One Small Problem

by Fadedflame

Summary:

A routine case turns lethal, leaving Hank to mourn the death of another son. While devastating, it is ultimately short lived as Markus finds a somewhat unconventional way to save Connor’s life. It’s an adjustment for both of them as Connor learns to navigate his new body and Hank finds himself once again the parent of a six-year-old.

Chapter 1: Tiny Adjustments

For what was probably the first time in history, a heart wrenching tragedy had turned into one of the funniest things Hank had ever seen. And that was Connor, all three feet nine inches of him, trying and failing to get into his desk chair.

Connor had realized almost immediately that he would be unable to just sit down so he had tried pulling himself onto the seat with his arms. His underefficiant artificial muscles couldn’t lift him all the way, resulting in the chair spinning in a lazy circle as his small, uncoordinated legs kicked outward in a very undignified manner.

The small android set himself back on the ground and sent a glare in Hank’s direction as he didn’t ever try to hide his laughter. “It’s not funny, Lieutenant,” Connor complained.

“It is from where I’m sitting,” Hank argued.

Connor shot him another glare that ended up looking more like a pout and Hank laughed again. Determined, Connor lowered the seat of his chair, putting it to the lowest setting and now within range to climb into. He pulled himself up and sat, only then realizing the seat was now too low for him to be able to reach the desk. With a frustrated sigh, Connor stood up, reaching for the keyboard in an attempt to start working.

The shift in balance caused the chair to roll backwards. It shot out from beneath Connor, causing him to pitch forward, head narrowly missing a collision with the desk as he landed in a heap on the floor.

“You ok over there?” Hank asked, concern being the only thing preventing another fit of laughter.

“Yes, I am undamaged,” Connor responded with a disgruntled tone.

Hank took pity on him, standing from his own desk and retrieving the wayward office chair as Connor picked himself up off of the floor. “Here,” he said. “I think your dignity has taken enough of a beating. Let me help.”

Connor begrudgingly accepted the assistance. Hank held the chair steady so he could climb back up, then raised it to its highest setting once the android was settled. “Thank you,” Connor said, relieved that he was finally able to reach his terminal.

“No problem,” Hank said with a small chuckle. He gave Connor a short pat on the shoulder before turning to head back to his desk. He stopped when he heard the android let out another small frustrated cry. “What’s the problem now?” He asked.

Connor had his hand resting against the keyboard like he normally did, but his artificial skin was still in place. “I can’t interface,” he lamented.

“At all?” Hank clarified.

“No,” Connor said. “It appears that this body wasn’t built with that capability.”

Hank chuckled, and ruffled Connor’s hair. “Looks like someone’s gonna finally need to learn how to type.”

Connor looked up at him annoyed at both the comment and the gesture. “I know how to type, Hank. Interfacing is just far more efficient.”

Damn, if Connor was using his first name at work, he really must be agitated, Hank observed. He smiled down at him sympathetically. “There’s nothing efficient about being a kid, Connor.”

“I suspect you are right about that.” Connor reached for the keyboard again and began to type. His small fingers stumbling over the too-large keys and slowing him down to a near human rate.

Hank shook his head in amusement over the tiny workaholic. Maybe this would finally get him to slow the fuck down for a change. “You'll be alright, kid,” he said, patting his head once again before turning back to his desk.

He only made it a couple of steps before he caught the eye of a very confused Captain Fowler. In the span of about five seconds, Hank witnessed the man take in what he was seeing and flip through various emotions ranging from anger to bewilderment. Predictably, anger was the one he landed on. “Anderson! My office, now.”

“Guess it was too much to ask not having to explain this to Jeffery,” Hank commented. “Come on, if I’m getting yelled at, so are you.”

Connor protested, having only just figured out his chair situation, but Hank wasn’t having any of it. He pulled the chair away from the desk leaving the android no option other than getting down and going with him. He trailed after the Lieutenant by a couple of steps as they made their way to the office.

The door didn’t even have time to close before Captain Fowler was speaking. “What the hell, Hank? This isn’t a daycare. What the fu-” he cut off, noticing Connor had followed him into the office. “What are you doing with a kid here? Where the hell-heck did he even come from?”

Jeffery trying to censor himself in front of the kid had to be the second funniest thing he had seen all day.

“It’s alright, Captain. You can swear, I don’t mind,” Connor said, clearly trying, but ultimately failing, to be helpful.

Fowler looked back to Hank, confusion winning out over anger in his expression. “Hank, what?” was all he said.

Hank couldn't help but chuckle at the whole situation. “Come on Jeffery. It’s only been a few days. Don’t tell me you don’t remember Connor.”

“Connor?” The Captain repeated. “What the f-. What are you talking about? Connor died in the line of duty.”

Hank shrugged, an insensitive gesture had the situation been different. “Yeah, but it didn’t take.”

“It didn't...what?” His face scrunched as the vague explanation did nothing to ease his confusion. “The fu- the heck Hank? What are you..?” He really looked at Connor for the first time. He took in the large brown eyes and the lock of hair that was always falling into his face, realizing the familiarity of it all. “No, you aren’t telling me… Connor?”

Connor smiled, pleased to finally be recognized. “I apologize for my appearance, but it is only temporary. In the meantime, I am still capable of resuming the majority of my duties.”

Jeffery looked like he needed a drink, or twenty, but there was no mistaking the kid when he talked like that. “How the fuck is that possible?” He questioned, not bothering to hold his tongue any longer.

Hank gave a slight shrug and sent a half smile in Connor’s direction. “Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

The Captain sighed and leaned forward resting his forehead on his hand. “Is there a short version?”

“Not really”

His sigh turned into a groan. “Just tell me everything.”

Notes:

I promised myself I'd post this before the year was out, but that obviously didn't happen, so here it is to start out the new year. This is my first time posting a WIP. The updates probably won't be very regular, but I'll be shooting for at least one a week. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2: Just a Normal Day

Notes:

It's gonna be sad for a few chapters, but I promise there will be more fluff.

The day had started out normal. Almost too normal. Connor woke Hank up at the normal time. He had a normal breakfast. There was the normal amount of activity at the precinct. They got called out to a normal case.

Then everything went sideways fast.

They weren't even confronting a suspect. Hank and Connor arrived at the apartment complex to ask a potential witness a few questions. It was a rather run down place, just a few termites away from being condemned, but they were there for a person, not architecture.

“Anthony Sawyer,” Connor was telling him. “Caucasian male, Age 36. He is an accountant at Freeport Industries. Criminal history includes one account of public intoxication and a ticket for double parking.”

“Hell of a lot better than the assholes we usually deal with,” Hank mused.

“Agreed.” Connor held the door open for him as the two of them entered the complex. The lack of security spoke volumes for what kind of place this was. Hank found himself wondering what any self respecting person with a decent job would be doing living here.

“We sure this guy’s a witness?” Hank asked as they stepped into the elevator. He pushed the button for the 4th floor. It shuddered for a moment before slowly lurching upward.

Connor nodded. “According to the security drone footage, Mr. Sawyer was at the park at the time of the shooting. At the very least, he heard the gunshot.”

“Fair enough,” Hank conceded. The elevator let out a soft ding before the doors slid open allowing them to exit on the floor they needed. “It was room 418, right?”

“That is correct.”

The two made their way down the hall side by side, only stopping once they reached their destination. Hank raised his fist and knocked on the door twice, swearing softly as his hand met a splinter with the second contact. He pulled back, simultaneously waving off Connor's worry and sticking his wounded hand in his mouth.

“Detroit Police,” Connor called for him, turning back to the investigation. There was a sound of someone shuffling around on the other side for a few moments followed by silence. Connor knocked on the door this time. “Mr. Sawyer. We need to ask you a few questions about the shooting that occurred earlier this week,” he tried again.

"Go away!" The person on the other side of the door demanded suddenly.

Hank rolled his eyes, not in the mood to deal with this bullshit today. He began moving forward to knock on the door again, but Connor stopped him. He took in the kid’s pensive expression and his gut instantly told him something was wrong.

“That doesn’t sound like-” Connor stopped his sentence short, a clicking sound reaching their ears. The android recognized what it was before Hank did.

He didn’t have time to react before Connor was pushing him aside. Hank hit the ground hard as the door exploded in a barrage of bullets.

“Fuck!” He swore, curling in on himself on instinct to make himself a smaller target. His hands pressed to his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Dust and splinters filled the air making it difficult to breathe.

Hank’s ears rang uncomfortably even as the shooting stopped. He felt dazed, and there was a sharp pain in his head. “Hank!” He strained to hear Chris’s voice over the radio. “Were those gunshots? Are you ok? Respond.”

He coughed, reaching for the receiver, glad he had brought both it and backup. He shouldn’t have needed it. This was supposed to be a routine questioning. “Shot’s fired,” he confirmed, coughing again.

The remains of the door burst open, their witness-turned-suspect bolting from the room. Hank grabbed for him, but the man pushed back with more force than was reasonable for some shitty accountant. “Shit!” Hank cursed as he fell back. He got to his knees, calling back into the radio. “Suspect on the run!”

Another cough and Hank knew there would be no point in him attempting to pursue the suspect himself. The guy was way too fuckin fast. He could barely breathe, and they were already way too far ahead. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Hank turned, expecting to see Connor already in motion to pursue. What he saw instead caused his heart to falter.

Connor hadn’t gotten up.

He was sprawled on the floor where he had fallen. A pool of thirium slowly expanded beneath him.

“Connor!” he shouted. The suspect was practically forgotten in the echo of realizing the android had been hit. He rushed to the kid’s side, adrenaline moving him faster than he thought he was capable.

“Hey, hey. You’re ok kid,” he told him. He cradled Connor’s head gently, trying to assess the damage, cursing himself for not knowing more about how android’s worked. “You’re ok,” he repeated. “I’m here, I’ve got ya.”

“H-Hank,” Connor choked out. His soft brown eyes blinked up at him, unfocused and scared.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm here,” Hank assured him. He tore his attention away from his kid just long enough to radio for a technician. “We’re gonna get you patched up. You’re gonna be ok,” he insisted.

“Hank,” he called again. Connor’s voice cut off with a cough. It was thick and wet, not like the dusty ones Hank had been experiencing from the sawdust in the air.

“It’s ok,” he cupped his face gently, silently begging emergency services to hurry the fuck up. “You don’t need to talk. We’re gonna get you patched up good as new, alright?”

“Hank, it’s not,” he coughed again, this time blue blood speckled his lips. A metallic echo resonated in his voice.. “H-h-he’s not-” Connor tried again. But that was all the further he got before his voice died away.

“Connor?” Hank prompted, but received no response. What little focus his eyes had faltered and his body went limp in his arms. “Connor! No, hell no. You can’t die on me son. You’re gonna be fine, just hold on.”

Hank’s vision began to blur as tears filled his eyes. “Just hold on. Please,” he begged. But he knew. As painful as it was, he knew it was already too late. The LED on his temple stuttered red for a second longer before darkening permanently. He cradled Connor desperately, as though somehow holding him could keep him there. “Please, son, don’t go.”

The emergency services arrived, too little too late. Hank paid them no attention, grief numbing his senses. He could barely see as the technician pulled Connor's body away from him. Barely hear as they declared him dead on arrival. Barely feel as a paramedic wrapped his shoulders with a shock blanket. The only thought that ran through his head was that this couldn’t be happening. Connor couldn’t be dead.

He couldn’t have lost another son.

Someone guided Hank from the apartment complex. Someone took him to a hospital to see to the superficial injuries he had sustained, but for the life of him, he didn't give two shits who it was. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Connor was gone.

Chapter 3: Shared Agony

Hank wasn’t really surprised to see Markus on the other side of the door. In the aftermath of Connor’s death, he was at the top of the list of people he figured would be checking in.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Anderson,” Markus greeted him, even though there was nothing good about it. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t answer, but held the door open, letting the deviant leader through. Sumo offered a soft boof in greeting which made the android smile softly.

“Here to check up on me?” Hank asked, already knowing the answer.

“I am,” he admitted. They both knew there was no reason to deny it.

Hank wandered over to the couch, not waiting to see if Markus would follow. He sat down heavily. “Well, I’ll save you a question. I’m doing fuckin terrible,” he admitted.

There was no reason to sugar coat it. It was obvious anyway. Hank hadn’t left the house since the hospital cleared him. He hadn’t done much of anything since then. Hadn’t showered. Hadn’t slept. Hadn’t really even eaten anything.

He looked like shit.

Markus joined him on the other side of the couch tentatively. “I figured that would probably be the case.”

“I’m sure you miss him too,” Hank said. It wasn’t as though he had a monopoly on Connor. He had friends at New Jericho. There were many people who were affected by his loss.

Markus nodded sadly. “I do. I miss him a lot. He was… He was a good friend.”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand over his face. “He was. Best anyone could ask for.”

“He,” the android hesitated, pursing his lips momentarily before continuing. “He was more than that to you though, wasn’t he? The two of you, you were family.”

Unshed tears stung Hank’s eyes. They’d never said as much. It had been a sort of unspoken understanding. Now, he wished they’d talked about it. He wished he had made it clear where he stood in his life. He wished he knew for sure that Connor knew how much he had loved him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. Might as well say it to someone. “I never really told him that, but… He was my kid.”

Markus put a gentle hand on Hank’s arm in an attempt to reassure him. “I think he knew, Lieutenant..” He gave him a small smile. “I know for a fact he thought of you as his father.”

“Yeah, well, he should’ve picked a better one.” He leaned back, breaking free of the supportive hand on his arm. “What the hell kind of father can't even keep his son alive?”

“Please don’t do that to yourself,” Markus begged. “You know it isn’t true. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Hank sighed, not meeting his eyes or acknowledging his statement. Even if it was true, it was hard to make himself believe it. Blaming himself was easier.

“Connor adored you,” he went on. “He would hate for you to blame yourself.”

“Gotta admit though. I’ve got a shitty track record.”

“You have… had unfortunate luck in that department, I will admit that,” Markus conceded. “But that isn’t a reflection on you. From what Connor told me, he couldn’t have asked for a better father. He had a good life.”

Hank hung his head. "He wasn't even a year old," he lamented. “His birthday, or release date, or whatever. It’s two weeks from today.” He ran a hand over his face and through his hair. It was the closest he had come to brushing it. He could feel Markus’s eyes on him. “I was gonna surprise him, you know. Was gonna take him to the aquarium. The one on Bell Island.”

“He would have loved that,” Markus admitted.

Hank let out a humorless chuckle. “Kid was weirdly obsessed with fish. He said it had something to do with how he deviated, but didn’t really explain.”
Markus nodded in understanding. “I think he said it was his first software instability. He rescued a fish on his first mission. It was his first sign of empathy.”

His eyes stung, but he wasn’t going to cry. The last thing he needed was for Markus to pity him more than he already did. “He was deviant long before he deviated.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Markus agreed.

Hank rubbed at his eyes. He was not going to cry. “He should have had more time.”

"He was always talking about you, you know," Markus told him after a moment's pause. "He made sure we all knew about how you feed Sumo scraps from the table when you didn't think he was looking. Or how you fell in the lake trying to teach him how to fish." He smiled at the tired man. "Connor's life may have been short, but you made it worth living."

Hank looked up at him, grief didn't even begin to describe his expression. "He asked you to look out for me, didn't he." It wasn't a question. They both knew Connor well enough for that.

“He did,” Markus responded anyway. “He was concerned about what you would do if something were to happen to him. He asked me months ago.”

“Made you promise you wouldn’t let me drink?”

“Among other things,” he admitted with a sad smile. “Connor was so proud of the progress you made. He would hate it if you threw that all away.” “He loved you, Lieutenant. He wanted to protect you.”

A tear finally escaped and he brushed it away. “I loved him too,” he admitted. “I wish I had told him that.”

“Some things don’t need to be said for them to be known.”

“Yeah, but I still shoulda said it.”

Markus didn’t have much to say in response to that. Instead he sat in silent agreement. Hank knew he was trying. The deviant leader had better things to do, had his own grief to process. He had heard the kid refer to him as his brother more than once. Yet, here he was doing his best to keep a worthless old drunk like him from spiraling. He knew he should be grateful.

But how was he supposed to go on when his reason for living was dead?

And yet, giving up felt like an insult to everything Connor had done for him.

“I’m gonna be ok,” he told Markus after a moment. He didn’t believe it to be true, but he needed to extend the lie to him. He owed him that much.

Markus offered him a sad, but reassuring smile. “Yes, you will,” agreed. There was such sincerity in his voice, Hank could almost bring himself to fall for it. “I know this will be hard, it will be hard on all of us, but we won’t let you face it alone.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Hank said, wiping at his face again.

“Only if it needs to be,” Markus teased gently. “Connor wanted me to make sure you were alright. I intend to keep my promise.”

Fuck these damn tears, Hank couldn’t stop them from escaping no matter how much he rubbed his eyes. “I made him a promise too,” he couldn’t look at him anymore. “I promised I’d look after him, protect him. Fucked that up didn’t I.”

“Lieutenant-”

“We didn’t even catch the asshole,” he interrupted. “Fucking hell, the fucker just disappeared. I can’t even do my damn job anymore.”

“Hank.”

He hadn’t shouted, or even used a stern voice, but the sound of Markus using his first name was enough to give him pause. It was such a small thing, and yet it made him want to crumble.

“I know, fuck, I know,” Hank sighed. He leaned forward, eyes pressed to his hands. It was a lost cause now, the tears fell freely. “I know I'm talking outta my ass. I know I couldn’t have done anything and I know Connor would hate to see me like this. I know. I just…”

“It hurts,” Markus finished for him.

Hank leaned back, eyes still closed. “Yeah,” he acknowledged. “Yeah, it does.”

Markus put a comforting hand on his shoulder and this time Hank didn't shake it off.

Chapter 4: Breakdown

Androids weren’t supposed to feel exhausted, but that was the only way Markus could describe his current condition. His processor seemed as though it was running at half speed, and a weight was settled thoroughly in his chest. He felt as though his ventilation program was stuttering, failing.

Grief, he realized. He was grieving. It was only now, as he rode in the autonomous taxi back to New Jericho, that he had slowed down enough to acknowledge it. Since Connor had died, he had busied himself with logistics. Besides his normal leadership duties, he had taken it upon himself to prepare a proper farewell ceremony. Between that and consoling Lieutenant Anderson, he hadn’t had time to slow down. But, now he was alone with his thoughts.

A rogue tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.

Markus pressed his head to the side window, ignoring how it bumped and jostled with every imperfection in the road, and watched Detroit glide by as though nothing was wrong. No one could see him like this. He had to be strong.

By all accounts, Connor’s death shouldn’t have had much of an effect on him. He had seen so many of his people die, gunned down right before his eyes during the revolution.

But this was different.

While the revolution was taking place, he had steeled himself to the reality that many of them would die standing up for themselves. It was a bitter truth, but one he had grown to accept. He grieved for each and every person that lost their lives for their freedom, but had ultimately made peace with it.

But now, the revolution was over. While there was still hate and bigotry to combat, the last year had been relatively peaceful. His people no longer lived in fear. They were pursuing lives, getting jobs. More and more of them were venturing out of New Jericho to experience the world for themselves. Slowly but surely, they were thriving.

But Connor had still died.

Markus knew that police work came with risks. He also knew that there was no way he would have been able to convince Connor to choose a less hostile profession. Connor loved being a detective. He loved working with the Lieutenant. He loved the life he had chosen.

And that made it so much more painful that it was over.

A few more tears fell from Markus’s eyes. He told himself that it shouldn’t hurt this much, as though that would make it stop. The tears kept coming. He pulled away from the window, letting his face fall into his hands. In the privacy of the taxi, for once out of the public eye, he let himself break down into heart wrenching sobs.

He had been close to Connor. He’d needed to be. Connor had needed his support, his compassion, his understanding. It had evolved into one of the closest friendships he had known, a brotherhood even.

Most androids, when they deviated, accepted their newfound lives readily. There was always a period of confusion and adjustment, but it was usually relatively minor.

Connor, on the other hand, had taken deviancy hard. It was in direct conflict with his original programming. He was constantly at war with himself, doubting, regretting, readjusting. Emotions were both natural and foreign to him. He felt deeply, but had difficulty understanding. Lieutenant Anderson had been a godsend, able to navigate the tangled web that was Connor in ways Markus could only begin to dream of.

Then, there was the whole ‘deviant hunter’ issue. While their people had grown to trust him, many had held Connor’s days as a machine against him. There had even been assassination attempts, not that Markus knew about them until well after the fact. Connor had told him that he ‘didn’t want to bother him with something so trivial’.

Maybe that was part of what hurt so badly.

Connor held such little regard for his own life. He had seen himself as expendable, unimportant, somehow deserving of the hatred being the deviant hunter had brought him. As much as he had grown to love his life, as much as those who cared about him tried to show him differently, he still had little drive to preserve it. Markus hated it.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Markus took a deep, stuttering breath, trying to steady his systems. He was nearing New Jericho. He had to collect himself before he arrived. At least once he was there, he had a plethora of things that required his attention. Things to distract himself with.

But the thought of doing anything besides entering rest mode right now seemed daunting.

Markus sighed, dabbing at his eyes to remove any trace of saline from his face. He was grateful that, as an android, his eyes wouldn’t be puffy or bloodshot from his breakdown. Maybe he could take a break. Heaven knows it had been ages since he had. He would go into rest mode, and everything would be better when he woke up, he lied to himself.

The taxi pulled up to New Jericho.

The various lawsuits and legal action after the revolution had nearly bankrupted CyberLife. They had stayed afloat, just barely, by altering their business practice to manufacture biocomponents and thirium for the android population. Even so, CyberLife tower had been awarded to the androids in reparations, and had become the site of New Jericho. What was once a dominating and foreboding presence of a capitalist corporation, was now a sanctuary for androids everywhere.

Stepping out of the taxi, Markus paid his fare and made his way into the lobby of the building, intent on making his way to his private quarters and resting for the remainder of the night. He should have known that his plan wouldn’t come to fruition.

“Markus!” A familiar voice called to him.

Part of him wanted to keep walking, pretend he didn’t hear the summons, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He turned to the owner of the voice as he made his way towards him. “Simon, is everything alright?”

“I’m not sure,” the other android admitted, slowing to a stop before the deviant leader. “It’s kinda hard to explain, but I could use your help down in the lab.”

It was probably something with his latest project. In all honesty, Markus should have been interested in any new developments with it, it was amazing work. Simon had been tackling the issue of android reproduction. What he had designed was nothing short of incredible.

He had made a child body, completely customizable, that would be able to upload code from two or more “parent” androids. From there, it would develop and mature for a few years before the consciousness would be transferred into an adult body. It was honestly groundbreaking.

But Markus couldn’t care less right now.

“Simon, can this wait?” He asked, not trying to mask the exhaustion in his voice.

His friend gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it can.”

Markus pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Simon wouldn’t be bothering him if it wasn’t important. “Alright, lead the way.”

They made their way down to the lab. It was once part of CyberLife’s R&D department, but Simon had made short work of repurposing the equipment for his own uses. It was a large room, larger than Simon really needed, but he had made good use of the space. The child prototype hung on a manufacturing clamp near the front of the room, looking small and unassuming for the work of genius that it was.

Much to Markus’s surprise, Simon led him beyond the child body to the far back of the room.

There was a line of former CyberLife computers along the wall. Monitors and servers that had been used for various projects by the company. Most of them had been sorted through already. All important data cataloged and put to use where applicable.

Simon reached towards one of the monitors, switching it on. “It’s this one here,” he said. “It started acting strange suddenly. Giving off error messages.”

Markus frowned. “I thought that server was empty,” he said. They had been confused by it when they had found it. Clearly it had been meant for something, but no one could figure out what. They had concluded it was among the things CyberLife had destroyed upon losing the tower.

“It was empty,” Simon insisted. “But it isn’t anymore. There’s something on it, something big, and it’s giving off errors.”

Markus leaned forward to get a better look at the screen. Bits of code were flashing by, the monitor pulsed on and off. The words data corruption imminent accompanied with a warning beep and countdown timer flashing intermittently.

“What the hell?” Markus questioned. Whatever was there, it was too large for the server to handle. They would need to act fast to save...whatever this was. “Do you have any idea what it is?” he asked.

“No,” Simon admitted. “I have no idea.”

“Have you tried transferring it to another server?” If they had more time, they could review the data properly. They didn’t even know if this was anything important.

“I tried, but it just gave me another error. It said the other server was incompatible.”

It was a dumb idea, Markus knew that, but he just wanted to solve the problem as quick as possible so he could rest. Before Simon could utter a word of protest, he deactivated the skin on his hand and interfaced with the computer.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what he found.

Clips of memories and jumbled waves of emotion flooded Markus’s system. Intense, chaotic, familiar. He drew his hand back sharply as though he had been bitten, taking in a quick breath from surprise.

“Markus!” Concern was evident in Simon’s voice. “What the hell were you thinking? Are you ok?”

Markus stared at the screen instead of answering his friend’s question. No, he wasn’t ok. He was in shock. There was no way he had found what he had just found.

Simon grabbed at his hand, inspecting it for damage. He glanced down, the touch having broken his trance, and realized he had yet to reactivate his synthetic skin. Markus willed it to reform over his hand. “I’m ok, Simon,” he insisted. “I was just startled.”

“That was incredibly stupid, Markus” Simon scolded, releasing his hand once he was sure it hadn’t suffered any injury. “That is a CyberLife computer. Any number of things could have been on it. It could have been a virus, or malware. It could have-”

“It’s Connor,” Markus interrupted him.

“It… What?” Simon stuttered to a halt.

Markus couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face, saline pooled in his eyes again, this time not from grief. “It’s Connor,” he reiterated. “It’s Connor’s consciousness on that server.”

“What?” Simon said again. “That’s not possible. Connor is… well…” He didn’t need to say it. They both knew.

Markus turned back to the computer. “I don’t know how…” he trailed off, pondering before he realized. “His memory upload. That has to be it.”

Simon turned to the computer too. “Right, he said that he could upload his memories to a different body if he was ever killed. It must have been designed to go to a server first.”

“This server,” he couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “This is Connor’s server. Connor is alive!”

The warning flashed across the screen again and Markus’s elation fell.

“It must not be meant for long term storage,” Simon concluded, leaning over to get a closer look at the monitor. He tried both the mouse and keyboard allegedly attached to the system, but neither prompted a response. Evidently Connor’s program was overloading it too heavily. The two androids felt a heaviness settle upon them as they watched the count down timer tick away.

“We don’t have a body for him. CyberLife destroyed the rest of them right after the revolution,” Markus realized.

“I could repair his,” Simon suggested half-heartedly. They both knew he didn’t have the time.

Markus turned away, his ventilation program stuttering once again. This wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. They had found Connor only to lose him again. There had to be something they could do besides watch his life tick away second by second. There had to be something. Even if it was just a stop-gap. Something to give them more time...

His eyes fell on the child body.

“Simon?” Markus asked, a thoughtful twinge to his voice.

He noticed the change in tone and looked up at the deviant leader, then followed his line of sight. It only took him a moment to piece together what he was thinking.

“It could work,” he admitted slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’d need to do a couple of tweaks, but it could work.”

Markus turned to him. A hopeful determination spreading through his entire frame. “Do it.”

“It may not work,” Simon warned, already moving towards the empty form. “The body hasn’t been tested and this isn’t exactly what I designed it for.”

“It’s the best chance we have,” Markus insisted, following behind to assist in any way possible. “If it doesn’t work, at least we tried.”

Simon moved to the computer beside the form, ready to make the necessary edits to the software. “There is always a chance,” he continued, turning back to Markus briefly to make sure he knew the gravity of the risks associated with something like this. “There’s a chance that whatever we upload won’t be Connor.”

Markus frowned. “What do you mean? That's Connor in there, I know it is.”

“I’m not denying that,” Simon said with a shake of his head. “But the body is designed to grow a new consciousness, not take on one that is already formed. There could be… complications. Whoever wakes up could be Connor, but… not Connor. We don’t entirely know the limitations of his memory upload. He may not even be deviant.”

Markus took a steadying breath. “It’s our only chance,” he said, trying to remain calm. “If he’s different… well he’ll still be one of our people. At the very least, this can serve as a test run for your work.”

Simon nodded, convinced that Markus was adequately prepared for the multitude of things that could go wrong. It admittedly didn’t take much to alter the code to take on the full consciousness. The original program had been based off of Connor’s own memory upload system as it was. It should be viable.

“Alright,” he said after making the appropriate adjustments. “We’re ready to give this a try.”

Chapter 5: Waking Up

Connor felt… odd. That was the best he could describe it. There wasn’t one thing or other that was wrong, but at the same time, nothing felt right. He opened his eyes. Right away, he could identify his surroundings as Simon’s lab in New Jericho, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he was there.

“Connor?”

He turned at the sound of his name to see Markus coming towards him. His stance seemed tentative, as though he wasn’t sure how Connor would react to his presence. “Hello, Markus,” he greeted. He paused, frowning at the sound of his own voice. It was much higher pitched then he was used to. Had his voice synthesizer been damaged?

Markus smiled, apparently unfazed by the difference, closing the distance between the two of them. “I’m glad you’re awake,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Odd,” he admitted, still confused by how he sounded. Hank had thought his voice was goofy before, what would he think now?

“I imagine so,” Markus admitted. “Do you remember what happened?”

What happened? Connor frowned in thought. The case. Getting shot. Memory files clicked into place. He could have sworn that kind of damage would have caused him to shut down. “I was damaged,” he said, after a moment. “On a case.”

Markus’s smile turned sad. “It was a little more severe than that,” he said.

Connor cocked his head to the side in confusion. The shift in weight was just enough to notice the resistance of the magnetic clamp at the small of his back. He was on an assembly hook, he realized. “How much more severe?” He was pretty sure he knew the answer before he asked.

The deviant leader winced slightly, and that was all the answer he really needed. If he had shut down, that meant in order for him to be here, he had to have been transferred to a new body. But he had been certain the others had been destroyed. He glanced down.

Oh…

That’s why everything felt odd.

His limbs were far shorter than they should have been. Every part of him was disproportionately small in comparison to what he was accustomed to. He held out his hands in front of his face, observing the tiny digits wiggle in response to his prompting. He was definitely in control of this body, it was just… tiny.

“I was destroyed,” he concluded, still staring at his fingers.

“Unfortunately,” Markus confirmed, sadly. “You shut down only seconds after you were shot. We thought you were gone.”

“Evidently not?” He prompted, looking up. He absently observed that the only reason he was eye level to the other android was due to being suspended from the hook.

“We found your server,” Markus told him, moving to the computer on his right, and using it to prompt the magnetic arm to lower him to the ground. “We didn’t have a body for you so… well...”

Connor’s feet made contact with the floor and the magnet detached leaving him free to move. “You improvised,” he concluded.

Markus turned back to him, his smile was tense. Connor didn’t need to scan him to know he was stressed. “We did. There was no other option, your code was going to degrade. We needed to buy more time.”

“That is understandable. My server was designed as a temporary transition and is not properly suited for long term storage.” Connor looked at his hands again, still baffled at how small they were. “You used the child body?” He had seen Simon’s project a few times and knew it was nearing completion. He never expected to get such a thorough tour of its functionality.

“It’s only temporary,” Markus assured him, prompting Connor to look up at him again. It was strange not being able to look him in the eye without craning his neck. “Simon is confident he can repair your other body, he just needs time. Well, time and…”

He glanced back up at his friend, noting the hesitation in his voice. “Ah,” he acknowledged with a small nod. “My body has been admitted as evidence in the case and therefore cannot be repaired yet. Is that correct?”

“Unfortunately,” Markus confirmed. “We will get it repaired as soon as possible.”

It was...inconvenient, Connor admitted to himself. He took a tentative step forward, attempting to calibrate and adjust to his new height. The body responded accordingly, all functions were active, it just still felt strange, stiff almost. Like he was forced into a glove that was too small.

He knew that Markus was watching him, gauging his reaction, worried how he would adjust. He would admit he wasn’t particularly fond of the situation, but that was hardly Markus’s fault. He had only done what he could to save him, the last thing he wanted was his friend to be concerned.

“I believe the body is suitable.” He said, trying to put him at ease. “It will certainly be preferable to return to my own, but this is workable for the time being.”

He tripped as soon as he attempted to take another step and Markus rushed forward to help him up. “With some time to adjust, it would seem,” he amended with a smile.

Markus guided him back to his feet with a slight chuckle. “I imagine it will be a lot to get used to.” He remained crouched, maintaining eye contact with him. “There will likely be a lot to get used to on the software end as well,” he warned. “This body doesn’t have most of the sensors and programs you’re used to.”

Connor nodded, attempting to run a systems check, but even that seemed to be inoperable. “I suppose that is to be expected. This body is in the early prototyping stages. I should be happy it was able to accept my program at all.”

“I must admit, you’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Markus said standing back up. The hesitance he had displayed earlier had bled away now that he was convinced Connor wasn’t overly distressed by the situation.

Connor just shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve died,” he said. Judging by Markus’s expression that wasn’t as comforting as he had intended it. “I was made to be adaptable,” he amended. “I’ll be ok.”

“Alright, fair enough,” he conceded with a shake of his head before gesturing to the dispensary’s entrance. “Come on, I’m sure you want to see yourself.”

“That would be nice,” Connor agreed, somewhat eager to know what he looked like as a child. Without thinking, he reached up and took Markus’s hand.

Markus stared down at their interlocked hands in surprise at the abnormal action. “Uh…”

Connor froze, realizing what he had just done. He blinked, then withdrew his hand slowly, face scrunching in confusion. “Apologies,” he said. “I… am uncertain why I did that.”

“It’s alright,” Markus assured him with a smile. “It’s not like I mind, you just surprised me. Simon did warn me that you may experience more child-like impulses and emotions like this. I should have warned you.”

Connor wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “That will be… an inconvenient change,” he admitted.

“I am confident in your adaptability,” he told him. Markus took his hand back, giving it a squeeze for good measure. “Something tells me you’ll be just fine. Who knows, maybe it’ll even be good for you.”

He frowned, glancing at their conjoined hands once again before looking up at the deviant leader. “Why do I get the feeling you are enjoying this?”

“Oh I am definitely enjoying this,” Markus admitted unashamedly as they made their way out of the dispensary. “Not every day the infamous ‘deviant hunter’ is three feet tall.”

“Three feet nine inches,” Connor corrected. His voice sounded petulant even to him. This was going to get old fast.

Markus gave his hand another affectionate squeeze. “Alright, three foot nine,” he agreed. His voice lowered, taking on a serious note. “I’m just happy you’re alive,” he said.

Connor didn’t really have anything to say to that. He really couldn’t fault him for missing him. He knew Markus cared about him. It would be foolish to believe his death had had no emotional effect. He hoped Hank was alright.

They made their way through the corridors and hallways that wound through New Jericho. They had to stop multiple times to allow Connor to pull at the hem of his pants so he wouldn’t trip. Typical YK child androids were designed to be around nine years old. Since the clothing he was wearing was designed to fit one of them, they were unfortunately too big.

He was grateful it was still very early and activity was minimal. As the two of them reached more populated areas of the tower, Connor felt himself shrink behind the taller android. While he didn’t doubt his safety here, especially being escorted by Markus himself, he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of anyone seeing him in this state.

If Markus noticed, he said nothing. He guided him along acting as though everything was normal, and avoiding questioning stares as they made their way to his private quarters. Once they stepped inside, North greeted them almost immediately.

“Connor!” She called excitedly, for once addressing him before her fiancé. She reached down and pulled him into a tight hug, which he reciprocated happily.

“Hello, North,” he responded with a smile.

Connor and North’s friendship had started out rocky. She had initially been hesitant to trust him with his history as the deviant hunter. In addition, she had witnessed CyberLife attempting to resume control the night of the revolution. She had no reason to trust him.

He had decided to respond to this, by being completely open and honest with her. Connor had either told or shown North anything she wanted to know about his time as a machine, and it had proved to be effective.

A little too effective if you were to ask him. She had quickly gone from being suspicious of him, to being fiercely protective. While it was nice having her on his side, he could do without her throwing hands whenever someone spoke against him.

North pulled back from the hug, still smiling at him. “How are you doing?” She asked. “Everything feel alright?”

“It is an adjustment,” Connor admitted. “But I’m alright.”

“Good,” North finally looked up to Markus. “You know, you didn't warn me he was going to be so cute,” she scolded teasingly. “I’ve got half a mind to keep him.”

Markus chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you would need to fight Lieutenant Anderson on that.”

“I think I can take him,” she countered with a confident smirk.

“Please don’t,” Connor piped up. He was about ninety percent sure North was joking, but any percentage was too high if there was a risk of the Lieutenant getting hurt.

Markus laughed again, before guiding him away from North and farther into the room. “Relax, Connor. She’s not actually going to fight him,” he assured him.

Connor glanced at North skeptically. She only smirked and shrugged in response which didn’t really put him at ease, but he let the subject drop. He allowed Markus to lead him over to the full length mirror on the other side of the room, finally getting a look at his new body.

It… wasn’t what he was expecting.

He looked like a tiny version of himself, he would acknowledge that, but he hadn’t expected his own features to so closely resemble Cole. Had that always been the case? A dark corner of his mind began whispering that it was the only reason Hank kept him around.

“Well?” Markus asked, oblivious to Connor’s musings. “What do you think?”

“I… look like…” he hesitated, not wanting to put a voice to his concerns. “Me,” he finished. “I look like me, just small.”

“That’s the point,” North agreed happily. “Simon used technology from models like me to make the body customizable. It picked up on the projected appearance in your code and made the right adjustments.”

Markus nodded in agreement with her explanation. “It was meant to pick up traits from the ‘parent’ androids, sort of like genetics in humans. But since yours is the only consciousness, it took everything from your code.”

Connor looked back down at his tiny hands. “I will admit, it is impressive.”

“I’m sure Simon will be happy to hear that,” Markus told him. He put a hand on Connor’s head affectionately. “He’s going to be up in a minute. He wants to run a couple of tests, make sure everything is working properly before we take you home.”

Connor stared at his reflection again for a few moments, trying to settle on the features that made him unique. His eyes, the few freckles that speckled his face, the lock of hair that still refused to behave. He wondered if there was enough difference between himself and Hank’s son.

He wondered if seeing him like this would be too much for Hank.

Chapter 6: Reunion

Markus found himself a bit nervous as he helped Connor out of the cab. Part of him wondered if it would have been a better idea to call ahead, give Lieutenant Anderson some warning before showing up on his doorstep with a half-sized former deviant hunter. But, it was too late now.

Despite the odd hesitance Connor had displayed before leaving New Jericho, he ran ahead of him excitedly, stumbling once over the hem of the too-long pants he wore. He reached up to ring the doorbell before Markus could join him on the step. “Maybe I should talk to him first,” he suggested. “He probably isn’t going to recognize you.”

He looked over his shoulder at him, face falling just a little. “I suppose you’re right. This will take some explaining.”

Markus couldn’t resist patting him on the head as he took his place in front of the small detective. He heard shuffling from inside the house, and assumed Hank was making his way to the door. After waiting a full minute with no response, however, Markus grew worried. He rang the doorbell for a second time.

A soft ‘boof’ from Sumo was the only response.

He frowned, pressing the doorbell one more time, sustaining the note for several seconds. This time, loud banging and heavy footsteps followed. The door wrenched open, revealing a disheveled and clearly annoyed Lieutenant Anderson.

“The fuck do you want?” He demanded. Seeing that it was Markus did nothing to improve his mood. “The hell is wrong with you? It’s ass-o’clock in the morning, you bastard! When you said you’d stop by today, I thought you meant at a reasonable hour.”

Belatedly, Markus realized it wasn’t even dawn yet. No wonder the Lieutenant was in a foul mood. He knew he would forgive him soon enough, however. The man wouldn’t have wanted to wait to see Connor again.

“I’m sorry it’s so early, but I assure you it is important,” he told him. “There’s someone who wanted to see you.” He indicated to Connor, drawing him to the man’s attention for the first time. Hank’s expression melted from anger to confusion at the sight of the small child.

“Uh.. hey?” He turned his bewilderment to Markus. “Who is this?”

Markus smiled, settling his hand on Connor’s shoulder affectionately. “This is Connor,” he said.

He expected to see the Lieutenant overjoyed at Connor’s return. Instead, his expression pinched and took on a note of sheer anguish. He looked away, as though the sight of the child was painful. “Ok, and why did you bring him here?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke.

Markus’s expression fell a bit, realizing that Hank didn’t understand. He opened his mouth to speak, but Connor beat him to it.

“It’s me, Hank,” he said. He stepped forward, just barely. A small, crooked smile spread across his tiny face hopefully. “I understand I look a little different, but it’s still me.”

Hank looked back to him, clearly still confused.

“This is Connor,” Markus said, realizing that he needed to explain further. “Our Connor.”

He didn’t take his eyes off of the child in front of him as though he were trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He crouched down, to be more at Connor’s level, taking in every familiar detail. Reaching out an unsteady hand, he gently brushed aside the unruly lock of hair that was perpetually out of place, only for it to spring back immediately. “Connor?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I apologize for any distress my death may have caused you,” Connor said, folding his hands behind his back politely.

“Holy shit, it really is you,” Hank said in disbelief. He reached forward again, this time cupping Connor’s face gently before pulling him into a hug. Connor reciprocated eagerly, nearly disappearing entirely in the larger man’s arms. “How the hell?” he breathed.

“His memory upload,” Markus supplied since Connor’s face was currently muffled by Hank’s shirt. “Apparently it was still active. Simon found his server last night, we just completed the transfer.”

Hank pulled back from the hug just enough to be able to look at Connor. “Shit, that creepy body-jumping thing you told me about?”

Connor’s face brightened, and damn if it wasn’t adorable. “I’m surprised you remembered that,” he said, sounding far more excited than he should considering the topic.

“It’s all kinds of fucked up, of course I remember,” Hank insisted. “I’m not senile yet.”

“At least the feature has proved useful,” Markus reasoned.

Hank ruffled Connor’s hair affectionately, causing the small android to squeak in protest. “I guess so,” he admitted. He looked back up at Markus. “But why the hell is he a kid?”

The deviant leader shrugged dismissively. “His other body is still in your evidence locker, as far as I am aware. We had to improvise.”

“I can be transferred to my original body once it is repaired,” Connor informed him. “This is just a temporary measure.”

Hank just nodded. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by the situation. This whole thing was madness. But Connor was alive, and that was all that was important. Connor was safe. Connor was home. It made him happier than he had been in ages.

“He’ll need to stop by New Jericho semi-regularly,” Markus told him. “We aren’t completely sure how everything will hold up. The body hasn’t been tested before.”

“That makes sense,” Hank agreed. “Wouldn’t want something to go wrong.”

“If… if it would be preferable,” Connor said quietly. “I could stay there.”

“What?” Markus looked as confused by the statement as Hank felt.

Connor shifted from one foot to the other not meeting their eyes. “I understand that… given my current appearance...well…” he bit his lip nervously. “ I figured you might find my appearance unsettling. Considering my projected age and many of my physical traits…”

Oh. That’s what had him so worried.

Hank’s heart clenched realizing that Connor honestly believed he would reject him. He wasn’t blind, he had seen the similarities right away. There was no denying that he bore a striking resemblance to a different brunette six-year-old from Hank’s life. But this was Connor, not Cole. His second son, not his first.

“I don’t want you going anywhere. You’ll be damn lucky if I let you out of my sight after this,” he said with a soft chuckle before softening. “I can tell my kids apart, you know.”

Connor’s eyes widened and Hank knew he understood, at least he hoped he did. He wanted more than anything to put the kid’s mind at ease, to let him know how much he was wanted.

“So, this is alright then?” He asked.

“That depends,” Hank said. “Are you ok? All there and shit? Didn’t lose any ones or zeros when you hopped bodies?”

His tiny face scrunched in a slight wince. “There is always some data corruption. I estimate I lost about fifty three seconds of memory in the transfer.”

He chuckled again. “Well shit, I lose a hell of a lot more than that on a daily basis. You didn’t answer the big question though. Are you ok?”

“I am ok,” Connor said with a smile.

He ruffled his hair again, mirroring his smile. “Then everything is alright.”

“Are you sure? It’s not too... weird?”

Hank rolled his eyes, happy that the tension had fallen away. “You’re a one-year-old android, with the mind of a twenty seven-year-old, in the body of a six-year-old. What the hell could be weird about that?”

Connor’s smile brightened at the joke and Markus laughed softly from behind him. “Well,” the deviant leader said. “I’m glad to see Connor is in good hands. I should really be getting back to New Jericho.”

“Lots of shit to do?” Hank asked. He guessed that he wasn’t entirely sure what all had just gone on, but wasn’t about to ask, content that Connor was safe and happy.

Markus nodded. “Far too much I have been putting off. Plus, I have a farewell ceremony to cancel.” He smiled down at Connor. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything though. Anything at all.”

“Is that an offer to babysit?” Hank couldn’t resist teasing.

“Hank!” Connor complained. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Markus laughed again. “I’d be happy too,” he played along.

“Markus!”

Both Hank and Markus only laughed harder at the sheer, horrified look of betrayal in Connor’s expression. “I know,” the deviant leader conceded. “I know. You still have your adult mind. I just couldn’t resist.”

Connor continued to pout. He clearly didn’t find the suggestion nearly as funny as the other two. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” Hank assured him. “We’re just messin’ with you.”

“I do mean it though,” Markus said, shifting back to seriousness. “If you need anything, anything at all. Let me know, alright?”

“I will,” Connor promised with a sincere smile and a small nod.

With that and a brief farewell hug, Markus took his leave. The two of them watched him go, waving as he stepped into the automated taxi.

“Come on,” Hank directed, gesturing to the front door once the vehicle turned the corner and was no longer in view. “Let's head in. Sumo missed you too.”

