerous and deranged people would try to hurt their own child just to hurt their former partners, or to get some weird-ass revenge against the government from removing a child from their negligent home."

"If that's the case, then when was I ever in a fire as a child?"

"Wish I knew. You said you were six when you and Lucas entered the foster care system, right?"

"That's right."

"Which means we have an idea of when this fire could've happened based on your age at the time you entered the system. We can look more into that when we go back to work tomorrow." Hank gave Connor a reassuring look as he explained his logic. "It's too late for either of us to look into something like that right now. Besides, the last thing you need to do is find something that might make your nightmares worse."

"Yes. You're right."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm fine."

Reflecting on Abby's advice from earlier Connor decided to take a hot shower and then return to the couch to find a comforting movie to watch. As he rose to his feet Connor looked back at Hank still on the couch and finally asked the man, his friend, for a little help.

"Hank, could you find me something to write down the details of my nightmares on? I want to take a shower and try to calm down."

"Yeah, you got it."

"And could you find another movie to watch? Something that's... comforting." Connor felt foolish about his humble requests as he timidly wrung his hands together as he stood at the end of the hallway. "I'd rather stay here on the couch tonight. I think the white noise of the television and being in a more communal area helped me to retain some of the details of my recent nightmare."

"Sure, kid." Hank was more than willing to help now that Connor was willing to listen to reason and try to do something to ease his current plight. "You go shower off and I'll take care of everything else for you."

"Thank you."

Hank sighed to himself and waited until he heard the bathroom door 'click' shut behind Connor. As soon as the water in the shower was turned on Hank got to his feet and rubbed his hand along Sumo's ears to give the gentle dog some positive attention.

"Well, guess it's a double-feature tonight, boy. You get to share the couch with Connor for a while, so I hope you don't mind."

Sumo just wagged his tail and watched as Hank carried the empty popcorn bowl into the kitchen to wash up before finding new snacks for the new movie.

Hank began rummaging through the junk drawer beside the stove and soon found a modest sized notebook with a blue cover and a green pen to go with it. The notebook was entirely blank and had been picked up years prior when Cole was starting school and needed some new supplies to get started. Hank knew that someday it'd come in handy, but he couldn't have imagined that it'd be used as a type of dream diary to help his new partner while he crashed at the house for the foreseeable future.

"I bet Ben could dig up some info on a fire involving two twin boys if I asked him to. If Ben can't find anything about a fire like that, then no one will."

Already thinking about his new project helped Hank appear more like the top-notch detective he had once been before tragedy broke his spirit.

Hank then rummaged through the refrigerator and picked up a half-eaten chocolate pie and decided that the sweet treat would be the ideal snack to help Connor settle in for the night. Not to mention the fact that Connor really needed the calories and was the only person that Hank could think of who actually needed to eat more desserts and less healthy meals since the younger man's appetite was barely existent.

"Snack? Check."

The older man made his way back to the livingroom and placed the pie and a fork down on the coffee table, then dropped the notebook and pen down beside it. It'd be easy enough for Connor to see and then use when necessary.

"Notebook and pen? Check."

With a heavy drop Hank sat down on the couch again and picked up the remote to begin searching through the movies available for streaming. As a father he knew of quite a few children's movies that were comforting but only for smaller children. Helping an adult who was deprived of a childhood to find something suitable for a comforting movie without being too young was a bit of a challenge, but Hank wasn't one to shy away from a challenge and finally found the right film to help lighten the mood and hopefully give Connor a good laugh before falling asleep again.

"Here we go... An old classic that'll either make Connor laugh or help him to finally understand why the millennial generation has such a fucked-up sense of humor."

The movie was now cued up and ready to go as soon as Connor was back in the livingroom. As much as Hank wanted to start searching through news stories revolving around fires in the city from anywhere between sixteen and ten years prior to help Connor find answers, he resisted the urge and showed some personal discipline to be a good example of a non-workaholic for Connor to follow.

"And a comforting movie ready to go? Check."

Hank patiently waited for Connor to return while he rested on the couch. The man could hear Connor moving around in the shower and knew that the younger man was all right. He also knew that Connor didn't like anyone seeing his healing burns and refrained from asking about potentially helping him with redressing the burns since Connor was able to manage just fine on his own anyway.

"Let's hope that we can finally find more answers than questions, and from there find a way to really let you heal, kid."

Sumo grumbled a little before hopping up onto the couch and pressing his chin down on Hank's lap. The massive dog was lovable and keen on the emotions in the house at all times.

"He'll be fine, boy. I know from personal experience that even when it feels like things will never get better, they actually will in time."

Lightly Hank ran his hand down Sumo's back and pet the dog while they both waited for Connor to return to the livingroom. Being a patient man who had a soft spot for kids (and adults who were deprived of ever being a kid) in need was one of Hank's greatest personal strengths. All he could do now was hope that he was strong enough to help Connor without needing to bring other people into a sensitive investigation to help spare Connor some sense of privacy.

-next chapter-