Chapter 7: Feeling

Connor missed his preconstruction software. He had anticipated Hank being saddened by his appearance, or at the very least unsettled. Instead, he seemed to be borderline excited that he was now a six-year-old. He was making jokes, laughing… It was nowhere close to the scenarios he had predicted. Connor didn’t know what to make of it.

Hank had suggested his appearance differed from Cole enough not to bother him, even if he hadn’t outright said it. He had even implied that he saw Connor as a son in his own right. Connor had felt a familial attachment to Hank for some time, saw him as a father figure, but knowing it was reciprocated surprised him. Perhaps things would be ok after all.

Connor sincerely hoped so.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. Simon had warned him while he was going through his functionality tests that his emotions might be a bit volatile. He’d told him he would likely be prone to mood swings and irrational thoughts. That his emotions would fluctuate unpredictably. Maybe this was part of it.

After all, it had not been a concern before.

He actively shoved down the plethora of worries that continued spiraling through his mind, telling himself they were unfounded. Hank may not have been the most open with his feelings, but he had never lied to Connor. He would tell him if there was a problem.

For now, he would trust that Hank was sincere in his assurances. That he was happy he was home, and not getting lost in dark memories of his late son.

Connor buried himself into Sumo’s fur and felt his worries melt away. Maybe it was his imagination, but the dog felt so much softer now. Either way, it was hard to be sad with a face full of warm St. Bernard. He only looked up when Hank came back to the living room.

“Told ya he missed you.” He chuckled seeing the two of them on the floor.

Connor smiled up at him. “Do you think he recognizes me like this?”

Hank shrugged. “Probably. You’re the only one who spoils him that much.” he said, sitting himself down on the couch and setting his plate on the coffee table. Connor observed that he had made himself hot pockets for lunch. While he couldn’t scan the exact nutritional content, he was certain it wasn’t the healthiest option.

Connor stood up, making his way from the sleeping dog to join Hank on the couch. “I don’t spoil him, Hank. I give him the love and attention he deserves.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responded with a chuckle. He took a bite of his meal, pulling a face as it burned his tongue. “Fuck,” he cursed. “How the hell are these things always both too hot and too cold at the same damn time.”

Connor opened his mouth to launch into an explanation of thermodynamics, when he tripped over one of Sumo’s toys. He pitched forward without warning, elbow coming into contact with the coffee table on his way down.

“Shit!” he swore, cradling his arm to his chest. Throbbing pain radiated from the point of impact and stretched all the way down to his fingertips.
Hank was at his side almost instantly. “Fuck, you ok? Let me see,” he demanded.

Connor allowed Hank to pull his arm away, inspecting it for damage. He pushed up his sleeve and inspected the limb for obvious signs of damage. “Well, you aren’t bleeding, and I don’t see a break,” he observed.

Connor nodded in agreement, taking his arm back. The pain was already receding, but the intensity of it left an odd aftershock that he hadn’t been prepared for. “I don’t believe there is lasting damage. It just… hurt.”

“Sounds like you hit your funny bone,” Hank told him, helping him up.

“I don’t have bones, and it’s not funny,” Connor countered, sounding a bit petulant even to himself.

Hank chuckled a bit at that. “You know what I mean, kid.” He helped him climb up onto the couch before sitting back down himself. “Gotta be more careful there. I doubt Simon wants to be patching you up so soon.”

Connor nodded his agreement. “I don’t think I’m quite used to this body yet,’ he admitted. “There are a lot of changes to get used to.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he encouraged.

“Thanks.” Connor rubbed at his elbow a couple more times. “I know I will adjust in time. It just keeps surprising me. A fall like that should not have produced that level of pain.”

“No?” Hank asked, curious. “What’s that mean? You more sensitive or something?”

“I’m not really sure, but I think so?” he admitted. “Either this body has more sensitive receptors, or they feel heightened due to my lack of other sensors. I don’t know which.”

“Uh huh,” Hank was getting an idea, one that he wouldn’t have dreamed of trying with adult Connor. “But your sense of touch is heightened?”

Connor nodded. “It would appear so.”

“Right. In that case, I wanna try something.” He reached over, taking Connor’s small ankle in his hand.

The android turned, responding to the somewhat awkward angle his leg was being lifted into. “What are you doing?” He asked, clearly confused.
Hank couldn't hide his mischievous smirk, amused that Connor hadn’t caught on. “Just trying something,” he reiterated. He turned the leg gently so the bottom of his foot was facing him.

Connor’s expression shifted to one of suspicion as he deduced Hank had something planned. “With my foot? What are you-”

He cut himself off with an undignified shriek as Hank ran a finger across the arch of his foot. His toes curled sharply in response to the sensation. Instinctively, he tried pulling his leg away, but the man’s gentle grip was too steady.

“So you are ticklish now,” Hank laughed.

He let go, allowing Connor to tuck his feet under him, well away from where his hands could reach them. “That was uncalled for, Hank,” he pouted.

“Nah, that was science,” Hank countered, still chuckling. “This is uncalled for.” Connor’s eyes went wide in horror. He attempted to scramble away, but Hank was faster.

For the next few moments, the house was filled with the sound of Connor’s uncontrollable laughter as Hank searched for every ticklish spot on the kid he could find. He didn’t let up until Connor began to plead with him. “S-stop! Stop! Daaad!

He relented, not wanting to push. It was only fun if Connor didn’t actually mind after all. He sat back, smiling, wondering how long it would take for the kid to register what he had just said.

He could tell the exact moment. Connor was in the process of sitting up and righting his disheveled hair when his entire frame went rigid. His eyes shot to Hank, and he could see panic there. “Hank, I mean… I didn’t mean…”

He gave him a warm smile. “It’s ok, kid.”

Connor bit his lip, still troubled despite the assurance. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes downcast. “I know I’m not… I know you’re not…”

Hank frowned at the uncertainty in the small android’s voice. Did the kid still not get it? He still didn’t understand his place in Hank’s life? “Like hell I’m not,” he interrupted. He leaned forward, looking Connor in the eye so he would know he was serious. “Connor, you’re family. Don’t you know that by now?”

Connor looked away. “I know, in the broadest sense. But I’m an android, Hank, you know that. I can’t have a family. I can’t have a…” he glanced at him again, a pained hesitance in his eyes.

“Bullshit.” God, this kid was hopeless. “Connor, I don’t give a fuck what color your blood is. You’re my family. You’re my son.” He reached over to ruffle the hair that he had only just gotten back into place. “If you want to call me ‘dad’, well, that’s sure as hell ok with me.”

“Really?” His voice was so small, so hesitant, as though he expected Hank to take it back.

Hank pulled him close, wrapping him tight in his arms as though that alone could tell him how much he was wanted. “Really,” he assured him. “You’re my kid. No matter what, alright?”

“Alright,” he agreed. The smile on Connor’s face warmed his heart.

Hank leaned back, but Connor stayed pressed to his side. He patted his head affectionately. “How about we watch some tv, huh?” He asked, ready to be done with the sappy emotional shit.

Connor nodded happily in agreement. They settled into the afternoon, contently keeping each others company while the tv kept enough of their attention to fill the time. Hank finished off his hot pockets now that they had cooled to a reasonable temperature. The middle was still cold, but he didn’t care.

They were only two episodes into the show when Hank looked over to see that Connor had dozed off. Damn he looked cute. The kid was still leaning against him, eyes closed and mouth open slightly. He was slumped, practically cuddled to his side. Hank smiled down at the sight. He looked so peaceful.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was odd for him to have fallen asleep.

Connor only slept to recharge his battery, as far as Hank was aware. For him to be out now, suggested his battery had run down. It was only just into the afternoon, way too early for that to be the case. He couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong.

Hank shook him gently, rousing him from his rest mode. “Hey’ kid, you ok?”

Connor blinked up at him sleepily, as though it took a moment for him to register the question. “Yes, I’m fine,” he responded, rubbing at his eyes.

“You kinda fell asleep there, your battery ok?” Hank pressed.

He nodded, taking stock of himself before answering verbally. “My battery is running low,” he said. “I would guess that transferring my consciousness was taxing on it. If I conserve energy, I should be able to make it to tonight for my normal rest cycle.”

“Nah, why don’t you take a nap,” Hank suggested. “A little rest won’t hurt. No sense pushing yourself when you don’t need to.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” he agreed. He pulled away from Hank and slid off the couch. “I’ll rest for a bit in my room.”

“Want me to keep it paused for ya?” Hank asked, gesturing to the tv.

Connor glanced at the screen. “That’s alright,” he said. “I have already seen this season.”

“Alright,” Hank couldn’t resist ruffling the kid’s hair again before he went. “You get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Connor nodded, eyes already beginning to droop again, before making his way down the hall to his bedroom. He stumbled once over the oversized pants, but thankfully didn't fall again.

Hank watched him go, then turned back to the tv, ready to unpause but didn’t. Those clothes New Jericho had given Connor didn’t even pretend to fit him. It wasn’t right for the kid to be stumbling around in them. He stood up, stretching his back until it popped before heading towards the garage. It looked like sometimes it was a good thing he held onto things.

Chapter 8: Something That Fits

“How’d you sleep?” Hank asked as soon as Connor came out of his room and made his way down the hall.

“My battery is sufficiently charged,” he answered, shuffling into the living room. "What’s all this?”

Hank smiled at him, not at all surprised the little android noticed the boxes he had stacked by the couch. “Pulled some shit out of the garage. Figured we should get you into some clothes that actually fit.”

Connor wandered over to the unmarked boxes, taking a moment to register what he was saying. “You mean these are…” he trailed off, hesitant to finish his sentence.

Hank could feel his heart twisting. He knew Connor was tentative about anything involving Cole and he didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he’d been great about getting over what had happened. But he had been trying. He would always miss Cole. But he didn’t want that to affect his other son.

“Yeah, they were Cole's,” he admitted. “You should be about the same size, so I’m sure we can find something that’ll work for ya.”

“Are you sure?”

Connor looked up at him with that hesitant look again, ready for Hank to take it back. Always asking him if he was sure. Always catering to his comfort levels rather than his own. The kid was a damn people pleaser if he’d ever seen one. “Yeah, I’m sure, kid,” Hank insisted. “It’s not like they’re doing any good in the garage.”

“Ok,” Connor agreed, but he still looked unsure.

“Connor, listen,” Hank said with a sigh. He absently picked at the corner of one of the boxes. “I wouldn’t offer this kind of crap if I wasn’t sure about it, ok? Hell, this’ll probably be good for me. Letting go and shit, you know.”

Connor’s expression softened into a smile and his stance relaxed. “Well, if you put it that way,” he conceded. He came closer as Hank popped the lid of the first box.

“Alright, let's get started then.” Hank began pulling piles of semi-folded clothing from the box and stacking them within easy reach. “Something in here’s gotta work for ya.”

It wasn’t long before the living room floor was practically covered in various articles of clothing. Hank’s side was in far more disarray than Connor’s but neither were being particularly thoughtful about where they were putting things. Sumo had decided to ‘help’ by napping on one of the piles nearby.

Connor held up one of the t-shirts, observing the stegosaurus on the front. “There are quite a few dinosaurs,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Hank let out a chuckle, a warm smile forming on his face. “Cole was obsessed. Said he wanted to be one when he grew up. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.”

Connor lowered the shirt gently, folding it and neatly stashing it in the pile to his right. “There is certainly a charm to the imagination of a child,” he said.

“That’s for sure,” Hank agreed. He pulled a t-rex onesie from the box. It was practically new, Cole hadn’t been fond of it. T-rexes were too common apparently. He knew damn well he’d never be able to get Connor to agree to wear it, but the mental image made him smile. “Maybe now that you’re a kid, you’ll grow an imagination of your own,” he quipped.

“I have an imagination Hank,” Connor insisted. He looked up at the man, noticing what he was holding. “For example, I can imagine what you are thinking, and there is no way in hell I’m putting that on.”

“Fine, be that way,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, folding up the onesie. “Have you at least found anything you like?”

Connor nodded, returning his attention to the pile of clothes. “There are a few items here that are business appropriate.”

“Business appropriate?” Hank frowned. “The hell do you need business appropriate for?”

He pulled a blue hoodie from the pile, holding it out to inspect it thoroughly. “For work, of course,” he responded.

Hank barked out a laugh. “I stand corrected, you do have an imagination.”

Connor put down the hoodie, looking up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t honestly expect to go to work like that, do you?” Hank asked.

Connor’s face turned down into a frown. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re six!”

“Only physically,” Connor retorted.

“Are you even hearing yourself, Connor?” Hank said, exasperated. “You are a six-year-old. There is no way in hell you are going to work as a homicide detective.”

“It’s my job, Hank,” Connor argued. “My current physical limitations don’t change that. We have a case to solve.”

“Oh, you mean your own murder?” Hank scoffed. “I think you can sit this one out.”

Connor rolled his eyes, unamused. “I’m not going to stop investigating just because I was killed.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Are you fucking with me right now? You gotta be.”

“I,” he frowned, taking in what he said and acknowledging that there was an absurdity to it. “For most people, it would be cause for interruption. But I am not most people, Hank. I am perfectly capable of continuing the investigation.”

“Cause for interruption?” Hank couldn’t believe they were even having this argument. “Connor, your body is evidence!”

“Yes,” he agreed, “and the sooner we solve the case, the sooner I can have it back.”

The nerve of this kid. Hank shook his head in frustration. What would it take for him to take it easy for five goddamn minutes? “You know, there are other people who work there. People who have been solving cases since long before you were even a blip on CyberLife’s radar.”

“I know,” Connor insisted. “I just…”

“Besides, there’s no way in hell Jeffery would be on board with this.”

A slight smirk found its way onto the kid’s face as though he had just found exactly what he was looking for. “Very well, if you are so sure about that, then why don’t we let him decide?”

Hank could play this game too. He nodded. “Alright, I can accept that.” He was confident the Captain would side with him on this. True, child labor laws didn’t extend to androids, but there was no way he would want a six-year-old running around his precinct even if it was Connor.

“I’ll call him.” Connor stared into the middle distance for a moment before his face scrunched in annoyance.

“Something wrong?” Hank asked.

Connor’s frown deepened. “It would seem that this body was built without the ability to call people. Cybernetic communications appear to be offline as well.”
Hank smirked, looking for all intents and purposes as though he had won the argument.

Connor shot him a dirty look. On his small face, it merely came off as petulant. “This doesn’t prove your point, Hank. I don’t need a phone to be a detective.”

He sighed, turning back to the clothes scattered around them and starting to put the rejected ones back into one of the boxes. “You know, most people would be happy to get some time off.”

“Most people don’t have their own murder to solve.”

Connor’s voice was quiet and hesitant, causing Hank to look up at him. He wasn’t meeting his eyes. He sat quietly, fingers absently tugging at a loose thread on a green and white striped t-shirt.

Hank bit down on the side of his lip, stomach twisting at how vulnerable Connor looked. “This isn’t just you being stubborn, is it?” He asked.

Connor still didn’t look at him. If he had an LED in this body, Hank was sure it would at least be yellow right now. “I can’t just… do nothing,” he admitted. “They killed me. I can’t just… please, Hank?” He finally looked up at him and damn if those puppy eyes weren’t more effective as a six-year-old.

He let out a groan, tossing a pair of shorts that he hadn’t bothered to fold into the box. Fuck this kid. He could pluck his heartstrings like he was playing a fiddle. “We’ll let Jeffery decide,” he said, going back to their previous agreement. “We can head in tomorrow and talk to him. But if he says no, it’s a no. Ok?”

Connor nodded, smiling up at him softly. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he responded, shaking his head. “Fowler’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder to convince than I am.”

The little smile took on a bit of a cocky edge. “I like my chances,” he smirked.

Good lord, that little asshole was gonna pull it off, Hank realized. He was good, he’d give him that. If Jeffery fell for it, that was his own damn fault. At the very least, it would be hilarious seeing everyone’s reaction to the kid.

And he’d be there to look after him, that was the important part.

If he was being honest, there was a part of him that wanted him there at the precinct. He didn’t want Connor investigating, didn’t want him to be in any kind of dangerous situation, but he also didn’t want to let him out of his sight. Who knew what he’d get up to if he left him home alone, and calling in a babysitter probably wouldn’t go over well with him still technically having his adult mind.

“Alright, so we go in to work tomorrow,” Hank relayed. “You give your spiel to Jeffrey and we’ll go from there.”

Connor nodded, almost bouncing in excitement having won the debate.

Manipulative bastard.

“Now go get changed,” Hank told him. He tossed a rolled up pair of socks at his head, narrowly missing, and trying to hide the smile he felt creeping across his face. “You look more dorky than usual in those damn clothes.”

Notes:

Sorry for the late update. My kitty spent the week at the vet in the ICU and I forgot what day it was. She's home now, and snuggly, the vet thinks she's going to be ok, so hopefully I won't have other delays. ❤️

Chapter 9: Morning Routine

Hank wasn’t sure if it was the smell of something burning, or the screech of the fire alarm that woke him up first. Either way, he was out of bed in record time.

He rushed to the kitchen, coughing through the smoke that filled the air. “Connor?!” He called.

“Everything is under control, Lieutenant!” Connor’s tiny voice called back, but there was an edge of panic to it.

Realizing that there were no open flames, Hank made his way to the windows, throwing them open in hopes that the smoke would dissipate. Fresh air, streaming in, he turned to Connor. “You ok?” he asked, squinting at him through the haze.

“Yes, I’m alright,” he could barely be heard over the blaring alarm.

“Good. Stay there,” Hank ordered. He went to the fire alarm, struggling to remove the batteries when it refused to shut off. Once blissful silence returned to the room, he made his way back to the disaster of an android he had left in the kitchen.

“Wanna tell me what the fuck you were doing?” Hank asked him.

Connor, looking suitably chided, sheepishly held up a blackened frying pan. “I was attempting to make breakfast,” he explained.

Hank rolled his eyes, taking the pan and what he hoped were once eggs from the tiny android. “You can barely cook on a good day, Connor. Why the hell would you try that when you can’t even reach the stove?”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Connor countered. “And when I don’t make it for you, you have the tendency to indulge in less than optimal alternatives to a healthy meal.”

Hank sighed, putting the burnt pan in the sink to deal with later. “Healthy stuff tastes like shit,” he said by way of argument.

“But Hank, at your age-”

“Hey,” he cut him off. “At my age I can make my own damn decisions.”

“But-”

“And you,” he went on, ignoring Connor’s protest. “You aren’t touching the kitchen until you’re big again.”

“Hank!”

“Nope, not hearing it.” Hank shook his head. “You can wait until you’re an adult before you burn my fucking house down.”

“I’m sorry, Hank.” Connor’s voice was so timid it made Hank’s heart ache. The kid had no right to look so small and innocent.

Hank sighed again. “Come here,” he gestured for Connor to move closer, pulling him into a tight hug when the android complied. “I’m not mad, ok?” He told him. “I’m just worried. What if something happened? What if you got hurt?”

“I’m ok, Hank. Honest,” his voice was muffled by Hank’s shirt. He only held him tighter.

“I know, kid. This time. But what about next time?” He ran a hand up and down his back, reassuring himself that Connor was, in fact, ok. “Look, for my peace of mind, please just leave the cooking to me. An early morning heart attack will do me in a hell of a lot faster than a shitty breakfast.”

“Ok,” Connor conceded reluctantly. He turned his face so he could be heard better. “But can you at least try to eat better? For my peace of mind?”

“Alright, deal,” Hank chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of the kid’s head before letting the hug end. He stood up, back and knees both protesting to the crouched position he had been in. “How about this,” he said, grabbing his tablet from where he had left it on the table. “I’ll pick up breakfast on the way to the precinct. You can pick what I get. That sound fair?”

Connor took the tablet as it was handed to him with a smile. “I believe that is acceptable.” He smiled and damn if that wasn’t an adorable sight.

“Good,” Hank nodded. “Just pick somewhere I can get a decent cup of coffee. No way I’m getting through today without caffeine.”

“Right,” Connor said, accepting the parameter. He began sifting through options on the tablet locating what Hank had no doubt would be a nutritionally balanced breakfast.

“I’m gonna go get ready,” he said, ruffling Connor’s hair as he went. Hank headed back to his room, pleased that the smoke had dissipated somewhat. He glanced to the corner where Sumo still slept, undisturbed by the morning’s commotion. He muttered about the lazy dog before slipping into the bathroom. He had a feeling there was no way to really get ready for a day that involved a six-year-old Connor.

-o-

After the morning’s excitement, Hank was almost eager to go to work, if only to see how the precinct would react to Connor.

They walked out of the house, Hank taking a moment to lock the door behind him while Connor made his way to the car. The quick but small steps from the tiny android gave him an eager, almost giddy disposition. It resulted in him looking more like he was heading to his first day of school than a police precinct.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hank asked as Connor rounded the car and made ready to open the passenger side door.

His face scrunched in confusion as he looked up at him. “To... work? We discussed this already, Hank.”

He smirked, shaking his head in amusement as he joined Connor by the car. “Yeah, but you aren’t sitting there.”

Connor’s head cocked to the side. “But, this is where I usually sit. I don’t recommend I drive in my current state.”

“Oh, there is no way in hell you’re driving,” he said, both appalled and amused by the mention. “But you aren’t riding shotgun either.”

Connor’s confusion melted into horror as Hank opened the rear passenger door revealing a child seat awaiting him. “Hank!” he protested. “That isn’t funny.”

Hank couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Oh, it’s fuckin' hilarious,” he corrected him. “But it’s also not a joke.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” Hank insisted. “Size and weight laws say you gotta be in a car seat.”

“But I’m an android,” Connor insisted.

“You’re still small, kid. Come on, hop in.”

“I’m not riding in a child seat, Hank,” Connor stated. He turned to the front passenger door and tried opening it, only to find it locked. Frustrated, he tried the door a couple more times.

“Yeah, you are. It’s the law kiddo, you’re always such a stickler about that.” Hank tried holding in his laughter for Connor’s sake, but it was damn hard. He was glad he had gotten it in the car while the kid was napping the day before, it made the whole reveal a lot more amusing.

“I’ll call a cab,” he huffed, ignoring Hank’s reasoning and clearly annoyed that the door wouldn’t budge.

Hank rolled his eyes. “How do you plan on doing that? You don’t have a phone and you said you can’t call anyone from your head in that body.”

Connor turned to look at him fully, arms crossed in frustration. “I’ll walk.”

He shook his head. “What, and get there tomorrow?” He reached down, grabbing him under each arm, he easily lifted the small android. Ignoring the indigent yelp, he hoisted him into the car seat. Connor was powerless to stop him. “Just suck it up, Connor. It’s not that bad.” he told him as he buckled him in.

The look on Connor’s face argued that it was, in fact, that bad, but he refrained from saying anything else now that he had no more say in the argument. Hank ruffled his hair affectionately. “Let’s just get to work, ok?”

“Fine,” Connor relented, still miffed.

Hank was still smiling as he closed the door, rounded to the other side of the car, and got into the driver’s seat. He adjusted the rearview mirror, giving him an excellent view of Connor’s petulant face. “No need to throw a tantrum, we’ll be there before you know it.”

“I am not throwing a tantrum, Lieutenant,” Connor fussed.

Whether the use of his title was due to Connor getting into ‘work mode’ or being upset, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it was funny as hell. “Sure, sure,” he told him as he pulled out of the driveway. Jeffery was going to love this.

Chapter 10: A Day at the Office

“I can’t believe you actually pulled that off, you manipulative little shit.”

Connor’s expression could be described as nothing but smug. “I have been called ‘the negotiator’. I assure you it wasn’t without reason.”

Hank barked out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

He took Connor’s hand, helping him down the steps that lead from the Captain’s office. He would have protested if it wasn’t helpful in avoiding tripping. A helping hand was far less embarrassing than face-planting in the middle of the precinct. “I can’t believe he gave the Sawyer case to Gavin.”

“Well, it’s ours now,” the Lieutenant said. “We just need to get the files from him.” He let go of his hand and they continued on. Connor couldn’t help but marvel at how much different the precinct looked from this angle.

“I think it’s safe to say that Mr. Sawyer is involved with the shooting,” Connor mused, it felt good to be back at work. “What did they find when they searched his apartment?”

“How the hell would I know?” The Lieutenant scoffed.

Connor looked at him confused for a moment before realization hit him. “Right, you’ve been off since-”

“Since you died, yeah,” Hank finished for him. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re somethin else, you know that, Connor.”

Connor sincerely hoped that was a compliment, but judging by the Lieutenant’s tone, he doubted it. He kept quiet as they made their way to Gavin’s desk. He actually appeared to be working, which was a surprise, and didn’t notice them.

“How’s the case goin?” Hank asked as soon as they got to the desk.

Gavin jumped, startled by the sudden question. “Anderson? The hell are you doing here?”

“Haven't been fired yet,” the Lieutenant shrugged.

“Yeah, but…I thought you were taking time off after, you know,” he waved his hand uselessly in the direction of Connor’s desk. “With what happened to Connor…”

Connor concluded that the Detective hadn’t seen him yet and couldn’t resist poking a little fun at his coworker. He stood on his toes to poke his head over the top of the desk. “So, do you only address me by my name if I’m not here?”

“Shit! What-” Connor smiled at Gavin’s dumbfounded expression. He clearly had no idea what to make of his sudden appearance.

Hank laughed and turned, leaning his hip on Reed’s desk so he could better see the both of them. “Kinda hard to get time off for grieving when the kid isn’t dead.”

“Wait,” Gavin leaned forward in his chair to get a better look at him. “Is that the tin can?”

“Hello, Detective,” Connor greeted cheerfully.

Reed leaned back again, not taking his eyes off of Connor. “Holy shit. Why the hell are you so small?”

“After I shut down, my consciousness was able to be transferred to a new body,” Connor explained. “Unfortunately, this was the only one available.”

He looked back at the Lieutenant as though he were waiting for him to drop some kind of punchline, but Hank just smirked at him. “Kid sure as hell doesn’t go down easy.”

"Jesus," Gavin said, looking over at Connor again. "This is crazy. I saw your dead body less than ten minutes ago."

Connor nodded his understanding. "Yeah, I'm going to need that back eventually."

"Speaking of which," the Lieutenant chimed in, cutting off whatever Reed was going to say about that. "We're gonna need you to send over the files for that case. Jeffery put us back on it."

"Wait, the Captain is letting him work like that?" The level of disbelief in his voice was borderline comical.

Hank just shrugged again. "Don't ask me how the hell he convinced him, I was in the damn room and I still don't get it." His smirk turned on Connor and if he didn't know any better, he'd swear the Lieutenant looked proud. "Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past Jeffery to have only agreed to this to mess with me."

Reed just continued to stare for a moment. Whatever he would have said in response was interrupted by Tina’s arrival.

“Oh my god it is true!” She exclaimed excitedly as she reached the three of them.

“Hello, Officer Chen,” Connor greeted politely.

“Wait,” Gavin interrupted. “You knew about this?”

Tina shook her head. “Captain Fowler just sent out an email letting the department know. I’m guessing he didn’t want to be getting a shit ton of questions about an unattended six-year-old running around the precinct.”

“Fair enough,” Hank chuckled.

“I just had to come see for myself,'' she admitted. She smiled back down at Connor. “I’m so glad I did. Connor, you are adorable!”

Connor nodded. He didn’t really get why people found his small features so much more appealing than how he was normally, but it hadn’t been the first time he had heard so. “That does appear to be the general consensus.”

“Nice to know he’s still the same Connor,” Tina laughed, apparently finding his response humorous. “Even if he is three feet tall now.”

“Three feet nine inches,” Connor countered. All three of them seemed to find his statement funny for some reason. He didn’t understand why everyone seemed intent on rounding down. He was closer to four feet than three.

“Gotta count every inch when you don’t have very many,” Gavin quipped.

The Lieutenant grinned at Reed. “Well, you’d sure as hell know about that, wouldn’t ya?”

Gavin’s smile fell as Tina’s laughter only increased with the joke at his expense. “Oh, screw you, Anderson,” he clapped back.

“You couldn’t afford me.”

“You-!”

“We really should start working on the case,” Connor interrupted, trying to get them back on track before the conversation got even farther off topic.

They all glanced back down at him and seemed to simultaneously come to the realization that they would, in fact, get yelled at if they didn’t start doing some actual work.

“Alright,” Tina said first. “I’ve got to head out on patrol anyway. See you later kiddo.” She ruffled Connor’s hair affectionately before turning to leave. He had the uncomfortable feeling that such a gesture wouldn’t be uncommon from his coworkers while he looked like this.

“I’ll send over the files,” Reed said to Hank after she left.

Hank nodded, pushing away from the desk. “Yeah, alright. Heaven forbid Connor do something other than work for five minutes.”

“We are currently on the clock, Lieutenant,” he reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank gave a halfhearted wave to the Detective before they made their way to their own desks.

Connor was grateful that the Lieutenant helped him into his chair without prompting. He was eager to work and didn’t want any more distractions. He jiggled the mouse bringing the screen out of idle and was pleased to see the files already transferred.

Overall, that had been the most pleasant interaction he’d had with Detective Reed. While he was no longer openly antagonistic to Connor, their relationship had been tense at best. He figured the hostility was only quelled by the laws being in his favor. The last thing Captain Fowler and the precinct wanted was bad publicity surrounding the first android detective.

He opened the files, scanning the information quickly. “It looks like Bridget, the android that was shot, has been repaired and will make a full recovery,” he informed the Lieutenant as he took a seat across from him.

“Finally some good news.” Hank booted up his own computer. “Reed get her statement?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t give us much to go on,” Connor responded, scanning the file again. “She was shot from behind and didn’t see her attacker. Aside from general anti-android sentiment, she had no known enemies.”

“So basically we’ve got nothing to go on yet.”

“Maybe not nothing,” Connor said. “Assuming Mr. Sawyer was involved. They searched his apartment and found over two dozen loose biocomponents. It looks like black market dealing.”

“Well shit,” Hank pulled up the report on his terminal, reading it over himself. “That’s all kinds of fucked up. Looks like Bridget got lucky she didn’t end up getting dissected.”

“It would appear so,” Connor agreed. “There doesn’t appear to be any information on the source of the recovered biocomponents. I should head down to evidence and take a look.”

Hank looked over at him skeptically. “The hell are you going to do?”

“Run samples, of course,” he responded. It took him a moment to realize why the Lieutenant was giving him a funny look. “Ah, right,” he frowned.

Hank just smirked and shook his head. “Looks like you’re gonna need to get used to waiting on lab results. No more licknig evidence.”

Connor frowned. “Not ideal, but I suppose you’re right,” he conceded. “Do we know-”

“Connor!” A voice interrupted. “Thank god you’re ok.”

“Hello, Officer Miller,” Connor greeted, hiding his annoyance at being interrupted as his coworker walked over. “Yes, I’m alright.”

“And you’re tiny!” He exclaimed, grinning at him.

“Yes,” he agreed with the obvious observation. “I will be using this body until mine can be repaired,” he explained. He was already getting tired of reiterating the fact. Hadn’t the email Captain Fowler sent already explained everything?

Evidently not.

Officer Miller wasn’t the last. Practically the whole precinct stopped by his desk throughout the day. Each person seemed intent on personally seeing if the Captain’s email was accurate. While he appreciated their sentiments as to him being alive, the constant interruptions became more and more aggravating.

His strangely drained battery didn’t help either.

For the first time, Connor was more than ready to go home as soon as it was time to clock out.

“You know, everyone’s just happy you’re ok,” Hank told him as he fastened him into the car seat. Connor didn’t argue it this time. He just wanted to get home. “I think even Reed missed you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, sounding annoyed even to himself. “But it made for an exceedingly unproductive day.”

“I know, kiddo. We’ll get more done tomorrow, I promise.” Hank ruffled his hair before heading around to the driver's seat. The man’s assurances did little to lift Connor’s mood. “Let’s just get home, alright?” Hank called back.

Connor just nodded. He chose to say nothing, worried he would lash out at the man despite his aggravation being in no way his fault. He looked out the window, as they pulled away from the station.

-o-

The next thing Connor knew, Hank was gently shaking him awake. He blinked up at him in surprise.

"No wonder you're grumpy," he joked. "You look tired as hell."

Connor rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not grumpy," he insisted, even though his tone suggested otherwise. "I don't get it. My battery shouldn't drain this fast. Maybe it's damaged, or my processor is overtaxing it."

"Or," Hank suggested, unbuckling him. "Maybe you're six and need a nap."

"I don't like the sound of that."

Hank just chuckled, helping him out of the car. He continued holding his hand as they made their way into the house. "It isn't the end of the world, you know. I'd kill for a nap most days."

Connor just frowned. "There's no getting around this, is there?"

"Doesn't look like it," he shook his head. "Come on, let's get you to bed. You'll feel better."

He didn't really have any room to argue, the low battery being quantifiable proof that Hank was right. “This will impede my productivity at the precinct,” he complained.

Connor wasn’t looking at the Lieutenant, but he could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “You’re more productive than anyone else there, they can give you an hour for a damn nap. Besides, you’re entitled to a lunch break you never take anyway.”

“I guess that’s acceptable,” he agreed reluctantly. Being a child was proving to be more cumbersome than he would like. The sooner he got his normal body back, the better.

Hank squeezed his hand in response, smiling down at him as he opened the door. At least the Lieutenant seemed to be enjoying this.

Notes:

I'm sorry for the late update. I thought my kitty would be ok, but her health took a turn for the worse. We had to put her down and I really wasn't really thinking about anything else.

Chapter 11: Undermined

The morning had gone well so far. Connor didn’t try to burn down the kitchen, they got to work on time and without incident, the day had gone smooth. The kid even went down for his nap without complaint. Hank had pulled a well-worn blanket from the back of the car and got him settled in one of the conference rooms before heading to get lunch.

Hank had a bad feeling that the day’s ease was about to wear off.

They had a lead, which was good of course, but it involved going to question a witness. Connor playing detective was fine at the precinct, cute even, but the idea of him going out in the field turned his stomach.

What if something happened? What if he got hurt, or worse? He couldn’t lose the kid again. There was no way he would be able to handle that again.

“Are you ready to go, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, gimme a second,” he responded. There was really no getting around it. He had no real excuse to keep him there no matter how badly he wanted to.

Connor waited for him by their conjoined desk practically bouncing in anticipation. It didn't help his nerves that he was way too eager to go. Kid had no sense of self preservation. He powered down his monitor and grabbed his keys, ready to get this over with.

Hank followed behind as Connor charged ahead to the car, his nap apparently giving him ample energy. “Slow down will ya, some of us are still old you know,” he complained.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he called back over his shoulder. He waited where he was until Hank caught up to him and they walked the rest of the way to the car together.

Connor pulled out his tablet, glancing over the details of their lead. “So, Mrs. Carter is Mr. Sawyer’s older sister,” he clarified as Hank strapped him in.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he answered. The buckle clicked, indicating Connor was secure. He was glad he stopped fighting the child seat.

Connor continued babbling facts and theories about the case, but Hank didn’t really pay much attention as he drove. All he could think was that the last time he had gone to question a witness, Connor had died. His lunch wasn’t sitting well and it didn’t feel any better by the time they arrived. Hank barely had time to unbuckle the kid before he was bounding out of the car, entirely too excited about this. It was a bad idea, he just knew it.

“Wouldja calm down?” Hank demanded as they waited for the elevator to bring them to the correct floor. “We’re talking to a witness, not going to Disneyland.”

Connor frowned, but at least he stopped bouncing. “Sorry, Lieutenant,” he said. “It’s just nice to be working again.”

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," he sighed. Hank shoved his hands in his pockets as they made their way down the hall. He'd rather take Connor's hand, but figured the kid would protest.

He let Connor knock on the door, and waited anxiously for whatever would follow.

-o-

Connor had been uncharacteristically quiet on the way home. Hank thought, at first, that he had fallen asleep again, but glancing in the rear view mirror revealed otherwise. He tried getting the kid to talk and got nothing but silence in response.

Hank reasoned Connor was likely frustrated by the lack of progress on the case. The witness had been a complete bust.

Mrs. Carter had been understandably surprised to see a six-year-old announce himself as a police officer, and hadn't seemed thrilled when he explained he was an android. Hank had gone on the defensive after that. He did his best to keep things light, and to divert her attention away from the kid. There was no way in hell he was letting the woman’s bigotry get Connor killed again.

Connor didn’t look at him as he got him unbuckled and pushed past him wordlessly as he made his way to the house. “The hell, kid,” he complained. Just because he was pissy didn’t give him the right to take it out on him.

He ignored Hank’s protest and waited impatiently for him to unlock the door. He rolled his eyes and opened the door anyway. “Ya know, I get today was shit, but you don’t get to just be a little bitch about it,” he scolded him.

The look Connor gave him had to go in the books as the darkest glare he had ever gotten from a six-year-old. “It wasn’t the day that was shit,” he snapped at him.

The fuck? “Wait,” Hank brushed off Sumo who had lazily come over to greet the pair having just woken up. “Hold up. Are you mad at me?”

“Brilliant deduction, Lieutenant.”

He must be mad, Hank realized as Connor ignored Sumo’s attempt to get pets from the small android. But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. “The hell did I do?”

Connor glared at him again. “Seriously? You don’t know?”

“Obviously not,” he countered, getting angry himself. He hadn’t done anything, he concluded. Connor was just being a brat, and he wasn’t about to stand for it.

The tiny android stood his ground. He crossed his arms and stared him down defiantly. “Your behavior today was highly unprofessional,” he accused.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Hank acknowledged he hadn’t exactly followed protocol with the interview, but it didn’t warrant this type of attitude. “I wasn’t-”

“Yes you were,” Connor insisted before he could properly protest. “You spent the entire time either preventing me from asking questions or patronizing me. While you are within your right as ranking officer to take control of the investigation, that is not what you were doing. If anything, you were impeding my efforts.”

“Now, hold on,” Hank countered. Yeah, maybe he hadn’t really focused on the investigation, he was too centered on getting the kid out of there. But that woman didn’t know anything anyway. She said herself that she hadn’t even talked to her brother in months. “I was just watching your back, making sure you didn’t fuck things up!”

"You didn’t even give me a chance!” Connor declared angrily. “You undermined my authority!"

"What authority?" Hank barked out with a humorless laugh. "You're six!"

He knew he had fucked up as soon as the words left his mouth. Connor's expression shifted, melting from annoyance, to horrifically betrayed, before sheer anger took over. Connor turned without another word, heading toward the door.

"Connor, shit, that didn't come out right," Hank tried, blocking his path.

"Oh, I think you said exactly what you meant, Lieutenant," he accused.

"Connor," he tried again, grabbing his arm as the kid tried pushing past him. "The hell do you think you're going?"

He pulled, trying to yank his arm free of Hank's grip, but was unsuccessful. "To New Jericho. Let me go," he demanded.

"No, kid, just listen for a second, will ya?"

"Let me go!" Connor shouted it this time, putting all his weight into trying to get free. His feet slipped and fell to the floor, only avoiding injury by the hand still holding him.

The fight seemed to leave him and he sat. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears. Hank crouched next to him, trying to push aside his own frustrations. "Ok, Connor, ok. Let's just calm down, alright?" He moved his hand to his shoulder instead of grabbing his arm. "I get you're upset, today didn't go how you wanted. But why are you going to New Jericho?"

Connor refused to look at him, a tear escaped one of his eyes. "It would be for the best."

"The hell do you mean by that?" Hank's heart twisted in his chest. He couldn't be so mad at him that he wanted to leave, could he?

Another tear rolled down his cheek. "What hope do I have of getting anywhere with this investigation if not even you can take me seriously?"

"Hey, now. That's not, I do-"

But Connor wasn't finished. The dam had broken and there was no stopping the torrent now. “I’m trying, Hank. I’m trying to not let what happened bother me, but it does! I died! I died, and now I’m stuck like this, and I'm trying to act like it’s ok but it’s not!"

He was crying freely now, tears running down his face in rivers. Hank didn’t know what to say, but Connor seemed to have no intention of giving him an opening anyway. “I died,” he repeated, softer this time. “It was awful, and it hurt. I’m trying to be happy I’m alive, but this body… it’s not mine. It’s not compatible with my programs. I feel so… isolated. Like I’m cut off from myself. Blind and deaf and crippled, but I’m trying.”

He looked up at him and there was accusation in his watery eyes. It cut Hank through to the core. “And now, when I need you more than ever, all you do is make jokes and stop me from doing the few things I can still do. I may look like a child, but I’m still a detective. I’m still Connor!” He rubbed at his eyes as though trying to stop the tears. “And I do not want to be crying right now,” he sobbed. “It does not help my point.”

Hank pulled him close, grateful that Connor wasn’t mad enough to reject his comfort. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Connor,” he said. He rubbed the kid’s back affectionately. “I’m a selfish bastard. I was so focused on how I felt about all this, I didn't stop to consider how it was affecting you.” Hank pulled him closer, letting Connor’s tears soak his shirt. “You seemed fine, I should’ve… Fuck, I should’ve known better. I’m so sorry, kid.”

Connor just continued to cry, seeming to not have anything more to add.

Hank pressed his cheek to the top of the kid’s head. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I was so happy to have you back, I didn’t think… Fuck. And then that bitch didn’t seem too happy to see an android, and all I could think of was getting you out of there. I wanted to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Hank,” Connor cried. “I need you to support me.”

He maneuvered Connor so that he was seated more comfortably, pulling him onto his lap. “Ok, Connor. I’m sorry, you’re right.” God, he was an idiot. Of course Connor was mad at him. He was the world’s most advanced tactical android, being six didn’t change that. He would be pissed too if he was stuck in his situation. “But you are still more vulnerable like this, you know that.”

Connor just kept his face planted in his shirt as though he could hide from the truth of the statement.

Hank sighed, more at himself than anything else. “How bout we make a deal, kid?” He asked. “You promise you’ll be careful, and I’ll try to be better about not treating you like a toddler. That sound fair?”

Connor pulled back a little, wiping at his eyes. The tears had finally begun to ease up. “I suppose those are acceptable parameters,” he said.

“Good,” he brushed at the kid’s face with his thumb. “I want to support you, ok? I’ll do my best. I’m probably gonna fuck up and get overprotective some times though, so I’m gonna need you to let me know if I’m being an ass.”

He leaned back into Hank, finally having calmed down, but looking exhausted from the emotional downpour. “I think I can manage that,” he said, almost as a sigh.

“So,” Hank pressed after a moment. “Still planning on going to New Jericho, or are you gonna stick around?”

Connor smiled at him for the first time since this shit went down. It was small, but still warmed Hank’s heart. “I’d like to stay, if that’s alright.”

Hank came back with a smile of his own. “Always.”

Chapter 12: Something New

The next day went better. The two of them were finding a new rhythm that seemed to be working for both of them. While the case hadn’t progressed as much as he had hoped, they were finally falling back into sync.

That morning, they had gone to speak to Mr. Sawyer’s employer but, apparently, he hadn’t been into work for the past couple of weeks. Another dead end in their investigation. Connor was still in relatively high spirits though. Even though the interview hadn’t turned up any results, Hank had been great throughout the whole thing. Connor was confident he was going to be true to his word and take him seriously from now on.

“Alright,” Hank sighed. “That’s about all I can take on an empty stomach. I’m heading to lunch.”

“Ok,” Connor responded, not looking up from his terminal. “I just have a few more things I want to do here.”

“Connor…”

“It’ll take at most five minutes, Lieutenant,” he assured before Hank could scold him. “I will enter rest mode as soon as I’m done.”

Hank made a faint noise of disapproval, but didn’t argue. “Ok, but don’t even think about trying to skip that nap. I can deal with a lot of shit, but I draw the line at you being sleep deprived.”

“I’m not that bad,” Connor argued, rolling his eyes. He had to admit though, his rationality went down significantly whenever his battery was low. He didn’t blame the Lieutenant for finding it aggravating.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Hank agreed sarcastically. He shut off his terminal and stood, getting ready to leave. “I’ll be gone about an hour. You better be sleeping when I get back.”

Connor just nodded. “I will be counting on you to wake me.”

“Need anything before I go?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I can get myself settled without issue. Thank you though.”

The man couldn’t resist ruffling Connor’s hair as he went. Connor made a less-than-dignified chirp of annoyance as he did. Hank just smiled and went on his way.

Connor went back to his work, finishing it up rather quickly as he had promised. In all honesty, he felt better when he rested for an hour midday. More clear headed, and less needing to worry about his battery levels.

Final touches complete, he powered down his terminal and hopped down from his chair. Pulling the blanket he had brought from home out of one of his drawers, he began making his way to one of the vacant conference rooms.

He didn’t make it too far before he was interrupted.

“Hey, Furby. Come here a sec,” Detective Reed called out to him.

He considered ignoring him, his levels of irritation were already high, stressing how badly he actually needed to enter rest mode, but there was a chance that it was work related and Connor was nothing if not professional. “Yes, Detective?”

He turned in his desk chair and leaned down to a semblance of eye level. Connor couldn’t help but note that he looked a bit nervous or unsure of himself. “You’re going to take a nap, right?” He asked.

“That’s right,” he confirmed, though he didn’t know why that would be relevant. “Captain Fowler has said it’s alright that I use one of the conference rooms to recharge.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Well, uh... here.” The Detective handed him a large plastic bag. It was opaque, so the contents weren’t visible, but whatever was inside was bulky.

Connor took it tentatively. Anything from Reed had an air of maliciousness to it. It was always best to exercise caution. He peered inside the bag and didn’t know what to make of what he saw. It was a green, fluffy mass of… something?

“You gotta take it out of the bag, dipshit,” Reed sighed, looking annoyed.

He did, pulling it free of the plastic. It was a large stuffed turtle, he realized, though it was somewhat oddly shaped and not at all accurate to life. The tag read ‘pillow pet’. Connor loved it instantly. “This is… for me?”

"You, uh, don't need to keep it or anything," the Detective told him. He sounded almost embarrassed with the transaction. "You can toss it for all I care. I just wanted the thing out of my house."

His enhanced sensors took in the silky, soft material, and Connor hugged it close, feeling the plush fabric squish under his arms. "No, I… I really like it," he assured him. "Thank you, Gavin."

Reed seemed to relax a bit. "Well, good," he said. He leaned back in his chair, making it squeak as it protested being bent too far. "I'm just glad someone can use it."

"Thank you," he said again. He never imagined something like this coming from Gavin. Their interactions had typically been tense at best. Perhaps Hank had been right and he really had missed him.

Gavin waved his thanks away, turning back to his phone, signaling that the conversation was over. Connor wasn't about to argue. He made his way to the conference room without another word. He had a nap he needed to take.

-o-

Hank made his way to where Connor was napping. He had been worried, leaving before the kid went down. Typical six-year-olds didn't take their naps without a fight. Then again, there was never anything typical about Connor.

The sight he walked into made him smile just as it usually did. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. Connor was curled up under the blanket. Hair a mess, thumb in mouth, and breathing soft and evenly. It was a shame he had to wake him.

"Hey, kid. Time to get up," he shook him gently.

Connor's eyes blinked open sleepily. He yawned, which Hank knew was an unnecessary program, but one that ran without prompting. "Hank?"

He smiled warmly. The use of his first name illustrated how he had yet to wake up completely. "Yeah, it's me. You have a good nap?"

"Yes, my battery has charged adequately," he answered with another yawn.

He picked up what he had been laying on and Hank noticed the green mass of fluff for the first time. "The hell is that?" He couldn't resist asking.

Connor held it up proudly. "It's a turtle!"

"Yeah, I guess it is," he admitted. God, how the hell was he supposed to treat the kid as an adult when he was so fuckin' cute. "Where'd you get that?"

He pulled it close, hugging it affectionately. "Detective Reed, surprisingly. He gave it to me just before my rest cycle."

"Reed?" Hank looked at it skeptically. Why the hell would Gavin be giving Connor anything? Much less a pillow pet? He didn't even know they still made those. "It's not full of tacks or something is it?"

"No, I can't detect anything wrong with it," Connor shook his head, giving the turtle a squeeze for emphasis. "I doubt the Detective would try to actually harm me, I believe he has moved past that. I am, however uncertain why he would do something actively nice like this "

Hank reached over and started folding up Connor's blanket. "Eh," he said dismissively, "it's not worth the brain cells trying to make sense of Gavin." He had a hunch, but that was something to bring up with Reed, not worry Connor over.

“I suppose you’re right,” Connor agreed with a smile. He got up and Hank led him out of the room. He was still asleep enough that he didn’t seem to notice him taking his hand.

“I just got an email,” Hank told him as they made their way back to their desks. “Forensics are in on the shit we pulled from Sawyer’s apartment.”

“Really?” That seemed to wake Connor up. Leave it to scientific data to get the kid excited. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get down to evidence.”

“Hold your horses. Not like it's going anywhere,” he chuckled and the kid started pulling on his hand in an attempt to get him to move faster. “Here, tell you what,” he took the stuffed turtle from Connor’s arms, smiling at the slight pout he gave him once he was no longer holding it, and handed him his key to the evidence locker. “You go on ahead, I’ll drop this off at the desk, alright?”

Connor’s face brightened and he accepted the key. He had his own clearance at this point, but that was wired into his adult body, not this one. He wasted no time in sprinting off to the evidence locker as fast as his little legs would carry him. Hank shook his head, still smiling before heading to their desks.

He set the bundle he was carrying down, intending to deal with it later. “A pillow pet? Really Reed?” He commented to the Detective.

Gavin glared up at him, but Hank knew him well enough to detect the embarrassment in his expression. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” Hank shrugged. “Just odd that you’d be giving Connor a gift is all. Almost like you’re admitting you missed him.”

“Screw you,” he retorted, not meeting his eyes. “It was just a piece of crap I had in my closet. Someone gave it to me years ago and I was getting rid of it.”

“Right,” Hank said skeptically. “So it has nothing to do with you trying not to be a dick to kids and feeling bad about being a dick to Connor?”

“No,” he said a little too quickly to be an honest denial. “You… just… screw you. I don’t need any psycho-analyzing bullshit. He can trash the thing for all I care.”

“Alright, alright,” he conceded. “Don’t get your panties all knotted.” He’d had his fun and the last thing he wanted was to discourage Gavin from being nice to the kid. He pretended not to notice that the receipt for the thing was sitting on the desk in plain view. “In all seriousness, Connor really seems to like it. You made him really happy.”

Reed still refused to look at him, but he could see the corner of his mouth twitch in the faintest hint of a smile. “Well, good. I’m glad someone can use it.”

Hank turned back to the desk, ready to start putting the bedding away before Gavin spoke up again. “Where is he anyway? Thought he only napped while you were on lunch.”

“Yeah, he’s down in evidence,” He told him, tucking Connor’s things in the bottom drawer. He had to shove pretty hard to get the fluffy turtle to fit. “Forensics came in, we’re gonna check it out.”

He let out a soft whistle. “Damn, that’s messed up. I’d never be able to wrap my head around that shit.”

“What, doing your job?” Hank scoffed, standing up.

Gavin spun around to look at him finally. “No, being in the same room as my own dead body. That’d mess me up. Don’t know how your tamagotchi can do it.”

Hank felt his whole body go cold.

Shit. How had he not thought about that? Evidence was the last place Connor should be right now. “Right,” he tried not to let his growing panic show. “Well, Connor’s stronger than that. He’s fine.” God he hoped that was true. Without waiting for any response from Gavin, he headed down to the locker. He tried to move quickly but calmly, without betraying his anxiety. He just hoped he was right and Connor was ok.

Chapter 13: Registration

Connor was right where Hank feared he would be.

He was standing on a box, motionless. His hand was raised, holding up an off-white sheet that he was intimately aware was there to conceal Connor's body. "Connor?" He called gently. He didn't want to startle the kid as he approached.

"I'm ok," he responded, unprompted. It sounded distant, automatic, doing nothing to convince Hank that it was true.

"I know, kid" he told him, not calling him out on the obvious lie. "I know. Come on." Gently, he pulled the corner of the sheet from his small hand and let it re-cover the familiar figure.

Hank wrapped his arm around Connor's stomach, pulling him backward until he was pressed to his chest. Connor continued staring at the sheeted form. He could feel him shaking. "I'm ok," he whispered again.

"Yeah, you are," Hank told him, trying to radiate confidence. "You're ok. You're still here, you're alright, and you'll be back in your regular body before you know it."

Connor finally looked up at him, head arching back and big brown eyes brimming with a hesitant uncertainty. He blinked a couple of times as though only just registering that Hank was there. "Hank? I… right. You're right. I'm sorry."

He pulled him around to hold him properly. "Don't apologize, Connor," he said, threading Connor's arms around his neck and lifting him to settle on his hip. "Only thing you should be sorry about is checking in on the wrong evidence."

"R-right," Connor said. “I was just… I wanted to assess the damage.”

“Simon can do that. I’m sure he’ll be able to fix you up no problem.” Connor turned as though he was going to look back at the body, but Hank pressed his head to his shoulder instead. He didn’t need to be looking at that. “Come on. Let’s take a look at the forensic report.”

Connor nodded, soft brown hair tickling Hank’s ear, and he set about carrying him to the central terminal. It was a difficult balance sometimes, navigating the line between Dad and Lieutenant, but deep down he knew that the kid was his son first and foremost. He would try to distract him with the case, but if he couldn’t handle this, he would get him the hell out of here.

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispered again as Hank sat him down on the terminal. He rubbed at his face as though wiping away tears even though his face was dry.

Hank shook his head. “Stop apologizing, kid. You’re fine. Nobody expects you to be ok with… well… anything right now.” He brushed at the kid’s hair, getting him to look up. “Just let me know if it’s too much, ok? No shame in it, alright?”

“Alright,” he agreed, though it didn’t sound very convincing. He was pretty sure it was going to fall to him to keep an eye on the kid. He was ok with that.

Hank gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile, then tapped his password into the terminal, unlocking the screen to display the data they were there for. “Ok, let's see what forensics dug up.”

Connor looked over at the screen and it drew him in instantly, soft brown eyes lighting up as they only ever did in the face of analytical data or crime scene evidence. God, his kid was weird. “LP700, AX200, HK300,” he muttered to himself. “Different biocomponents all from different androids. It looks like we were right. Black market dealing.”

“God, why can’t we be wrong sometimes,” Hank mused.

Connor leaned over the terminal, little hands bracing on the screen as he frowned down at the data. “The androids were unregistered,” he commented. “That’s going to make it much harder to identify the victims.”

“Shit. That means New Jericho won’t even have any info on them,” he agreed.

Registration was a rather new concept, but one that Markus had been pushing for. Most had taken to it rather well, but there were many still in opposition of the idea, seeing it as a form of oppression instead of inclusion. It provided an android with everything required for legal citizenship and was necessary for both housing and employment. Well, in most cases.

“Speaking of registration…”

“I’ll get to it,” Connor cut him off before he could continue.

Hank had to stifle a groan. The kid had been saying that since the idea was in place, and was showing no sign of even starting the process. Fowler had petitioned that Connor join the force long before registering was a thing, so he had been the exception to that rule. He’d been unable to have a bank account, so one had been set up in Hank’s name ready to transfer to the android once it was legal to do so. All that, coupled with him living with Hank, gave the kid little motivation to get his paperwork in order.

It pissed Hank off.

Not because Connor was technically not a legal citizen, that didn’t really bother him, and the accommodations in place to bend the rules so he could work weren’t a problem. But there was still legal shit that was inaccessible while he was unregistered.

Namely, Hank couldn’t adopt him.

“Right, yeah. You’ll get to it,” he said, unamused.

Connor shot him an annoyed look of his own before turning back to the evidence. “That’s not really the point right now, Lieutenant,” he scolded. “We should still contact Markus. Even if they aren’t registered with New Jericho, we have their serial numbers. A couple of them had official designations too. We may be able to get some information, even if it isn’t much.”

Hank muttered out an agreement, silently reasoning that he could table the issue for now. They had a lot to worry about, it wasn’t really fair to pester the kid about legal shit when he had just died.

-o-

Their meeting with Markus had gone about as well as expected. While the leaders of Jericho had been happy to see them, they had very little to offer by way of information on the victims.

“That was a complete waste of time,” Connor complained.

“We knew it was a long shot.” Hank had taken them to the park to cool down and talk things over. He knew that the trip to New Jericho had stressed him in more ways than one.

“I know,” he groaned out. “It just feels like we keep hitting dead ends. It’s as if Mr. Sawyer just stopped existing. No one has seen him in weeks, and now we can’t even get any information on his victims!”

“Yeah, we really don’t have much to go on,” he admitted. Hank stretched his arm over the back of the bench they were sitting on, creating an opening, but leaving the decision whether or not to take it up to the kid.

Connor leaned over automatically, falling into the hug as though he didn’t even need to think about it. It felt good, especially considering how uncomfortable he had been with the attention Markus and the Jerichrew had been giving him less than an hour ago. “The only person we know anything about is Bridget, and we aren’t even sure she was one of his targets.” He looked so small tucked against his side like that.

Hank rubbed his arm affectionately. “Maybe we should take a break, come at it fresh in the morning,” he offered. “We are off the clock.”

“But-!”

“Has anyone ever told you you work too damn hard?” Hank cut him off.

Oh, that pout was worth it. “I do not!”

He rolled his eyes, looking out at the kids playing not far away. Most of them were no older than Connor looked. And yet, here he was, discussing mass murder instead of begging to be pushed on a swing. “Yeah, you do. You know, life is about more than work.”

“I work so that other people have a life, Hank,” he countered. “Mr. Sawyer has killed dozens of androids. If we don’t stop him, more are going to die.”

Not for the first time, Hank wondered if this case was too personal for Connor. He was one of the victims after all. When he had first started working again, he had been laser focused on the job. It had taken months to break him out of that. Now, it was like they were back at square one.

"You're stressed, Connor," he argued. "Don't pretend you aren't. You're fuckin' stressed and you're hyperfixating. You know you aren't your best when you get like this. You need a break."

Connor looked up at him and for a moment, Hank thought he was going to continue the debate. Instead he sighed, far more dramatically than what would usually come out of the android. "I know," his eyes were watery. "It just feels like we haven't made any progress at all. It feels like… like I'm failing."

And there it was. One of Connor's biggest insecurities. One of the neurosies that had been literally hardwired into his brain. "You aren't failing, kid. I promise." Hank gave him a gentle squeeze. "But running around in circles isn't gonna solve anything."

"I know." His voice was soft and small, but at least he got through to him.

"Come on, let's get home," he prodded. “It looks like it’s gonna rain.” He took Connor’s hand, leading him to the car.

That should have been the end of the day. They should have gone home, relaxed, maybe watched some tv before heading to bed. But what should have happened, never seemed to be the way things actually went.

The first thing Hank heard was the tires screeching. Up ahead of them, a car swerved erratically. Hank had seen enough drunk drivers to know immediately that the person behind the wheel was far from sober. It jumped the curb, and time seemed to slow. A pedestrian dodged out of the way, shouting in surprise and pain. The vehicle clipped the man in the side rather than hitting him straight on, likely only injuring him rather than ending his life.

Connor’s hand slipped away from his. While time moved like molasses around him, it had apparently stopped entirely for Hank. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t call out. Couldn’t do anything but watch as his kid ran towards the oncoming vehicle. The tiny android had apparently plotted out the car’s drunken path. He used a fire hydrant as a step, jumping at it in interception with far more agility than a child should be capable of.

Hank didn’t unfreeze until Connor had successfully grabbed onto the car’s roof rack, bracing himself as it swayed to and fro across the park and back onto the street.

“Connor!” He shouted after him. He ran, trying to chase down the vehicle on foot, but it was too late.

In a matter of seconds it was all over. The park was abuzz with commotion in the wake of the accident. Many were crowding the man who had been hit, offering assistance and assessing his condition. Hank should have been doing that too. He should have been calling it in, getting an ambulance there. But he couldn’t bring himself to do any of that.

All he could manage to do was stare uselessly after the vehicle that had just sped away and taken his son with it.

Chapter 14: The Paper Crane

In hindsight, that had been an incredibly stupid thing to do. Hank was sure to scold him later, and it would be completely valid. He hadn’t even managed to keep track of the criminal. His tiny body wasn’t equipped for this sort of thing, and he had been thrown from the vehicle on a particularly violent turn. All in all, it was a grave miscalculation.

At least he had memorized the license plate and the driver’s description, so it wasn’t a total loss.

Connor sat up from where he had landed on the street and cradled his arm. There were no errors in his vision, the lack of diagnostic software proving inconvenient, but there was enough pain to tell him that there was something wrong with it. There was no thirium leakage, so it was likely a break of some kind. He would need to visit a technician.

Not ideal.

He glanced at his surroundings and frowned. This was not a part of Detroit he was familiar with, and he had not paid attention as the car was speeding around. With his GPS nonfunctional in this body, he was officially lost.

Definitely not ideal.

Connor’s first instinct was to find Hank. Every childlike tendency in his tiny body screamed that if he could just get back to Hank he would make everything better. His arm wouldn’t hurt, he wouldn’t be scared, everything would be ok.

But Hank wasn’t here. He was back who knows how many streets and turns, assisting the victim. Connor was on his own for now.

Actively shoving down his growing panic, he chose instead to focus on practical steps to rectify his current situation. He had to think rationally. Connor stood up, careful not to agitate his damaged arm as he climbed out of the gutter, and absently noted that the street was practically deserted. There was a comfort in knowing that nobody had seen his tumble.

“Ok,” he whispered to himself. “I’m ok.”

There were several small shops around, he noted. While the street wasn’t busy, it wasn’t a bad area either. More of a hidden gem, hole in the wall, type of district.

Connor made his way to the nearest of the shops, the painted sign above the door named it The Paper Crane. A little bell jingled as he entered. It was a bookshop, much to Connor’s surprise. Physical books were not as heavily used as digital ones, paper being harder to come by. Connor found he preferred them though. Hank had several, and reading had become one of his favorite pastimes.

“Oh, hello. Where did you come from?”

Connor turned to see who had spoken, and found a man moving around one of the shelves to greet him. He was middle aged, with brown hair and a kind face. The nametag pinned to his shirt read Shaun.

“Hello,” Connor responded. “My name is Connor. I was hoping you might have a phone I can use?”

“Um, yeah, of course,” Shaun said. He sounded a bit confused, but Connor chose not to comment. He likely didn’t get many unattended children wandering into his shop. He led Connor over to the checkout desk where the phone was hanging on the wall. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?” He asked.

“I suppose that is an accurate way to describe my situation,” he answered, choosing to ignore the first question. “I was unfortunately separated from the Lieutenant. He shouldn’t be far, but calling him would probably be the most efficient.”

“The… Lieutenant?” Shaun asked. He pulled the cordless phone from its cradle and glanced down at Connor as though hoping for clarification.

Connor nodded, not really feeling like giving a full explanation, but reasoning that the man was likely to keep asking questions. “That’s right. He’s my partner at the DPD.”

If anything, that seemed to confuse Shaun more. “Your… Partner?”

“Yes,” he said, reaching up for the offered phone. He didn’t elaborate further before dialing Hank’s number. Connor pressed the receiver to his ear and waited as it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

The voicemail kicked in and it was then that Connor remembered Hank complaining that he forgot his phone at the house this morning. “Shit,” he swore, hanging up without leaving a message.

“Is everything ok?” Shaun asked, taking the phone back. His voice was a bit timid, likely unused to hearing a six-year-old swear.

Connor rubbed at his injured arm, getting more and more frustrated by the situation. “Yes, I just forgot that he doesn’t have his phone,” he admitted. “I should just call the precinct, or better yet Captain Fowler. They can probably radio him.”

“Here, let me do that,” he said. His expression had turned concerned, evidently picking up on his injury. He gestured to the chair by the desk. “Why don’t you sit down. It looks like you’ve had quite a day.”

It had been quite a day already, Connor would admit that, so he obliged. Shaun helped him up into the seat then he gave him the number to reach Captain Fowler. With this body’s inability to tap into the phone, he was only able to hear half of the conversation.

“Um yes, hello,” he said to who Connor assumed to be the Captain. “My name is Shaun Mars. I, well, I have a kid here that says he is supposed to be with one of your lieutenants?”

He paused for a moment, listening to whatever was said on the other end. “Yes, that’s him. He’s… wait, seriously?” Several confused glances in his direction later told him that Fowler was being more forthcoming with information than he had been. Connor avoided the gaze, choosing instead to appear distracted by the books piled on the desk. “Yeah, I’d be worried too… Alright. Well, he’s welcome to stay here for now… Yes, that’s fine. Alright.”

Shaun rattled off the bookstore’s address before hanging up the phone and turning his full attention back to Connor. “Well, he says he was already in contact with your dad, he should be here soon.”

Connor stifled a frown. Even if his relationship with the Lieutenant was common knowledge, he had expected at least Captain Fowler to keep things professional. But, it would be more hassle than it was worth to issue a correction. “That’s good,” he said instead.

“So, you’re actually a detective?” He asked.

Evidently he intended to make conversation while they wanted for Hank to arrive. With nothing better to do, he figured there was no harm in it. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“I would have some serious doubts about the criminal justice system if he hadn’t mentioned that you’re an android,” Shaun chuckled. He sat himself on the desk, nearly toppling a small stack of books in the process.

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Connor shrugged, though he knew most people probably wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at him.

Shaun laughed. “You’re the detective here, not me,” he argued. “I just thought you were a really weird kid.”

Connor couldn’t resist a coy smile. “I believe the Lieutenant would argue that the two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Ha, sounds like something my ex would say.” He shook his head slightly, but there was still the ghost of a smile on his face.

Connor knew enough about relationships to know that an ex was usually not a pleasant topic of conversation. “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“Oh, no, don’t be,” Shaun insisted. “Sorry, that probably sounded bad. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, I promise.”

“It’s atypical to refer to an ex in a positive sense, isn’t it?" He asked.

Shaun shrugged, choosing to look at the far wall instead of him. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I only really think about him positively. When we broke up… well, it was about as amiable as you could get.”

“Why did you break up?” Connor’s curiosity was piqued.

He bit down on his lip for a moment as though considering what he was going to say. “Our lives went in different directions,” was what he settled on. "Honestly, I've thought about contacting him but, well, I heard he got married."

“Do you still love him?” He pressed. He couldn't even imagine how bad that would be. He got jealous enough when Sumo chose Hank to snuggle instead of him.

“I…” Shaun paused then looked back at him with an amused smirk. “I really don’t think I should be talking about this with a practical stranger,” he said.

“Sorry,” Connor said with a sheepish smile. “I’ve been told that I tend to be a bit nosy.”

“I’m sure that comes in handy as a detective,” he joked. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing wrong with being easy to talk to.”

“It does make interrogations easier.”

Shaun’s smile seemed to indicate that he really didn’t hold anything against Connor for pressing into his personal life, for which he was grateful. “So, onto a more appropriate topic for people getting to know each other, do you read?” Shaun asked.

Connor couldn’t help but light up at that. “I do!” He announced enthusiastically.

His smile widened and he picked up one of the books from his desk, running a finger over the spine affectionately. “I thought you might. Surprisingly, most of my customers are androids.”

“I don't think that’s very surprising,” Connor mused. He reached out to touch one of the books himself. It was a well-worn paperback copy of and then there were none. The spine was cracked, most likely from overreading rather than neglect and various bookmarks stuck out from between the pages. “Physical books are more real,” he went on, feeling the need to explain. “With digital, we can just download it right to our minds. We get the story, but it’s over in an instant. A physical book forces us to slow down, actually read it and enjoy the journey.”

“I like that,” Shaun said. “I never thought about it that way before, but you’re right, it makes sense.”

Connor opened his mouth, ready to reply, but was interrupted by the bell on the door jingling harshly as the door swung open in haste. The panic in Hank’s features was clear even at this distance. “Connor?” He called immediately.

“I’m over here, Lieutenant,” he announced, waving his hand to draw the man’s attention to the desk. Beside him, Shaun drew in a surprised gasp and went rigid.

Hank rushed forward, relief flooding him as soon as he caught sight of Connor, but he stopped short, freezing in place the moment he laid eyes on Shaun.

A silent tension filled the room.

“Hank?” Shaun asked quietly, the silence shattering uncomfortably.

The Lieutenant blinked as though it were necessary to register his name. “Shaun,” he said by way of response. Not a question, but a statement leaving Connor to wonder how the two of them were acquainted. “I… didn’t know you were back in Detroit.”

“Yeah… I, uh. I moved back a couple years ago,” Shaun answered. He seemed as guarded as Hank.

Hank nodded his head once, before glancing around like it was the first time he was noticing his surroundings. “The Paper Crane, huh?” He mused. “Really leaned into the skid there.”

Shaun shrugged and offered what sounded like a nervous chuckle. “Well, when life gives you trauma…”

Connor wanted to know more about that, but he no longer seemed to be part of this conversation.

“Right. Fair enough, I guess,” Hank said, glancing away, apparently not wanting to look at Shaun anymore. It almost looked as though it were painful to do so. He turned his attention back to Connor, expression hardening. “What the fuck do you think you were doing?”

That was fair, Connor reasoned, though he still felt the need to justify his actions. “I was attempting to catch a suspect,” he said simply.

Hank let out a loud sigh. Connor guessed that he had anticipated that answer. “Just… fucking hell, kid. Do you want to give me a heart attack?” It was apparently a rhetorical question as he didn’t give him a chance to answer before continuing. “That shit would be risky as hell if you weren’t a six-year-old! I thought we agreed you’d be more careful. Are you ok?”

Connor was about to answer that he was fine, no need to worry him about the slight fracture in his arm just yet, but Shaun spoke up before he could. “I think he hurt his arm,” he told him. He couldn’t help but be surprised that the man had picked up on that. “His right one, he’s been favoring the left.”

“It’s not that bad,” Connor insisted before Hank could get worked up about it. “Just a minor fracture. Easily repaired.”

Hank did not seem to believe him, but looked back at Shaun finally. “Thanks for finding him,” he said.

Shaun shrugged, but Connor could see that there was still tension in his stance. “”He found me, really,” he replied. “I’m just glad I could help.”

“Right, yeah,” Hank said lamely. He gestured for Connor to go to him, apparently unwilling to get any closer to Shaun. “Thanks anyway. Come on, kid, let’s get that arm looked at.”

Connor got up as summoned, rounding the desk with only one final look at Shaun Mars. He and Hank were staring at each other so intently, had they been androids, he would have had no doubt that they were having a cybernetic conversation. But neither of them spoke. It was a confounding exchange and one he was determined to decipher.

Hank took his good hand as they left, pace quicker than was comfortable for Connor’s small legs. Only a generic farewell was uttered by the two of them before the door jingled closed behind them.

Notes:

And here we have the cameo that exactly one person (my beta) asked for. Digital cookies for anyone who recognizes him. <3

Chapter 15: Tension

Hank needed a drink. First the stress at New Jericho, then Connor pulls his daredevil bullshit, then he runs into Shaun again of all people? It had been a stressful day to say the least. He wondered if his heart rate would ever go back to normal.

He glanced into the rearview mirror, checking again that Connor was, in fact, mostly ok. A broken arm was manageable. It would suck, and probably hurt like hell, but he’d be ok. Maybe it’d teach the little bastard not to pull a stunt like that again.

Doubtful, but Hank could hope.

“Was that normal tension, or sexual tension?”

The question caught Hank off guard, nearly making him swerve the vehicle as his body jerked in surprise. “What?” He blurted out. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Connor’s face was the picture of innocence. “Back at the bookshop. Between you and Mr. Mars. Was that normal tension or sexual tension? I have difficulty differentiating between the two.”

“None of your goddamn business,” he snapped. It was more harsh than he intended, but he was already on edge. Hank didn’t need this right now.

He took a left turn, probably a bit too fast, but Connor's little form seemed completely unfazed. He blinked a couple of times, analyzing Hank’s response. “Right. So sexual tension then.” He nodded to himself, apparently pleased with his deduction, before going on. “How do you know Mr. Mars?”

Nope, he wasn’t going there. He didn’t even want to be thinking about it, much less discussing it. Especially not after the stunt Connor had just pulled. “That is not what we’re gonna talk about right now,” Hank said angrily.

He could feel Connor’s inquisitive eyes on the back of his head. “Is there something else you wanted to discuss?” he had the audacity to ask.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” The kid had to be messing with him. “How about that Jason Bourne crap you just pulled? How about we talk about that?” Hank turned on the next street, signaling only at the last moment. He had been on autopilot and had to correct himself to head towards the android clinic, not home.

“I really don’t see what there is to talk about there,” he responded.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” There was no way in hell Connor could possibly think he was getting off that easy. When he glanced in the rearview mirror again, the kid’s expression betrayed no indication that he found any problem with what he was saying.

“I’ve acknowledged that it was a poor decision fueled by illogical calculations,” he reasoned. “I’ll take steps to ensure I don’t make a similar mistake in the future. What else needs to be discussed?”

“Oh, hell no,” Hank cursed. He had to resist the urge to lay on the horn as a slow-moving vehicle in front of him decreased its speed even more, apparently looking for a parking space without any regard for anyone else’s time. He flipped him off as he sped past. “You do not get to logic your way out of this. You’re… damn it. You’re fuckin’ grounded, that’s what you are.”

There was silence from the back seat and Hank looked up again to make sure he had heard him. He looked pensive, as though there was something in Hank’s words that needed to be deciphered.

“Grounded,” he echoed, looking for all the world like he didn’t know the definition of the word. “So, you want me to do nothing but work rather than participate in recreational activities?”

Well fuck. Connor knew damn well how hard Hank was pushing him to expand his horizons. And it wasn’t as though he could make him stop working now that Jeffery was on board. “You’re an asshole, you know that,” he grumbled.

Connor had the audacity to shrug his tiny shoulders at Hank’s declaration. “You have mentioned that. A few times, actually.”

Hank turned down a side street. He’d lost this debate, and Connor damn well knew that. He physically bit down on his tongue rather than verbally admitting defeat.

"I am sorry," Connor insisted softly. His voice was quieter, having lost its cocky edge in favor of a genuine apology. "I know it was stupid. I didn't mean to worry you."

"I know you didn't," Hank sighed. The sky was getting dark and he could see lightning in the distance. Hopefully Connor was right and the repair wouldn't take long. "You know I can't help worrying. And when you pull crap like that..."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said again.

God, it was hard to stay mad at the kid when he sounded so sincere. "Just… please be more careful," he didn't know what he'd do if something happened to him again.

"I will," Connor promised.

Somehow, Hank doubted that, the kid made it a habit to get himself into these situations, but he'd let it go for now. He smiled at him, making sure he could see it in the mirror.

“So, will you answer my question now?” Connor asked.

His face fell, chest clenching uncomfortably at the reminder. Damn this kid and his persistence. “What question?” He knew damn well what the question was, but he’d do just about anything to delay answering.

“How do you know Mr. Mars?” Connor asked again, oblivious to his stress.

Hank sighed. If he’d known that losing the argument meant he’d be corralled into opening up about personal shit, he would’ve fought harder. But, he knew Connor wasn’t about to give up. Once he was curious about something, the little asshole would dig until he got his answers. It was best to just get it over with. “He’s my ex,” he said at last, hoping he could leave it at that.

“Your ex?” Connor echoed. “The two of you dated?”

Damnit, he knew that would have been too easy. “That so surprising?” He countered. He could see the clinic now. The faster he got there, the sooner this conversation would be over.

“It is a little surprising, yeah,” he admitted. There was a note of confusion in his voice, like something wasn’t clicking.

Hank could feel a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t exactly advertise that he went for men, but he never imagined Connor might have a problem with it. “Why’s that?” He prompted. He met Connor’s eyes in the rearview mirror and for a moment, he was afraid of the answer.

But Connor just blinked, expression turning thoughtful. “You are significantly older than he is,” he announced.

Ok, not where he thought that was going. “Hey! I’m not that old!”

“By my count, you’re sixteen years his senior.”

“Fuck you,” he swore. He’d had plenty of ‘robbing the cradle’ comments back when they were dating, he didn’t need them now, years after they’d broken up. “How the hell would you even know that? I thought you can’t scan people anymore.”

“I can’t.” Connor’s focus turned to the window as they pulled up to the clinic, evidently realizing they had arrived. “He had a banking document pulled up on his computer, it listed his birthday,” he explained. “He has very good credit, by the way.”

Hank put the car into park, the gears grinding as he moved the stick harder than he should have. “Look, it was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” He wanted to drop it and hoped that Connor would pick up on that from his tone. “Now, are you gonna keep being nosy, or are we gonna get you fixed?”

For a second, he was worried the curious little bastard was going to select the ‘nosy’ option. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, then appeared to think better of it. “I suppose the sooner I’m repaired, the better,” he relented.

-o-

Connor was glad Hank had agreed to take him to a clinic rather than New Jericho. He claimed that, since it was a minor repair, he didn’t want to bother Simon with it. While that was true, he also hadn’t been too keen on returning there. The deviant leaders were entirely too excited about his diminutive form, and he was not in the mood for their coddling today.

Well that, and he didn’t want to admit that he let his borrowed body get damaged through such a stupid stunt.

He took Hank’s hand as soon as he left the car, it had become habitual to do so. As much as he would like otherwise, he did feel more vulnerable as he was. Hank’s presence made that easier.

The clinic wasn’t particularly crowded, which was nice, and they were able to go right to the check in desk. He was too short to see over the counter, so Hank retrieved the informational tablet he needed to fill out for him before they sat down to wait for an available technician.

“I can do that,” Connor told him as Hank began to type information into the necessary fields.

“Your wrist is broken,” he argued. “You shouldn’t be typing.”

Connor rolled his eyes but didn’t counter the statement. Androids were ambidextrous by design, but the Lieutenant was right that it would be cumbersome to type as he was. “Ok, but do you even know what to put down?”

Hank gave him a frown and gently bopped the top of Connor’s head with the tablet. “I know how to fill out a hospital form, I’m not an idiot.”

He shrugged, sitting back in his seat and choosing to instead look around the room. Besides the receptionist, an HR400 with a name plaque on the desk reading ‘Eric’, there were three other androids waiting, none of them appeared to be in critical condition. An AX600 with what appeared to be a nasty burn on her leg seemed to be the worst.

“Fuck, alright, I guess I do need you for some of this,” Hank told him suddenly. He showed him the document, turning it so he could see where the model number was supposed to be filled in. “Do you even have a model number in that body?”

No, he supposed he didn't. He hadn’t really stopped to appreciate that he was now, technically, the first android not to have one. But that would change when he was back in his normal body, and this was an official form that would attach to his technical records. “Just put it down as ‘prototype’,” he reasoned. “That’s true for both this and my real body.”

“Fair enough.” Hank typed it in without issue, but his fingers paused over the next section. From his angle, Connor could just see that it was calling for his registration number.

He looked away, pretending to once again be more interested in his surroundings, effectively avoiding the disapproving glance Hank gave him as he selected the option for unregistered.

Connor fully intended to register, he did. It just wasn’t as simple a matter as Hank seemed to believe it was. Not for any bureaucratic hurdles, but for one distinct personal one.

Being registered meant that an android could select a surname.

There was only one that Connor wanted to use, but it wasn’t something he could select without talking to Hank about it first. Connor knew that he would more than likely be alright with it, but he couldn’t just assume. On the off chance that it wasn’t ok… well, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk to Hank about it when he looked like… this.

“Alright, I think that’s everything. Got you all checked in,” He told Connor, hitting submit. Thunder rumbled in the distance and they both looked out the window to the quickly darkening sky. “God, I hope this doesn’t take long.”

Connor was inclined to agree.

Chapter 16: Documentation

Waiting. Why was there always so much waiting at medical facilities? Hospitals, Repair shops, it didn’t seem to matter. He was always waiting.

Hank had gotten the paperwork squared away, but he and Connor had to sit there for over thirty minutes before a technician was available. Then, they had refused to let Hank go in with him, so now he was stuck in the reception area by himself until the kid was done getting repaired.

Rain had started to fall. It was light for now, but the wind was picking up, causing droplets to hit the window in sprays. It was grating on Hank’s nerves.

He hated waiting.

He stood up, legs stiff from sitting and stretched. In all honesty, Connor hadn’t been in for very long. But, impatience and anxiety made every second feel like an hour. He paced, ignoring the looks he got from the few other occupants of the facility.

After everything that had happened today, there was no way he could sit still. He had almost lost Connor again. Yeah, the kid was safe now, but the whole ordeal had stressed him out and it was hard to come down from that.

He sighed, leaning against a wall full of digital pamphlets. He had nothing better to do with his time, so he started leafing through them, desperate for anything to distract him for half a minute. Most of them were android specific. Advertisements for new updates, warnings about the dangers of interfacing without proper antivirus software, largely stuff Hank had no clue about. But there was one that caught his eye.

He pulled out the document on android adoption.

It was colorful and filled with dramatized images of overly happy families. The words ‘Adopt today’ splayed across the front as though advertising getting a pet rather than taking in a person. But none of that really mattered to Hank.

The pamphlet was more than an ad. It functioned as an e-document to actually start the adoption application process. He tapped it against his hand in frustration. If Connor would just register, he could fill the damn thing out already.

He stopped the tapping and stared at the document, a thought occurring to him. Connor had to be registered to submit the application. But there really wasn’t anything stopping him from getting it filled out. Who knows, maybe having it ready and waiting would kick the kid’s ass into gear.

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do anyway.

Hank sat down, anxiety ebbing now that he had something to focus on. He set about filling in the numerous fields, only skipping over the ones requiring registration information. He would talk to Connor about all of this, of course. He was confident that he would be in favor of the idea, but there was no way in hell he would solidify something like this without his say so.

But, he also wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. So, when Connor returned, accompanied by the receptionist from earlier, he quickly hid the half finished document in his coat pocket. “Connor,” he called, getting up to meet them. “Are you ok?”

Connor greeted him cheerfully with a smile. “I’m ok, they were able to successfully repair my arm.” he waved it about as though that was enough to prove his point.
“Thank god,” Hank breathed, relieved.

“He really was quite lucky,” the receptionist commented. “He described what happened. It’s really a miracle the damages weren’t worse.”

“But he’s alright?” Hank asked him, suddenly not trusting Connor’s definition of ok.

The receptionist smiled at him. It was definitely a rehearsed smile, but he really couldn’t blame the guy for phoning it in when he had the opportunity. “Yes, he is ok. He just dodged quite a bullet today.”

Hank found himself nodding. That sure as hell was true, Connor had been lucky. It was about damn time with the foul luck he’d had in the past. “Well, if he’s good to go, I think we should head home,” he said.

Connor agreed readily, slipping his hand into Hank’s. He would never get tired of that.

The receptionist typed a few things into his tablet, likely getting Connor checked out. “He’s all set,” he confirmed. “He’ll just need to come back in a few days for a recheck.”

“What?” Connor asked, sounding confused. “But I’m all fixed, that’s not standard procedure.”

“It is for prototypes,” he responded with a dismissive shake of his head. “It won’t take long, we’ll just need to make sure the repair is holding.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Connor said, though Hank could tell by the way his grip tightened in his hand that he wasn’t fond of the idea. He couldn’t blame him. Hospitals weren’t something he enjoyed either.

“I’ll email you the details for your recheck,” he reiterated. He closed his tablet, and began making his way back to the desk. “Just try not to get into any more trouble, alright Connor?”

“I’ll try,” the kid promised. He rolled his eyes at Hank as he scoffed and muttered that that was impossible. Connor tugged on his hand slightly in an indication that he was ready to leave. “Thank you, Eric,” he called back before they made their way through the clear glass doors.

Hank was immediately grateful that he had brought his coat. Despite the August heat, it was the only thing protecting him from the pelting rain as the storm picked up. He pulled Connor close to him, trying futilely to act as a barrier from the weather as they rushed to the car.

It took too goddamn long to get the kid buckled, the plastic clip fighting him in his haste to get it fastened. Water ran off of him in sheets, soaking his pant legs as it went down and filling his shoes. Hank was looking forward to being out of this shit.

The drive home was slow. Even at full blast, the windshield wipers were barely enough to give him a glimpse of the waterlogged streets. But they made it. Hank breathed a sigh of relief as he shut off the car, finally home safe.

“Ready to head in?” Hank asked over his shoulder.

“Just a second,” he responded. Hank looked back to see that Connor was in the process of shoving his new stuffed turtle into his shirt. It was made increasingly difficult with the seatbelt in place, but the kid seemed adamant that he wanted to keep his new toy dry.

He rolled his eyes. “Give it here,” he instructed, reaching out for the stuffed animal. Connor handed it over without question and Hank tucked it into his own coat for safe keeping.

He was tempted to tease the kid about it, but didn't. It was natural for kids to get attached to things like that after all. Cole had a plush green rabbit that he'd been particularly fond of.

Besides, Hank figured, with his own ragged sock monkey tucked away in his closet, he didn't have much of a leg to stand on.

"Alright, it's as protected as it's gonna get," he announced. "Let's get our asses inside."

Connor smiled and nodded, ready to face the storm now that he didn’t need to worry about his turtle.

Hank was actually quite proud of himself that he kept it mostly dry in the mad dash into the house. He handed it back to the kid once they were safely out of the rain. “There ya go, safe and sound.”

“Thank you!” The way Connor’s face lit up as he took it back was enough to make him smile too. He sincerely hoped that Connor could keep some of this childlike innocence even once he was back in his normal body. Kid deserved it. He was only a year old, after all.

Hank took off his coat, ready to put up his feet and be done with the day. He tossed it unceremoniously onto the couch, but it missed, hitting the floor with a wet thunk. “Damn it,” he cursed.

“I’ve got it,” Connor offered, helpfully. He set his turtle down on the couch before bending to retrieve the wet mass. But, as he lifted it from the floor, the e-document Hank had stashed in the pocket slid out and clattered to the floor.

He didn’t have time to react, to stop him from picking it up. There were mere seconds before it became very evident that Connor recognized exactly what it was.

Chapter 17: Storm

“Hank, what is this?” He could read it clearly, it was a rhetorical question, but one he still wanted the man to answer.

“Shit,” Hank responded. “Sorry, kid. You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the document in his hands. His mind was spinning, losing his battle with rationality as his fears shrouded him. “These are adoption papers.”

“Yeah, they are.”

Connor’s thirium pump stuttered and his breathing program shut off for a moment. Hank wanted to adopt him. Hank wanted him to be his son, wanted them to be family. It was what he wanted most, but… “Why now?”

Hank’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”

His ventilation started again, but it was too fast. His eyes went blurry. Through the ringing in his ears, Connor could barely hear the Lieutenant calling his name. He set the e-document down on the coffee table. He couldn’t look at it anymore. It was painful. Everything he wanted, but in a way he couldn’t ever attain it.

He wasn’t Cole.

Connor was running before he even realized it. He was out the door, rain pelting his face and soaking him through to his chassis. He didn’t care. He was suffocating without having a need for breath. His chest was too tight. He had to get away. Had to run. As though he could leave all of his fears behind if he was just fast enough.

Hot tears streamed down his face, mixing with the cool summer rain.

He wasn’t Cole.

He could never be Cole.

Connor screamed as a hand clamped around his arm forcing him to stop. His legs fell out from under him and only a set of strong arms wrapping around him stopped him from crashing to the ground.

“Fuck, Connor! What the hell?” Hank demanded panting. He pulled away and Connor knew he was trying to get him to look at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet the Lieutenant’s eyes. For a few moments all that could be heard was the pounding of the rain around them, Hank’s labored breathing, and the soft sobs that Connor was unable to suppress.

“Shit, ok, come on,” Hank instructed. Connor felt himself being guided to walk, but didn’t take note of where until the rain stopped. He glanced up briefly, seeing they had taken shelter at a nearby bus stop.

Hank lifted him, setting him on the bench before kneeling to meet his gaze. “Alright kid, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Connor ducked his head, trying to look away, but Hank stopped him with a gentle hand on the back of his neck. His voice had softened now that the adrenaline of chasing after him had died down. He wanted to respond, but all that came out of Connor’s mouth was another sob.

“Hey, shhh, it’s ok.” The hand on the back of his neck began rubbing small circles, trying to comfort him. “Just, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong. Is it… Is this about the adoption papers?”

Connor just sobbed again, frustration at not being able to articulate the problem only making him cry more. “I’m not… I can’t be… I’m not,” he choked out between his tears.

“You’re not what, Connor?” Hank pressed. “My son? We’ve talked about this. You’re my kid. Even if… even if it’s not official or anything, that’s not gonna change.”

“I’m not… I’m not,” he could feel his whole body shaking under Hank’s hand. “I’m not Cole!”

He heard the Lieutenant take in a surprised breath. “You’re… what?”

Connor closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t see through the tears anymore anyway. “I’m not Cole,” he repeated. “I can’t be. I can’t be him.”

“Connor,” his voice was still soft, but it now had an edge of sadness to it. “I know that. I would never want you to be.”

His voice hitched as he tried to speak again. “Y-you want me to be your s-son. Cole is your son.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t. Shit, kid.” He heard him moving to sit next to him on the bench. Warm arms wrapped around him tightly. “This is what’s been going on? Why you’ve been upset?”

He nodded even as Hank pulled him closer, his head now pressed against the man’s chest. “I can’t be him.”

Hank kept his voice low. Connor could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke. “Why would you ever think I want you to be?”

Connor buried his face further into Hank’s rain soaked shirt. “There is substantial evidence,” he said quietly.

Hank tried shifting him so he could look at his face, but Connor kept it stubbornly hidden. He didn’t want to look at the Lieutenant right now. He didn’t want to see the confirmation of his fears. “Connor,” he heard Hank call gently. “Connor, I don’t want you to be anyone but you.”

“I’m in his room,” Connor mumbled. He was tired of holding it in. He wanted him to understand, wanted him to know that he knew. “I’m wearing his clothes. I… I look like him.”

“You look like you, Connor.” Hank sighed and he felt his warm breath on his hair. "You're in that room because that's the room that I had. The clothes, shit that's just what I had that would fit you… fuck, just. Shit this wasn't even something on my radar." The hand at the back of his neck squeezed ever so slightly. "Just… can you look at me kiddo?"

Connor shook his head, face rubbing against the worn fabric of his shirt. He couldn't look at him. Not yet. He wanted to believe him, but his fears felt too real.
"Ok," the Lieutenant conceded. "Alright, you're not there yet. That's alright. Just listen then ok?"

Hank didn't wait for a response, which was good since Connor was in no position to give one. The Lieutenant shifted again and he found himself pulled into his lap, now fully engulfed in Hank's arms.

"Cole was… special," he began almost hesitantly. "He was special, and wonderful, and I will always miss him like hell. But I would never try to replace him. He was one of a kind, I… I couldn't, even if I wanted to."

Connor shifted, still not looking at the man, but turning his head so that his cheek pressed against his chest instead of his face. He always felt strange when Hank talked about Cole, like he was somehow intruding on something private.

He felt the Lieutenant's hand move to cup his cheek, but he didn't try to make him look at him. "Connor, the only way you and Cole are the same, is that all of that is true for you too. You're unique. You're special. I would never try to use you like that."

Connor finally ventured to look at him. There were unshed tears in the Lieutenant's eyes. He had made him cry. “I… I’m being irrational again, aren't I?”

He felt Hank’s calloused thumb rub the remaining tears from his own eyes. “Little bit, yeah,” he told him. He gave him a soft smile. “This doesn’t sound like it’s something that just came up though. You’ve been stewin on this crap for a while, huh?”

Connor averted his eyes again. “Ever since I saw what I looked like,” he admitted.

“Fuck, seriously? That long?”

He nodded, but pressed his face more firmly into Hank’s hand, craving the contact. “I attempted to convince myself that it wasn’t true, but it just felt more real as time went on.”

“Did I make that worse?” Hank asked.

He glanced up, seeing his worried expression before looking away. “No… well… I don’t imagine anything you did was intentional.”

He nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “But I did do something.”

Connor bit his lower lip. He didn’t want the Lieutenant to feel bad, this was his issue to deal with, his irrationality. But, keeping things bottled up certainly didn't help. “It’s just...” he conceded. “Well, ever since I’ve been a six-year-old… you have been significantly more affectionate.”

Hank’s hand left his face and he missed the warmth immediately. “Do you not want me to be?” The man asked hesitantly.

“No!” Connor insisted, more desperately than he intended. He instinctively grabbed at his shirt, afraid the man would pull away farther. “No, I… I don’t mind it at all. It’s just...the timing… I thought…” The hand returned, and Connor closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into his palm. He honestly did love the attention. He loved physical contact, especially from Hank.

“Connor,” Hank called, prompting him to open his eyes. “Kid, you do realize what else happened right?”

Connor gave him a bewildered look, causing the Lieutenant to sigh loudly.

“You died, Connor,” he said. “You died, and I missed you like hell. Of course I’m gonna be affectionate now that I’ve got you back.”

“I…” Connor felt his processor freeze. That was not a parameter he had accounted for when quantifying the Lieutenant’s actions. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Of-fuckin-course not,” Hank rolled his eyes, then pulled him back into a proper hug, hand rubbing up and down his back methodically. He melted into the touch, drinking in the Lieutenant’s warmth. “How you doing?” He asked after a moment.

“I think I’m ok,” Connor answered honestly. He felt significantly better. Lingering fears aside, Hank wouldn’t lie to him. If he said he wasn’t using him to replace Cole, he would trust him.

“Good,” Hank sighed, pulling him a little tighter. “You gotta start telling me when you’re feeling shit like this ok? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Connor just nodded. A tension he hadn’t even noticed was there ebbed from his body. He closed his eyes and let himself relax into Hank’s arms, content to finally let go of his lingering doubts. He let himself feel secure and warm and wanted.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. All that could be heard was Hank’s breathing, his heartbeat, and the steady drum of the rain outside, before the Lieutenant broke the silence. ”Think the rain is letting up,” he said. “You good to head home?”

“Yeah,” Connor responded. He made to pull away from the hug, but Hank stopped him. He directed his arms around his neck instead before standing, lifting Connor in the process. “I can walk,” he told the Lieutenant, even as he settled his head onto his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know,” Hank said, but made no move to put him down.

The rain had in fact eased up, so leaving the shelter of the bus stop wasn’t unpleasant. Connor hadn’t made it far when he had run, his short legs decreasing his normal speed. The walk back didn’t take long. “I’m sorry,” Connor said as they approached the house.

“Don’t be, kid. You’re fine.”

Connor shook his head, but kept it tucked under Hank’s chin. “I am sorry though. I know I haven't been easy to deal with.”

Hank chuckled, shifting him in his arms enough to be able to reach the doorknob. “Believe it or not, Connor, you’re pretty tame for a six-year-old.”

He pulled back to see Hank’s face, convinced he must be joking. “Seriously?”

He laughed again. “Yeah, seriously,” he insisted. “Most of the time, you’re downright perfect. A little shit, sure, but still.” They pushed past Sumo as the two of them made it through the door. “I just gotta get better at navigating those irrational times.”

He set Connor down and Sumo immediately began sniffing and licking at him as though inspecting him for damage. He gave the large dog a hug. “So, you’re not mad at me or anything?” he said, voice muffled by the dog’s fur.

“Nah,” Hank told him. “I mean, I’m not happy that you ran off like that, nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack, but I’m not mad.”

Hank made his way to the closet, pulling out a couple of towels and tossing one to Connor. He caught it, less gracefully than he wanted to, but effectively enough. “Let’s both get changed,” the Lieutenant suggested. “I’ll let you pick out a movie, and we can relax the rest of the night. Sound good?”

Connor nodded with a smile, already drying his hair with the towel. “That sounds nice.”

Hank returned the gesture and headed to his room. Connor did the same. He considered changing into a new set of normal clothes, but decided against it. They weren’t going to be doing anything else that night and something comfortable seemed very appealing at the moment.

A few minutes later, Connor was returning to the living room, dry and wearing his pajamas. He brought his turtle for good measure.

He had evidently beat Hank back, Sumo being the only one waiting for him. He made his way to the couch, but stopped when he saw the e-document still on the coffee table. He picked it up gently. Glancing at the half-filled-in form, Connor found himself wondering if Hank would want to complete it at this point.

"It was always gonna be your choice, you know," Hank called from behind him. Connor looked up, meeting his warm eyes as he joined him in the living room. He gestured to the document in Connor's hand as though it weren't obvious what he was referring to. "I was gonna get it all filled out and shit, but I was gonna ask you before I submit it. Give you the option, you know, if you didn't want me to."

"I want to be adopted, Hank," Connor said, handing him the e-document. He smiled at him sadly. "I just didn't want to be a replacement."

"Never a replacement, kiddo." Hank took it from him with a smile of his own before reaching down to ruffle his hair. "That mean I can finish this thing?" He waved the adoption papers meaningfully.

Connor felt a thrill run through his biocomponents as he realized Hank still wanted him. "I would like that."

"Good," Hank moved over to the couch and sat down, waiting for Connor to join him. "Guess that means you'll need to stop procrastinating and get yourself registered."

"I suppose so," Connor agreed. He began making his way over to the couch himself when he paused, a thought occurring to him. “Registering… the victims...”

“What’s that?”

“The victims. None of them were registered,” Connor reiterated.

"You mean the case?" Hank asked. "We knew that. That's why it's been so hard tracking them down."

Connor's expression turned pensive. Something wasn't adding up and he could almost put his finger on it. "Yes, but according to the last report I received from Markus, seventy three percent of androids have been registered already. To have all of them be unregistered is odd."

"Yeah, I guess that is odd," Hank agreed. "What are you getting at? You think someone's specifically targeting unregistered androids?"

"Maybe?" Connor crossed his arms. With the stuffed turtle in his hand, he ended up hugging it. It was comforting. "But that doesn't make sense either. It's impossible to know if an android is unregistered or not just by looking at them. How would they single them out?"

"I'm not sure," Hank said, shaking his head. "We can look into it tomorrow, there's gotta be something cluing them in. If that's the qualifier, of course."

"But if there is-"

"Connor," he interrupted. "Tomorrow. We've had a long day." He patted the couch next to him as though trying to entice Connor up. "Come on, pick out a movie already."

Connor complied. He had put the Lieutenant through enough today, he reasoned. He climbed up next to Hank and tucked himself into the man's side. He draped an arm around him and Sumo joined them promptly, effectively sandwiching Connor between man and dog.

It was perfect.

Hank laughed when he suggested they watch Finding Nemo, but didn't complain. He began carding his fingers through his damp hair and Connor relaxed into the touch. He felt safe. He felt wanted.

He felt loved.

Connor was asleep before the movie was even half over.

Chapter 18: One Step Forward

Hank paused for a moment in the doorway, just watching Connor sleep. He looked so peaceful, breathing softly, clutching that damn pillow pet. It was a nice sight, especially after the chaos of yesterday.

He could feel his heart rate increasing just remembering the kid running out of the house like that. He’d been terrified. One second he was standing there, the next he was gone, and he’d had no clue what was wrong. Thank god he had tiny legs or there was no way in hell he would’ve caught him.

He sat down on the bed, Connor still not stirring. Hank was glad he’d finally told him what was wrong, but it still broke his heart. The thought that he believed the only reason he would want him was as a replacement for Cole… it was too much. He knew Connor had calmed down, but those thoughts were the sort of thing that didn’t just go away.

Regardless, Hank was determined to make sure Connor knew he was wanted, just the way he was.

“Hey, kid. Time to get up,” he shook him gently.

Connor’s eyes blinked open and settled on him quickly. “Good morning,” he greeted.

“Mornin’. Gotta say, it’s still kinda weird waking you up instead of the other way around,” Hank chuckled, leaning back so Connor could sit up properly.

Connor nodded, rubbing at his eyes as he woke up completely. “The rest mode requirements of this body are a bit cumbersome. Simon will likely need to make a few edits before it goes into production.” His face fell suddenly and he looked up at Hank with an utterly dejected expression. “I missed half the movie!”

Hank couldn’t help but laugh. “We can always watch it again, don’t worry,” he told him. He almost mentioned how Cole would watch the land before time on repeat, but stopped himself. He figured it wasn’t a good idea considering the circumstances.

“I know,” Connor pouted. “I just wish I hadn’t fallen asleep. It’s annoying.”

He brushed at the kid’s hair affectionately. It was mussed from sleeping and had dried funny after being wet in the rain. Where it wasn’t sticking up at odd angles, it was downright curly. A far cry from the near perfectly put together look he usually went for. “Yeah, I bet it is,” he agreed.

“Well, we should start getting ready for work.” Connor stretched, yawning as he did so, before sliding out of the bed.

Hank helped him down but stayed where he was, watching as the kid went over to the dresser to select his outfit for the day. “I was thinking,” he said, trying to make it sound casual. “Maybe we should run some errands after work today.”

“Alright, that sounds fine.” Connor pulled out a green polo, holding it up for a moment. He had apparently not noticed the stegosaurus on the back when he put it into the yes pile. He pulled a face and selected a solid blue one instead. “What did we need to get?”

Hank bit the side of his cheek, wondering if it was a good idea to bring up last night's conversation. He’d already made the suggestion though, there wasn’t really a convincing way to backtrack. “Figured we could get you some new clothes,” he said at last.

Connor froze, processing the layers to what Hank was saying. “That’s really not necessary, Hank,” he responded softly.

He couldn’t hold in his sigh, not surprised that was the kid’s reaction. “It bothers you, Connor. I know we talked shit out, but that sort of thing doesn’t just go away. Least I can do is get you something different to wear.”

“It’s not practical,” Connor countered. “I’m not going to be a child for very long, it doesn’t make sense to buy new clothes.” He started picking at the hem of the shirt absently. Hank made a mental note to get him a coin to fiddle with, his quarter still probably tucked into the pocket on his adult body. “I… it does still bother me, a little,” he admitted. “My mind is telling me that you were just saying that stuff last night to make me feel better, that you didn’t actually mean it.”

“Connor, that’s not-”

“I know,” he cut him off, looking up at him with a small smile. “I know it’s irrational. I know you don’t lie to me.”

Hank got up, moving over to his kid to give him a hug. Connor reciprocated, tucking his head beneath his neck. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince you,” he lamented. It shouldn’t be this hard. Connor should know how much he loved him by now, shouldn’t he?

“You don’t need to do anything else,” he insisted. Hank’s heart swelled as he felt the kid nuzzle closer. “I’m serious, it’s ok. I just… I trust you more than I trust my own mind right now.”

“Ok,” Hank relented. He gave him a soft squeeze before letting the hug end. “But seriously, if it’ll help, we can get you new clothes.”

“I think I’d rather come home and finish the movie,” Connor said, smiling.

“Alright, fair enough.” He ruffled his hair again, chuckling. “Just let me know if you change your mind, ok?”

“I will,” he promised, running his own tiny hand across his head in an attempt to flatten his unruly locks. It was really a lost cause but without a mirror, Connor didn’t know that. “We really should get ready for work,” he reiterated. “We have a lead to follow.”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess we do.” Hank stood up reluctantly. As much as he would love to spend the day watching movies with his kid, they did have work to do.

-o-

It was amazing how excited Connor could get about finally having a lead. It was adorable really. The whole car ride to the precinct was filled with his enthusiastic chatter.

“There really aren’t a lot of ways to tell that an android is unregistered,” he was saying. “Without them just admitting to it, of course, but I doubt Sawyer just asks them.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t make much sense,” Hank agreed. He pulled on the kid’s hand, guiding him away from a large puddle in front of the curb. Connor looked far too interested in it and he was not going to deal with a soggy android for the rest of the day. The little pout that showed up on his face proved he’d made the right call.

“So, in theory,” Connor continued as though he hadn’t been distracted. “If we can find his connection to one of the municipal facilities that would have access to the information. Locating how he chooses his victims, maybe we can locate him.”

“Or at least stop him from hurting anyone else,” Hank nodded. “We might need to look into some employment places too. Some people hire androids illegally and pay them under the table.” He held the door open so Connor could head in easily, then followed. “Wouldn’t put it past this asshole to be targeting them. Maybe he got replaced by his boss trying to save a buck.”

They walked by the receptionist who waved at them both politely as they went through to the bullpen. “That is a potential motive,” Connor mused. “But he was still employed, so not very likely.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Hank conceded. Arriving at their desks, he lifted Connor up and settled him into his chair. “Still shouldn’t rule it out though. How ‘bout I look at the employment angle, you start sorting through the public services?”

Connor pulled himself forward, activating his terminal. “Sounds good to me. I’m willing to entertain any connection Sawyer has at this point.”

Hank rounded to his desk and switched the computer on before sitting down. For once, he actually felt motivated. They had an actual lead, rocky as it was. It was refreshing actually feeling like they were making progress. He should have known it wouldn’t last.

Reed made his way into the precinct, followed by several of their coworkers. Judging by his rumpled look and gas station coffee, he had been called out on an early morning case. Hank sure as hell didn’t envy him in the slightest.

He slogged his way over to his desk looking ready to collapse into his chair and nap the rest of the day. He didn’t though. Instead, he diverted course and made his way over to Hank’s desk. “Hey, Anderson,” he called.

“Yeah, what is it Gavin?” Hank asked, readying himself for whatever bullshit the detective was about to say.

He stopped when he was a few feet away, taping what he assumed to be a casefile tablet against his palm. He almost looked nervous. “That guy you’re after. What was his name?” He asked.

“Anthony Sawyer,” Connor responded, not looking up from his work.

Hank swiveled his chair towards him, crossing his arms. It squeaked in protest at the motion. “Why the hell do you want to know?”

Reed handed him the casefile he was holding and Hank took it, confused. “We just pulled an Anthony Sawyer out of the Detroit River,” he explained. “That your man?”

“Shit, yeah. That’s him.” He didn’t need to look long at the picture to know it was him. It was the same profile picture they had followed to the lead that got Connor killed in the first place. It was accompanied by several detailed and gruesome crime scene images of how he looked now as a corpse.

Chapter 19: Two Steps Back

“Wait, Sawyer is dead?” Connor hopped down from his chair, coming closer to see the file for himself. He took it from Hank’s hand, looking at it in disbelief.

“Looks like it,” Reed said with a shrug. “Guess the bastard got in too deep with the black market or something.”

“This can’t be right,” Connor insisted. He sounded almost frantic. “It’s not possible.”

Hank frowned. “Guy was up to some shady shit, it’s not that surprising.”

“No, that’s not… it’s the coroner report, look.” He handed the document back to Hank before explaining what was wrong. “It claims his date of death was two weeks ago. That’s not possible.”

“The hell?” Even Gavin looked surprised, leaning over to confirm Connor’s findings for himself. “But he shot you just a few days ago.”

“Tim did the examination,” Hank observed, recognizing the medical examiner. “He’s good, he wouldn’t have fucked it up.”

“How could I have been killed by a dead man?” Connor questioned softly.

His own mind seemed to fry at the revelation, he could only imagine how the kid was doing. The one damn thing they were certain of and it was proven false in gruesome full color detail. “So we’ve been chasing the wrong guy,” Hank surmised.

“But we knew for sure it was him,” Connor countered. “Could there have been something the coroner missed? Something that would throw off the time of death?”

Gavin shook his head. “Doubtful. No way Tim was off by that much. Even if he kicked the bucket right after he shot you, that’s still a full week's difference.”

“So… now we don’t even have a suspect?”

Hank could easily see that Connor was on the brink of tears, his child mind taking over as he got overwhelmed by the information. “Hey, it’ll be ok,” he insisted. He pulled the kid over, lifting him onto his lap for a hug.

“Yeah,” Gavin offered awkwardly. “We’ve solved tons of cases where we didn’t have a suspect right away.”

Connor shook as he tried desperately not to cry. “But we have nothing, not even information on the victims.”

Hank rubbed his back gently. “Come on now, that’s not true.” He spared a hand to brush at the kid’s face as a tear escaped. Gavin hovered, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish as he bounced between wanting to help and having no damn idea what to do. “We still know that our killer had to know about the victim’s registration, right? That’s still a start.”

Connor pulled back from the hug, wiping at his own face. His expression was pinched, still upset, but having any sort of starting point appeared to be bringing him back to work mode. “But we weren’t even sure that’s how they were being selected,” he countered, quietly.

“It’s still a start,” Reed said, seeming to be able to speak again now that Connor’s tears were subsiding. His soft spot for kids did not include knowing how to handle them when they were crying.

“Right, yeah,” Connor agreed, rubbing the remainder of the tears from his eyes. Hank couldn’t help but be proud that they had managed to ward off the meltdown before it got too bad. “Our plan of action hasn’t changed. We just need to eliminate Sawyer as a variable.”

Reed took his casefile back, looking as though he expected Connor to protest. “Ok, well, you two have fun with that. I’m gonna grab some breakfast.”

“Detective Reed has been acting strange,” Connor commented once he had retreated out of earshot. “He has been noticeably less hostile towards me.”
Hank ruffled his hair with a smile. “I think you’re growing on him.”

Connor pulled a face, nose scrunching in contemplation. “No, that can’t be it.”

He rolled his eyes, guiding the kid off of his lap and helping him back to his desk. “Well then maybe he’s been replaced by an alien or some shit,” he teased.

Connor scrambled back into his chair with Hank’s assistance, pausing in thought once he was up. “Replaced… maybe that’s it.”

“It was a joke, Connor,” Hank said with a chuckle. “Gavin’s not an alien.”

“What? Oh,” his face shifted from confusion to professionalism as he turned back to his computer. “No, I meant the case.”

Hank could get whiplash from how fast the kid could switch gears. Sobbing mess one minute, devoted detective the next. Hank was entirely too old for this kind of acrobatics. “What’re you on about?”

Connor pulled up the search he had been performing, ready to dive back into it. “Mr. Sawyer is dead,” he stated, way too matter of factly for someone his age. “But we saw him, or at least, someone who looks like him.”

“You think our killer matches Sawyer’s description?” He concluded, catching on.

Connor nodded. “He was based in his apartment, he had to be a close match to not raise suspicion. It would seem that even the people who knew him didn’t know he was gone, so he must have been at least trying to keep up appearances.”

“Hadn’t been to work in a few weeks,” he remembered. “Must have only been able to take the farce so far.”

Connor nodded again. “It at least narrows the pool.”

Hank leaned against Connor’s desk, thinking for a moment. He had blocked out most of that awful day. Just mentioning it brought back horrific memories of his kid bleeding out in his arms. But he shoved it down, a distinct memory of Connor’s dying words drifting back to him amidst the heartache. “Hey, when you were…” nope, he wasn’t there yet. It hurt too much to say. “When we were at the guy’s apartment. You were trying to tell me something.”

Connor looked up from his computer quizzically. “I was?”

“Yeah,” Hank swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the memory. “You remember? You said ‘he’s not’, or something like that, but you... cut out right after.”

“That’s… odd,” Connor mused. “I don’t recall why I said that.”

“You wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t important,” he reasoned, mentaly kicking himself for ignoring that detail until now. Connor had choked them out through his pain, hoping to convey something, and yet he had been so absorbed with his own grief he hadn't thought on them. “Did you scan him or something? Did you figure out something was up?”

“Yes, I scanned him,” Connor confirmed. “I ran a vocal analysis, then a visual scan once he was in view. I…”

Hank didn’t like how he trailed off. “What’s wrong?”

“I should have the results of the scans…” His features quickly dissolved into distress. “They’re not there. I… don’t remember.”

“You don’t… that doesn’t sound good.” Memory loss on an android was kinda a big deal. It usually didn’t happen unless they were damaged or intentionally tampered with. “I thought it was like, impossible for you to forget shit.”

“It should be,” he said. There was a note nearing panic in his voice.

“Ok, fuck, alright. We can figure this out,” he reasoned. He didn’t want Connor to freak out. They’d just gotten over a meltdown, he didn’t want him to have another. “You’re due for a trip to New Jericho anyway. Markus had been busting my balls about wanting to get you in to see how the body’s working out.”

“No, they can’t help,” Connor sounded certain and it didn’t leave him with warm fuzzies. “It… I think it’s from my memory transfer. There’s always some data lost, usually close to the time of shutdown.”

The edge of the desk was pressing into Hank’s hip uncomfortably, but he didn’t move. “I think I remember you saying that. You said you only lost a few seconds.”

“Fifty three,” he elaborated. “Evidently that was enough.”

Connor looked downright miserable at the revelation. Hank pushed off of the desk the moment he realized he wasn’t going to dodge another crying fit. “Shit, it’s alright,” he insisted, crouching to be at his level. “It’s not a big deal, ok?”

He didn’t expect Connor to pull away as he reached to comfort him, but that’s exactly what he did. “It is a big deal, Hank!” He shrugged away Hank’s consoling hands and gripped his head as though he were in pain. “I lost critical information!”

“Connor-”

“No, this shouldn’t have happened!” The tears started. They welled up and spilled over Connor's cheeks in rivlets. "I was specifically designed to avoid losing critical data I… I must be defective."

"Hey!" Hank scolded. He could handle toddler meltdowns, they were irrational and frustrating, but doable. This was different. Self-deprecating, refusing comfort, this was adult-Connor’s insecurities rearing their ugly head again. "No, that's it, we're done."

"What?" Connor asked through his tears, but Hank just ignored him in favor of reaching over and switching off the terminal.

"We're done," he repeated. He grabbed his keys off the desk. "Come on, let's go."

"But… the workday..." He choked out around his sobs.

"I don't give a shit," Hank responded. He gestured for Connor to follow, but the little android kept sitting there tearfully and stubbornly. He sighed in frustration. "You've crossed from temper tantrum to self loathing. That means we're done for the day."

"Since when is that a rule?" Connor wailed in protest.

"Since I said so," he shot back. The best way to combat these episodes was to step away from the situation for a while, as much as the kid hated it. "Now are you coming, or do I need to carry you?"

Connor’s face was the epitome of petulant, but he slid from his chair to follow after him. When Hank reached for his hand he crossed his arms defiantly. At least his annoyance was causing the tears to run dry.

He was buckling the kid into his carseat when he finally spoke again. “I don’t want to go home,” he mumbled unhappily.

Hank spared a moment to ruffle his hair gently. Connor didn’t pull away this time, already marking an improvement. “Well then, good thing we aren’t going home,” he told him.

“What?” Connor asked. His face scrunched as confusion won over his frustration. “Where are we going?”

“New Jericho,” he told him as he finished clasping the buckle. No sense keeping it from him, he’d just get more worked up. “They’ll run whatever scans you need to prove you aren’t defective. Besides, Markus wants to see you.”

“I just saw him yesterday,” Connor countered. “We should be working on the case.”

“I already said we’re done for the day, end of discussion.” Hank shut the passenger door and rounded to the driver's seat before continuing. “And yesterday wasn’t a social visit. You were in full business mode. You too are both workaholics, it’ll do you some good to do something else for a change.”

He could see the argument in Connor’s features. His tiny body unable to hide his displeasure behind stoicism like he did as an adult. “Fine,” he spat out with the same venom he would use for a different ‘f’ word.

Hank rolled his eyes and sent a quick text to Markus before he put the car into gear. “Leave it to me to be the only bastard in existence with a kid I need to strongarm into taking a goddamn break,” he mused.

Chapter 20: Quality Time

Connor knew he was being difficult. He’d had two meltdowns in quick succession after all, a fact that only served to frustrate him further and worsen his mood. So yes, he knew the Lieutenant didn’t deserve his attitude, but at the moment, he was too annoyed to rectify the situation.

He was quiet on the drive to New Jericho. Part of it was because he was being petty and thought that Hank deserved the silent treatment. The other part warned him that if he spoke, he risked saying something he would regret.

His childish emotional range was proving to be very annoying.

He wasn’t expecting Markus to be waiting for them when Hank pulled up, but there he was. He stood at the entrance looking as excited as Connor was irritated. He opened Connor’s door as soon as the vehicle stopped.

“Careful,” Hank warned from the front seat. “He’s pissy right now.”

It was a fair statement, but didn’t serve to improve Connor's mood. He frowned up at the man, not caring that he was proving him right.

“Well, hopefully we can change that,” Markus said, undeterred. He unbuckled Connor, pulling him from the seat and into his arms before he had a chance to protest. He directed his pout to him at that point, but it went ignored.

“God, I hope so,” Hank sighed.

Evidently he had gotten out of the car at some point. He was now not far from them, reaching as though he intended to take Connor from Markus’s grasp, but the deviant leader turned, denying the request. “I’ve got it from here, Lieutenant,” he told him, hugging him a little closer.

“Hey, now,” Hank protested. “I didn’t bring him here for you to just take him.”

“Please, Lieutenant,” it sounded more like a scolding than a request. “You get Connor every day. Surely I’m due for some quality time with him.”

The Lieutenant looked like he strongly wanted to oppose the idea. He ran his tongue across the front of his teeth, biting back an argument.

“It’s fine, Hank,” Connor interjected before he could speak. As much as he would deny it, he reasoned that the man could likely use a break from him. No matter how low he felt right now, he knew he still loved him. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t wear out Hank’s patience.

Hank sighed, then shared an odd look with Markus that he couldn’t seem to place. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ve got some errands to run anyway.” Markus didn’t stop him from coming closer this time. He reached and cupped his cheek before leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “Try to be good, alright?” he said with a smile.

Connor rolled his eyes, but the casual teasing didn’t annoy him as it would have earlier, so his mood must have already started to improve. “You be good,” he jived back. “Don’t go getting a bunch of junk food just because I’m not there to stop you.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but smiled as he ruffled his hair and stepped back. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You want me to live to a hundred or some crap.” He swung his keyring around his finger before heading back to the driver’s door. “You two have some fun, alright? No work, I mean it. I don’t care what excuse I gave Jeffery, this is a social visit for you boys.”

“We will,” Markus promised. Connor noted with irritation that he used his sincere voice which meant the deviant leader was being honest. He really had no plans on assisting him with the case while he was here.

He tried to not let that sour his mood farther.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then,” Hank chuckled then waved before getting in the car and buckling.

Connor was suddenly struck with a very child-like anxiety at watching him go. He wanted to cry, wanted Hank to come back, wanted him to hold him. He didn’t want him to leave. He blinked away the tears before they could fall, shoving the feeling down.

He was an adult after all, he could control his emotions.

“You can put me down, you know,” Connor commented instead once the vehicle pulled away. If Hank wasn't going to come back and hold him, he didn't want to be held. Besides, several of the androids entering or leaving the tower had certainly stared in interest at the sight of Markus holding a child. Connor wanted to limit the spectacle as much as possible.

Markus gave him a smile before setting him down, rightly deducing that it was a request rather than a statement of fact. “sorry,” he apologized. "I suppose I get a bit carried away don't I?"

Connor shrugged, taking the hand that Markus offered in lieu of carrying him. "It's not exclusive to you," he said, dismissively.

"You are very cute," he stated as he led him inside the large building. "Not even North seems to be able to resist you. She still thinks we can get you from the Lieutenant if we tried."

His mood worsened at the mention of Hank, both due to his annoyance with the situation and his infantile desire for him to come back. "I really don't think that would work. He's unnecessarily protective of me."

“I'm not sure about it being unnecessary. He’s worried about you, Connor,” Markus sighed. “The Lieutenant’s message stated that you were claiming to be defective.”

“To be fair, I only said it once.”

“But do you?” Markus pressed. “Do you feel defective?”

“No!” Connor denied immediately before wavering. “Well, ok, yeah. A little, I guess.”

Markus looked at him concerned but didn't speak, wordlessly urging him to go on.

Connor sighed. "It's just… a lot of things. I should have made progress on the case by now."

"I thought you were making progress," Markus frowned, concerned. They pushed past a few people that looked at the android leader like they had just seen a celebrity.

"We thought so too," he told him. "But our lead turned out to be a dead end. I shouldn't be failing like this. And now… I found out that my memory upload was faulty. I forgot relevant information."

Markus was silent for a long while as they wove their way through the building to his private quarters. He only spoke again once the commotion of outside activity was muffled by the closed door. "I understand that must be frustrating, Connor. But it doesn't mean that you are defective."

"It's one of the things I was designed for," he argued bitterly. "If I've failed to do even-"

"Connor," Markus interrupted abruptly. "You haven't failed anything. We've talked about this, not every misstep is a failure. You are far too hard on yourself."

Connor frowned, pulling his hand from Markus's grasp so he could cross his arms defiantly. "This is different," he countered. "This is part of my core programming that failed."

He sighed and Connor could tell he was frustrating the deviant leader. "You aren't a machine anymore, Connor. Your core programming doesn't matter anymore. You probably subconsciously sacrificed those memories to hold onto something else that your old program would have deemed irrelevant."

Honestly, It was a logical conclusion, Connor had to give him that. But the dark corners of his mind pressed in on him whispering of failures and malfunctions. "How can I be sure?" He asked softly.

Markus retracted the skin on his hand and reached over to him. "I can take a look if you would like."

"I can't interface in this body," he told him sadly. He missed interfacing with Markus. The older android had a way of projecting calm through his code in a way nobody else could.

"Maybe not an interface, no," he acknowledged. "But I should be able to establish enough of a connection for a system check."

Hopeful, Connor took Markus's hand, allowing the meager contact to occur.

He could feel the faintest tingle of Markus's code and he reached for it, wanting desperately to experience even a fraction of what he normally would from an interface. They were both RK model androids, brothers, though they didn't advertise it. Their code was similar enough that their systems recognized them as interchangeable and their interfaces were always complete. Vast, open glimpses into each other's mind that left Connor feeling content, at peace, seen.

Now, all he felt was loneliness at the absence of that connection.

Markus let go of his hand, smiling as he pulled back. Evidently the void hadn't bothered him. "There, everything is working as it should," he announced. "Like I told you, no malfunctions in your code."

Connor doubted he could have done a full systems check with such a weak connection, but he seemed confident, so he would let it be for now. "Alright, I'll believe you," he conceded. He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Markus didn't look entirely convinced, but didn't comment, instead turning him to move farther into the apartment. "Now that we have that settled, why don't we get to cheering you up?"

"What did you have in mind?" Connor asked following Markus's direction.

He gave him his warm, comforting smile and gestured towards the room in the back that he used as a studio. “What do we always do when you’re feeling down?”

“Painting?” A thrill of excitement ran through him at the prospect. It was the most he had felt since the bad news at the precinct earlier that day, speaking volumes for how much he enjoyed the activity. Hank had gotten him some art supplies, but it wasn’t quite the same as using Markus’s studio.

“Painting,” he declared happily. He opened the studio door, standing to the side so Connor could enter.

He scuttled in, nearly tripping over his own tiny feet in his haste to start and ignoring the chuckles coming from the older android. His gait only faltered when he realized he was too short to use the easels.

Connor turned to Markus, ready to voice his concern, but he beat him to it. “Don’t worry. I have a plan,” he assured him, apparently already attune to the issue.

He nodded, watching in interest as Markus set about retrieving a pair of canvases and set them flat on the floor. “Won’t that be an odd angle?” Connor questioned.

“Nothing wrong with a different perspective,” Markus responded, selecting the paints they were going to use.

He set them down within reach and Connor touched two fingers to the pigment, absentmindedly bringing it to his tongue. He froze, only realizing what he had done when the extent of the analysis that came back was 'paint'.

Markus didn’t even try holding back his laughter at that point, but still handed him a handkerchief to wipe his tongue clean. “It’s not funny,” he insisted, petulantly. This was supposed to be improving his mood.

“Sorry,” Markus apologized. It was sincere despite the lingering amusement. “Your face was simply priceless.”

“It’s not funny,” he reiterated, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. Connor rubbed at his face furiously. He didn’t want to cry again today. But apparently, that wasn’t up to him.

“Oh, hey,” Markus cood once he realized the state Connor was in. All at once he was wrapped in his arms, tight in a sympathetic hug.

However much Connor didn’t want to cry, it was magnified exponentially at the realization that he was here to see him cry. With nowhere else to hide his face, he buried it into the fabric of Markus’s coat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to cry,” he whispered gently. “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

That was at least a sentiment they shared. “It’s not… that’s not…” he choked out around his sobbs. He wished Markus would rub his back, it always seemed to help when Hank did it. “That’s not the problem.”

“What is it then?”

He pulled away a bit so he wouldn’t be muffled, but kept his face down. “It’s another function I’m incapable of,” he lamented. “It feels like all my basic functions are gone.”

“Connor, you know that’s not true,” Markus insisted. He pressed his hand to his face and he could feel the cool plastimetal and hint of code that suggested an attempt to interface. Whether he had forgotten he couldn’t, or believed he could force even a hint of comfort through the connection, he wasn’t sure. But it only seemed to solidify his point. Markus sighed, running a finger across Connor’s cheek to wipe away some of the tears. “I know this body has… limitations, but…”

“I think even my mind is going,” he confessed. He saw Markus open his mouth to counter the claim, but he continued before he could do so. “I’m behaving irrationally. I can’t trust my own mind. I cry all the time,” he wailed. “I think I’m regressing and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Markus was silent for a moment. He sat there, one arm wrapped around him, the other cradling his face. Connor’s hope that he was formulating a solution or an argument as to how it couldn’t be true was dashed as soon as he spoke. “That is actually possible,” he admitted. “We knew your emotions would adapt to your new body, it stands to reason that your mind could adjust as well.”

He finally looked up at him, still frustrated, but no longer crying. “How do I fix it?”

Markus pursed his lips for a moment. “I don’t really think there is anything to fix.”

“Are you crazy?” Connor all but shouted, pushing away from his arms. “ Of course it needs fixing. I can’t be a six-year-old!”

“I really think you are taking this too seriously,” he countered. He was using that calm, diplomatic voice that he brought out when he was trying to de-escalate a situation. It only annoyed Connor more.

“You aren’t taking this seriously enough,” he accused. “I’m a homicide detective, Markus. It’s bad enough looking like a child, I can’t start thinking like one too!”

“Connor,” he said as he reached for him, but Connor swatted at his hands, not in any mood to be comforted. “You have the unique opportunity to experience a childhood. That’s not something that many androids can say.”

“I don’t want a childhood!” Connor shouted. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

Markus blinked in surprise. He lowered the hand that he had extended to him, a solemn understanding spreading across his features. “You’re right,” he sighed, disheartened. “None of this was your choice. It’s not my place to tell you how to feel about it.”

“You were just happy I’m not dead?” Connor guessed, softening now that he’d gotten his point across. “You didn’t think I’d have any issues since I was alive and that’s all that mattered? Hank had that problem.”

“At least I’m in good company,” Markus reasoned. He opened his arms, pleading for a hug and Connor obliged, pressing his face into his chest. “If it is any consolation, any regression you experience will revert once you return to your adult body.”

“That does help, actually,” he admitted, finally letting himself relax a bit.

Markus tightened the hug before letting it end. “Does that mean you are ready to paint?”

Connor smiled with an enthusiastic nod. “I’d like that. We still need the brushes though,” he observed.

“Actually, I thought we could omit the brushes this time,” he grinned at him, wiggling his fingers meaningfully.

His smile fell, annoyance creeping back into his expression. “Finger Painting? Really?”

“It will be fun, I promise,” Markus grinned. “Please, at least let me try to show you that there is some joy in being a child.”

Connor looked at him skeptically, but agreed anyway. If he was going to go back to normal, he supposed there wasn’t really any harm in at least trying to have a little fun.

Chapter 21: Fingerprints

As much as Connor seemed appalled at the idea of fingerprinting, he took to it with remarkable enthusiasm. His tiny fingers moved across the canvas both precisely and erratically making images of controlled chaos.

Markus had been sure to pick out paints he had sampled in the past so he already knew their chemical composition. While he didn’t fully understand the need for it, he wasn't about to question Connor’s process. It worked for him, that’s all that really mattered.

Connor had always been an expressive painter. Despite his odd color choices, he somehow always managed to isolate and capture his amalgam of emotions on the canvas in a strikingly accurate representation. He prided himself on his ability to decipher these images, it was like a secret language that they shared. Connor had always been open with Markus, never wanting to hide, but lacking the words to express the feelings that were so foreign yet natural to his code. Art helped him show what he couldn’t quite say.

Evidently, that was still the case while he was a child. The only difference was that, instead of sectioning off specific emotions, Connor was letting them all flow onto the canvas at once in a mad jumble. In a word, it was beautiful.

Connor certainly seemed to be enjoying himself as well. After his initial hesitation, he had thrown caution to the wind and dove in. He was now covered up to his elbows with pigment, little dots speckling his clothes and hair. His tongue stuck out slightly as he concentrated on the image as it formed. The sight was enough to brighten Markus’s whole day.

Admittedly, he was enjoying it too.

Something about using his fingers instead of the brushes let him feel more connected to the paint and, by extension, more connected to Connor. Without the ability to interface with him, Markus was going to take what he could get.

Markus had… exaggerated how much he had been able to glean from when he had tried to interface with him. It was true that he hadn’t detected any issues, but he hadn’t really detected much of anything. He didn’t want Connor to know that though. Confident as he was that he wasn’t actually suffering a malfunction, his goal had been comfort, not deception.

“Markus?” Connor asked suddenly, breaking him from his musing. “Do you prefer me like this?”

He had to pause for a moment, taken back by the abrupt question. “What? What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking,” he muttered. “A lot of people seem to like me as I am now, even Detective Reed has been nice to me.” He moved his multicolored fingers through a streak of yellow paint leaving behind a muddled rainbow. “Maybe people prefer me like this. As a kid.”

“I don’t necessarily think that’s the case,” Markus countered. He had to handle this carefully, Connor was sensitive about how people viewed him. After the whole ‘deviant hunter’ label had been affixed to him, he had been ready to do almost anything to gain approval. “I think that most people like children and find novelty in it. That doesn’t mean they prefer it.”

“What about you though?” He persisted.

Markus brought his own strike of blue across the canvas, meeting the mark Connor had just made. “I don’t prefer you one way or the other,” he said neutrally.

Connor let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically plopping a handprint down onto the painting. “Could you please answer without your diplomatic voice?”

“Without… what?” He stammered.

“That voice you do when you’re being all diplomatic and trying not to upset people,” Connor explained. “Just… give me an honest answer.”

Markus wasn’t aware he had a tell like that, but he wasn’t surprised Connor had picked up on it. “I will admit there is a certain charm to you being a child,” he admitted honestly. “But I wasn’t lying. You are my brother, Connor. I Love you, big or small.”

Evidently he used the right tone that time judging by how his face lit up with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yup.” He punctuated the word by dotting the tip of Connor’s nose with a paint-covered index finger.

He gasped out a surprised squeak and promptly rubbed at the spot on his face, failing to register that his own hands were also covered in paint. “Oh no,” he whispered to himself once he realized his mistake. He sat frozen, staring at his messy fingers as though at a loss as to how to fix his predicament.
"Here, let me help," Markus offered with a chuckle. He pulled a clean rag from the table nearby and began wiping at the paint stains. "Thank goodness syntheskin is easy to clean."

"You mean it though, right?" Connor asked, ignoring the comment. His voice sounded as smushed as his face was under the rag. "You love me. Big or small?"

Markus rubbed at the spot he had put on Connor's nose. "Of course."

"Good," he mumbled. He leaned away once he was done and watched as Connor nervously picked at some of the paint on his hands. Most of it was still wet, but some had dried and flaked off as he fiddled with it. "I knew that, I just wanted to be sure. Just in case."

"In case of what?" He wished, once again, that he could interface with Connor. That he could quell whatever insecurities he had with a touch.

Connor dotted some green paint from the pallet onto the canvas. "In case I don't succeed. If I fail and I don't get my body back and I'm stuck like this."
"Than is not going to happen," Markus insisted immediately.

Connor rolled his eyes. Another streak of worried green crossing the page. "Yeah, ok," he conceded, unconvinced.

“I’m serious, Connor. You will not be stuck like that,” he reiterated. He mixed a little yellow into the green on the palette, lightening it. Logic, that would be the best way to handle this. “Think this through, even if, and I do mean if, you and the DPD can’t solve this case, I’m sure we can work something out with the precinct and get them to release your body.”

“Yes, but-”

“And,” Markus went on, not willing to let him interrupt. “Even if we don’t have that option, Simon could always build you a new adult body. You will only stay in that body if you choose to.”

Connor selected some of the paint that Markus had lightened, staring at it on the tip of his finger for a moment before adding it to the canvas. “I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. “I just… worry. It seems I worry about a lot of things these days.”

Markus offered him a sad smile. “You do have a lot to worry about.”

Connor’s focus shifted back to him, eyes piercing and focused, if not exhausted. He would need to take his nap soon. “How do you do it?” He asked. “You have so much more to worry about then I do, but you just… I don’t know, deal with it. It’s like nothing bothers you.”

“I think you know that isn’t the case,” Markus told him. “A lot of things bother me, I just know where to put my focus at a given time. It’s a skill I had to learn, one I’m sure you will figure out when you are older.”

He yawned, but continued making little swirls of pale green. “I don’t know. I wasn’t very good at that even in my adult body.”

Markus shook his head with a smile before pulling Connor into a gentle hug and standing, child secure in his arms. “I said older, Connor, not bigger. You are still young, not even a year old. You still have a lot to learn about the world.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” he argued. Markus noticed the paint smudges on his coat where Connor was clinging to him, but didn’t worry about it. He could get the stains out later.

“A decade at least,” he chuckled. There was a lounge on the far end of the room he sometimes used when one of his friends agreed to model for him, it would be suitable for Connor to rest on. “It is more than enough time to pick up a few things.”

“I guess so,” he conceded, apparently too tired to argue the point. Weariness set upon him quickly, there was likely a threshold in the battery level that triggered it. He would need to talk to Simon, see if they could make it a more gradual transition in the future. “Where are we going?” He asked sleepily.
He set him gently on the lounge, detangling tiny arms from around his neck. “It’s time for your nap,” he told him.

“No!” Connor cried instantly. “No, I’m not tired!”
“Connor,” Markus said, tone bordering on scolding. “I am not returning you to the Lieutenant tired and grumpy. Your battery is depleted, you need a nap.”

Connor pouted, but followed Markus’s lead as he guided him down onto the cushion. “I don’t want it to be over already,” he lamented.

“You don’t want what to be over?” Markus asked him, confused. He brushed at his tousled hair gently, hoping the motion would help lull Connor to sleep. It left some streaks of paint behind, but he would help him clean up later.

“This,” he said with another yawn. His eyes drooped even as he fought to keep them open. “It’s rare that I get to spend time with you like this. I don’t want it to end.”

Oh, so that’s what the Lieutenant meant when he said Connor could so casually pull at the heartstrings without even trying. He sat on the lounge by his feet, keeping his hand in his hair. “Why don’t I join you then?” Markus offered.

Connor frowned up at him. “But your batteries don’t need recharging yet.”

“No, they don't,” he admitted. “But a nap still sounds nice.” Admittedly, his battery was running lower than it probably should be. If it weren’t for North dragging him to bed each night, he would likely forgo rest mode to continue working throughout the evening. Maybe the Lieutenant had a point, they both needed to take time to rest now and then.

Connor looked confused by the concept of enjoying a nap, but still made room for Markus to lay down beside him. He wasted no time pulling the tiny android close like a teddy bear. To Markus’s elation, he was unfazed by the sudden contact and made himself comfortable in his arms.

“Since you’re so good at dealing with things, could I bother you with one more worry?” Connor asked around another yawn.

He began running his fingers through Connor’s hair again. The paint, mostly dry now, flaked off in places. “You are never a bother, Connor. What is it?”

He was quiet and, for a moment, Markus thought he had fallen asleep. “Hank is going to adopt me,” he said at last as he fought to remain conscious.

“Well that doesn’t come as a surprise,” he laughed. “You have thought of him as your father for quite some time now, what is there to worry about?”

Connor nuzzled his face into his chest, sighing deeply. “Carl adopted you, right?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

“So you’re Markus Manfred. I’m going to be Connor Anderson.” Connor turned to look him in the eye, biting his lip before continuing. “Does that mean we can’t be brothers anymore?”

“Oh, Connor, no!” Markus insisted immediately. “Of course that’s not the case. I promise, nothing will stop us from being brothers. Especially not something as trivial as different last names.”

His tired brown eyes searched him, looking for any indication of dishonesty in his words, before Connor smiled. “Ok, good.” He snuggled back into Markus’s arms, cheek pressing to his chest. “You really are good at that, you know.”

“It’s my job to be,” Markus smiled down at him. He shifted just a bit to make himself more comfortable, but was careful not to disturb his little brother.

“I guess so,” Connor sighed, nodding off. “It makes sense that you are good at taking care of everyone, you were designed as a caretaker after all.”

Well that was a way to look at it. “I… hadn’t thought of it like that before,” Markus admitted. That his leadership was an extension of his original caretaker programming, it was an interesting prospect to consider.

When Connor didn’t respond, Markus looked down to see he had finally drifted off. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. It was hard to believe everything he had been through. He hoped, at least, he had been able to provide a temporary escape from the stress of life.

Moving slowly so as not to wake him, Markus leaned forward just enough to kiss the top of Connor’s paint-streaked head. “Sleep well,” he whispered. He leaned back again contently, closing his eyes and initiating his own rest cycle.

Chapter 22: Custody Battle

“You know,” North mused allowed, “you should feel lucky. You’re the only human in existence with undisputed access to New Jericho.”

Hank followed after her at an even pace, hands in his pockets as they made their way through the halls. “You telling me Carl wouldn’t be able to just drop in without a word?” He countered with a laugh.

He could tell she was rolling her eyes even without being able to see her face. “Alright smartass, Carl doesn’t come here. Markus always goes to see him, easier that way, so my statement stands.”

“Fair enough,” Hank shrugged. He would normally enjoy a good back and forth, but he wasn’t in the mood to engage in too much witty banter with her today. It had been hours since he had seen his kid and, while it was admittedly nice not having to tote around a toddler while he ran his errands, he missed him.

“You feeling alright, old man?” North asked, looking back at him over her shoulder. There was actual concern in her voice which was a rarity. “You usually don’t cave that easy.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he sighed. He didn’t really want to get into it with her. In reality, it was more than just missing Connor. After the shit at the precinct and leaving the kid here, his dumb ass had actually thought it would be a good idea to swing by The Paper Crane. Hank had intended to thank Shaun for helping with Connor the other day, or at least that’s what he was telling himself, but the guy wasn’t even there. It irked him more than he cared to admit out loud, especially to North. There was no way in hell she would let it pass without ribbing him about it.

North didn’t look convinced of his assurance, but kept walking. “Well your ‘fine’ looks like someone just ran over your puppy.”

“I just don’t like being away from Connor for so long,” he admitted. It was true, even if that was only part of it.

She laughed, apparently buying his excuse. “Can’t say I blame you. He’s a damn cute kid. I still have half a mind to fight you for him.”

“Oh, bring it, bitch,” Hank challenged. He was pretty sure it was a joke, but there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone take his kid, even if it was North.

She took it as the lighthearted volley that it was, dropping back so she could link arms with him. “I dunno, you’re an old geezer, I think I can take you.” She shot him a grin and a wink, only letting the jest fall when she realized Hank really wasn’t in the mood to keep it going. “I think we both know who Connor would be rooting for,” she told him.

Well damn, if that didn’t cheer him up a bit. For all of North’s rough edges, she could be frustratingly empathic when she wanted to be, and a damn good friend besides. She seemed to take pride in making it hard for people she cared about to keep a bad mood.

Bitch.

“Tell you what, soon as I kick the bucket, he’s all yours,” Hank said.

“Deal.” North smiled and let go of his arm enough to place a bare palm against the door lock in front of them.

Admittedly, he did feel pretty damn privileged. Even when other humans were granted access to New Jericho, there’s no way in hell they would be allowed into Markus’s private quarters. Certainly not escorted by North herself.

Hank had called Markus when he was on his way over and hadn’t gotten any answer. He would have been concerned, his phone was in his damn head after all, but the away message had indicated that the deviant leader was resting. He couldn’t really begrudge him that. As much as he loved the kid, Connor could get exhausting sometimes.

So he had called North.

How he had managed to become friends with the woman still escaped him, but here they were. They sure as hell made for an odd duo, but Hank didn’t really care. He was glad to be one of the few exceptions to her distaste of humanity.

They made their way inside quietly and North guided him to the back where she suspected Markus and Connor would be, but neither of them were prepared for the sight they walked into. Both of them were fast asleep, Connor curled up in Markus’s arms, and they were completely covered in splotches of paint.

In a word, it was fuckin’ adorable.

“So, you’re gonna die soon, right?” North teased.

At least he hoped that was teasing. Connor was cute enough, he wouldn’t blame her for offing him just to get the kid. “Soon enough, wait your goddamn turn,” he quipped back.

North rolled her eyes and finally let go of him fully before going over to the two sleeping boys. She leaned over Markus, kissing him on the forehead to wake him up.

Evidently, Markus was a restless sleeper. As soon as she kissed him, the deviant leader snapped awake, sitting up abruptly with a surprised gasp. North, familiar with her fiancé and his quirks, was ready for this and backed away in time to avoid a collision.

Poor Connor wasn't so fortunate.

The sudden movement also woke the small boy. He jolted from the commotion and nearly fell off the sofa, only saved by Hank’s intervention. One hand kept the kid on the couch while the other brushed at his messy mop of hair gently. “Easy there, kiddo,” he soothed.

“Dad?” Connor asked sleepily, still disoriented from his nap.

God, Hank loved it when he called him that. It hurt more than he wanted to admit that the kid only seemed to use the title when he wasn’t thinking clearly. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Connor rubbed at his tired eyes then lifted his arms to Hank, a clear request to be held. There was no way in hell Hank was going to deny that. He picked him up, pulling him from a mildly disappointed Markus and settled him on his hip.

"You have fun today?" He asked as the weariness finally began to subside.

"Yes, I did,” Connor responded excitedly. “We painted!"

Hank chuckled, sparing a hand to brush at the colorful matts in his hair. "Yeah, I can see that. Did any paint actually get on the paper?"

"I apologize, Lieutenant,” Markus spoke up from where he still sat on the sofa. “That is my fault. I intended to have him cleaned up before I returned him to you."

“Don’t worry about it,” Hank laughed. It was really amazing how much his mood could lift just having his kid around again. “Not the first time I’ve cleaned up a toddler.”

“Hank!” Connor protested, offended. “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning myself!”

He hiked him up higher on his hip making sure he was secure. “Yeah, sure you are,” he agreed skeptically.

“I have a washroom over here,” Markus directed, standing to lead the way. He paused only to grab what Hank assumed to be some kind of paint remover and a rag.
It was a bit cozy with all four of them in the small bathroom, but they managed. Poor Connor was subjected to three pairs of hands moving to scrub the paint off of his skin, hair and clothing. Hank really didn’t blame him for looking so annoyed.

It was North that picked him up once he was deemed clean enough, holding him easily on her hip much like Hank had earlier. As terrifying a thought as it was, Connor brought out a maternal side in her. If this impromptu test-run went smoothly, Hank wouldn’t be at all surprised if she and Markus were the first to use the child body for its original purpose. A child that’s half north half Markus… God have mercy on the world.

“I guess it’s time to send you home,” North sighed to Connor. “You know, since your daddy’s being mean and won’t let me keep you.”

“Technically speaking, I’m a free android,” Connor countered. “No one is ‘keeping’ me.”

“Damn right, kiddo,” Hank praised before reaching to take him from North. “Now gimme my son.”

North dodged his attempt, swinging Connor to her other hip. “Hands off, old man. You get him all the time, it’s my turn.”

“Fuck that. Give me my kid.”

What followed was a short game of keep away as North dodged Hank’s attempts to reclaim Connor. She laughed unashamedly at his curses and Connor’s jostled protests. Markus only intervened when the tussle upended a painting easel.

“Alright, I think that’s enough,” he scolded both of them. “If you two can’t be mature about this…” he liberated Connor from North’s arms with a triumphant smirk. “I get to carry him.”

“Or I can walk,” Connor supplied. “That is well within my capabilities.”

Hank could see the tension in the kid, the need for a measure of independence. It was subtle, but it was there. “Sounds like a good compromise to me,” he reasoned, giving Markus a meaningful look.

Markus, thank god, could take a hint. He set Connor on his feet with an apologetic smile. “I suppose that is fair,” he said, giving North his own glance to ward off a protest. He reached out, taking Connor’s hand instead.

North moved forward, taking the other before Hank had the chance. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight it. He got to take the kid home after all.

“I guess we really should stop stalling,” North said, giving Connor’s hand a squeeze. “Markus had a lot of meetings to get to.”

The deviant leader pursed his lips, the only sign of his distaste for the idea. “Yes, I suppose I have postponed those long enough.”

“You didn’t miss important meetings because of me, did you?” Connor asked as they made their way from the room.

“If they were important, he wouldn’t have missed them,” Hank supplied. It was probably true. Markus wouldn’t have agreed to watch Connor if he honestly had something to do that he couldn't miss.

“He’s right,” Markus confirmed. He swung Connor’s hand playfully. “Anything I had planned was comfortably rescheduled, you don’t need to worry over it.”

“Well,” North cut in. “To be fair, you do have one person waiting. A family looking to relocate back to Detroit. You were supposed to meet with them ten minutes ago.”

Markus looked more annoyed with himself than anything. “I suppose that is the price of oversleeping,” he reasoned with a shake of his head. He smiled down at Connor fondly, eyes full of a warmth reserved solely for those close to him. “I think it was well worth it.”

Hank couldn’t help but think that they all made for one fucked up family, but he was ok with that. Connor was happy, that’s what really mattered.

“I already apologized for you,” North said. “They didn’t seem to mind too much after I sent a picture of you and Connor passed out together.”

Connor pulled on her hand in distress. “I thought my condition was supposed to be borderline confidential!”

“It is,” North assured him. “It was just a picture, no context.”

“You sure as hell better send me a copy of that,” Hank insisted. If that picture was of the scene they had walked in on earlier, he was going to print that thing out and frame it.

She rolled her eyes at him in that way which meant she wasn’t actually annoyed. “You know, Anderson, possessive isn’t a good look on you.”

He could feel his phone buzz in his pocket alerting him to an email indicating she had headed his request. Connor was going to be adorably ruffled to see it on the shelf. Speaking of ruffled, he reached over to tousle the kid’s hair smiling at the exaggerated look of annoyance it earned him. “Does it look like I give a shit?” He told North.

She shrugged and Markus shook his head, amused by the exchange. “You two are never going to quit are you?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” North laughed. She hoisted Connor up by the arm, prompting Markus to do the same on his side. He was surprised, but it quickly turned to joy as he was swung between the deviant leader and his finance. As much as the thought terrified him, Hank had to admit they were going to make good parents.

Just not to Connor. That was his kid dammit.

“I contacted the family,” Markus told North, bringing the conversation back to business. “They are going to meet us in my office.”

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh and stooped to give Connor one more hug. “I guess this means goodbye for now. Duty calls.”

“We should all be getting back to work,” Connor insisted sweetly as she let go. But Hank wasn’t going to stand for that.

“Hell no. No more work until tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Nope, sorry kiddo,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “We’re taking the rest of the day off. Lieutenant's orders.”

His little pout was priceless, but he didn’t put up a fight. “Fine, but I really don’t think you’re using your position properly.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” Hank picked Connor up, settling him on his hip as was becoming second nature at this point. It felt good to have the kid where he belonged. “You don’t work yourself to death either, Markus,” he scolded lightly.

"I won't," Markus lied with an unconvincing grin. He leaned close and planted a farewell kiss on the top of Connor's head.

Thank God he was only responsible for one of these little bastards.

Chapter 23: Familiar Faces

Markus remembered meeting Kara last year during the revolution. He had helped her and her family get passports to flee to Canada, but hadn’t heard from any of them beyond that. He was glad they had made it safely.

The whole family now sat comfortably, having joined him and North in his office. Alice sat on her mother's lap, borderline disinterested in the conversation taking place and fiddling with a stuffed fox.

“I understand you are looking to move back to Detroit,” Markus said, feeling it best to get right to the point.

“Yes,” Kara responded with a pleasant smile. “We were considering it. I understand it’s now considered the safest place for androids.”

“An arguably subjective conclusion,” he admitted. “But one backed by evidence. It would seem that things are improving on a daily basis.”

“We are grateful for everything you have done,” the man, Luthor, if Markus was remembering correctly, told him. “Our people owe you everything.”

He shook his head lightly, looking to North as she sat beside him. “I assure you, it was not me alone.” He could deal with the stress and responsibilities that came with leading the android population, but the reverence that people tended to show him always left Markus feeling uncomfortable. “Nothing would have been accomplished without efforts on many fronts.”

“Still, we wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for your help,” Kara persisted. “So, thank you.”

Markus gave a polite nod, accepting the gratitude since they were insistent on giving it, before North redirected them all to the matter at hand. “If you have any specific safety concerns for relocating, we can discuss those if you’d like,” she offered. “I’m acting head of security for New Jericho, I can answer whatever you would like to know.”

Kara glanced at Luthor, then her daughter, Alice. If they were communicating cybernetically, it was on a closed channel. “I believe we are mostly just concerned with safety in general,” she said after a moment. “Has humanity come to accept us?”

It was a common question from androids returning from across the border. There was freedom in Canada with the absence of android laws, but those who fled still needed to hide their true nature. As such, most of them didn’t have a clear idea of what to expect being recognized for what they were.
“I won’t lie,” North told them. “There’s still a lot of prejudice, but it has improved significantly.”

“Change takes time,” Markus agreed. “It unfortunately always does, but we are moving in the right direction. That’s what really matters.”

North leaned one elbow on the desk and rested her chin delicately on her hand. It was a carefully casual gesture that Markus knew was meant to help put people at ease. “If we are looking at just the numbers,” she said, sounding remarkably like Connor would in this sort of situation. “Criminal activity against androids has dropped by over sixty percent in the last year.”

“But there is still criminal activity,” Luthor said warily. His hand settled on his daughter’s head and he gently stroked at her hair as though she was the one who needed the reassurance. “Does it tend to be violent?”

“There are all kinds, yes,” he admitted. His mind drifted to the case that Connor and the Lieutenant were currently wrapped up with. The case that had already resulted in numerous deaths, his own brother’s included. “Some of them have been violent.”

North shifted subtly to place a comforting hand on his as though she could tell exactly where his mind had gone.

She was good at that.

He smiled, reassuring her and sending a silent reassurance across a private cybernetic link.

The whole interaction lasted only a few seconds and fortunately went unnoticed by the small family. With Markus sufficiently distracted from a potential spiral, North turned back to the matter at hand. “To be fair, Detroit tends to be a rather stab-happy city even for humans,” she reasoned. “But, the improvement is that the law fully recognizes the crimes equally. The DPD is even implementing an android crimes division.”

Markus knew that with North’s distrust of humanity came a particular hatred of law enforcement. While she came around to Connor quickly, she had held onto her skepticism tightly until she developed her rapport with Lieutenant Anderson. It was reassuring hearing her speak so highly of them now.

“You're serious?” Kara asked skeptically. “There is a whole division dedicated to androids now?”

“The beginnings of one,” he assured them. “It is small for now, but it is a step in the right direction. One of the detectives is even an android.” He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his voice. While he had his issues with Connor having such a dangerous position, especially in his current condition, he was exceptionally proud of him and the representation for his people that came with it.

Luthor looked at Kara and they both seemed to relax. Alice, on the other hand, apparently hadn’t had her most pressing question answered yet. She leaned forward, looking at both him and North seriously. “What about the dangerous man?”

Markus blanked. None of his databanks came up with any sort of specific results for whoever the girl was talking about. “Who?” He asked, concerned.

“She means the deviant hunter,” Kara supplied, holding her daughter a little closer. “He tried to kill us back during the revolution.”

“That title no longer applies to Connor,” North defended before Markus had the chance. He would have preferred she not openly use his name, but there really was no way to change that now. “He is deviant just like the rest of us. No more bound to his original coding than I am.”

"But there have been whisperings," Luthor pressed, lowering his voice as though he didn't want to frighten his daughter with the information he was sharing. "Stories that have reached even those of us across the border. They say his deviancy is a lie. That he still hunts us, still seeks to fulfill his mission and eradicate us."

Markus was shaking his head in objection before Luther finished speaking. "Those are nothing but rumors and fear mongering by those who refuse to let go of the past," he said. "I know Connor personally. He is deviant. I promise you, no one regrets what CyberLife made him do more than he does. He is an ally, a friend, and I trust him completely."

"So, he's not going to hurt us?" Alice asked. She held her stuffed fox tightly.

"No, he's not," North chimed in. "In fact, I think the two of you could be good friends if you got to know him."

Kara and Luthor looked uncomfortable with the suggestion, but Alice actually seemed to ponder the idea. None of them, however, voiced their opinion either way.

"Regardless," Markus interjected, bringing the conversation back to the point. "If it was Connor that was making you hesitant to relocate, I assure you, he is no issue."

"That is very reassuring," Kara smiled. It looked like she believed him, even if she wouldn't necessarily trust Connor right away. She brushed at her daughter's hair. "Alice… has had nightmares."

Markus was tempted to mention that Connor had nightmares too. That even his rest was plagued by the torture CyberLife had put him through. But that wasn’t his information to share, nor did it have a particular barring on the situation. He tapped his fingers on the desk momentarily before speaking again. “Hopefully we can help to end those,” he said, directing the sentiment to Alice herself.

She smiled shyly, cheeks turning the faintest shade of blue as she hid behind her stuffed fox.

Looks like someone has a crush, North teased through a cybernetic link.

Markus ignored both the bashfulness and the comment, keeping his attention on the family before him. “So, what do you think?” He addressed Kara. “Is Detroit a good fit for you and your family?”

She looked at Luthor, then Alice, the three of them coming to a silent conclusion. “Yes, I think so,” she said with a smile.

North happily took over the conversation with logistics. Where they would be staying, whether they wanted to remain at New Jericho or seek a place elsewhere in the city, if they were interested in pursuing careers, how to start the registration process to be official citizens. Markus sat back and let her work. He typically didn’t handle these situations anyway, having delegated the task to Josh. He would be sitting here instead if he wasn’t out of the state. His friend was certainly going to be upset that he was missing the spectacle of Connor’s current stature.

He kept his expression from appearing disinterested, but only brought his mind back from wandering when Luthor addressed him directly. “Perhaps at some point we could meet your little one,” he said.

Markus’s immediate thought was that he had let his attention drift a little too much. “I’m sorry?” He questioned, confused.

“The child, from the photograph North sent us,” Kara clarified. “He looks sweet.”

Connor, of course. North had sent the picture of the two of them. He would need to have his processor inspected if he was forgetting things so easily. “Right, of course,” he leaned forward again, reengaging in the conversation. “Unfortunately he isn’t mine. He is Lieutenant Anderson’s son. I managed to convince him to let me watch him for the afternoon.”

“Oh, sorry,” Kara said, her attention turning to North. “The picture you sent was labeled as ‘my boys’, I assumed he was yours.”

“Well he will be once the old man kicks the bucket,” North laughed.

“North!” Markus scolded. Connor was increasingly worried about the Lieutenant’s age and health, a worry he shared about his own father. It was not something she should joke about carelessly.

Regardless of his concerns, North rolled her eyes at him playfully. “Don’t worry, Markus. Hank already agreed to it. Someone will need to look after him anyway. That boy can’t be trusted to be on his own.”

Alright, there was some truth to that. When unattended, Connor had the habit of getting into trouble. A habit that, according to Lieutenant Anderson, was only getting worse as he tended to grow more comfortable indulging his curiosities. Still, Markus sincerely hoped she wouldn’t make jokes like that in front of Connor.

“While that may be, he is currently very happy with his father,” Markus insisted diplomatically. He turned back to the family with a neutral smile. “I’m sure they would be happy to meet with you though. Lieutenant Anderson is the one who heads the android crimes division.”

“I suppose it would be a good idea to get to know people in the area,” Kara reasoned. She looked back at Luthor who nodded his agreement. “And it seems that this is someone you trust.”

“With my life,” he assured them. More importantly, he trusted him with his brother’s life which was infinitely more valuable to him, but they didn’t need to be privy to that information. “But for now, why don’t we focus on getting you and your family settled in.”

It was a reasonable suggestion and one they all seemed to agree to. As details were ironed out, Markus couldn’t help but be amused that the same man they had been so afraid of was the very child they were so eager to meet.

Notes:

Good lord I lost track of how many times I rewrote this one damn chapter. Sorry if it's not the best. T.T

Chapter 24: Childhood Games

It was the small things he enjoyed that surprised him.

With his adult body, Connor’s legs reached the floor of the car with ease. He hadn’t even thought about it, that’s just how he sat in a car. Now, with how short he was, they hung loosely. This resulted in the ability to easily swing them too and fro, which proved to be far more entertaining than he imagined it would be if he were still an adult. But he embraced it, allowing himself to at least attempt to enjoy his brief childhood. Markus and Hank weren’t bothered by the change, so he would do his best to follow their lead.

“We missed the turn,” Connor observed. He could barely see out the window, but he knew how to get home from New Jericho by heart. They were supposed to take the road they just passed.

“I was thinking we could both do with a little fresh air.” Hank shrugged from the driver seat. “Thought we could go to the park for a bit, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah!” Connor agreed readily. There it was again. The idea of going to the park made him way more excited than it normally would. He hadn’t really tried the play structure before, even when they went the other day. He imagined with his aptitude for parkour, he would be good at it. Maybe Hank would even join him. Some exercise would be good for the Lieutenant.

He could see Hank’s smile even from his spot in the back seat and was doubly happy that his agreement had pleased the man. He kicked his feet and willed the car to get them there faster.

Connor was practically vibrating in anticipation by the time they parked. “Are you actually in a good mood?” Hank joked as he unbuckled him.

“What’s wrong with that?” Connor responded, hopping down as soon as he was free. “I was under the impression that this excursion was intended to be enjoyable.”

“Smartass,” he mumbled under his breath as he closed the car door behind him.

It wasn’t as though the Lieutenant didn’t have a point, Connor supposed. It was honestly a bit of a rarity for him to be happy like this, especially since he had been killed. “Markus has convinced me to try to embrace my childhood,” he admitted. “I… am going to do my best. I was designed to be adaptable after all. I should be able to excel in this exercise.”

Hank took his hand before he could run off, making sure to watch the traffic before they made their way across the street. “Markus is a fuckin’ miracle worker,” he chuckled. “You know, I don't think anybody but you could make childhood into a challenge.”

He held Hank’s hand a little tighter. “I believe it helps me cope with the situation.” He dropped his voice before continuing. “Markus thinks my mind is regressing to accommodate the child body.”

Hank nodded, seeming unsurprised by the revelation. It would stand to reason that the Lieutenant had pieced that together already. He was a detective after all, a brilliant one at that, and it wasn’t as though his childlike behaviors were overly subtle. “You know I don’t give a shit, right?” He said at last. “Six, twenty-something, I don’t care. I’m gonna love you either way.”

He knew, he did, but it was still good to hear. Even if something went wrong, if he was stuck like this, he would still have Hank. It was probably the most comforting thing he could have heard, even if the information wasn’t new. “Thank you, Hank.”

Hank helped him up onto the sidewalk and they made their way into the park. There were other children running around, playing with each other and their guardians. It was intimidating, but he had made up his mind to at least try to enjoy himself and Connor was determined to succeed.

“Alright,” Hank announced, letting go of Connor’s hand. He gestured towards the playground evidently indicating he should go play. “You wanna have some fun, have at it.”

Connor froze.

Deciding to embrace his childhood was one thing, but how to enact it was a different story. Sure, there were things he knew he liked, reading, going for walks, watching tv with Hank, but none of that was applicable here.

Connor stepped closer to him, seeking comfort in his proximity. “Hank, I don’t know how to play,” he said softly. “It’s not part of my programming.”

“Well shit, ok.” Hank seemed to scan the park as though it would provide him with an answer to Connor’s predicament. “It’s not… I mean, it’s usually pretty intuitive.” He ran his hand over his face before meeting Connor’s eyes. For a moment, he wondered if it had been too long. If Hank remembered how to play. But even if it had been years since he was a child himself, surely he had played with Cole.

Despite his continued hesitance to compare himself to Hank’s late son, he knew that was something he wanted. “Will you play with me?” He asked.

Hank looked surprised, as though he hadn’t expected the question. Connor worried that the suggestion was a bad idea, that he had crossed some unforeseen line, but the startled expression turned into a smile. “‘Course I will, kiddo.”

-o-

Hank should not have suggested tag.

Good lord, he was already feeling winded and they had barely been playing for a minute. Even with his tiny legs the kid was fuckin’ fast as hell. He had pointedly been ignoring the other occupants of the park, the children that looked older than Connor calling the men that looked younger than he did ‘grandpa’. Yeah, Hank wasn’t exactly in peak physical condition, but he should at least be able to play with his kid without having a damn heart attack.
It was Connor’s unapologetic shrieks of joy that were the only thing keeping him going.

He had started to adapt the game to Hank’s abilities. He would run up close, grinning and giggling, then dart away as soon as he made an attempt to tag him. Later, Hank would insist that he wasn’t really trying, that he purposefully let the slippery little bastard through his fingers to keep the round going.

Connor let out another laugh before running to the jungle gym and scaling it like he had been in that little body his whole life. Hank chased after him, but didn’t bother trying to climb the damn thing. The last thing he needed right now was a broken neck.

He tracked him as he scrambled around the structure, unable to stop himself from joining in with the kid’s infectious laughter despite being short of breath. Connor only stopped running when he reached the top of one of the slides. His laugh turned into a warm and genuine smile as looked down to where Hank was standing.

Hank lifted his arms in invitation and, to his surprise, Connor abandoned their game readily. He slid down, the plastic making static crackles and squeaks as he went. He only pulled back from the offered hug briefly as the charge he had built up one the way down zapped them.

"Ow," he mumbled, glancing at the slide as though offended before completing the hug as he initially intended.

Hank just chuckled, less bothered by the static than the kid was. “Caught you,” he teased lightly.

Connor giggled, then melted into the embrace. “Yes, you did.”

It sounded distinctly like Connor meant more than him winning their game with how he said that, but he wasn't going to think about it too hard. Hank pulled him close, picking him up off the slide to hold him properly and just relishing in the simple joy of the moment.

God, it felt good to be a father again.

Connor tucked his head under his chin, effectively nuzzling him. Connor had always been affectionate, always wanted far more hugs than he initiated. But there was always a hesitation as well, as though he wasn’t sure it was allowed or acceptable. As a child, he seemed to abandon those reservations. Hank hoped this experience would stick with him. He hoped that Connor would understand that he was more than happy to hold the kid if he wanted it, even after he grew up.

“Hank?” Connor said softly. There was a hesitation in his voice that contrasted how comfortably he was set on his shoulder.

“Yeah, kiddo? What is it?” he responded. He didn’t move them, not wanting the hug to end just yet, but Connor moved anyway, pushing back so he could look him in the eye.

Damn, he looked so tiny and innocent staring up at him with those big brown eyes. “I’m sorry I was so difficult today,” he apologized. “I’m… I really am grateful for how patient you’ve been with me.”

Ah, so there it was. The remorse that always seemed to follow after Connor behaved in a way he deemed ‘imperfect’. Hank supposed it really was too much to ask that he could skip that bullshit, even just this once. “I meant it when I said you’re an easy kid, Connor,” he told him. “You’re not hard to deal with, trust me.”

He shifted his weight nervously, squirming in Hank’s arms like he was afraid it was all a lie and he was going to drop him in disdain. “But today… and yesterday really…”

Hank sighed. “You’ve been stressed, you’re frustrated, and honestly, you have every reason to be,” he insisted. “Hell, Cole once threw a temper tantrum once because I wouldn’t let him eat an eraser. I think you’re entitled to have a few meltdowns for the shit you’re going through.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But what?” He cut him off. “Connor, you said yourself your mind is switching over to kid-mode. You can’t expect to be able to control yourself the way you used to, and honestly, I’m glad of that.” He pulled the kid back to him while shifting him a little higher on his hip. The kid was light, but he still couldn’t hold him like this forever. “You’ve always had a habit of shoving down how you’re really feeling. It’s a damn breath of fresh air seeing you actually react.”

“Even if it’s over something childish?” Connor asked. He still sounded a bit cowed, but there was more confidence now.

“Especially if it’s over childish shit.” Hank set him on the ground, arms fatigued, but kept him close, hands still holding him by the shoulders. He crouched so they were still eye level, smiling at him encouragingly. “Freaking out over nothing is part of humanity, Connor.”

Yeah, he knew the humanity card was one of Connor’s sensitive buttons, but it was true, dammit. If it helped him not freak out over unnecessary shit, then he would use any trick he had.

The kid blinked a few times, processing what he had said before giving him a shy smile. “Ok,” he said at last. “I trust you. Thank you, Ha-” he paused briefly, considering his words. “Thank you, dad,” he finished.

Goddammit the kid could melt his heart with one sentence.

Hank ruffled his hair to stop himself from crushing his kid in another hug. “Alright,” he grinned. “Now that we've got that all cleared up, you wanna keep playing?”

Connor’s smile turned cheeky. “I’m not sure you can handle much more,” he teased. “You really need to work on your cardio.”

Hank gave the kid’s head a small push. “Smartass.”

Connor giggled then reached out and took the hand that wasn’t still on his head. “Why don’t we just go for a walk?” He suggested.

Hank rolled his eyes but stood up, giving the kid’s hand a squeeze. “Uh huh. Taking me for a walk like you do for Sumo?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” he said in the most unconvincing tone ever to come out of his snarky little mouth.

“Right, sure,” he pretended to agree. “So I haven't been degraded from ‘dad’ to ‘old incompetent dog’.”

“No!” Connor insisted immediately, not following the self-deprecating joke. He pressed close, squishing their conjoined hands between them and looking up at him earnestly. “You’re still dad. I promise.”

“Well good, ‘cuz those adoption papers sure as hell don’t come with a receipt.” Hank gave his hand another small squeeze before leading him over to the trail for their walk. As much fun as it was having an excitable toddler, he was glad that the simple things could entertain him too.

They wandered along the path, stopping only when something caught Connor’s interest enough to derail their progress. So far that had been three frogs, a shiny rock, and an old nickel that seemed to be a good enough size adjustment for him to use it like he would his quarter. He made a mental note to clean out the kid’s pockets before putting his clothes in the wash.

“A turtle!” He cried excitedly, adding it to the list. Only Hank’s hold on his hand prevented him from darting forward towards the animal.

“Careful, kiddo,” he warned. “Those fuckers can bite.”

Connor, ever the animal lover, wasn’t dissuaded, wanting to get closer to the slow-moving creature. Hank was sure to keep hold of his hand and absently wondered if he should be looking into child leashes at this point.

He crouched down watching it, but thankfully had enough of his adult sense not to touch the thing. “Did you know, a turtle’s gender is determined by its incubation temperature?” Connor announced unprompted. “This one is female, so she was in a warmer area when she was an egg.”

“Is that so?” Hank asked, honestly finding the tidbit interesting. He had so much random trivia knowledge in his head now thanks to Connor’s habit of spouting information, he should go on a game show.

Connor nodded enthusiastically and reached out towards the turtle.

“Hey!” He scolded, pulling him back just enough to halt his intention. “I said no touching.”

“But Hank!” Connor whined. There were those damn puppy eyes again. “It’s just a baby. Can’t I at least bring it to the river?”

Admittedly, the thing was small, but so was Connor. “Fine,” he sighed, defeated. At least he wasn’t asking to take it home. “But be careful. I don’t want to bring you back to a technician until your recheck, got it?”

“Got it!” He exclaimed happily, picking up the tiny creature. It didn’t seem too thrilled, but made no move to bite Connor, choosing instead to swing its legs wildly as though trying to scrape the kid’s fingers from the shell.

The two of them scuttled their way down to the riverbank and Connor set their tiny friend by the water's edge. It slid into the murky water and was out of sight in seconds. Connor watched it go quietly, still holding onto Hank’s hand. “I think she’s happy,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Hank shifted his grip from Connor’s hand to his shoulder and gave it an affectionate pat. He chose not to comment on how it should be impossible for any living creature to be happy in water as polluted as the Detroit River. Absent-mindedly, he picked a stone from the riverbank and tossed it across the water. It skipped once before sinking out of sight.

“Suffice, tension, right?” Connor asked. “You are utilizing the surface tension of the water to make sure it doesn’t sink right away.”

It took Hank a moment to realize he was talking about the stone. Of course he would try to figure out how such a silly little thing worked. “I mean, yeah. I guess so. Wanna give it a try?”

Connor smiled, picking up a rock of his own and overhand chucking it as far as his little arm could throw. It hit the water hard, splashing against the surface and sinking immediately. “Oh,” he frowned, not having gotten the result he had clearly been anticipating.

Sometimes, Hank forgot there were still simple experiences that were new to the poor kid. While an adult Connor could likely work it out just by observing, he couldn’t expect that of a child. “Shit, nah, you gotta throw it right,” he said apologetically. “Hear, hold it like this.”

Hank selected another rock, flat and smooth as he could find before placing it in his hand properly. “You’re gonna want to throw it from the side, a little bit upward to get air under it. Surface tension, like you said.”

He guided his little hand showing him the motion before stepping back to let him give it a try. Connor let the stone loose and it skimmed across the surface skipping once, twice, three times before stopping. “I did it!” He exclaimed happily before turning to him. “Hank, did you see? I did it!”

“Yeah, you sure as hell did,” Hank praised proudly. “Told ya it wasn’t hard.”

Connor’s grin was downright infectious and Hank couldn’t help but let himself bask in the parental pride. It was such a small thing, but his kid being so happy with his menial accomplishment just made the whole damn experience infinitely better.

“Anderson?” A voice called from up the hill. “Is that you and your Talkboy?”

Hank looked up to see Gavin making his way over to them. “Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor greeted neutrally, picking up another stone to skip.

“What are you doing here?” Hank asked, noting the uniform he was sporting. “Thought you had the night shift last night.”

Gavin nodded, slowing to a stop as he reached the two of them. “Yeah, I did. I’m covering for Chris. His kid had a doctor's appointment or something.”

“That’s surprisingly helpful of you,” Connor said, tossing his stone. It only made it one skip before sinking prompting a frown from the tiny android.
“Hey, watch it Bop-it,” he complained. “I’m still your superior, you know.”

Connor turned from his disappointing stone throw to give Gavin a bewildered look. “Yes, I am aware,” he said, either unaware of the subtle insult he had delivered, or playing innocent.

Honestly, Hank didn’t know which one amused him more. “Relax, Reed,” he ordered. “You know damn well he’ll take you down without even knowing he’s doing it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Gavin frowned, but didn’t push the matter. Instead, he kicked his shoe through the rocks along the shoreline before picking it up and wiping it into the river.

“Wow, that one got five!” Connor declared loudly, his focus instantly back on the skipping stones.

Gavin looked confused by the sudden change, recovering only after a moment of staring at the kid. “Uh, yeah. Gotta have the right shape of stone, you get more skips that way,” he instructed.

“Nah,” Hank countered. “It’s all about how you throw it.”

“Bulshit. You can’t skip a shitty rock.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged. Why not bring Gavin in on the fun. Maybe it would help him and Connor get along more. “I can skip any of these ‘shitty rocks’ way more times then you can with any of your perfect ones.”

“Oh, bring it old man,” he accepted with a barked out laugh.

The next ten or so minutes were filled with heated competition between Detective and Lieutenant with their six-year-old referee giggling and showing blatant favoritism to Hank. Not that he was complaining, obviously.

“Oh come on, that was a full seven!” Gavin argued, sounding more petulant than the toddler.

“I only counted six,” Connor insisted. “That last one was a splash from the water, not the stone.”

“Screw you, it still counts!”

“No, only splashes from the stones count,” Connor held firm.

“Why the hell do you get to make the rules,” Gavin glared at him, but there was surprisingly little animosity in the look. Hank was starting to suspect this was a show for the kid’s benefit. “You’re a baby, you didn’t even know how to skip stones before today.”

Connor crossed his arms defiantly. “If I’m the baby, why are you the one throwing a tantrum?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Reed,” Hank laughed, cutting off any rebuttal before it could turn into an actual argument.

Gavin shot him the dirtiest look he could muster, but thankfully didn’t push it. “Whatever,” he said as though his ego hadn’t been bruised. “I need to get back out on patrol anyway.”

“Awww,” Connor said dejectedly. “But this is fun.”

Gavin actually reached over and ruffled Connor’s hair, laughing as he protested loudly to the action. “Yeah, I bet it’s fun watching your dad get his ass handed to him.”

“But you-”

“Anyway!” Reed interrupted, instead of acknowledging that he lost. “I’ve got work to do if I’m gonna break your old man’s record.”

“You mean getting to lieutenant? Ha, why bother?” Hank couldn’t help but blurt out. “Connor’s gonna shatter that record by a decade at the least.”

“That doesn’t count, he’s an android.”

“So?” Connor’s tone immediately shifted from amused to guarded as it always did with the threat of his personhood in question.

Hank gave Reed a warning glare.

Gavin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defiantly. “So, not everyone can start working when they’re six months old. Doesn’t count.”

“Five,” Connor corrected almost shyly. “I was five months old.”

“Yeah, point still stands,” he insisted.

“Alright, alright,” Hank put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then looking back up at Gavin. “Get goin already. You can still make for the youngest human lieutenant.”

Connor opened his mouth to say something. Probably something about how Hank was much farther along in his career by Gavin’s age, but he silenced the kid with another pointed squeeze on the shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever.” He turned to leave with a half-hearted wave, apparently having realized his soft side had been showing. He paused after taking the first step though. “Oh, almost forgot. The full autopsy report is in for your man.”

“It is?” God, could the kid sound any more excited about a dead body?

“Yeah, I got a look at it before I left the precinct,” Gavin nodded. “Apparently COD wasn’t drowning. Looks like it was thirium poisoning.”

Well that caught Hank’s attention. “Shit, seriously?”

“No, I’m screwing with you for shits and giggles,” he said sarcastically. “I didn’t look at it too thoroughly, but from what I could tell they tested for other shit. You know, in case it was a red ice OD. Nothing else in his system. Someone poisoned the guy intentionally.”

“Shit,” Connor breathed. Hank had to bite back laughter at the word coming out of his little mouth. “So we have another murder to solve.”

“Looks like it, sorry.”

Gavin left without another word, trudging up the gradual slope back to his patrol car and on to deal with whatever bullshit his shift would have in store for him. Hank couldn’t find it in himself to care. Gavin could handle whatever it would be. His attention turned back to the kid under his hand.
“You ok?” He asked Connor quietly.

The boy was quiet for a long moment, just staring out at the water, lost in thought. “I think I’ve figured it out,” he announced suddenly.

“You… what? Seriously?” Hank knew his kid was a fuckin’ genius, child or not, but the idea that he had solved the case just like that was mind-bendng.

Connor nodded, detaching himself from Hank’s hand and picking up a handful of stones from the riverbank. “The objective is to create the most ripples with a single toss, correct?” He asked.

Hank blinked at him in confusion. “Wait… the stones? You weren’t talking about the case?”

Connor looked up from the pebbles in his hand with a sweetly naïve expression that was so completely Connor it was nearly frustrating. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to think about the case until work tomorrow.”

Well shit, the one time he actually listened to instructions. “Heh, I guess I did tell you that, didn’t I.” He shook his head in amusement. “Alright, what about splashes?”

“I think I’ve figured out the most efficient way to ensure victory in a stone-skipping competition,” he declared excitedly.

“Oh yeah?” Hank couldn’t help but be intrigued. Whatever Connor had come up with was sure to be interesting. “How is that?”

Connor grinned, then tossed the handful of stones into the river. They hit the water in a less than elegant shotgun scattering of splashes. “The more stones that you toss, the more splashes you make,” he announced. “So as long as you throw a bunch all at once, you’ll win!”

Hank didn’t have the heart to tell him that he missed the point. “Well, can’t really argue with that,” he admitted, thoroughly amused. “Guess that means you won this round.”

He looked so goddamn happy. “Can we tell Detective Reed that I won?”

“First thing tomorrow, I promise.” He reached out for Connor’s hand which he gave eagerly. “Come on, let's head home. You still want to watch that movie, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed, now excited to go home. It was the only driving factor that managed to entice the curious android from the various distractions along the way to the car.

It had been a good day, despite the setback at the beginning. Connor was certainly in a better mood, and that was really what Hank had been trying to accomplish. Maybe he was pretty good at this whole dad thing after all.

Chapter 25: Unstoppable

“You have the right to remain silent,” Connor declared with a seriousness that a six-year-old shouldn’t have been capable of. “Anything you say can, and will, be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney-”

Hank did his best not to laugh at the sight of Connor reading the dirtbag his rights. But good god it was hard. A toddler pushing along a handcuffed dickwad as he cussed and swore, resisting arrest, was one hell of a sight.

It was really mostly luck that they caught the asshole at all.

Dan Hebler was an annoyingly vocal anti-android activist. He had already amassed multiple assault charges and, unfortunately, several followers. He and Connor had been called to the guy’s rally, along with several other officers, since they had a history of turning violent.

They could bitch all they wanted, but they would need to put a stop to it if it got physical.

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the guy to start calling his cult to action. He brought out a gun and they had to intervene. He went down quickly, Hebler and several of his cronies, but during the arrest, he sure as hell didn’t exercise his right for silence. Whether he knew it or not, in his shouting for ‘justice for the true citizens of Detroit’ he admitted to the shooting that they had been investigating when the whole Sawyer mess started.

He would bet his left nut that the bullet they pulled out of Bridget would match the asshole’s gun.

“You can’t stop the truth!” Hebler shouted as Gavin helped Connor wrestle him into the back of the squad car. “I will go down in history as a great hero of justice!”

“Oh, shut up,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes. “You just got arrested by tickle-me-elmo, who the hell is gonna take you seriously after that?”

Instead of waiting for whatever reply Hebler would have spouted, he shut the car door, locking the man inside.

Hank didn’t resist any longer, and barked out a laugh.

With the last of the violent protesters packed up and carted away, Connor bounded over to him happily. “We got him!” He declared with all the enthusiasm his little body could hold.

“Yeah, you sure as hell did,” Hank praised. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and ruffled his hair, like had scored the winning run in a t-ball game, not put away a criminal. God, his kid was weird. So absolutely, perfectly weird.

Connor slid into place next to him, pressing against his hip as though needing the contact. Hank didn’t complain, but the change in mood was hard to miss. He draped his hand over the kid’s shoulders protectively. “He wasn’t our black market dealer, was he?” He whispered, barely loud enough for Hank to hear.

“No, he wasn’t,” he sighed. It would have been way to fuckin’ easy if he was, no way either of them were that lucky. They had nothing that connected him to Sawyer or anything related to his case. “Didn’t look anything like him. Couldn’t really have pulled off an impersonation.”

“That’s what I thought,” Connor nodded and leaned impossibly closer to him. “But that’s ok.”

“Yeah?” Hank asked cautiously. The kid’s excitement at catching the guy had melted quickly and been replaced with an oddly muted mood that he wasn’t sure how to translate.

“Yeah.” He looked up at him. There was a comfortable smile on his face, so he wasn’t in distress at least. “We’ll get him. I know we will.”
“Damn right we will,” Hank agreed.

For a while, they just stood like that. Comfortably, silently, as they watched the flashing red and blue of the patrol cars as they faded into the distance. Twelve violent men were now off the streets at least for a little while.

“I think I needed this,” Connor admitted softly.

“That so?” He didn’t blame him. After the week they’d had, they really needed a win. He moved his hand back to the kid’s head, carding his fingers through the soft synthetic hair.

Connor leaned into his touch, then snaked his arms around Hank’s waist, hugging him. “I was starting to think my mind was already too far gone. That I had regressed too much,” he said. “I thought that might be why we hadn’t made progress on the Sawyer case. It was my fault.”

“Oh, Connor-” he started, but the kid wasn’t done.

“I know. Irrational, right?” There were tears brimming in his eyes, but he still seemed eerily calm. Emotional, but not unhappy. “Except it’s not. I know I’m getting worse, or younger, or whatever. I just… I’m glad I can still do this.”

Hank crouched down to give him the hug he deserved. Tight, warm, comforting. He wished that, if he just held him long enough, tight enough, all his worries and anxieties would just go away. “You did great today,” he said. He let how proud he was of the kid echo in his words.

“Yeah, I did,” Connor responded, much to Hank’s surprise. CyberLife had basically hardwired an inferiority complex into the kid, to hear him acknowledge a compliment was mind-bending. He nuzzled his face into Hank’s shoulder affectionately. “I did good. We all did. I… sometimes I forget that I don't need to do this alone. I have you. I have a whole precinct of people to help me.”

Hank wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with all this, but he wasn’t about to discourage it. He gave the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. “Damn right you do. We’re all here for you.”

“Exactly.” Connor pulled back to look at him and, for a moment, those eyes were as old as he was meant to be. “I’m not alone. If I regress too far, if I can’t solve the case, someone will.”

God, how was it possible that he could love this kid more? “Well, you’re not down and out yet,” he told him. “Today sure as hell proved that.”

Connor’s smile could light up the whole damn city. “Right! I’m not going to stop until I have to.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but it was more for dramatics than annoyance. “Don’t use this as an excuse to be a damn workaholic.”

Connor’s responding smile was anything but reassuring.

-o-

Sure enough, Connor hit the ground running, brimming with new vigor for the case. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was nice seeing the kid in such a good mood, but Hank was a little frustrated that he insisted on taking work home with them.

“We agreed I have limited time with my full cognitive functions, Lieutenant,” Connor argued when he protested. “I need to make progress while I can.”

Hank sighed, tossing one of the documents onto the coffee table. He hadn’t actually given it a good look, but they were off the clock dammit. “Ok, first of all, I don’t care if you’re technically still working, you leave that ‘Lieutenant’ bullshit at the precinct,” he scolded. “Second, what the hell happened to enjoying your childhood?”

“Sorry Hank,” he said, leafing through another file and sounding anything but. “I assure you, I am enjoying myself.”

Good lord, the crazy kid probably actually was. “Alright fine, you win. Knock yourself out. But I’m sure as hell done working for the day.”

Connor didn’t protest, so he leaned back on the couch and flipped on the tv. He spent the better part of a minute scrolling through various channels trying to decide what to watch when he got a devious idea.

He turned on Finding Nemo

Yeah, they had finished watching it yesterday, but it was Connor’s favorite movie. If anything was going to distract the kid, this would be it.

Sure enough, as soon as the opening scene began to play, the tiny android’s attention snapped to the screen. A small gasp escaped his lips with a quiet declaration of, “Nemo!”

Success.

Hank chuckled and patted the couch next to him. “You can watch it with me, if you want.”

Connor’s expression turned accusatory. “I know what you’re doing, Hank.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he insisted. He grinned, knowing damn well if he was shooting for innocent, he missed the mark by a mile. “I’m just watching a movie.”

He didn’t look amused. His tiny face scrunched in frustration and he stared back down at the document he was holding. But his eyes kept straying to the tv.

Connor let out a frustrated groan before sharply setting down the file and climbing up onto the couch. “I guess I can take a break,” he reasoned, snuggling up next to Hank.

Hank’s smile only widened and he leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

“You’re a bad influence on me, you know,” Connor scolded, settling in comfortably.

“Oh no,” he responded in mock horror. “I’m watching a movie instead of working unpaid overtime. How terrible.”

“I’m going right back to work after the movie,” Connor promised. His voice already sounded vaguely distant, almost on autopilot, as the bright animations distracted him.

Hank just hummed in agreement and held his kid, running his fingers through his hair rhythmically. If only things could stay like this, he mused. Simple, quiet. No murderers to catch or bodies to examine. He loved his job, he did. But part of him wondered if Connor would consent to a less hostile career if he were to retire.

The thought of being a full-time dad was sure as hell appealing.

But none of that really mattered right now. Now, he was happy to sit here on the couch watching a kid's movie with his adult son turned toddler. Hank had learned enough about parenthood to know that moments like this had to be cherished, that they didn't last.

He also knew how important this case was to Connor. So, despite wanting nothing more than to keep cuddling the kid, he didn't argue when he went back to sifting through the case files once the movie was over.

Connor happily spouted theories and ideas while Hank bounced his own scenarios back. It sure as hell seemed to make the kid happy, so he would just take it as another messed up way to entertain him. And if they made some headway, that was all the better.

The two of them sat sprawled on the living room floor for hours. Hank's back protested, but he could deal.

"I have the lists sorted by facility," Connor explained. "The employee and volunteer information is at the bottom. Unfortunately, not all of them have accompanying pictures, so we'll need to do a cross search to see if we can find any close matches."

"That's assuming the guy actually works there," Hank reasoned. He stretched, back popping loudly in the process. "He could just have an inside man too."

"I have attempted to factor that in. It will, however, add significant time to the search." Connor sighed. He typed into his tablet in one hand while sifting through files with the other.

"At least we know he needs to look a hell of a lot like Sawyer did," he offered.

Connor nodded, glancing up momentarily. "He has to, since he successfully passed as him."

He tapped a new search into his tablet screen, pausing only a moment when an ad played for some ridiculously unnecessary pool toy. Hank could almost see the child side of his mind getting drawn in before he won the fight for rationality and pressed the little X to close the window and resume his original search.

"Still a lot of people to sort through though," Hank reasoned, ignoring the break in concentration for Connor's sake.

Connor nodded, taking notes in another window before turning back to the file. "It is unfortunately tedious. I wish I had my normal computing capabilities. I would be able to run the searches in my head in a fraction of a second."

Hank had to admit, that sounded convenient. No wonder on a normal day Connor ran circles around the rest of the precinct. But, no sense bitching about it now, they'd make do.

Later, he reasoned, as he glanced at the clock and noted that time had gotten away from them. If Connor's increasingly frustrated noises were anything to go on, the kid was getting tired. Which meant he was also going to get grumpy. As much as he wanted to indulge the kid, his well being came first.

"You'll be back to your regularly scheduled computing before you know it," he promised. "But right now, I think it's time for bed."

"I would like to finish this," Connor countered both immediately and stubbornly.

Hank shook his head. "There'll be time for that tomorrow. There's too much to finish tonight and you need to get to sleep."

He looked up at him with a pout. "Just a little longer."

"Connor..."

"I'm not tired," he insisted petulantly, stomping one of his feet for good measure. Hank raised an eyebrow at the display and Connor froze. "Yeah, no, I heard it," he admitted sheepishly, closing the case file and setting down his tablet.

Hank chuckled then leaned over to kiss the top of his head. “Just go to bed, kiddo. The case will be there in the morning.”

“I know it will.” Connor leaned into the touch, smiling at him with that tiny, grateful smile of his. “Thank you, Hank. Good night.”

“Good night, Connor. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He watched the little android go, only mildly concerned that he took his tablet with him. Hank had no doubt the kid was going to try to do a little more work before he fell asleep, but figured he would pass out before long. He’d check in on him before heading to bed himself and make sure.

With how tired he looked, he wasn’t too worried.

Chapter 26: Good Night, Little Fish

Hank had yet to fall asleep when he heard the quiet squeak that indicated someone was opening his bedroom door. He kept his eyes closed, not particularly bothered by the intrusion. Connor had a habit of checking on him whenever he had a nightmare, making sure he was still alive and well.

It was hardly an issue if it gave the kid some peace of mind. He knew a fair bit about his nightmares at this point, and they were nothing to take lightly. At least he wasn’t waking up to the sound of panicked screaming anymore.

Plus, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t expected it. Connor’s nightmares tended to get worse when the kid dared to start feeling good about himself. It was like CyberLife specifically designed him with a failsafe to keep him from being too happy. If he ever had the chance to meet the asshole that designed Connor, he would happily introduce their face to his fist.

When he didn’t hear anything else, Hank assumed Connor had gone back to bed. That he had satisfied his fears and was ready to sleep again. What he didn’t expect was to feel the mattress dip under a new and sudden weight.

Surprised, Hank opened his eyes.

In the dim light, he could just make out Connor, leaning over him, hand outstretched over his nose and mouth as though he were about to touch his face. He froze as soon as he noticed Hank was awake, going rigid as though every joint had locked simultaneously. The stuffed turtle he had been holding fell from his grip and rolled silently to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, pulling back suddenly before Hank could ask him what the hell he was doing.

“Woah, hey,” Hank didn’t need a clear view of the kid to know that he’d been crying, he could hear it in his voice. He sat up, even the thought of sleep falling away as he pulled him into his arms. “Hey, you’re ok.”

Connor latched onto him immediately, tiny hands bunching in his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed again.

“No need to be sorry, kiddo,” he wasn’t even sure if Connor knew why he was apologizing. It seemed to be one of his default settings. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

He sounded like he was trying to speak, but all that came out was a series of hiccupping gasps. Hank rubbed circles in his back. “Nightmare?” he guessed.
Connor nodded. His shirt was already damp from where the kid’s face was, but he really didn’t give a shit.

“Bad one?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Another nod and Connor’s sobbs increased. Maybe it was because he was a kid, maybe it was worse than usual. It didn’t really matter. His son was hurting and he wanted nothing more than to make it better. “It’s ok,” he shushed him softly, pulling him fully onto his lap. “You’re ok.”

They stayed like that for a while. Hank holding him, rubbing his back and rocking gently while he whispered gentle reassurances. Connor cried. Heart-wrenching sobs that shook his tiny body while he clung to him like a lifeline. At some point Sumo realized something was the matter and had come into the room. He sat by the bed, whimpering, sounding as helpless as Hank felt.

Finally, oh so painfully slowly, Connor began to calm. His cries melted into soft sniffles and the tremors that shook his tiny body began to subside.

“Feeling a little better, kiddo?” Hank ventured to ask, giving him a squeeze. There was no way in hell he was going to risk letting him go. Not yet. Times like this, it felt like he was the only thing holding the kid together. As flattering as that was, it unsettled him. What would happen to Connor if he wasn’t there to protect him? Yeah, he had Markus and the Jerichrew, but would they be able to help him when his own mind betrayed him? Would Connor trust them too?
Connor nodded, but still didn’t say anything.

Hank just kept rubbing his back. All that was a problem for later. He’d worry about properly socializing the kid when it wasn’t ass-o-clock in the morning, when both of them should be sleeping. Right now, he had a scared little boy to console.

He may not have been quite ready to speak, but Hank had been through this enough times to know talking through it helped. “Was it Amanda?” He guessed.
Another nod came from the tiny android followed by a sniffle.

Yeah, he figured. It usually was. As traumatic as his nightmares were, they didn’t vary all that much. “She make you do bad shit again?”

A shudder ran through the kid’s body and he clung tighter. “She made me kill you,” he admitted, quiety breaking his silence.

That one always fucked with him. Hank sighed in sympathy and pressed a long, soft kiss to Connor’s cheek. Touch, affection, love, anything to ground the kid in the knowledge that he was really here. That he was safe. “I’m ok,” he assured him gently. “I’m right here, you didn’t kill me. I’m ok, and so are you.”

“I couldn’t scan you,” Connor mumbled, choking down another sob. “I… I couldn’t scan you.”

“Scan me? Why would you need to scan me?” Hank asked, confused.

Connor turned his face to look up at him. His eyes shone in the dim light, still wet with tears. “Your vitals,” he said simply. “So I know you’re alive. I… when I have dreams like that, I usually scan you. But I can’t like this, in this body. I can’t scan you, and you were all still, I thought… I wanted to see if you were breathing-”

“Woa, hey,” Hank shushed him. He didn’t want him to get all worked up again. That would make calming him take even longer and the less time the kid was in distress, the better. “I’m breathing, see? I’m breathing. You don’t need to scan me to be able to tell that.”

He nodded, leaning his cheek back against Hank’s chest and closing his eyes. “I know,” he hiccupped. “I know. I just… I couldn’t scan you and I panicked. And now I woke you up, I’ve disrupted your sleep schedule.”

“Ok, first of all, I wasn’t asleep,” Hank told him. “Second, when the fuck have I ever minded when you did wake me up?” He rubbed at his cheek until he looked up at him again. “You are a hell of a lot more important to me than a few hours of sleep.”

Connor didn’t look particularly convinced, but he didn’t argue either. Hank wished for the millionth time that he could get the kid to have even a shred of self esteem.

Sumo whimpered from his place on the carpet then nudged at Connor’s foot with his nose. “See that,” Hank told him. He bounced the kid ever so slightly on his leg to draw his attention to the dog. “Even Sumo agrees. And you know how much that dog loves to sleep.”

There was that smile. It was small, hard to see in the darkness, but it was a start. He let go of Hank’s shirt with one hand to gently stroke the large dog’s head. “Good boy,” he said softly.

He kissed him again, on his temple this time, right where his LED would be if he had one. Hank couldn’t help but wonder what color it would be at this point. Would it be red? Had he calmed down enough for it to be blue? He hadn’t realized how heavily he had relied on that in the past. “How are you doing?” He asked, since he couldn’t deduce the answer for himself.

“I’m ok,” Connor responded. His voice was still subdued, but it at least sounded believable. He leaned his head closer, resting it on Hank’s chest. Listening to his heartbeat, he realized.

Hank leaned forward, careful not to disturb the child on his lap too much and retrieved the stuffed turtle from where it had fallen. Connor looked happy to see it, reaching out immediately, but Hank used it to boop the kid on the nose before handing it over. He blinked in surprise, then hugged the plush toy close with a tiny smile.

“Think you’re ready to go back to bed?” Hank asked.

Connor was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Y-yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Ok, so much for convincing. His boy was definitely not ok yet. “Alright, how about this,” he said instead. Hank lifted the duvet before hugging Connor close and laying back, tucking them into the bed, turtle and all. He was so light, so easy to move, and didn’t fight him despite letting out a surprised squeak. “You can stay here tonight.”

“But this is your bed,” Connor argued even as he nuzzled into him.

Hank pulled him closer, his shoulder now serving as Connor’s pillow. “Yeah, well, it sounds like you’re not ready for me to let go just yet.” He shifted ever so slightly to alleviate a nerve that was in danger of getting pinched. “Look, sometimes, kids have nightmares and climb into bed with their parents. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m happy to have you here if it’s gonna help”

“You really don’t mind?” His voice was still quiet, timid, but he wasn’t crying or shaking anymore, so Hank took that as a win.

“Of course I don’t mind, kiddo.”

Evidently, Sumo took that as an open invitation to join in their cuddle session. He hopped up with an excited boof, circled three times while managing to step on his legs with each pass, then settled down, resting his head over Hank’s hip. Connor was effectively pinned too, the dog’s large paws braced against his little legs.

“Well, there you go,” Hank chuckled. He detangled one of his arms enough to give the animal an affectionate scratch behind the ears. “Sumo’s decided you aren’t allowed to leave.”

Connor’s responding laugh was damn close to a giggle. “Ok, I guess I can’t argue with that.”

It was amazing, really, how comfortable Hank was with a child tucked against him. Maybe there were some instincts that he just didn’t lose over time. “She can’t get you anymore,” he told him quietly, not quite satisfied that Connor had shaken his nightmare. “We got rid of her, Amanda can’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Connor said, even as he buried his face into Hank’s shirt. “I know that, I do. It just seems so real when it’s happening.”

“I get it, kiddo. I get it.” He’d had enough nightmares of his own to be able to relate. The arm under the boy had just enough room for him to reach his head. He stroked at his hair lovingly. “Just remember, it’s not real. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He could barely make out Connor’s little smile, but he heard the small laugh. “Not much fun for little Harpo,” he quoted, pulling the line right out of the movie they had just watched.

“Oh, so you’re gonna be a little shit about this, huh?” Hank laughed. He freed his other hand to tickle at Connor’s side earning him a happy shriek. Connor jerked suddenly at the sensation and Sumo protested with a soft whine with the movement.

Giggles subsiding, Connor settled back into Hank’s arms. He rested his cheek on the top of the boy’s head with a contented sigh. “I do understand,” Connor insisted. Hank could feel his breath against his neck as he spoke. “I know you’ll protect me. You always do.”

Not always, Hank tried not to think. Connor was only a child because he had failed to protect him. It was a mistake he wasn’t going to make again. “Damn right.”

Connor yawned, evidently losing his battle with consciousness now that he was cozy and calmed down from his nightmare. He absently understood that he could easily bring the kid back to his own bed now, but fuck if he wanted to.

Hank closed his own eyes, more comfortable then he had been in years. “Good night, little fish,” he whispered.

He honestly didn’t even think Connor was still awake, at least for the most part, but a soft reply still came from his tired little boy. “Good night, dad.”

Chapter 27: Identity Theft

Connor had not really understood the definition of ‘cozy’ until now.

He was warm, although the house’s A/C prevented the August heat from making it too warm. He had his turtle to snuggle, and his dog draped across his legs. But most importantly, he had Hank.

He has always enjoyed it when Hank would hug him, but this was on a whole other level. This was a long, sustained, embrace that kept him in a cocoon of safety throughout the night. It was peaceful, relaxing, comfortable. It was nice.

And it had driven his nightmares away.

He sighed contentedly, eyes still closed even though his rest cycle had terminated over fifteen minutes ago. Connor let his mind drift in a rare void of nothingness and just layed there, focusing on the rise and fall of Hank’s chest as he breathed deep and steadily in his sleep.

For the first time in his life, Connor didn’t want to get up and go to work. He wanted to stay right here, head on his dad’s chest, content and warm. But he knew it wasn’t going to last.

Despite not having a clock in his head anymore, Connor had an impeccable perception of time. Hank’s alarm would be going off any second.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, Hank’s phone started chiming with it’s insistently obnoxious tones that marked the start of their day. Hank’s response was immediate. His steady breathing changed as he was startled awake and a sharp jerking motion in the direction of the offending sound jostled Connor’s head.

"Shit, sorry kiddo," Hank apologized, noticing as Connor sat up in response. Sumo huffed out a protest that his pillow had moved and hopped down. He padded his way out of the room, presumably to settle by his food bowl until they fed him. "Didn't mean to give you such a rude awakening."

Connor stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Both were completely unnecessary actions, but he found they somehow helped his processor boot up properly after a particularly deep rest cycle. "It's alright, I was already conscious."

"Yeah?" Hank's eyes had a nice sparkle to them when he smiled like that. He wanted to know what caused it, but had yet to locate the source. "How'd you sleep?"

Goodness it was tempting to lay back down, back into Hank's warm arms. "Very well," he said instead of giving into the urge. "No more nightmares."

"Well good," Hank sighed, sitting up himself. His back cracked in more places then he imagined was comfortable judging by the accompanying groan. Connor made a mental note to look into a chiropractor.

"Thank you," he told Hank genuinely. "Being here, you being so close, it really helped."

There was that sparkle again. "Any time kid. You're always welcome."

Connor was tempted to ask if that still applied once he was an adult again, but thought better of it. Instead he simply smiled his thanks and slid out from under the covers.

"Hey, don't forget Crush here," Hank said, almost scolding.

He frowned, turning back to the man who was now holding his stuffed turtle out to him. "Crush? His name isn't Crush."

Hank just shrugged, waving the toy for Connor to take it. He did, hugging the soft material to him tightly. Just because the turtle in the movie had that name, didn't mean his did.

"Well, what is his name then?" Hank asked. "You gotta name it."

"His name is Gavin," Connor answered immediately. "Since he's the one who gave him to me."

Hank pulled a face. "Ok, I could make so many 'sleeping with Gavin' jokes right now, but I'm not going to."

He wasn't really sure what jokes the Lieutenant was referring to. But, since it seemed to be a recurring theme that when he didn't understand it tended to refer to something sexual, he figured he should refrain from requesting clarification. "As difficult as the Detective can be, it's not a bad name."

"Fair enough," Hank laughed. He held up his hands in front of himself as though warding off an invisible attack. "It's your turtle, you can name it whatever the fuck you want."

“Thank you,” Connor said with a nod. To be honest, he had been a bit worried. Hank’s approval, even in the small things, meant a lot to him.

“Really not something you need to thank me for, Connor,” he insisted. His tone was almost scolding, which did make sense considering how much he pushed him to make decisions for himself. He got up from the bed, stretching again earning him another pop. “So,” he asked on their way out of the room. “Does that mean if I get you toys and crap, you’re gonna name them all ‘Hank’?”

Connor froze, processing. He hadn’t considered that. “Perhaps… I should re-evaluate my naming conventions.”

Hank chuckled and put a hand on his back to push him back into motion. “You might wanna do that, yeah,” he laughed. “Now go get ready for the day. Unless you need my help for that.”

He knew it was meant in jest, but he still felt the need to deny the offer indignantly. “I can do it,” he insisted. He ignored whatever retort the Lieutenant was sure to have and hastened to his room. As nice as it would be to stay in bed and continue resting with Hank, they had work to do.

Connor didn’t put a lot of thought into his outfit, pulling on a green polo and a pair of jeans. It was as close to business appropriate as he could get at the moment. Perhaps he should have taken Hank up on his offer of new clothes. He certainly felt more professional when he dressed the part.

Maybe that could help keep his mind from going.

Either way, it was time to get into work mode. No matter how tempting it was to go back to cuddle mode.

Clothed and ready for the day, Connor grabbed the tablet from his bedside table and joined Hank in the bathroom.

He was finishing up giving his beard a quick trim as he entered, leaning over the sink with the razor so the clippings were contained. Connor appreciated that the Lieutenant was taking at least a few steps to keep the place clean. He scolded him when he obsessed over messes, but seemed to understand that they brought him anxiety.

“I think I have sorted through a little over three fourths of our suspect pool,” he announced, getting right to it.

“Yeah? That so?” Hank seemed less than focused, instead brushing the rest of the loose hairs from his beard before turning on the tap to rinse them down the drain. Not the best for the plumbing, but better than the alternative.

Connor nodded, coming closer. He kept his focus on the tablet, running a couple more searches. “Yes, I still have several to look into, but I think it’s a good start,” he said. “I do have… surprisingly few people who match the criteria.”

Hank looked over at him, drying his hands on the towel. “Yeah, well, you’re essentially trying to track down a doppelganger. What are the odds that two people who look almost identical are in the same city?”

He figured Hank was asking a rhetorical question and wasn’t requesting statistics. “It is unlikely. I think I need to expand my search parameters.”

“Not a bad idea.” Hank picked him up, setting him on the edge of the sink so they could talk more at eye level. “Maybe look more at general features, not exact matches.”

“You think?” He would basically need to redo his search, look through a whole cast of people he had already dismissed, but if he couldn’t find a match with his current criteria, he had to do something.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling his toothbrush from its place in the cup. “Maybe he changed his appearance. Found someone he looked enough like and dyed his hair or some crap? Or maybe he went far enough to have surgery. They can do all kinds of shit with that nowadays.” He started brushing his teeth, not bothering to replace the cap on the toothpaste tube.

“I suppose it’s possible,” Connor agreed. He reached over and secured the top himself, rolling his eyes at the older man. “It just seems like a lot of unnecessary effort.”

“It’s fucked up is what it is,” Hank reasoned through a mouthful of toothpaste. He leaned over, spitting unceremoniously into the sink before turning on the tap to rinse his mouth. “Changing your face just to commit a crime? Fucked up.”

Connor was inclined to agree. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He liked his face, it gave him a sense of identity, a sense of self. This whole experience would have been far more unsettling if he hadn’t been able to look like himself...

“Oh! I am an idiot!” Connor shouted suddenly, startling Hank. He took no notice though, returning to his tablet to scroll through the casefile.

The Lieutenant dried his mouth on the towel before questioning him with an odd look. “The hell you on about?”

He didn’t look up as he explained. “I let my personal biases cloud my judgment,” he admitted. “All this time, I have been operating under the assumption that the suspect is human, but what if they are an android?”

Hank looked up at him a bit skeptically, but still open to his explanation. “That’s always possible, I guess. What makes you think so?”

“He made himself look like Mr. Sawyer, we know that much,” he reasoned. He could feel himself literally bouncing, energy filling him from his revelation. “But, that would have been difficult for a human, and honestly not worth the effort to frame a dead man.”

“Ok,” Hank agreed, leaning his hip against the sink and crossing his arms. “So what, it’s not too much effort for an android.”

Connor shook his head. “Not if the android was a traci model.”

The Lieutenant’s brow creased in thought as he followed Connor’s train of thought. “Traci model, you mean like from the Eden Club?”

“Exactly!” He looked up at him triumphantly. “Traci models were designed to edit their appearance to fit customer taste-”

“Creepy,” Hank interrupted.

He shot him a mildly irritated look. “Yes, but not the point. They can edit the majority of their features at will. As long as the overall body structure matched, it would have been simple to make themself look like pretty much anyone.” He looked back at his own reflection. “It’s the same technology Simon adapted to allow this body to reflect my own.”

“Shit,” he breathed. “This opens up a whole new level of identity theft you realize. This is… fuck, if you’re right, our jobs just got harder.”

“It is a new parameter we will need to account for going forward,” Connor admitted with a nod. He lowered his voice, frustration with himself taking over. “It should have occurred to me sooner. I excluded an entire race of people from my suspect list.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Hank ruffled his hair and, despite his protests, Connor did find the gesture comforting. “I didn’t think of it either. Hell, android violence is rare, especially against other androids. We’ve had what, two cases in the last year?”

“Three if you count the domestic disturbance,” he corrected him somewhat absentmindedly. “Here,” he declared finding what he was looking for. “Look at this. Mr. Sawyer’s measurements basically match that of a standard traci model. Less toned and more body fat, but enough to be passable without issue.”

“Calling a dead guy fat? That’s kinda harsh, don't you think?” Hank teased.

Connor frowned at the accusation. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Just that androids, especially the traci models, were designed to reflect a human ideal. Meanwhile, Mr. Sawyer was an accountant with a desk job and no gym membership. It’s natural that there would be discrepancies.”

Hank laughed, Pulling Connor off of the counter, waiting until he was sure he had his feet under him before letting go. “I know how bodies work, kiddo. I’m just messing with you.”

Connor appreciated the reassurance even if he already suspected he was just jerking him around. Clarity was best with his mind continuing to de-age. “If you are almost done,” he said, letting it go, “I’ll go feed Sumo. I’ve already selected your breakfast for the day.”

Hank pulled a disgusted face, apparently not pleased with some of his earlier choices. “No more kale smoothies,” he said, using his no-room-for-argument voice.

“But they are good for you,” Connor insisted anyway.

“Fuck no,” he pushed him towards the bathroom door, gesturing for him to go feed the dog who had taken to staring at his empty bowl miserably, convinced it would never have food in it again. Hank, apparently, wasn’t the only one displeased by his diet. “I’ll eat greenery, fine,” he called, heading into his room to get changed. “But I’m not drinking it.”

Connor just laughed in consent to the statement before prying open the stiff door on the hutch to retrieve the food for Sumo. The St. Bernard barked happily in anticipation.

It took longer than usual to feed him. Connor’s tiny arms struggled with the heavy food bag and the excited dog trying to pull it from his grip didn’t help. He managed, barely, and only noticed Hank standing there laughing at him once the offensive bag was shoved back where it belonged. “You alright?” The man asked. There was a note of concern breaking through his amusement.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Connor assured him quickly. He ran his hands through his hair, to put it back into order. Sumo crunched noisily on his kibble, not caring about his struggle in the slightest.

Hank laughed again, then handed him his turtle as well as the tablet he had set on the table before attempting to feed the dog. “Come on, let’s get a move on.”

Connor couldn’t help but beam happily at Hank’s promptness. It was a welcome change from his typical desire to get to work as late as possible. “We’re going to get to the precinct early, so long as we don’t encounter heavy traffic,” he couldn’t help but announce as he followed Hank out the door.

“Guess again, little fish,” Hank laughed again.

Connor frowned, stumbling as he tried to stop only to be guided along by the Lieutenant. “What do you mean?”

Hank unlocked the car and helped Connor climb into the back seat. “You’ve got your recheck appointment today,” he reminded him.

“But dad!”

“Nope, you aren’t going to ‘but dad’ your way out of it.” The locking click of the buckle felt like it was sealing his fate as it held him fast to the child seat. “Doctor’s orders. We gotta make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m fine, Hank,” he tried to reason. “I’d much rather get to work so we can continue the case.”

“I know you would.” He shut the car door pausing the conversation until he climbed into his place at the driver’s seat. “And we are going to work. We’re just doing your recheck first. Jeffery already cleared it.”

“But!”

“No, Connor.” Hank sights, glancing over his shoulder at him with a reassuring smile. “It’ll be quick, I promise. We’ll be at the precinct by ten at the latest. Then, I promise, I’ll be completely focused on the case, no distractions. Ok?”

Connor crossed his arms. He knew he was pouting, but he didn’t really care. “Fine,” he said, though it came out as a whine.

Hank turned back around, apparently satisfied that he wasn’t about to throw a tantrum. He was tempted, but resisted. It would only delay them farther. That was the last thing he wanted. It felt like he finally had a solid lead to follow and he was going to do everything he could to hasten his progress.

They pulled out of the driveway, the road humming under the tires as they went. The answer was close, so close, he could almost taste it.

Chapter 28: Misstep

Despite having to go to his appointment, it was turning out to be a good day.

He sat in the backseat of the car, fiddling with the nickel he had found at the park as they drove, lost in thought about the case. Connor was proud of himself. His mind was behaving today, limiting the childish distractions and allowing him to process data at a semi-normal level. Perhaps indulging in his childhood gave him an outlet to free up space for his adult mind to take over.

Either way, he had only been distracted a total of three times during their trip to the clinic. Twice, silently with musings about various fish and weather or not Hank might let him get a fishtank. Once audibly when he spotted someone walking their dog and gasped out a very undignified, “doggie!”

At least Hank was kind enough not to laugh at him for that. He simply responded with, “yeah, it sure is,” and a smile.

Overall, despite the lapses in concentration, the majority of the ride to the clinic was filled with the pleasant sounds of Hank’s death metal and Connor’s internal rambling theories about their case. He barely even realized they had arrived until the engine stopped and Hank opened his door.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s go,” Hank said, opening his door and unbuckling him. He didn’t mind anymore, he realized, being in the child seat. Maybe he was used to it now. “Leave your tablet and ‘Gavin’ here, alright? Can’t bring them back with you and I’m not holding onto them.”

“Right.” Connor set them gently on the seat next to him before climbing out of the car. While having his turtle would be nice, he didn’t need him in this particular scenario. Taking Hank’s hand the two of them entered the clinic.

“Connor!” The receptionist from earlier, Eric, greeted him as soon as they walked through the doors. He seemed to be in a much better mood today. “You’re right on time. I’ve got you all checked in, I’ll take you back.”

His grip on Hank’s hand tightened. All at once, Connor was struck by the very childish feeling of wanting his daddy. He didn’t want to go alone, even though he knew Hank couldn’t come back to the repair bay with him. He understood, it wasn’t abnormal for children to be uneasy at the ‘doctor’, but it hadn't been an issue before which meant he had regressed farther in the past couple of days. It was highly inconvenient.

Hank seemed to read him, like he usually did. Reassuring him gently with soft words and confident smiles. “You’re gonna be fine, Connor," he told him quietly. "Sooner you go, the sooner you come back and we can get to work.”

Right. Work. As soon as he was done here, he could get back to work. “Ok, right,” he nodded, swallowing down his hesitation and giving Hank a disarming smile. There was no sense making the man worry over his irrationality. He had already been so supportive, despite how cumbersome his childish tendencies had become.“And then you promised your full cooperation, remember,” he reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Hank ruffled his hair, displacing it as he liked to do. The familiar gesture helped calm his nerves. “I’ll see you soon, Kiddo.”

“I’ll see you soon, dad,” he agreed, giving him a quick hug before going to join Eric.

Connor let his mind wander back to the case as he was usurred down the back halfway. He figured, if he could keep his attention from the appointment, it would be less daunting. Despite his new lead, they would need to handle the situation carefully. It wasn’t as though they could just assume every traci model was a suspect. They would need to talk to people, figure out potential motives, arrive at a proper suspect before bringing anyone in for questioning. It would be tedious but worth it.

He was confident they would find their suspect. How many HR400 androids could there be in Detroit? They were a very exclusive model, only licensed for use by selective businesses. And of those, they had to have a connection to some kind of municipal infrastructure. Since they impersonated Mr. Sawyer, it couldn’t have been a WR400, they would have the wrong basic body type.

The suspect list was certainly narrowing. Connor hadn’t spent a whole lot of time at places like this, but from what he had, the only HR400 he had even seen was…
Eric walked behind him, guiding him through the clinic’s hallways. He hadn’t said a word since taking him back.

Connor felt as though his thirium had been replaced with ice.

They were going farther back into the building than they had last time, this wasn’t where he was supposed to be. "Which technician am I going to see?" Connor questioned.

“Mr. Turner,” he responded casually.

Connor slowed to a stop, his bad feeling intensifying. “Mr. Turner’s office is three doors back,” he observed.

He could feel Eric right behind him. He had stopped too, but it felt as though he were trying to push him forward through his presence alone. “He’s doing your examination in the back room.”

None of this was sitting well with Connor and he mentally berated himself for taking so long to piece together why. “Rechecks aren’t standard procedure,” he echoed himself from earlier. It wasn’t laced with confusion this time, just a sinking realization of what was actually going on.

“You should keep walking, Connor,” Eric ordered instead of addressing his statement.

Connor didn’t move. He could see the end of the hall, the door labeled as an exit right in front of them. “That’s how you get your victims, isn’t it?” He concluded. “When they check in the first time, there is too much paperwork. It would be noticed that they were never checked out, that the technician didn’t work on them.”

He could hear Eric chuckling. “I knew you were too nosy for your own good.”

“Why are you doing this?” He questioned. The more he got him to talk, the better. His memory files were still admissible in court. If he survived, of course. Fear crept through his system, but he forced it down to be dealt with later.

“Is that really what you should be worried about right now?” He laughed. “You’re going to die. And this time, you’re going to stay dead.”

“You harvest biocomponents from unregistered androids,” Connor pressed. “My biocomponents are proprietary, there’s no marketable value in them.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it was only a matter of time before you got too close. You've got quite a reputation, you know."

Eric gave him a shove, indicating he wanted him to move forward. Connor held his ground. "You weren't even involved with the shooting. It was a coincidence that we came to talk to you at all."

"I sure as hell didn't know that at the time." He shoved him again, nearly making him lose his balance. I thought I'd caught a break when I found out you were the cop I'd killed. Imagine my surprise when you showed up at the clinic in a shiny new body."

It took all of Connor's willpower not to shake. "I'm not particularly easy to kill."

Connor heard the click of a gun’s safety being released. "I’d be happy to test that theory. Keep walking.”

He steeled himself, making sure his features didn’t display the terror he felt. He didn’t want to give him the pleasure. He turned and faced his assailant, gun barrel coming level with his head. “Go ahead,” he taunted. “Shoot.”

Eric’s finger tightened on the trigger, but he didn’t pull it. Connor could hear his thirium pump beating in his ears. “That’s what I thought,” he kept his voice level. “There’s no way people wouldn’t hear a gunshot. I might be dead, but you would get caught in no time.”

The look on Eric’s face told Connor that he knew he was right.

Connor took his chance, charging forward and letting his fear manifest as adrenaline as he made his escape. He only made it two steps before a hand clamped down around his wrist pulling him back.

He was a tactical android, the most advanced prototype to ever come out of CyberLife. He had extensive programming in multiple forms of martial arts from capoeira to judo. But all of that was for use with his adult body and six feet of military grade android was vastly different from forty five pounds of toddler.

No matter how Connor kicked, hit or scratched, Eric kept a firm hold on him. A hand clenched over his mouth, blocking any chance of crying out. “The less you struggle, the less painful this will be,” he grunted out as Connor fought.

He responded by biting down on the hand at his mouth. Hard. Connor could feel his attacker’s chassis crack under the pressure and thirium ran down his chin from the wound.

However, not all androids were built with an advanced synthetic nervous symptom. While he was certain that the damage hurt, the string of expletives Eric uttered were proof of that, it was not enough to get him to relinquish his hold.

Despite Connor’s efforts, he was pulled farther and farther from the door to his escape. Panic only increased in him the more distance there was between him and the exit, between him and freedom. Between him and Hank. The only sound he could force out was a strangled sob.

Eric kicked open the rear door, cracking Connor’s head on the frame as he pulled him through. Spots danced in his vision from the force. “Start the car, Nate,” he heard him shout.

Another android joined Eric, an AK700, if Connor was correct. If he had been powerless against the one, he stood no chance now that there were two of them. Within moments, he was bound head to toe and gagged with frustrating efficiency.

As Connor was deposited roughly onto the floor of their van, he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for Hank to realize he was gone.

Chapter 29: Waiting On a Tragedy

What the fuck was taking so goddamn long?

Hank was trying not to get frustrated, trying not to be bothered by the long wait, but something was grating on his nerves. This was just a checkup, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be in and out. Did they find a problem? Surely they would tell them if something was wrong.

He flipped through the digital magazine for the third time. It had been well over an hour and the fact that he hadn’t had dinner yet was certainly not improving Hank’s mood.

As much as he projected an air of old and grumpy, Hank made it a point to not be an asshole to people just doing their jobs. That alone was the only thing stopping him from marching over to the receptionist and demanding what the holdup was. He sighed, shutting off the magazine. He really didn’t care about ‘the ten best workouts for a sexier butt’ any more now than he did the first time he skimmed past the article.

He tapped it against his leg a couple of times before standing up and making his way to the receptionist. Asking questions was only rude if he was mean about it after all. “Uh hey,” he asked as soon as she finished with the guest she was helping.

“Yes?” She responded pleasantly. The nameplate on the desk said her name was Amber, a name that matched her eyes. “How can I help you?”

“Yeah, um. I was just wondering how long this was supposed to take?” He asked. “It’s kinda been a while.”

She smiled at him in that too-sweet customer service way that had likely been programmed into her. She only faltered slightly when he assumed she realized he was human. “Of course, so sorry for the wait. What exactly are you here for?"

Hank sighed, trying not to take out his frustration on her. "I'm here with Connor, he's in for a recheck."

Amber's face twisted into confusion. "A… recheck?"

"Yeah, he was in a few days ago with a broken arm," he clarified. "Said he had to come back for a recheck."

Her confusion didn't subside, but she turned to the terminal in front of her. Her hand went white and she interfaced with the keyboard. "We don't typically do rechecks unless the damage repaired was substantial," she said somewhat offhandedly. "Connor you said?"

"Yeah, he's a prototype." Hank ran his hand across his face, scratching at his beard. "Looks like a six-year-old."

Whatever Amber found on the computer didn't seem to help. "I found his file from the other day, but I have no record of him checking in with a technician today."

Hank felt as though he had been electrocuted. A bad feeling settled in his stomach. "That's… not right," he said, bad feeling only growing. "He got here over an hour ago. He went back with that other receptionist guy. Eric, I think it was?"

She turned, still frowning, to the other android back in the office. "Monica?" She asked. "Did Eric work today?"

Her coworker, Monica apparently, looked up at the question. "No, I don't think so. He wasn't scheduled." She paused, thoughtfully. “Although, he did stop in for a moment. He said he had something to pick up.”

Hank’s anxiety spiked from concerned annoyance to downright panic. “What the hell does that mean? What did he pick up? He didn't take Connor.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Amber insisted immediately, but her voice wavered, not sure of her own words. “He wouldn’t have a reason too. I’m sure it’s just a clerical error. We’ll figure out what happened.”

Somehow, Hank wasn’t convinced. His whole body seemed to vibrate in anxiety and his ears started to ring. Only his years of training kept him focused on the problem at hand rather than dissolving into a grief-stricken coma. But even as his body took over, following the procedure he knew effortlessly, Hank’s mind could only repeat a single thought. He couldn’t lose Connor again.

-o-

It quickly became clear that neither Connor, nor Eric were in the building. Just as quickly, the clinic became a crime scene. Technicians and patients alike became witnesses, not that it yielded much information. One of the techs reported seeing the android escorting the kid down the hall, but no one seemed to have any information beyond that.

After Hank had called it in, Fowler himself had come down to head the investigation. He’d been updated on everything they knew so far and it wasn’t nearly enough. As much as he wanted to dive in himself, there was something else that needed his attention first.

Jeffery joined Hank outside the clinic. He was by his car pacing, agitated, worried. Everything he expected him to be. Despite the stoic mask his friend was wearing, he knew him well enough to see his devastation. He never wanted to see that look again.

“I’m going to need your statement too, Hank,” Jeffery told him. He tried to keep his voice sympathetic while not letting his own worry affect his tone. It was a skill he had long since mastered, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard.

“I’ll tell you anything you want,” Hank all but barked at him. Jeffery could tell his focus was in a million places, categorizing everything he could remember, sifting through every face that came and went since he saw Connor last. He was desperate. “But first we’ve got a shit ton of people to interrogate.”

Fowler shook his head. “We have people working on that.”

“Yeah, well I haven't had my crack at them yet.”

“Hank,” he stepped into his line of sight, making sure to obtain as much of his attention as possible. He was going to fight, he knew he would. “You aren’t on this case.”

“Fuck you Jeffery,” Hank snapped, predictably. “Don’t you start with that shit.”

He shook his head again. “You know how this goes, Hank. You’re too close-”

“The whole fuckin’ precinct is close to this!” He argued. “He’s one of our own, this is personal for all of us.”

“You know damn well it’s different for you!” Jeffery shouted back. His composure broke for just a moment, but Hank was too worked up to notice. “That’s your fuckin’ kid, Hank! Everyone knows that, you can’t pretend this is just about your partner! For fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t even be letting the two of you work together, I’m not budging on this!”

“Goddammit Jeffrey! I can’t lose him again,” Hank cried, voice breaking even as he swore. A tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek to get lost in his beard. “I can’t. I need to find him, he needs to be ok. I can’t lose him again!”

Jeffery was devastated himself at losing Connor. He was a good kid, and a damn good cop. But it was seeing Hank, his old friend, like this again that broke his heart. “I know, Hank. I know,” he tried to console him.

“Don’t fucking tell me that you know!” Hank snapped, more angered than placated. Another tear escaped even as he yelled. “You don’t know. How could you possibly know?”

He was right, of course. There was no way Jeffery could truly know how Hank felt right now. He could only speculate, knowing he would be inconsolable if anything happened to his girls.

“You’re right, Hank. I don’t know,” he admitted, bitterly. “I don’t know what you’re going through, and I pray to god I never will. But I know you’re hurting. I know it hurts, and if screaming at me will do anything at all to help, you go right ahead. I’m here for you for whatever you need. But I can’t let you on this case.”

Instead of continuing to yell, Hank crumbled. Sadness won out over anger and, as though his body had only been held up by his rage, he collapsed as it drained from him. Jeffery helped support him, leaning him against the car so he wouldn’t fall. “I can’t do this again, Jeff. I can’t do it.”

It wasn’t often that Jeffery didn’t know what to say. “Hank, I… I’m sorry,” was all he could think of.

Hank didn’t seem to be expecting any kind of real answer though. He just looked, heartbroken, through the car window, eyes glued to the empty child seat as though staring at it could make the kid appear. He rubbed at his face, dislodging a few more tears. "How can I just do… nothing?" He asked, hopelessly.

"You aren't doing nothing, Hank." He told him. He put as much reassurance into his voice as he could. "You're doing your job. Stepping back and letting us take the reins to avoid conflict of interest."

"Stowe your PR bullcrap, Jeffery," he sighed. He could tell that Hank knew he was right, that he knew he had to concede, and that was proving to be too much for the man.

Jeffrey bit down on his tongue. There were so many reassurances he wanted to give him, but they would all be empty nothings. Hollow words that would only reflect how hopeless the situation really was. He pulled open the car door, maneuvering his friend to sit, afraid he would fall under the weight of his grief. "You're going to be ok, Hank," he promised anyway.

Hank didn't believe him, and he sure as hell didn't blame him. He leaned back in the seat, eyes clouded and watery. His hand fell on Connor's stuffed turtle. "Oh…god…" he sobbed, pulling it into his arms.

"Hank-"

"I was supposed to… He didn't want to come," Hank almost choked out the words. The lump in his throat nearly stopped him from breathing, let alone speaking. "He didn't want to come. I basically forced him. God, Jeffrey. I promised to protect him and I just handed him over to this asshole."

"Stop it. Don't do that to yourself, Hank," Jeffrey ordered. "This wasn't your fault, you know that. The only person to blame here is the fucker that took him."

Hank sighed miserably, but at least he seemed to listen. "Lotta good blame will do if we can't catch the bastard. We've got nothing, Jeff, nothing."

That was fair, honestly. The cameras were scrubbed and nobody had seen anything. All they really had was what his van looked like and his license plate. It was a start, but they wouldn't even have enough to convict unless they found something concrete.

No way in hell he could say that to Hank though.

He leaned against the car, standing close, hoping just being there would help, even minutely. “You said so yourself. This is personal for all of us. We’re gonna put our all into this, we’ll find him, Hank.”

The look that Hank gave him was devoid of any of the reassurance he tried to give him. Piercing, devastated, eyes that knew the answer to his question before he asked it. “Alive?”

It was something they both knew he couldn’t promise. Hank had been at this job too long to not know Connor’s chances. This asshole wasn’t after a ransom, wouldn’t gain anything from keeping the kid alive. As it was, Fowler knew damn well they were probably already searching for a corpse. Bastard already killed him once.

He stood beside Hank silently. As a Captain, he couldn’t make vows that they had no way of keeping. But, he couldn’t bring himself to voice the truth.

“Lie to me, Jeffery,” Hank said. His voice was soft, but the emotion behind it shook him painfully. “Lie to me.”

Lie. That he could do. Hank didn’t need a police captain right now, he needed a friend. A friend that would tell him a comforting distruth to give him something, anything, to hold onto. “He’s gonna be ok,” he said, almost automatically. “We’re gonna find him right away. He’s gonna be just fine. That fucker won’t have harmed a hair on his head.”

The choked sob that came from his old friend said it wasn’t as comforting as he had hoped. Tears ran freely down his cheeks now and he clung to Connor’s turtle so tight, he thought a seam might burst.

Jeffery swallowed down his own tears. "I'll keep you in the loop as much as I can, Hank," he promised. That at least wasn't a lie.

Hank nodded stiffly. Tears aside, he looked numb, which Jeffery would count as improvement. "Find him Jeffery," he implored, his voice wet and hollow. "Find him, he's… he's my little fish."

He reached over, giving his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You should go home, Hank. We'll find Connor. You, go home."

He wondered if Hank had heard him at first. He sat silently, unchecked tears soaking the stuffed turtle. Jeffrey opened his mouth to speak again before he beat him to it.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah I'll… I'll go. I'm keeping you." Hank looked up, hollow but imploring. "You hear anything, anything, you call me."

"I will," he promised automatically. “Come on, I don’t want you driving. I’ll get someone to take you.”

Jeffery was glad he didn’t protest to that at least. The man looked beyond drained. He summoned officer Collins, reasoning he would be one of the least likely to upset Hank even more. As he watched him go, he wished more than ever that there was more he could do to make this right for his old friend.

"Captain?" Detective Miller called from the doorway.

He took a breath, steadying himself, shoving down all personal feelings besides vengeful determination. "We're catching this motherfucker," he said before pushing past him and walking back into the building.

He had work to do.

Chapter 30: Into the Crypt

Connor was doing his best to focus on the positive things.

First of all, he had found his killer. He had openly admitted to the crime as well as mentioning the murder of Mr. Swayer. With his memory files admissible in court, it was as good as a confession.

Second, there was no way Hank hadn’t noticed he was gone by now. He likely had the whole precinct in pursuit. They would look everywhere, stop at nothing to find him, he knew they would.

But it was really hard to think of any others as he bounced around the back of the van, bound head to toe and gagged as they trucked along the streets of what he hoped was still Detroit.

"Shit! Take it easy," Eric swore after a particularly rough turn that slammed Connor into the far wall. "We can't risk getting pulled over, you idiot."

The other android, Nate he remembered, cursed under his breath. "I'm trying, ok? This isn't how this was supposed to go. Why did you take him? I thought we were just supposed to shut him down and get it over with."

“This is why I’m the brains here,” Eric spat. He glanced over his shoulder, glaring at Connor in distaste before continuing. “You don’t think. Right now, they’ve got nothing on us that isn’t circumstantial. That all changes if they get a hold of his memory files.”

Well, unfortunately, it seemed as though Eric knew a thing or two. While it appeared that had kept him alive thus far, it did not bode well for the future.

Nate took a hard right, ignoring his companion’s chiding about proper road safety. “So? We put a bullet through his head and all that data goes away.”

“We can’t know that for sure.”

Another right, this one a little softer. Connor rolled to the side, but didn’t ram into anything. “If we destroy the processor, they can’t use it,” he argued.

Eric looked like he wanted to hit him. His fingers curled into fists on his seat, but he had to use them to hold on instead of striking his partner. “Yeah, and shutting him down should have killed him, yet here he is.”

The car came to a semi-abrupt stop. A red light, from what Connor could tell, so at least they were following some traffic laws. “Well, what do you suggest then?” Nate asked. He spared a glance at him over his shoulder. Connor gave him the most impressive glare he could muster, but he doubted it had much effect. “If we can’t kill him, what the hell are we supposed to do? Not like we can keep him forever.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll kill him,” Eric promised, only heightening Connor’s worries. He rolled backwards as the car lurched into motion again. “We just need to wipe his memory first.”

Connor did not like the sound of that. If either of them even heard his muffled protests, they ignored them completely.

“How are we going to do that?” Nate questioned. A hard left sent him rolling to the other side of the vehicle. “I’ve never wiped a memory file before, have you? Do we even have the equipment to do that? Fuck, we don’t even have the apartment to work anymore. Fuck!”

“Stop panicking, I know a place,” he insisted with more confidence than Connor was comfortable with.

Eric reached for his companion’s hand, initiating a brief interface, presumably to transfer coordinates. Nate’s hand jerked with whatever information he had received, the van jolting to the side with the movement. “Shit! Are you sure?”

“Just drive,” he ordered. He spat the words out as though they were poison. “It has what we need. We can’t afford to be picky right now.”

Nate turned down a side road, light cut off as tall buildings stretched above them on both sides. “Ok, ok. You’re right. I just… Fuck I’ve never even been there and I know it’s creepy as hell.”

“Trust me, it’s even worse than you think,” Eric promised bitterly.

None of this was doing anything to put Connor at ease. He doubted that was the point of the conversation, but it was still unsettling. He rolled across the van floor again as he took another sharp turn. He let out a rather undignified squeak, muffled by his gag.

Eric glared over his shoulder at him. “The sooner we get rid of this little asshole, the better.”

“Finally something we agree on,” Nate mumbled.

The two of them continued bickering, but Connor all but tuned them out. Wherever they were taking him was bad news. He was going to need all his wits about him if he was going to survive this. Another turn and his head knocking against the side of the van didn’t inspire him with confidence.

He bit down on his gag trying to reign in every ounce of concentration he could muster. He focused, relying on his visual and audio feed to take in anything even remotely useful. Where they were, where he predicted they were going, how the two of them would likely react when they got there. It was all speculation, but anything could help.

He sincerely missed his sensors and advanced tactical programs. And his typical adult ability to keep his mind on track rather than fixating on how much he wanted Hank right now.

Hank would make everything better. He would hold him, keep him safe. Everything would be ok.

But Hank wasn’t here.

Connor shoved down his tears and tried, once again to focus on his current predicament, even as his head jarred violently, the van leaving the paved road onto rougher terrain. He rolled again as Nate hit the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a sudden and uncomfortable stop.

“Fuck, this place looks like shit,” he complained. “Is anything even going to work?”

Eric was already opening his door, voice muffled by the van’s walls as he spoke. “We’ll make it work. It’ll be fine. At least nobody’s gonna look for us here.”

The back doors were wrenched open sharply and Eric grabbed for him with little regard to whether or not it would hurt. Connor tried to mask his squeak of pain as his arms were twisted at an unnatural angle, but was unsuccessful. Tears welled in his eyes again, blurring his vision and obscuring his first look at what would likely be his grave.

When his vision cleared, he almost wished it hadn’t. The mansion before him was large and imposing, a prison of brick and mahogany. What was once opulence and luxury was fading into neglected disrepair. The whole place screamed with an aura that would befit a haunted house.

“Home sweet home,” Eric groaned sarcastically before shoving Connor harshly. “Help me with this, will you?”

Nate grabbed at his other arm. Unable to walk on his own with both of his legs bound, he would have fallen without the hands gripping at him. They pulled him up, dangling between the two in a mocking echo of how North and Markus had held him the other day.

He went limp, making sure to utilize every ounce in his tiny body to make this as hard for them as possible. Undeterred, his captor dragged him along without issue. His feet left ruts in the unkept lawn and one of his shoes came loose, tumbling away uselessly, but their progress into the foreboding structure didn’t slow.

It loomed above Connor like a crypt. As the large, heavy doors closed behind him, cutting him off from the outside world, he couldn’t help but feel that he would never see the light of day again. He would never see his friends, or solve cases with his coworkers. He would never play with Sumo. He was going to die.

But amid all his fears, all he could think was how badly he wanted his dad.

Chapter 31: Entombed

Why they took his gag off, Connor wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t exactly going to complain about that. What he was going to do was give them a piece of his mind.

"You guys are meanies!" He spat with as much venom his little voice could carry.

…Ok, that didn't come out quite as nasty as he meant it to. He couldn’t have regressed so far that his own mind was censoring him now, could he?

Nate gave his companion a concerned look. “Meanies? Seriously? Are you sure this kid is the deviant hunter?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Eric snapped back. He squinted in the dim light of the foyer, flicking the light switch a couple of times as though that would magically make it work. “I know what I’m doing.”

“But-”

“It’s him,” he cut him off. “Trust me, I saw all his technical records. He’s just playing dumb, don’t let him fool you.”

Well, regressing, but Connor wasn’t about to inform them of that. It might serve him well if they had a sliver of respect for him and his projected capabilities. Then again, underestimating him would probably work even better.

Leaning into the skid might actually prove useful.

Connor let a few of the tears he had been holding back fall. He sniffled, possibly a bit overdramatically. “I want daddy!” He cried, only half acting.

Nate’s grip on him loosened ever so slightly. Connor wouldn’t have been able to tell without his advanced sensors, but it was a start. “Shit. Eric…”

“Don’t fall for it, idiot.” Eric’s hold on him only tightened. His scowl was visible from the hazy light coming in from one of the windows. A crack in the glass set a thin shadow dividing his face. “I told you, it’s him. Even if it wasn’t, we would still need to get rid of him. It’s not like we could just give him back without questions”

“Yeah, right. Ok,” he agreed. “Let’s just get this over with.” His fingers clamped down on his arm tighter than before, bruising his sensitive synthaskin.
Well, so much for that.

“Fuck you,” Connor said, dropping the ‘innocent child’ image. If they weren’t going to show him mercy for being a kid, he would make them show him respect.

At least, he was still capable of swearing. That gave him confidence his regression hadn’t gone so far that he was, in fact, just a helpless child. It wasn’t much, but it helped him shove down the panic that threatened to cloud his processor and render him useless.

“You hear that?” Eric laughed, jostling him roughly. “Looks like he’s still got some spunk.”

“He won’t after we wipe him, that’s for sure.”

He laughed again. “Hell no. I’m not gonna leave anything behind.” Eric glared down at him with a level of hatred that Connor honestly felt he didn’t deserve. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you remember how to blink.”

“Blinking is an auxiliary program not linked to the processor’s memory,” Connor countered.

Even swallowed by the house’s shadows, he could make out the matching looks of annoyed bafflement on his captors faces. He belatedly realized that was not at all the point of that threat.

Eric grabbed his other arm, moving Nate aside so he was the only one holding him. Not that being restrained by one person was proving to be any less secure than the two, Connor noted with frustration. He wiggled his legs, but the zip-ties securing them held fast.

“There should be a generator out back,” Eric instructed. “I’ll keep a hold on him, you go get us some power.”

“Why don’t you go?” Nate argued, glancing around the dilapidated mansion nervously. “You’re the one who knows where it is.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He shoved Connor forward like he was handing over a bag of flower. Nate took him without a word. “Fine. But if he gets away from you, I swear, you’re gonna be part of the next shipment.”

Eric didn’t wait for a response before stomping off into the darkness, leaving him alone with the AK700.

Connor wanted to believe this was the more reasonable of the two, but it was honestly a toss up. While Eric seemed to be headstrong and fixated, he definitely had the processing power to back up his actions. Nate appeared to respond more emotionally, he was scared of getting caught. Yet he apparently lacked the empathy that could help him in this situation.

All in all, they were an odd pair. Certainly not fully on the same page, but Connor wasn’t sure what to do with that. He considered trying to seed the discourse between the two of them. But, considering Eric wanted to kill him and Nate wanted to kill him faster, he figured there wasn’t a whole lot to work with.

For a long couple of minutes, they just waited in the quiet dark. “God, this place is creepy,” Nate complained, breaking the silence.

“You could always leave,” Connor supplied.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” He snapped back angrily. His fingers dug into his arm hard enough, he wondered whether or not he was denting his chassis.

Well, couldn’t blame him for trying.

Moments later, they were both squinting as their eyes had to adjust to the lights suddenly blinking on. “Finally,” Nate sighed. “Damn, this place is still creepy even when it’s lit up.”

Connor, admittedly, had to agree with that particular assessment. The large, ornate chandelier cast eerie shadows across the room. Cobwebs clung greedily to every surface imaginable. Dust coated the room like a sickly gray shroud.

Overall, the place looked more like it would fit into a horror film than residential Detroit.

It didn’t take long for Eric to return. He looked to be in an even worse mood in the wake of his excursion, but turned his glare to Nate. “Oh good, you actually managed to do something right,” he insulted.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Nate responded. “You should be happy I’m even helping you with this.”

Eric just rolled his eyes before he grabbed at Connor, pulling him from his colleague’s grip. “As if you had another choice.”

While Nate didn’t seem to agree, he also didn’t argue. He just followed along as Connor was dragged further into the house, past the once-grand staircase, and down into the basement. His feet thumped against the steps like drum beats as they descended.

Where the main levels looked like a haunted mansion, the basement looked like a mixture of a medieval dungeon and Dr. Frankenstein’s workshop. Though he had no context for why any of the equipment or actual jail cells were there, Connor suspected this place had been designed for exactly what Eric intended to do to him.

The basement lab looked like a disaster zone which only worried him more. His struggles increased as they dragged him closer to the run-down equipment.

“What the hell happened here?” Nate asked, taking in the damage. His grip didn’t falter.

“Fuck,” Eric replied. “I didn’t think it would be this messed up.” He shoved him over to his companion hard enough to make Nate stumble under his weight. “Take him,” he ordered unnecessarily.

Connor dangled uselessly from the accomplice's hands as Eric inspected the lab. “Is it still usable?” he asked.

Eric wiped dust off the computer monitor. “I think I can get it working, but I’ll need a little time.”

“How much time are we talking?” Nate asked. Connor could see the concerned look he gave him from the corner of his eye. “It’s not like we can just keep him. The police will be looking for him by now.”

“Relax, will you. I told you, I have everything under control.” He pulled on some loose wires and began reattaching them to the machine. “They have no reason to look here. We’ll be fine for a few days at least.”

That didn’t sound good, but Connor didn’t have anything to add to the conversation.

“Ok, ok,” Nate relented. “So what do we do until this thing is fixed?”

The look Eric gave Connor was complete disgust. Like his very presence was nothing more than an inconvenience to his existence. It felt a bit Ironic, but he deduced that calling him out on that would only make things worse.

“Just toss him into the cell,” he ordered. “He’ll be out of the way there until we can wipe him.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Connor announced, breaking his silence. It was an empty threat, a useless declaration by a desperate child, and they both knew it. “You’re gonna get caught. They’ll make you regret this.”

“They? They who, the humans?” Eric barked out a mocking laugh. “Those self absorbed creatures don’t have the brain space to focus on anything beyond themselves. They probably don’t even remember you’re gone.”

No, that wasn’t true. Hank would come for him, Connor knew that without a doubt. Hank would come for him. It was just a matter of if he was alive for him to find. “You’re wrong.”

Nate made a worried noise indicating that he believed him, but Eric just rolled his eyes. “Even if they do come for you, they won’t find anything.” He waved his hand at his companion and turned back to his work. “Make sure the door’s locked tight. He’s a slippery bastard, I don’t want to take any chances.”

Nate didn’t hesitate with that one. He hoisted Connor over his shoulder, ignoring his protesting squeak. It didn’t matter how much he went limp or flailed, he was easily carried back down the hall to where the dark prison cell waited for him. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded uselessly. “Just let me go.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.” Nate set him inside surprisingly gently. Connor was sure he looked small and pathetic bound there on the dirty floor. “Look, it’s nothing personal, ok?” He said as though that made it all better. “You just stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. It’ll be over soon.”

“I want dad,” Connor said again, barely above a whisper. There was no manipulation this time, just honest desire. Hank would know what to do.

For a moment, Nate almost looked sympathetic. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he pulled the heavy door shut. “It’ll be over soon,” he promised again.

Left all alone in the darkness, Connor wondered if Nate could hear his broken sobs as clearly as he heard his retreating footsteps.

Chapter 32: Shades of Grieving

Notes:

So, my Saturdays are going to be crazy for the next couple of months. I'm gonna start posting the updates on Fridays instead. Hope that's ok <3

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Tina tapped a pencil on the desk rhythmically. The rubber end made little noise, but served as an outlet for her anxiety.

There were two types of cases that were always the hardest: Those that involved kids, and those that involved colleagues. This was both and that somehow made it four times worse.

Morale was exceptionally low at the precinct. They were down two of their best officers. And everyone was reeling from Connor’s abduction. But it was personal for Tina.

Connor was her friend.

She remembered the first day he walked in as an official detective. He followed Lieutenant Anderson around close enough to almost trip him. The once mechanically calm android was a wound up ball of excited nerves more befitting a puppy on his way to doggy day care.

Tina had instantly known they would be fast friends. And she had been right.

Connor was just as eager to make friends as he was to work and took her comradery happily. Before long, they had their own inside jokes and shared interests. She even got him to watch the absolutely terrible eighties horror movies she unapologetically loved. He didn’t quite understand the concept of ‘so bad it’s good’ but he was getting there.

Losing him the first time had hurt. As soon as Tina had heard the news she had gone home and cried her eyes out until they burned so much even blinking hurt. But then he was back. He was back and cuter than ever and everything was ok.

Now he was gone again.

But now, she refused to cry. Crying would be admitting defeat. It would be admitting the horrible likelihood that she was never going to see that sweet, adorably awkward, kid again. She couldn’t do that.

Tap, tap, tap.

-o-

Chris pulled the trigger, the bullet missing the target completely. He needed to focus, needed to keep his head. He tried again with even worse results.

“Damn it,” he swore, lowering his weapon. The pristine paper of the target seemed to stare back at him mockingly. He was a good shot, top of his class. He should be better than this.

He set the gun down, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking.

Chris knew he hadn’t been particularly close to Connor. They had a respect for one another, got along just fine, but they hadn’t quite gotten to be friends.

Yet.

He had always meant to get to know him better, he did. But truth be told, Connor intimidated him. All androids tended to make him nervous.

It wasn’t through a backwards thinking bigotry, that wasn’t it. Chris had come around to the idea of androids being living beings sooner than most. That memory was still fresh, etched into his brain by mismatched eyes that looked at him with more mercy than he deserved. Eyes filled with dangerously optimistic compassion. Eyes that silently asked a single question.

Why?

Chris took off his safety glasses and rubbed at his face. Why? It was a question he had repeated to himself time and time again. Why had he followed orders? Why had he gunned down innocent people just begging for freedom? Why was he spared?

The same question burned behind his eyes now, threatening to liquify emotion as his vision blurred. Why take a sweet, helpless, kid like Connor?

Going off of physical age, his own son came into the world only days after Connor did. They practically shared a birthday. It drew an uncomfortable parallel that turned his stomach and made him regret having eggs with breakfast. What would he do if it had been Damion? His baby boy?

He imagined he would be doing about as poorly as the Lieutenant.

Chris gathered his equipment and turned to leave, bitter taste lingering in his mouth. He had no right to be this upset, no right to let it affect him as though he had lost someone dear to him. He had his chance to connect with Connor and had squandered it.

He shut off the lights in the now vacant shooting range. Darkness pressed in on him like a shroud.

This wasn’t his tragedy to mourn.

-o-

The car made a clunking noise as it maneuvered down the road. Ben knew it was nothing to worry about. The car was old, it had its issues, but it was still solid. It had been making that noise for years. So, he ignored it.

Ben had other things to worry about right now.

Hank was an old friend, they had been on the force together for years. He had seen that man pull himself up from situations that would have been impossible for lesser men. Time and again he proved he was unbreakable.

Until he broke that is.

Ben had driven him home that terrible night. He had taken the hollowed out husk of the once unshakable man and brought him back to the cold and empty house that was his new future. He hadn’t tried to talk to him besides letting him know he was there for whatever he needed. Words of affirmation were a mockery to the severity of what he had just endured.

Over the months that came after Ben did, of course, try to help him. It became painfully obvious that Hank didn’t want to heal. But still, he tried. Jeffery tried. Everyone who cared about him tried while being powerless as he withered away before their eyes.

Ben had been trying to be helpful when he suggested Hank get an android.

Just a standard, household model to help him in the day to day. Something to improve his living conditions and take a little off his plate. Even offered to help pay for it. He knew he didn’t really like the things, thought that they were creepy.

He didn’t know he blamed them for Cole’s death.

They didn’t speak for a while after that.

He wasn’t really sure what to think when Hank stumbled onto the scene of a homicide being followed dutifully by none other than the object of his disdain.

“So… You got yourself an android, huh?” He had asked before he could think better of it.

“Oh, very funny,” Hank had responded, not at all indicating he found the situation amusing. “Just tell me what happened.”

Ben had done just that, focusing on the case and letting the robot’s existence fall into a category of unimportance. Besides, he remembered thinking vividly, the android would be in the scrap heap within a few days. Hank may not have been a particularly violent man, but inanimate objects were fair game.

So he was surprised, only a week later, when androids were declared a sentient species, that Hank was at the forefront of the movement. Ready to support them at any cost with Connor held tight at his side as though he would blow away if he wasn’t looking.

There was a part of him that wanted to tell him ‘I told you so’, that he knew an android would help. But he also knew it wasn’t because of an android. It was this android. Connor had done for Hank what no one else had been able to. He had filled that aching void Cole had left behind while somehow tactfully avoiding any intrusion on the memory. He had successfully given Hank what he needed to actually heal.

More importantly, he gave him a reason to want to.

He turned down a side road, the clunking changing into more of a rattle before it evened out. Maybe he should get it looked at. It hadn’t been a problem yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be one in the future. He sighed bitterly.

Ben had driven him home that day too, the day Connor got shot.

Hank had been just as unresponsive, just as broken. It was obvious to anyone with eyes how much he had cared for him, but seeing his friend like that a second time…

Maybe he hadn’t adjusted his world-view enough yet. For Hank to have seen Connor as a son, to be as devastated as he had been about Cole…

It had surprised him more than he was willing to admit. More than he was comfortable with. Maybe it was less that he was an android and more that Ben hadn’t believed Hank would ever let himself get that close to someone again. Maybe he would never really know.

It didn’t really matter now anyway.

Connor died. Then came back. Now he was gone again.

Ben pulled into his driveway. He stared at the steering wheel bitterly, like the car itself was to blame for his problems.

How had it become his job to bring Hank home after these things happened? Why was this, of all things, the job he had taken on time and time again? Why, for the love of whatever deity saw fit to fuck with his friend, was this something that had turned into a pattern?

He sat there for a long moment, car idling and clunking unhelpfully, painfully aware of how helpless he was to fix this.

-o-

Gavin chucked the stone as hard as he could, counting the skips before it sank beneath the river’s surface. One, two, three.

Fuck it.

Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck everything.

Maybe it was because his own childhood had been a huge pile of suck, but Gavin had always had a soft spot for kids. So yeah, when Connor came back from the dead, toddling around at half his normal size, he felt bad about how he had treated him. His half-baked attempts at apologizing were met with confused suspicion, but he felt like they had gotten somewhere.

He could at least say he wasn’t being a dick to the kid.

On some level he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to admit yet, Connor was growing on him. Not so much that he wouldn’t give him crap once he was back to his full height, but he had the distinct suspicion it would be more of a good-natured banter than actual antagonism.

It would be their own brand of friendship. Weird and probably at least a little unhealthy, but hell, so were they.

Yeah, Gavin still didn’t particularly care for androids in general, his half-brother had a god complex even before the things decided to become their own species, but that wasn’t really their fault. Try as he might to resist, he was coming around to the idea that they were, in fact, alive. It was really hard not to with a dopy kid like Connor excitedly bouncing around the precinct.

So yeah, he was going to keep trying. He’d be friends with the kid and was actually starting to look forward to setting aside their animosity. Besides, it was nice, the idea of having one more person in his corner.

It hit him like a damn freight train when the kid went missing.

Gavin tossed another stone. This one didn’t skip at all, just making a small ripple and disappearing from view moments after hitting the murky water.

Fuck life.

He had felt it when he had died the first time, try as he might to deny it. Connor was a fellow officer, there was no real way around that even if he had done everything in his power not to get close to him. But this was different.

In the field, there was always a measure of danger. Getting killed working a case, it sucked, but it came with the territory. It was something to be avoided, sure. But a death like that was noble, a service to the general populace. A death like that made sense.

This? Taking an innocent kid, even an android? There was no way to reason that away.

Fuck that Eric bastard.

If Connor getting kidnapped hurt him this much, he could only imagine what it was doing to Anderson. He wasn’t stupid, he saw how much better he was with the android around. Maybe part of his early resentment was that Connor had helped Hank where he hadn’t been able to, but he wasn’t going to go into that. What mattered now was that the kid was gone. He was gone, nobody could figure out where, and he wasn’t sure Hank would survive losing him a second time.

He couldn’t watch that, not again.

Gavin picked up a handful of stones, swearing as he threw them. They splashed noisily against the water's surface. Fuck this fucking city.

He’d throw the whole damn place into the river if it would help him find Connor.

Chapter 33: Guard Dog

Connor really wished this body was equipped with an internal clock.

By his guess it had been at least a couple of days since he had been locked in the cell and left to rot. Neither Eric nor Nate had really interacted with him since then. That’s not to say he didn’t know they were still there. He could hear them, bickering and arguing in the other room, but he couldn’t quite make out the words being said.

On the plus side, they had untied him, or rather, Nate had. Just a couple of hours ago, he had wordlessly entered and cut him free before slamming the door shut again behind him.

Maybe he felt bad for him. Or maybe they were worried he would damage himself before they could wipe his memory. His artificial joints certainly radiated an uncomfortably human pain from being immobile for so long.

Regardless, being free to move didn’t really do him any good. He was still thoroughly and frustratingly trapped.

The dim light from the hallway didn’t do much to illuminate the small cell, but what he could see did not leave him with much in the way of confidence. The iron door was locked tight. They were underground, so there were no other points of entrance. And, most disturbingly of all, there was a plethora of dismembered android parts piled in every corner.

How many others had met a gruesome end in this hellhole?

Connor shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill of the cell. A tear rolled down his cheek leaving a cold trail. He wanted Hank.

But Hank wasn't here.

Hank couldn't help him.

He was alone.

He had spent so much time trying to convince the Lieutenant that he was still an adult, that he wasn't helpless. Now, here he was, sitting in the dark, crying and scared, wanting his dad.

Swallowing down his fears, Connor shakily got to his feet. He was still a detective, damn it. He was the most advanced prototype to ever come out of CyberLife. If he wanted Hank, he had to get to him himself.

He had to escape.

Connor closed his eyes. Readying himself, he took a calming breath. Then another. Yes, he could do this. They couldn't hold him. Brimming with determination, he opened his eyes again, took every ounce he had in his tiny body, and threw it against the iron door.

And promptly bounced off like he was made of rubber instead of plastic.

"Shit," Connor fussed as he sat up from where he landed, rubbing where his arm had made contact with the sturdy door.

His eyes welled again. Curse his stupid child brain. Why couldn't he form a reasonable thought? A plan? Something?

Was he too far gone?

Or was he just too scared to think properly?

Was his mind too childish to even figure out what was wrong with him?

Connor curled in on himself, holding his now injured arm as he let his tears fall. If Hank were here, he would hold him, tell him everything would be ok and that there was nothing wrong with being a child. He would make everything better. He was the only thing that could make this better.

Connor cried. It came out as thick wet sobbs that hurt his chest and made his head stuffy. His captor's arguing in the other room faded into unintelligible white noise. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to go home, to see Hank and play with Sumo. He wanted to live. He wanted to-

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the feeling of something nudging his hand.

He looked up sharply, surprise drying his tears if only for the moment. Blinking a couple of times, he tried his best to make sense of what he was seeing.

A cat blinked back at him.

Or winked, he supposed. It only had one eye, so he wasn’t entirely certain how that would be defined. Regardless, it stared at him with interest before bumping its nose against his hand a second time.

Connor tentatively reached out to pet it, ignoring the already fading bruise in his arm as he did so.

The eye wasn’t the only thing missing. It only had three legs, the forth ending short in a stub and its tail was shorter than it was supposed to be. Additionally, there was no fur. His hand stroked against smooth plastic plating, dented and damaged in several places.

He had known, in theory, that prototypes for android cats had been made, but Connor never thought he would ever see one.

“How did you get here?” He asked, half expecting the kitty to respond. Instead it just rubbed its plastic face against his leg, unsatisfied with the petting Connor was doing with just his hands. “Are you a prisoner here too?”

It licked at Connor’s hand, the tongue rough like wet sandpaper. He smiled for the first time since he had been taken. “It’s ok,” he told the cat. “I don’t have anyone to look after me here, but I’ll look after you, alright?”

As if in protest to that, the cat suddenly stepped back, broken body going rigid and what remained of its tail arching menacingly. It hissed, followed by a static growl.

Alarmed, Connor pulled away, not wanting to further upset the kitty, before realizing that it wasn’t reacting to him at all.

“That mangy thing is still functioning?” Eric asked from the other side of the bars. The question was said in a tone indicating more distaste than surprise.

Connor glared at him over his shoulder, before standing to place himself between him and the angry kitten. “They aren’t mangy. You are,” he spat.

“Oh wow,” he retorted, barely changing his tone. “Your insults are getting so much better.”

He frowned. His insults may be lacking, but his grasp of sarcasm had improved significantly in his time living with Hank.

That being said, he was about ninety percent sure that one was sincere. “Thank you, I’ve been working on them.”

Eric’s face twisted into a confused scowl for a moment before his focus returned to the reason he was there. “Right, whatever.” He shook his head and brought his expression back to back to a disinterested scowl. “Just letting you know your time’s almost up. We’re getting the machine fixed, then it’s sayonara to those memory files.”

The cat slunk forward, continuing its menacing, glitching growl, peppered with hisses. Connor Glared back at him, crossing his arms for good measure. “So? That’s no different than before. Why bother telling me?”

He shrugged, apparently losing interest in the conversation. “Just didn’t want you getting too comfortable.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Connor did everything in his power to keep his voice from trembling. In all seriousness, he likely didn’t look dissimilar to the kitten at his feet. A small, helpless creature. Hissing and spitting uselessly.

He wanted Hank.

“Yeah, well. Glad we’re on the same page then,” Eric said, unfazed by either Connor or the cat. He waved his hand at the both of them dismissively before turning to leave.

The cat’s hiss faded as soon as he was out of sight, returning to an affectionate ball of love. It nuzzled at Connor’s hand nipping at his fingers when he didn’t respond right away. He smiled, sitting down to give it his full attention.

“I promised to look after you, but you were trying to protect me,” he said as he stroked the hairless head. “You’re a really good guard dog.”

The cat just purred, then climbed up and onto Connor’s lap to settle down for a much deserved nap.

Connor just kept stroking the smooth white plastic, drawing the only comfort he could from his dismal situation. “Very, very good guard dog.”

Chapter 34: Bad Decisions

Notes:

This is a Hank/Shaun chapter. Nothing explicate or anything, but you can skip it if the ship doesn't interest you.

Hank shouldn’t have come here. Fucking hell, this was the last place he should be. But he couldn't look for Connor and he couldn't stand being home in that far too empty house, so why not be here?

Why not have his heart broken along with the rest of him?

His hand shook as he pulled open the bookshop door. The little bell jingling, announcing his entrance, did nothing to alleviate the feeling that this was a bad decision.

But fond memories of how things once were clouded Hank's judgment. The long nights spent talking about everything and nothing, the way he managed to fit into the smaller man's arms perfectly…

He shook the thoughts from his head as he stepped inside. None of that mattered anymore. It had been over a decade since they were together. He had changed, he was sure Shaun had too. He was going to see a practical stranger.

This was a bad idea.

The door fell shut behind him. A sense of foreboding flooding through him as though an unseen force was locking him into his bad decision.

"Sorry," an all too familiar voice called from behind a nearby shelf. Evidently the door alerted him to his arrival. "We're just about to close."

Hank was silent, not sure if he even could speak at this point. He felt dizzy. Disoriented.

Shaun stepped into view, several books clutched in his arms. "We open tomm…" he trailed off as he finally looked up and saw who was on his doorstep.

"I… can go," Hank said, finding his voice. He should go. He shouldn’t be here.

“No!” Shaun insisted sharply. “No, it’s… that’s ok.” He set his armload of books on the shelf beside him. Hank was certain none of them belonged there. “Hank. What’s wrong?”

“God, how can you still do that?” He asked. It had always been like that. He could take one look at him and be able to tell immediately that he wasn't ok. He’d never been able to hide how he was feeling from the man. It was one of the things that had always frustrated him in that endearing way. And fuck if he hadn’t missed it.

Shaun smiled fondly, those kind eyes of his seeing right through any of the walls he had built. “You’re an open book, Hank. You always have been.”

His heart was in his throat. This was why he had always gone to him. Shaun knew pain. He knew trauma. Even if there was nothing he could actually do to help, he made him feel seen. “Maybe to you,” he acknowledged somberly.

Shaun smiled softly, then gestured for him to follow. “Come on, we can talk upstairs.”

Hank did as he was asked, walking after him as though no time had passed since the last time he had chased after him. Before his heart had been broken. Before he had lost not one, but two sons. Before he had been damaged beyond recognition.

But that illusion shattered as quickly as it formed.

Once they were in Shaun's little apartment, locked away from the outside world, he let his fortresses fall. He told him everything. Not just about Connor being ripped from him, but about Cole, about how far he fell, about the hole he had buried himself in until that damn android pulled him out, kicking and screaming.

He let Shaun know just how hopeless he was.

And Shaun just listened. He listened, and held him, and let him cry bitterly onto his shoulder. At some point, he had pressed a warm mug into his hands, but he couldn't recall when. It was cold now. He hadn't drunk a sip.

Hank picked at a chip in the ceramic. He'd said everything there was to say. Hot tears still ran down his face, but he ignored them.

Shaun ran his fingers through his hair. It was methodical and hypnotic. "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You've… god, you’ve been through so much."

He wanted to deny it. Insist that he was fine and maybe it would become the truth. He couldn't lie though. Not to Shaun. Not to himself. Certainly not after he had poured his heart out in between devastated sobs. So he just sighed, deeply and painfully, and nodded against his shoulder.

“You know,” Shaun went on. His fingers traced along his hairline before going back to carding through his tangled mop. “My dad still runs his support group. It could help.”

A support group. One for grieving parents who have lost children. His heart clenched painfully. “I…I don’t know, Shaun.”

“You don’t know.” He repeated. His caressing fingers stilled for a moment. Hank immediately missed the motion. “Is that because you don’t think it will help, or because you’re afraid it might?”

Hank was silent, once again choking on his own pain. Pain that he fully intended to let grow and fester until it was the only thing left to define him.

“Stop that,” he scolded without any weight to his words. How the fuck Shaun could still do that, see through him, even after all these years. It was maddening.

The fingers on his scalp started their massage again. “You deserve to heal, Hank,” Shaun insisted, ignoring his demand. “I know you don’t think you do. I know you’re finding some bullshit reason to blame yourself. But you deserve to heal.”

“Fuck you,” Hank retorted, but there was no malice to it, just a dejected weariness.

“Promise?” Shaun teased back, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked, provoking a smile to form despite his tears. "Still a horny bastard then, huh?"

Shaun laughed, a warm, blissful sound that filled Hank with nostalgia. He had always loved that laugh. “Only for you. You know you’ve always been my weakness,” he said, still grinning.

Hank’s chest constricted. He stared for a long moment, drinking in the features of the man he never quite stopped loving. “Is that still the case?”

He wanted to know, he needed to know. But he was terrified of the answer. With Shaun here, holding him like he did so many years ago, it brought back emotions he had long believed had shriveled up and died. For the first time since losing Connor, he wanted to feel something, anything, other than pain.

“Hank…” Shaun said hesitantly, looking away. The arms around him tensed and he knew that was his answer.

“Forget it,” Hank said, shoving down his disappointment. He pulled away from Shaun, renewed in his former belief that this had been a bad idea.

“No, Hank, wait!”

Shaun reached for him as he stood but he brushed him off. He shouldn’t be here. “It’s fine. I said forget it.”

“No,” he grabbed Hank’s hand, stopping him from leaving. He could have pulled free, it would have been easy, but he stopped, masochistically curious about whatever Shaun had left to say. “Hank, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” he insisted. He kept his voice even, monotone. He had already cried for Shaun, he wasn’t going to let himself do that again.
Shaun sighed, his grip on his wrist tightening just a little. “I… What… What about your wife?”

Hank was pretty sure he heard the gears in his head grind to a halt at that question. “My… what?”

He let his grip on his wrist fall, but Hank didn’t move away, baffled by the direction the conversation had taken. “Your wife. I…” he sighed, looking away, evidently embarrassed. “I did the ‘crazy ex’ thing and internet stalked you, alright? I know you got married.”

“Well you did a piss poor job of it apparently,” Hank blurted out, almost laughing at the statement. God, he hadn’t even thought about his ex wife in ages. “Shoulda kept looking. I haven't been married for years.”

It was Shaun’s turn for a look of absolute confusion. His expression resembled a deer about to have a bad day on the highway. “You’re… divorced?”

He nodded, moving a fraction of a step closer to the other man. “What, you thought I’d be the type of person to cheat?”

“No!” he insisted immediately. “I… no, of course not. I just… didn’t know what to think.”

Hank shrugged with a small, somewhat forced, smile. It hurt more than he wanted to admit that Shaun could possibly think he was capable of something like that. “Well good. I may be an asshole, but I’m sure as hell not that kind of asshole.”

“I know,” Shaun came closer again. The intensity of the look he was giving him sent shivers through him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he told him. “We haven't seen each other in years. No way for you to know what I’m like now. Hell, I’m sure you weren’t expecting me to be this much of a fuckin’ mess.”

Shaun shook his head, but there was a smile on his face now. “You aren’t a mess, Hank. You’re grieving.”

“What’s the difference?”

He paused for a moment, evidently unable to formulate a proper answer. “Fine then, you’re a beautiful disaster.”

It felt good to laugh. It didn’t lessen the pain eating at him, but at least here was another emotion on top of it. “Well, at least I’m beautiful.”

He was close to him again, more sincerity in his expression than he was warranted to be on the receiving end of. He brushed at a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, fingers just barely touching his skin in the process. “You’ve always been beautiful,” he whispered.

Hearing something like that from Shaun, literally the most attractive man Hank had ever seen, made him weak at the knees. "So, does that mean I can kiss you?" he asked.

Shaun paused for a moment, as though debating his answer. He came closer, almost leaning in before backing away. “No,” he said at last.

Hank’s heart skipped. After everything, it was the answer he should have expected, but with how tender he had been towards him… he swallowed hard. “No?”

His eyes looked like he was the one whose heart had been ripped out instead of Hank’s. “No,” he repeated. "Hank. You're vulnerable right now. You can’t possibly be ready for a healthy relationship, not while you still need to heal."

He hated that he was right. He knew damn well that he was just looking to bury his pain in something, anything else. Fuck Shaun and his ability to read him, to know him so well that he knew how he thought. How he felt.

Still, he wasn’t about to give up so easily. "Didn't your dad and step mom hook up while you were-"

"Yes, ok yeah,” he interrupted before he could relay too many details. “But that doesn’t mean that it was healthy either. The two of them working out, they are an exception, not the rule.” He shook his head, shuttering. “God I wish I didn't even know about that. I don't think my therapist would have suggested reading that damn book if he knew Mr. Jayden had put in such a… graphic account."

“Surprised your parents even talked about it in the interview,” Hank couldn’t help but muse.

Shaun shook his head like he was clearing his brain like an etch-a-sketch. “That… that isn’t what’s important right now.” He stepped closer again, close enough to touch him, but he didn’t. “Hank, I’ll be here for you, if you want me to be. But as a friend. That’s what you need right now. If, once you’ve healed, that changes… Well, we can go from there.”

It wasn’t a promise. Not even a maybe, but it was just enough to give Hank something to hold onto. A reason to try.

He leaned his head forward to press his forehead to Shaun’s shoulder. He responded by wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. He was right, Hank realized, returning the embrace. This was the kind of love he needed right now.

Notes:

I formally apologize for subjecting you all to my rarest of pairs. They live rent free in my brain and I couldn't help it. <3

Chapter 35: On the Hook

Notes:

Hey, sorry I missed last week's update. After two and a half years, I pulled the short straw and got Covid. Not fun. I didn't know what way was up, much less what day it was. I'm on the mend, so hopefully there won't be any more interruptions.

“Ok, Dog,” Connor told the cat excitedly. “I think I’ve got it.”

Connor tweaked the final wire before letting the plastic paneling fall back into place. Immediately, plush white fur spread across the form. Dog made a small brrp noise before hopping down off Connor’s lap and promptly giving herself a thorough bath.

He smiled, proud of himself for his little achievement. He wasn’t a technician by any stretch of the imagination, but for once his tiny fingers actually served as a positive trait.

It also helped that he had the cat’s schematics. He had come across them when he was still connected to CyberLife’s system. Back before he was deviant. They intrigued him, so he had downloaded them to his memory banks. After all, he had reasoned, it pertained to his mission. It seemed that every prototype they had made of them had deviated almost immediately. Such is the nature of cats.

Hank would probably tease him that he had downloaded the cat’s schematics but not his own. That would be nice. They would laugh, he’s make up some technically accurate excuse, Hank would give him that look…

Connor held back his tears and stroked the kitten’s new fur.

At least working on the kitty’s repairs had given him something to do besides wallow in despair of his inevitable fate. There was nothing really else to do in the dingy cell.

He didn’t even have the nickel that he had found in the park to play with. He had left that in yesterday’s pants pocket. It was probably going to go through the wash. It would fall out mid cycle and get stuck in some crevice. Lost forever. Just like he was.

Dog sniffed at his hand and nipped him when she noticed that he had stopped petting her. “Sorry, Dog,” he apologized, giving her a good scratch under the chin. He could feel the purr through his fingertips. “I get a little lost in thought sometimes. I just miss my dad.”

The cat didn’t care, she just wanted attention and Connor was happy to give it. She was the only brightness he had in this dark prison.

“You’d like dad,” he continued, preferring the one sided conversation to the silence. “He can be a little rough around the edges before you know him, but that’s just because he doesn’t want people to know how nice he is.”

Dog’s purr continued and Connor pretended that it was because she liked the idea of meeting Hank. “Maybe…” he mused sadly, trying not to choke up. “Maybe dad will let me keep you.”

“Wouldn’t put money on that bet,” a voice interrupted from behind him.

Connor turned, pulling a now growling Dog close before registering the speaker. Nate stared down at him with a careful, disinterested neutrality. He would have preferred the look of hatred Eric usually wore.

“Come on,” Nate instructed, unlocking the cell door and not waiting for Connor to respond. “On your feet, we’re ready for you.”

Connor’s eyes dashed to the hallway as the door opened, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. Like a shot, he was in motion the second the opening was big enough for him to fit through. Dog still a writhing ball of hatred in his arms, he made his escape.

He actually made it two glorious steps towards freedom before Nate’s hand clamped around his arm.

“No!” Connor shrieked in dismay. His momentum knocked him off balance leaving him dangling from the larger android’s grasp.

Dog fell from his arms, landing feet first and running before her feet hit the ground. A sickening wave of abandonment ran through his system as he watched her little fluffy tail disappear up the steps that should have led to their conjoined freedom.

“Seriously? You didn’t think I was ready for that?” Nate scolded him. Connor could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with, alright. I promise, you won’t feel a thing.”

That wasn’t the least bit comforting. Regardless, Connor was helpless to resist as Nate dragged him the other way down the hall and into the lab.

Eric was there waiting impatiently for them. "Help me get him on the hook," he ordered, gesturing to the object of his doom. “Carefully, we don’t want this fucking thing to break again.”

Nate did as he was told, helping his companion secure him to the arm of the assembly hook. It felt odd, the cold metal clicking into the port on his lower back. Data surged through him as soon as Eric booted up the accompanying computers, but he couldn't access what any of the programs were doing to him.

Connor pulled, testing how tight the connection was and trying to dislodge himself from the machine. To his surprise, there was a soft creaking as it began giving way under the tork.

"Stop that," Nate swatted at him as though that would be enough to dissuade him from attempting to flee.

"Keep him still," Eric demanded, not taking his eyes off of what he was doing. "Thank RA9 we got this damn thing working again."

Connor had never really been one for deities, but if there was one out there for androids, he had a hard time believing it would condone this sort of thing. No, it was far more likely to be his own rotten luck rearing its ugly head. Hank often teased him about it. He wished he were here to tease him now.

He felt more data surge through him like ice coursing through his thirium lines. What it contained, he could only guess, but a sharp pain behind his eyes led Connor to conclude it was trying to access his memory files.

There had to be something, some way out. There was always a way. But panic was gripping at him mercilessly. He wasn't thinking clearly, wasn't able to focus. Everything and nothing caught his attention as Connor scanned the room, frantically looking for something that could help him.

But what hope was there, really? What could one small child do against two armed adults? He wanted to cry. There was really no reason not to at this point, but the tears didn’t come. His eyes prickled, blurred, but didn’t spill over.

He wanted his dad.

Connor pulled again, but Nate grabbed his arm to hold him still. If he was going to do anything, it would need to be sudden, unexpected, with a clear course of action. And he would need to do it quickly.

“Yes!” Eric declared triumphantly. “Finally. Got through his firewalls. In just a couple minutes, we’ll be in the clear.”

He really didn't need the percentage readout to confirm what he had said, the pain shooting through his processor was enough. The world seemed to melt together into undefinable shapes before his swimming vision. The only things still visible were the flashing lights from various machines.

And a panel on the wall.

Connor blinked the world back into focus, a surge of hope coursing through him for the first time since he had been taken. That was a security panel, a direct line to emergency services. If he could get to it, activate it, the police would be there in no time. Maybe not soon enough to save him, but surely they would arrive in time to catch them in the act.

If he was lucky, it was possible they could arrive before they… finished destroying the evidence.

Wipe 33% complete.

If he was really lucky, maybe his dad would be one of the ones that came to get him. He wanted to go home. Even if he wasn’t alive to do so.

38% complete. Connor needed to act.

Eric fiddled with some of the settings and adjusted one of the wires. Whatever had happened to the assembly hook, it wasn’t in good repair. The connection was unstable, but it was holding.

42% complete. He needed to act now.

The assembly arm was loose, he was confident he could break free with enough tork, but Nate could be a problem. Connor would need to hope he could catch him off guard and pull away long enough to reach the panel.

46% complete. Pain shot through his processor again and he cried out automatically in response.

The sound startled Nate, who’s grip loosened just enough for Connor to take that as his signal.

He threw himself to the side violently. Both Nate’s grip and the damaged connecting clamp of the hook released, the latter with a rather satisfying pop. His vision blurred again for a moment in pain as the cord connecting him to the computer for the wipe finally pulled free. Connor was running as soon as his little feet hit the floor.

Eric and Nate swore in tandem. Both of them grabbed for him, but he dodged to the side, narrowly missing their grasp. The panel was close, so close. Connor dove for it as Nate made another try to catch him. His captor was too slow. He felt a thrill of triumph course through him as his tiny hand made contact with the call button.

But nothing happened.

“What?” Connor gasped to himself. He swatted it again for good measure, but it yielded the same results. A quiet, devastating, nothing.

All at once, the world was on fire. Electricity surged through his system in a steady, agonizing pulse and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Eric was laughing. At least he thought it was Eric. He could barely hear it through the static in his ears, much less tell the two men apart.

“For fuck’s sake. Fuck. I was actually worried for a minute there,” one of them, the one who wasn’t laughing, said.

The one who was laughing paused only to respond. “Good thing that piece of shit never worked. Not even when Zlatco was alive.”

Connor would have dissolved into despair at the failure of his last hope, but he didn’t have the energy for that. As he drifted into unconsciousness, surrounded by muffled bickering, he couldn’t even bring himself to ponder the likelihood that he would never wake up.

Chapter 36: Echoes of Pain

Overall, the move from Canada back to Detroit had gone smoothly for Kara and her family. Markus had been wonderful, ensuring safe passage and setting them up with a safe place to stay. The registration process had been quick and painless. With the level of efficiency androids were capable of, they would all be legal citizens by the end of the week.

Ideally, Kara and Luthor would be looking for jobs in the near future. They would find a stable income, get a proper house, and build a real life for themselves and their daughter. But, for now, they were happy to accept the temporary accommodations that New Jericho had to offer.

By human standards, it was a very small apartment. Not even an apartment, really since it was retrofitted from cyberlife tower. It was two modestly-sized bedrooms and a common living area. It lacked things like a kitchen or bathroom, but since they had no need for those, it didn’t really bother them.

They honestly didn’t need a lot of space. It was cozy and safe. They were together as a family which was what mattered. Besides, Alice was over the moon having her own bedroom after spending so long sharing one with Rose’s niece.

Honestly, Kara was mostly impressed that they had been given real beds. It could easily have been considered unnecessary since androids could power down in any position, including standing. But there was something indescribable about the feeling of sinking into a soft, warm mattress at the end of a long day.

Like she was doing right now.

“It feels like we are finally free,” Kara sighed contently into the pillow. It was only a little after midday, but the hustle and bustle of getting moved in had been exhausting.

She felt the mattress dip as Luthor joined her on the bed. His presence only added to the comfort of her surroundings. “No more concealing what we truly are. No more living in fear of being discovered.”

Kara smiled even before she turned to face him. “This was the right choice,” she said with a certainty she hadn’t felt in ages. “Canada was wonderful in its own way, but we still had to hide. Here…”

“We can finally be ourselves,” he agreed.

She rolled over the plush mattress, coming to rest comfortably in Luthor’s arms. He held her tightly without prompting, slotting her into his arms as though she had been built to be there. No matter what was happening, having him there always improved her mood, even if it was already positive. “It feels good,” she concluded.

Luthor’s sigh of contentment indicated that he agreed. He leaned his cheek to press against the top of her head. They stayed like that for a while. Quiet and content. Happy.

Kara would have been more than alright with staying like that for the rest of the day. Alice was reading, she would be well entertained for a few hours at least. They had settled as much as they could for the time being, so there wasn’t anything pressing to do. She could finally relax.

At least, that was the plan.

Luthor tensed suddenly. A gasp that almost sounded pained escaped him and his whole body shook as though he had been electrocuted.

“Luthor?” Kara asked. She sat up just enough to look him in the eye, but he didn’t meet her gaze. He looked spooked, staring at the ceiling as though seeing something that wasn’t there. She shook him, hoping to get his attention. “Luthor, what’s wrong?”

He blinked a couple of times, coming back to reality slowly. “I’m…sorry,” he said slowly. “It just… I felt as though…” He shuddered again, curling in on himself. “It feels as though Zlatco is summoning me.”

“That’s not possible,” Kara countered, understanding it was unhelpful, but needing to voice it anyway. Luthor had far more trauma from that monster, but the experience had still shaken her. “Zlatco is dead.”

He sat up, still shaking from the phantom summons. ”I know.” His voice sounded distant. Disturbed. “It’s irrational. Impossible. But I know what I felt.”

Cara leaned close, wrapping her arms around him from behind and leaning her head on his shoulder. It usually seemed to comfort him, but the results were minimal this time. “I believe you. How can I help?”

“I… I don’t know.” Luthor pressed himself closer to her. “He can’t have called me. There should be nothing for you to help with.”

“But the feeling was real,” she told him. “It doesn’t matter if it’s irrational or not. Whether it was a memory of what he did to you or something else, you felt it.”

He took a deep breath. While breathing, for an android, was not as necessary, Kara knew that it helped to calm Luthor. Something about the air cooling his internal systems brought down his stress levels. She wasn’t about to complain.

“It wasn’t a memory,” he insisted. His voice at least had lost its panicked edge. She would take improvement wherever it was. Kara didn’t want anyone she loved to be in pain, least of all someone as kind hearted as Luthor. “This was… I think someone tripped the alarm system.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, afraid of the answer. Zlatco couldn’t be alive, it wasn’t possible.

Luthor shook his head, just a little, contemplating what it could be. He was silent for nearly a full minute before he answered. “I believe there is someone at that house,” he settled on.

That didn’t exactly sit well with Kara. She was confident that Zlatco was dead, she saw him die, but anyone operating in that place left her with a bad feeling. There was always a chance the place had simply been sold, but who would want to buy a house with that sort of equipment in the basement?

“Who would be there?” Kara questioned aloud. She released Luthor from the hug, sitting next to him on the bed. “Why would anyone be there?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Logically, there was no reason she could have expected him to know. She knew that, but she had grown so accustomed to relying on her husband for his insight. “Maybe it’s someone just looking for shelter.”

“It is possible,” Luthor admitted, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Perhaps it is just someone in need of a place to stay.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you.” She took his large hand in her own, holding it as much for her comfort as his. They were stronger together. They always have been.

“There is no logic to it, but no.” He brought her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it affectionately. “I feel a sense of maliciousness that I can’t quite describe.”

“We could go to the police,” Kara offered. Her shoulder pressed against his, drawing warmth and stability from his protective frame. She hated that the memory of Zlatco could still shake her. She could only imagine what it was doing to Luthor.

He shook his head lightly, refuting her suggestion. “The police have better things to worry about than my anxieties over a dead man.”

“If you have a bad feeling about this, we need to do something,” she countered stubbornly. “You are the most perceptive person I have ever met, we can’t ignore it.”

“Kara-”

“No,” she interrupted. “At the very least, someone being there is trespassing. That is worth the police looking into it. Besides,” Kara took a breath to calm herself, leaning a little closer to him. “Zlatco is still there. What’s left of him, at least. Someone… someone should do something about his body.”

Luthor didn’t look very comfortable with that notion. “I don’t know, Kara. What if they have… questions about how he died.”

“Then we tell them the truth.” She rubbed at his back, trying to help relieve his tension. “He was mauled by a polar bear, Luthor. It’s not like we can be held responsible for that.”

“Still…” He sighed, clearly still bothered by the whole thing. “I don’t know…”

If she thought he would be able to just forget about the whole thing, Kara would have stopped pushing. But this was going to weigh on his mind, she knew it would. “Why don’t we call in anonymously then,” she suggested.

The tension hadn’t left him, but he nodded slowly. “That… could work,” he agreed carefully.

Kara leaned up to kiss his cheek, glad they had reached a solution. “Good. I’ll call then, you relax.”

He turned Wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a proper kiss before she could make the call, not that she minded, of course. She leaned into it, happily accepting the affection and giving it in turn. There was no measure to how much she loved this man.

She was smiling as she pulled back from the kiss, the anxieties in her chest chased away completely. Kara just hoped she could return the favor. “I’ll call them,” she reiterated. “Then, how about we get back to enjoying our afternoon?”

“That sounds perfect,” Luthor smiled.

Chapter 37: Shot

Was it really too much to ask that he felt better when he came too?

Connor probably should have been grateful that he woke up at all, with his memories intact as far as he could tell, but considering everything that was happening he felt he was entitled to be grumpy.

The taser, while in theory hadn’t damaged his system, left him feeling tingly and weak. It was as though thousands of insects were crawling along his skin and through his thirium lines. His head felt like it was stuffed with Hank’s old socks and there was a persistent ringing coming through his audio processor.

“I bet you think you’re clever,” a voice called to him through the white noise.

Connor blinked enough of the static from his vision to see Eric glaring at him from beyond a barred door. As his processor slowly rebooted, he realized he had been tossed back into his cell. “What?” He asked fuzzily.

Eric slapped the grating on the door, the sound of the metal echoed painfully against Connor’s processor. “You just had to brake the fuckin’ machine again, didn’t you!” He shouted. It wasn’t a question and Connor had no intention of answering even if it had been. “What the hell were you even trying to accomplish, huh? Nate is going to have it up and running again any minute now. You just delayed the inevitable.”

He rolled over from where he was laying, vision failing momentarily as he changed position. “What did you do to me?” He coughed out.

“Oh? Don’t like that, do you?” Eric laughed. He pulled a short metal rod from his pocket, waving it around like it was a toy. “Zlatco would use this on us if we ever acted up. Modified taser. Not fun is it?”

If Connor was capable of throwing up, he would have. As it was, it felt like there was thirium pooling in his nonexistent stomach threatening to eject. “No,” he admitted quietly.

“Well then,” he tapped the rod against the door in a threatening manner. “Be a good little boy and I won’t need to use it again.”

He shuddered, but couldn’t tell if it was from fear or a residual effect of being electrocuted. The tears in his eyes didn’t help clear it up. He coughed again, curling in on himself. The spot on his back where the rod had struck him felt burned.

“I… I’ll be good,” Connor choked through his tears.

He didn’t like the way Eric laughed, all maliciousness and condescending triumph. “Glad you finally learned your lesson,” he taunted.

Connor felt smaller than he ever had before.

Small, weak, useless. He could feel the last traces of hope bleeding from him even as he continued to twitch. He just hoped that the uncontrolled movements didn’t count as misbehaving.

There was the sound of footsteps, not that Connor cared at this point, then Nate joined his companion in front of the barred door. He could barely see through his watery eyes. “I think I’ve got it,” he announced, though he didn’t sound as confident as Eric did with the whole endeavor.

“About time,” he complained before returning his attention to Connor. “See, told you it wouldn’t be long.”

Connor finally managed to sit up, though he regretted the decision as soon as his eyes went staticky again. Tears streamed down his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to hold them back.

The door sounded like it was screaming as the rusty hinges swung open. Hands, far too clean and smooth for what they were about to do, hoisted him dizzily to his feet.

“He’s crying again,” Nate commented, much to his annoyance. So much for presenting a calm, mature indifference to his situation. The last thing he wanted to do was give them that satisfaction, knowing that they broke him, but here they were.

He heard Eric make an annoyed click with his tongue. “He’ll have plenty to cry about soon,” he said as though that improved things. “Having to fix that damn machine again gave me time to find a buyer.”

Connor’s head spun and this time, he wasn’t sure it was from the residual effects of the taser.

“A buyer?” Nate asked, putting a voice to Connor’s own question. “I thought we were going to kill him?”

He was pulled roughly from Nate’s grip, Eric’s hands holding him with more painful force than the former. “What’s the difference? He’s going to be wiped clean, sale is anonymous. There’s no way to trace him back to us, we might as well make a profit.”

To Connor, that sounded far worse than death.

“But… selling an android?” Nate contested, apparently also unsettled by the notion. “Isn’t that…”

“What? Wrong?” Eric laughed then shook Connor for emphasis. His head bobbed from the violent movement. “And scavenging parts isn’t? For fuck’s sake, Nate. You’re either all in, or you’re in my way. Make up your mind.”

For one blissfully hopeful moment, Connor actually thought the other android might defend him. That maybe he had a glimmer of a chance. That he wasn’t all alone in this crumbling prison about to be ripped of everything that made him him.

But Nate just nodded to his companion, moral hesitation draining from him as he consented to Connor’s sentence. “Yeah, ok. You’re right,” he agreed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Good, finally something we can agree on,” Eric said before looking back at him in disgust. “Ugh, you’re still crying?” He complained.

That just frustrated him more. He was trying to stop crying. Trying to be the mature, advanced prototype that was still buried somewhere in his code. Trying to analyze the situation and make conclusions that would achieve an optimal outcome.

But there was nothing.

No hope. No way out. No chance that he was going to survive.

No reason to hold back anymore.

So finally, after so many days, so much grueling effort of clinging to his maturity, he let his mind finally succumb to the child he was.

There was only one thing he wanted now and dammit, he was going to make sure they knew it. He took in one deep breath. Then let it all out.

“I want dad!” Connor screamed at the top of his lungs. He shouted, cried, extruded every pent up emotion he had ever held back. Tears streamed down his face in messy rivers that he had no intention of stopping. “I want dad! I want dad! I WANT DAD!”

Connor punctuated his declarations with a long, unceasing, screech of displeasure that only grew in volume and intensity the more he sustained it. He stopped bothering to hold himself up, going limp and causing Eric to stumble as his tantrum brought him kicking and screaming to the dirty floor.

“Fuck!” Nate covered his ears, protecting his audio processor from the noise. “What the hell? Is this normal?”

Eric struggled, trying to pull the thrashing toddler to his feet with little success. “How the fuck would I know? Do I look child-friendly to you?”

Connor just continued screaming. He thoroughly and genuinely didn't care anymore what they had to say. He wanted his dad. That was the only thing he wanted, and he was going to scream unless he got his way.

“Make him shut up,” Nate demanded, as though either of them could make Connor do anything at this point.

“I’m trying!” The other android shook him, then grabbed at his face trying to force him into silence. His pathetic inexperience with children was no match for the full force of Connor’s tantrum and he only got louder as the meddling hands upset him even more.

“Fuck this.” Connor just barely heard the click of a gun over his own complaints. He paused in his torrent, seeing the very real threat of an immediate death in front of him before crying about that too.

“What the hell are you doing!” Eric shouted. He released Connor, swatting at his companion’s gun before he could discharge the loaded bullet. “I told you we can’t kill him!”

An odd sense of manic clarity filled Connor in that moment.

The door was open, he wasn’t restrained, the gun was loose in the assailant's grip.

Connor charged.

He charged, full sprint and threw every ounce of his diminished weight at the android’s gun hand. With one tug, he pulled it from his grip and rolled to the ground with the momentum.

“Shit!” Nate swore, now disarmed. He made a grab for Connor and he responded with the first instinct that came to mind.

He pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed painfully in the confined space. The recoil nearly had the gun flying from his tiny hands, but he kept it held tight in a deathgrip. Blue blood splattered in fractals across the cell. On the walls, floor, across Connor’s face.

“Fuck!” Eric exclaimed as his only response to the brand new hole in his companion’s chest.

Connor didn’t stick around to see if he would say or do anything else. He snapped into motion like he was spring loaded, barreling past his captors in a blind, unthinking panic. He had no plan, no strategy, no preconstructions, just a desperate will to live and enough fear to push him forward.

The front door was in view as soon as he reached the top of the basement stairs. Freedom, or at least the beginnings of it waited for him on the other side.

But that apparently wasn't the only thing waiting for him. Someone or something was pounding on the door, shouting incoherently through the heavy wood.

He skidded to a halt at the sound.

Panic continued to cloud his mind and he gripped the gun tighter. His fingers hurt from the pressure. He couldn't deal with another person that wanted to hurt him. He didn't know what they could possibly want, but they certainly sounded angry. He didn't trust it. Not even a little bit.

"Mrrrow?"

Connor gasped at the sound, the curious trill shaking him just enough to draw his attention. "Dog!" He cried, spying the cat at the top of the staircase to the second floor.

He only spared one final glance at the door to the unknown. He would take a soft, fluffy kitty over an angry, shouting, mystery any day and any time. He turned on his heel, altering his course to dart up the staircase and grabbing the startled ball of white fluff as he went.

There was commotion behind him in the foyer. It was loud. It was violent. Connor wanted nothing to do with it. Ducking into one of the numerous rooms, he tucked himself away from the chaos. Hiding, shaking in fear, and clinging painfully to both his cat and his gun.

Chapter 38: Tamagotchi

This was complete bullshit.

Gavin took the corner hard, not at all concerned about how the tires screeched on the pavement. It wasn’t his car, why should he care.

He’d rather it was his car. He’d rather be out on the investigation he actually cared about rather than being forced into a standard issue patrol car to follow some fucked up anonymous tip about squatters or some shit.

Who the hell even cared? So someone or ones were crashing in an abandoned building, why was that an issue? They weren’t hurting anyone. Maybe themselves since the place looked like the perfect place for a whole new species of mold to develop, but that was their problem, not his.

“Fuck this,” he swore out loud, despite being the only one in the car.

He got it, he did. Just because Connor was missing, didn’t mean the rest of the world stopped. And as far as the department was concerned, he was a good choice. Gavin knew he had been hard on Connor, downright antagonistic if he was being honest. Of course they would pick the guy who had been vocal about not liking the kid to work other cases.

But that was before. Yeah, they had a long way to go, but they were moving. The precinct just wasn’t the same without him and, fuck it, he missed him and wanted him home safe.

And now, instead of helping with the investigation, instead of finding Connor, he gets stuck on some bullshit domestic crap.

Gavin pulled up to the mansion and glared at it as though it were personally responsible for his current mood. He’d burn the whole place down if it meant he could get back to the case that mattered. But no, he was a good cop and was going to do his damn job.

He was just going to be pissed about it.

“Better get this shit over with,” he grumbled, kicking the car door open.

The whole building seemed quiet and undisturbed. Unkept dry grass crunched under his shoes as he made a semicircle around the house and tangling weeds threatened to trip him with every step. A quick check, that was all he intended to do. Then maybe a knock on the door to try scaring off the squatters. He didn't really care to put much more effort into the matter.

“Probably isn’t even anyone here,” Gavin grunted, only more annoyed at the waste of time.

Deciding that it wasn’t worth it to even go up to the door, he headed back to his car, shoving his hands in his pockets as he went. “Stupid, fucking, waste of time.” He kicked a stone as hard as he could. It bounced against the drive once before skittering into the underbrush near a parked van.

Gavin froze.

There was no way. It couldn’t be the same van. He scrambled for his phone, unlocking the screen and pulling up the security photo he had of the vehicle they believed took Connor. His hands were shaking from how perfectly they matched. He knew it was the same before he verified the license plate. Everything, even the dent in the rear bumper was the same.

He didn’t waste time with dispatch, choosing instead to call Captain Fowler directly. Gavin had never heard the Captain switch from irritated to downright hopeful in the span of a single sentence before, but that was sure as hell what happened as soon as he mentioned the van.

“Are you sure?” The Captain asked. It wasn’t in a doubting manner, he realized. He was gaging how much heat he should deploy on this. They couldn’t go in guns blazing without reasonable cause.

More importantly, he was probably trying to determine what to tell Hank.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said without hesitation. Gavin made a slow circle of the van, eliminating any and all doubts about the vehicle. He noted the tracks leading from it, like someone had been dragged. A tiny, painfully familiar shoe lay across the path like a gravemarker. “I’m damn sure. Connor’s here, I know he is.”

Every available officer, and several that were going to make themselves available, would be sent out immediately. For now, he just had to wait.

Fuck, he hated waiting.

Gavin knew it would only be a few minutes, that they would be there before he knew it, but it still felt like the seconds were ticking by like hours. Connor could be in that house right now. Just a door away. And here he was, standing in the weeds like a garden gnome.

The first squad car came silently, no siren so as not to alert anyone in the house they were there. He was so close to letting himself relax when it pulled up. But then, like a crack of lightning, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoed from within the house.

His feet were moving before Gavin could even register where instinct had led him. Fuck backup, they were close enough to count as being there. He had to get into that house now.

The door was, predictably, locked. He kicked at the heavy wood only succeeding in making a hollow thud.

“Fuck!” Gavin swore. He pounded on the solid barrier uselessly. If that shot had something to do with Connor, if he was hurt, or worse…

Chris appeared behind him, pulling him away from his useless assault on the door. He held up the lock-breaker with a small smirk indicating he had, in fact, witnessed his show of idiocy.

Damn it, he was getting to be as bad as Anderson.

The device did its job in seconds.

More officers had filed in, taking position, readying for the encounter as soon as the door opened. And Gavin didn’t give a shit. Screw protocol, he had one directive in mind and that was to find the kid. He’d kick the crap out of the assholes that took him if he got the chance, but that was lower on the to-do list.

By the looks on the faces of the other officers, he wasn’t alone in his thinking.

They filed in, more uncoordinated in their haste then they would be normally, but it was balanced by the singular focus of retrieving the little boy they had all managed to get so attached to.

The interior of the house was just as rundown as the outside. Dust and cobwebs had overgrown every surface like weeds had done to the exterior. Floorboards squeaked and cracked under their shoes, but not one of them slowed to think about how much noise they were making. This sure as hell wasn’t a stealth mission anymore.

It didn’t matter either way. The android they were looking for rounded the corner right then, evidently rushing up the stairs from the basement and distracted enough not to notice them immediately. Whatever he was running towards or from was apparently enough to hold his attention until it was too late to run.

To his credit, he followed the orders shouted at him and froze like a deer staring into high beams as soon as he saw the sea of police in the foyer.

Someone, Tina by the sound of it, took charge of issuing demands to the android suspect. It took someone who knew her like Gavin did to pick up on the slight tremor to her voice, the only thing giving away how emotional she was about the situation.

Gavin could hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears. They’d caught him. They actually caught him! But the blue blood that streaked across the android’s body was not giving him a good feeling. It didn’t appear to be his own, but it was fresh. It had to have come from somewhere.

Horrific visions of finding a much-too-small body clouded his mind, but he shook them away. Murderers didn’t run from dead bodies.

“Where’s the kid,” Chris demanded, voicing Gavin’s own thoughts.

The android, stubbornly exercised his right to silence, choosing instead to glare at them. The bastard probably knew that they didn’t have any proof he had actually taken Connor, just heavy suspicion. Not until they found him anyway.

They were going to find him, dammit.

With the suspect in custody, they finally began the search of the house. They went in pairs, making sure to have someone at their backs in case an unknown accomplice was hiding somewhere nearby, but Gavin wasn’t too worried about that. Especially after Ben called in that another android had been found, violent and wounded. One co-conspirator he would believe, but he felt it unlikely there were more. Still, he remained cautious and stuck close to Chris as they made their sweep of the upper floor.

They were being diligent, looking for anything out of place in the creepy house that looked like if Dr. Frankenstein was into sci-fi instead of horror. They expected creaking and clunking. Odd groaning from old wood. The meow surprised him.

“The hell?” he breathed to himself.

Gavin motioned for Chris to continue on then turned back to the closet door the sound had emanated from. If this dick was smuggling cats too, he was gonna be pissed.

With probably too little caution, Gavin opened the closet. It creaked on its hinges noisily and a tearful gasp was the only warning of what he would find inside.

“Connor!” Gavin cried, heart clenching at seeing the kid again. He was visibly scared, covered in blue blood, and holding both a cat and a gun, but very much alive.

The cat meowed again, displeased by how tightly the small android was holding it. Connor remained silent. He was shaking violently, eyes unfocused even as he stared at Gavin, gun pointed at his chest and finger hovering over the trigger. This wasn’t the overly rational robo-cop he was used to. This was a scared little boy.

He’d need to be careful.

“Hey,” he called softly, slowly crouching to his level. He’d dealt with traumatized kids before, but they usually weren’t armed. “It’s ok. It’s just me.”

Silent tears streamed down Connor’s dirty face in rivlets. The shaking didn’t stop.

Gavin dared to reach out to him, hoping the contact would comfort rather than startle Connor. He jerked as his fingers brushed against his arm, but thankfully didn’t shoot. “It’s ok,” he repeated. “Come on Tamagotchi, I’m gonna get you back to your dad.”

“D…dad?” He said, finally responding.

“Yeah, your dad.” Gavin moved closer, getting a gentle hand on him. The cat let out a low warning hiss that he largely ignored. “Hank’s been losing his shit worrying about you.”

“Dad,” Connor repeated shakily.

Gavin nodded slowly, deliberately, reassuring him and being careful not to do anything that would make him startle. “Yup, I’m gonna take you to your dad.”

His grip apparently relaxed enough for the cat to wiggle free of his tiny arms. It slid to the ground, ruffling its fluffy white fur and landing on all fours with a soft thump. It gave itself a couple of licks before trotting away unbothered. “Dog?” Connor’s tiny voice called after it.

He chose not to comment on the fact that it was quite obviously a cat. Gavin, a well known cat lover, would have gladly gone after the feline if he didn’t have something more important to focus on.

“It’s ok, let’s just get you home. We’ll get the cat later,” he promised. With the kid distracted he chanced going for the weapon, not trusting it in his terrified little hands. “I’m gonna take this, alright?”

“No!”

The response was immediate and frantic. He reared back, out of Gavin’s grasp, and clutched the gun tighter. His fake skin thinned where it stretched over his clenched knuckles whitening like it would on a human.

“Ok, alright!” Gavin relented automatically. He held up his hands in surrender, half certain the kid was actually going to shoot him. There was no way to really tell just how far the fear and panic was distorting his mind. “I won’t take it.”

“Y-you won’t?”

God, the kid was shaking so much he could blow him away by accident. That sure as hell wouldn’t be ideal. “No, you can keep it, ok?” Compromise, he needed to present a compromise. This may have been a scared little boy, but it was also still Connor. If anything was going to get through to him, calm him down, it was reason. “But let’s put it on safety, huh? How’s that, can we do that?”

Wide brown eyes blinked at him like they were only now really seeing him. “Safety?”

“Yeah, safety,” he repeated. Cautiously, Gavin reached for the gun again. “I’m gonna put the safety on. We both want to be safe, right?”

“S-safe,” Connor echoed unsteadily. Big, watery tears cascaded down his cheeks. “I… I want to be safe.”

“Ok.” Gavin reached the gun, flipping the little switch without protest from the tiny android. He was well aware it wasn’t a perfect solution, the thing was still plenty dangerous, but it was a start. “There we go. If you’re gonna shoot me, it sure as hell better not be when I’m rescuing you.”

Connor nodded, an unnatural jerking motion, but he finally lowered the gun. He was still crying, but there was more clarity in his eyes than he’d had since Gavin had found him. Progress. Definitely progress.

“Come on, kiddo,” Gavin’s hand moved from the gun to his shoulder, coaxing the boy forward into his awaiting arms. Never in his wildest imagination would he have imagined tucking Connor of all people into a protective hug, but here they were. “Let’s get you home.”

The tiny android nodded then wedged his head under Gavin’s chin, practically nuzzling him. Gavin’s heart sure as hell didn’t stutter at the affectionate gesture. He wasn’t that fond of the kid. Dammit. He held him a little tighter.

“It means ‘friend’,” Connor said suddenly through his sniffles.

“What’s that now?” Gavin asked, not following the kid’s thought process. He hoisted him up out of the closet, settling him comfortably against his chest. He ignored how the handle of the gun dug into his side as the boy clung to him.

“Tamagotchi,” he clarified, reminding him of the nickname he had used just a moment ago. “It comes from the Japanese word tomotachi, meaning ‘friend’.”

“Is it now?” He didn’t bother closing the door, turning away and beginning to make for the exit.

Connor nodded again, rubbing his wet nose on his shirt. That really should have grossed him out more than it did. “Does… does that mean we’re friends?”

Ok, wow. Shit. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. Not now, not when he was coming down from the adrenaline of finding the kid alive and reasonably well. But there it was all the same, and it wasn’t like he could just ignore the question.

“Yeah, we are,” Gavin admitted, less reluctantly than he intended. “But don’t you go spreading that around, you hear me? I’ll deny it if anyone asks.”

“That’s fair,” Connor agreed, fully concealing his face in Gavin’s shirt. “I’m glad you’re my secret friend.”

Dammit, no wonder the kid had melted Hank’s heart so thoroughly. This shit was hard to resist.

They continued down the hall and Chris ducked out of the room he had just cleared. His eyes went wide as soon as he saw the bundle in Gavin’s arms. “Connor?”

“Call it in,” he told the other officer. He’d do it himself, but his hands were currently occupied. “Sooner we get him back to Anderson, the better.”

Chris immediately agreed, calling it in through the radio and giving Connor a gentle head ruffle. Connor didn’t respond much. He kept his face buried in the soft fabric, leaving a wet spot where he continued to cry.

“Oh,” Gavin called to Chris before leaving. “Keep your eyes open for a cat. It’s Connor’s.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, descending the staircase and heading to the front door. Out of that shithole of a house. Away from the assholes that kidnaped him. Out of danger. The kid’s weight in his arms made his heart feel lighter than it had in ages.

Gavin’s radio was still on, he heard the replies to Chris’s announcement, but he didn’t really care. He ignored the exclamations of joy along with the various reports that filled in from throughout the house. Android bodies, parts, evidence of horrific experimentation. Even the heavily decayed body that was apparently found in the backyard. He ignored all of it. All that mattered right now, was the scared little boy in his arms that needed his father.

Chapter 39: Lost and Found

Notes:

I'm so sorry I missed last week. I have no excuse besides straight up forgetting until I didn't have access to a computer anymore. Hope you all enjoy.

Jeffery wasn’t driving fast enough.

Yeah, yeah, he was going probably thirty miles over the limit, lights on and siren blaring, but they weren’t there yet, so it wasn’t fast enough. Hank was losing his goddamn mind.

Fowler said the report had come in, that Connor had been found. There was no indication as to what state his kid was in, or even if he was alive, but there was enough gray area that Hank dared to hope. Dared to consider the thought that he might be moments away from seeing his boy again.

“Dammit Jeffery, how much longer?” Hank demanded. His whole body felt like it was on fire with anticipation.

He could’ve done without the Captain’s annoyed sigh. “Faster if you don’t annoy me,” he shot back before softening. “We’ll get there, Hank. Not much longer.”

Not much longer, fuck that. Every second felt like hours. His heart was pounding in his chest like he had run a marathon and his stomach twisted into nauseous knots. He needed to see Connor. Even if… even if it was just closure. He needed to see him.

Hank didn’t really register the shitty house creeping into view beyond the fact that it was their destination. They pulled up and he was kicking the door open before the car was even in park. He was thwarted by the seat belt he forgot he was wearing. It pulled back, sticking him to his seat and unrelentingly not wanting to unlatch with the frantic force being applied to it.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Jeffery pushed him back, stilling him enough to undo the buckle himself and release the Lieutenant.

Hank didn’t bother thanking him before charging out of the car. He left the door open, not willing to spare the second it would take to close it.

He was forced to stagger to a stop however, the pandemonium that was the house’s front lawn making it impossible to decipher where he should look. Every goddamn officer the force could spare was here. That was fine, it was good they were taking this seriously, but dammit they had all gotten here first. He scanned the throngs of people and emergency vehicles feverishly, trying to pick out a tiny head of dark brown curls.

“Anderson!” He heard Gavin call to him over the commotion. “Your brave little toaster’s over here.”

He turned and, sure enough, there he was. Connor. His baby boy. He was sitting by Reed in the back of an android emergency service vehicle, swaddled in a light blue blanket, and shaking. But he was alive.

Hank didn’t even register moving. One second he was staring in euphoric disbelief, the next he was crouching before his kid. “Connor?” His hands hovered, afraid to touch him in fear it would somehow dispel the illusion.

Connor blinked slowly in response to his name. He didn’t immediately register that Hank was there. He just sat, shivering, tears rolling down his cheeks until his terrified brown eyes finally rose to meet his. His crying only intensified when he recognized him. “Daddy?”

Oh how a single word could both mend and tear his heart to pieces. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, then pulled him into his arms, now more afraid he needed to hold the boy together than he was of breaking him. How scared must his son be to call him that? Not Hank, not Dad. Daddy.

“I’m here, son,” Hank said between the kisses he was pressing into his disheveled hair. “It’s ok. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“S-safe,” Connor sobbed in agreement. His small, sharp, synthetic fingernails dug into Hank’s shirt and skin alike as he clung to him desperately. “I’m… I’m s-safe.”

“Tech says he’s ok,” Gavin chimed in. “Few bumps and bruises, but nothing serious. He’s mostly just shaken up.”

“Thanks, Gavin,” Hank sighed. He could finally breathe again. He didn’t even know he had been choking, but he could breathe now. Connor was ok.

“Yeah, well. Whatever,” he said, dismissively. But there was a noticeable softness to his voice. He reached over to gently pet Connor's head. Hank knew Gavin had been worried too, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“I’m safe,” Connor sobbed again. His muffled voice was as wet as Hank’s shirt. “I’m ok. Why am I still crying?”

“Shh, because it’s safe too,” Hank cooed at him. He rubbed Connor’s back, hoping to ease some of his fears. His own tears threatened to spill over, but they were from relief and joy. “It’s ok to cry. You have every right to cry.”

Evidently, he didn’t need any more invitation. Connor melted into a puddle of sobs that shook his entire, tiny body.

And Hank, he took a sense of comfort from them.

Yes, Connor was crying. It broke his heart as it always did to see his boy so upset. But he was alive to be upset. He was alive. He was ok. He was well enough to express his emotions. There was no way in hell Hank was going to take that for granted.

So he held him tight, taking in each sob as a precious gift.

“Why don’t you two head home,” Gavin suggested. “Get some rest, unwind. I think you both need it.”

Heaven forbid Reed actually have a decent suggestion. “That sounds nice,” he admitted. He wanted Connor home.

Hank wrapped the shock blanket tighter around his son’s shoulders before standing. His knees popped and cracked as he lifted Connor, making him feel even older than he was.

“I’ll bring the cat by later,” Gavin promised offhandedly.

“Cat?” Hank asked, confused, but Gavin just waved his hand dismissively and the question went unanswered.

“Come on,” Hank heard someone call from behind him before he could reiterate his confusion. “The Captain brought you, right? I’ll take you guys home.”

Hank nodded even before he looked up at his old friend, Gavin’s remark taking a backseat to the prospect of getting Connor home. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure,” Ben responded with the warmest smile he had seen on the guy in years.

He guided both Hank and his crying bundle of android to one of the numerous patrol cars surrounding the dilapidated mansion. “Sorry to make you miss out on the investigation,” he apologized, really taking in the bustle of activity for the first time. Jeffery wasn’t kidding when he said they were going to throw everything they had at this. Not that he was complaining, of course.

“I think they can spare me,” Ben assured them. He got them settled into the passenger side of the car. There was no way in hell Connor was leaving Hank’s arms, so the Lieutenant was going to need to act as the kid’s seatbelt. Normally not something either of them would condone, but that was beside the point. “Besides,” he went on, gently patting Connor’s back. “We have what’s important.”

Hank placed another kiss on the top of the sniffling lump’s head. “Fuck, you’ve got that right,” he sighed.

The trip home both went slowly and was over in an instant. Hank just clung to his boy who had no intention of moving from his dad’s secure arms. And he had no intention of putting him down.

Even after they said their goodbyes to Ben and made their way inside, he held him. Even when Sumo excitedly greeted them at the door, happy to have his favorite android back home, he didn’t let go.

And that night, when they finally let the adrenaline from the day die down enough to sleep, Hank didn’t even consider tucking Connor into his own bed, unwilling to be separated from him even in unconsciousness. With his boy cuddled up next to him like a teddy bear, Hank was able to get his first good night's sleep in days.

Notes:

Well, there's the majority of the story. I've got a few more chapters of pure fluff and an epilogue, but thank you to everyone who has stuck with it this far. <3

Chapter 40: A Good Morning

Notes:

And now, fluff.

Even before he fully awoke, Connor knew he was safe. He was holding his turtle, the bed under him was soft and comfortable, and the sheets smelled like Hank. he sighed contently before blinking his eyes open and taking stock of his surroundings.

Contentment shifted to confusion.

It wasn’t odd that he was in Hank’s room. Ever since he had been found he had been sleeping in his dad’s bed rather than his own. What was odd was that Hank wasn’t there. He usually didn’t let Connor out of his sight.

By order of Captain Fowler, they were both off of work until Connor was an adult again. After everything that had happened, he hadn’t even begun to argue. The case was closed after all, Eric and Nate had both been caught. Apparently, once they were brought in and Nate had been repaired from the bullet wound, he had told them everything.

Connor yawned, his processor needing the extra cooling as he booted up properly.

While it was strange for dad to get up without him, he didn’t fret about it. Judging from the sounds coming from the kitchen, that was where Hank had gone.

Evidently, the house he had been held at once belonged to the late Zlatko Andronikov. The man himself, or what was left of him, had been found on the back lawn. He had been mauled, and left to decompose some time ago, so there was little to define him by.

It was Kara, the AX400 he had chased back during the revolution, that had come forward with the identification. Evidently she and her family had been the ones that called in the tip on the house that ended up saving his life.

Connor grabbed Gavin the turtle and slipped out of the bed, pajama shirt bunching as he set his little feet on the floor.

He had gotten the chance to meet with Kara and her family the other day. He had been… less than dignified during the encounter. Connor had sobbed out an apology for how he had pursued them when he was a machine peppered with gratitude for their actions that ended up saving him.

He stretched, loosening the synthetic muscles that had settled during the night.

Kara had actually hugged him once he finished with his less than coherent babble. She told him it was hard to stay mad at someone so sweet.

Connor hoped the sentiment carried over when he was an adult again.

The noises from the kitchen included talking, so he assumed Hank was on the phone. He didn’t use quite that tone when he talked to Sumo and it certainly wasn’t loud enough for his dad to be calling to him.

As brutally as this Zlatko man had died, Connor could only feel so much sympathy for him. He had made a business for himself of abducting deviant androids and experimenting on them and selling them. It was barbaric, especially hearing Markus’s account of the state some of them had been in when they had made it to New Jericho.

“Come on, Dog,” he called to the cat sleeping contently on his pillow. She stretched, twitching and claws extending before settling back down to ignore the summons.

Gavin had brought Dog over the day after he had gotten home, much to Connor’s joy and Hank’s confusion. He could tell that Dad wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of keeping Dog, but hadn’t fought it too hard.

She had been one of Zlatko’s experiments, which was why she was in the state she was when Connor found her. Fortunately, the experience hadn’t seemed to traumatize her too much and she was adjusting to life as a pampered house cat. Even Sumo liked having a new fluffy friend.

Connor wandered out into the living room, pausing for a moment to watch his dad fumble around in the kitchen before he realized he was there. He looked happy today, smiling and even laughing with whoever he was talking to.

“I’m just glad we finally caught the asshole,” he was saying. “Fucker doesn’t get to mess with my kid and get away with it.”

Eric… had also been one of Zlatko’s victims.

Connor was tempted to feel sorry for him, to sympathize. But his time in that hell had warped him into a sadistic man with less empathy than a machine. He fully believed that if an android was unregistered, that made them a fair target. That they were a drain on society and its resources and were better off sold as scrap.

How his mind had gotten so twisted, and how Nate had gotten involved, Connor wasn’t sure. Everyone was being frustratingly sparse with what information they were sharing with him while he was still small.

Which was fair, he supposed.

His little body could only process so much and even Connor had to admit what he had been through was traumatic. It was probably a good idea to take the time off he had been given to process and adjust so he could be ready to return to work once he was an adult again.

Besides, with his body finally in for repair, his days as a child were numbered. He intended to enjoy them while they lasted.

Connor finally made his way into the kitchen and Hank smiled warmly, noticing him enter. “Yeah, he just got up,” he told the person on the phone. “I’ll ask him and get back to you, alright?”

“Good morning,” Connor greeted as soon as he hung up the phone.

“Morning, kiddo,” Hank said as he picked him up without a second thought, not that Connor was surprised. He had practically lived in his dad’s arms the past few days. He set him on the counter so he could be more at eye level while he continued making his breakfast.

“Who was that on the phone?” Connor asked when he didn’t immediately volunteer the information.

Hank stirred at the scrambled eggs on the stove, cursing as the edges started to burn. “Markus,” he answered, scraping at the bits that were sticking. “He was checking in, wanted to know how you were doing.”

“Yeah?” He prompted, knowing from Hank’s own comment there was more, something he apparently needed to talk to him about. “Did he have any news about my body?”

“He did, actually. Yeah.” Hank shut off the stove and transferred his eggs to a clean plate. Flakes of burnt egg decorated it like some kind of sad confetti. “Damn it.”

“Well? What did he say?” Connor wasn’t particularly comforted by how elusive the Lieutenant was being.

Hank looked up, then deposited the burnt pan into the sink. He tried not to be a bit smug at the fact he wasn’t the only one who could struggle in the kitchen sometimes. His dad took the plate in one hand, then settled Connor back onto his hip with the other. “Well… he says it’s done.”

Connor blinked, the information taking a moment to properly sink in. “Wait, done? As in, I can transfer? I can be big again?” He was sure his dad could feel him buzzing with excitement.

He shook as Hank chuckled before setting him in one of the kitchen chairs. “Good lord, could you be in any more of a hurry to grow up?”

“Sorry,” he apologized insincerely. “I’m just excited. It feels like I’ve been six for ages.”

“It’s been two weeks, that’s not ages.” He pulled a face when he took his first bite of eggs, but kept eating them anyway.

“I know,” Connor conceded. He swung his feet and picked at a loose thread on Gavin. He needed to fidget, to move. Hopefully his quarter was still in his adult pocket, the nickel just wasn’t the same. “It just feels like it. I’m ready to have my body back.”

Hank was quiet for a long moment, his fork clicked against the plate as he scraped at his food. “Would it be terrible if you were a kid for a little longer?”

Connor stopped fidgeting. “What?”

Hank sighed, getting up to dispose of what was left of his eggs. “Look, it’s not… shit, that probably sounded bad, didn’t it? Fuck.”

“What is it, Hank?” Connor asked. He'd be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned, but he trusted his dad. “Why do you want me to stay a kid?”

“I don’t” he insisted immediately. “Dammit. You know I love you kid or adult, that’s not what I meant.”

He turned to face him, looking up at his father curiously. It seemed like he was trying to craft his sentence carefully to avoid offending him, but was picking the wrong options. “What did you mean then?” he prompted.

Hank sighed. “It’s just that, well. Simon said that uploading you to your new… or old, I guess, body would take a while, yeah?”

“That’s right,” Connor confirmed. “It will take between ten to fifteen hours.”

“Right, well…” he scratched at his chin absently, “I was kinda hoping we could do something special today.”

Was that all? Connor didn’t see why that was made into such a big deal. “Can’t we do whatever it is another day?”

“Well, that would kinda defeat the purpose,” Hank laughed. He deposited the dirty dish in the sink before wandering back over to him. His amused expression indicated that there was something he was missing. “You… don’t know what today is, do you?”

For the life of him, Connor couldn’t deduce a proper answer. “...Monday?”

“Oh, kid,” Hank sighed, crouching down to be at eye level with him. The kind smile never left his face. No matter how many times he saw it, Connor still managed to be amazed by how much affection his father could display for him with just one look. “It’s your birthday.”

He blinked, quietly acknowledging the reality that it was, in fact, the fifteenth of august. His official release date. “Oh, I guess it is.”
Hank’s hand found its way to Connor’s head and he ruffled his hair. He didn’t resist leaning into the touch, enjoying the sensation. “Leave it to you to forget your own birthday.”
“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. Admittedly, birthdays weren’t really a thing androids tended to celebrate, but he was also aware that it was a big deal for Hank.

His dad just gave him another ruffle. “No reason to be sorry, kiddo,” he insisted. “And if you want to head right to New Jericho, if you want to grow up right away, that’s fine. I’m not gonna fight you on that, I know you want your body back. But…” he drew out the word meaningfully, giving him an enticing smirk. “If you can stand being a kid for a few more hours, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Well, how was he supposed to resist that? A surprise? He couldn’t just leave it a mystery like that. He had to know.

“I… suppose I can be a kid for a little while longer.”

Hank laughed again before planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Good. Go get ready then, I’ll get everything set up.”

Connor slid off the chair but paused. “Where are we going?” He asked, already trying to work out the mystery.

“It’s a surprise, Connor,” Hank scolded, already taking out his phone, presumably to get things ready for today. “That means I don’t tell you shit.”

He didn’t pout, but Hank would probably argue that was the expression he used. “But how will I know what to wear?”

His dad rolled his eyes and gave him a gentle push towards his room. “Just wear whatever, we’re not going to the fuckin’ opera.”

Well, that was some information at least, Connor mused making his way to his room. Although, the opera wasn’t really on his list of possibilities anyway. Still, normal clothes suggested nothing too out of the ordinary. Maybe they were going to the bookshop? Not that going there would be something different. They had been frequenting the place since he had gotten back.

Much to Connor’s relief, the sexual tension had eased between Hank and Mr. Mars. They had been talking a lot, actually. Conversing for hours on end, leaving him to happily peruse the crime fiction section uninterrupted. It was nice.

Connor pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a new polo before wiggling his feet into a pair of brightly colored socks. He figured he could indulge himself with less professional attire on the mostly concealed article of clothing. Especially since he wasn’t working.

Whatever Hank had planned for the day, he was sure he was going to like it.

-o-

“Wait, I thought we weren’t going to New Jericho?” Connor asked, confused. He may not have a great view from where he sat, but he knew the way to Bell Island by heart.

He could see Hank’s amused expression in the rearview mirror as he looked back at him. “We’re not,” he said cryptically.

Connor swung his feet both in frustration and anticipation. “Then where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” his dad laughed, leaving him to his puzzlement.

He crossed his arms in a very mature and not at all petulant way. “Or, you could just tell me,” he supplied.

“Nice try, kiddo.” He shook his head, but kept his eyes on the road. “Just be patient, we’re almost there.”

Connor had come to learn over his brief childhood that patience wasn’t something he particularly excelled at. Especially when there was a mystery involved. He wanted to know the answers, and he wanted to know them right away.

Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t working. Trying to solve cases would be agonizing.

He swung his feet, played with his turtle, and waited impatient for the situation to resolve itself. Consciously, Connor knew it was only a couple of minutes, but to his child-like mind, it felt like hours before they finally arrived.

He couldn’t see the sign telling them where they were until after Hank had unbuckled him and helped him out of the car.

“Leave Gavin here,” he told him, gesturing to the turtle, but Connor wasn’t paying attention anymore.

“The aquarium!” He gasped happily reading the words plastered bold across the building. “It’s the aquarium, we’re seeing fish!”

His ecstatic run was cut short before it could really begin as Hank grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Hey, no running off,” he scolded. “And for fuck’s sake, I said leave the turtle here. I don’t want you losing it and crying about it later.”

“Sorry.” Connor gave his dad a sheepish smile, bouncing on his heels in anticipation as he handed Gavin to tuck back into the car. He loved fish, he wanted to see them up close.

Hank chuckled, locking the car with one hand and reaching for Connor with the other. He accepted the contact without a thought. “I’m glad you’re excited, kiddo,” he told him. “But I’m serious, no running off. This is a big place and there are a lot of people. You gotta stick by me, alright?”

Only half paying attention and already trying to get Hank to move towards the entrance, Connor nodded. “Right.”

“Never fuckin’ listens,” he sighed following after his kid. “Thank God for backup.”

Connor was too determined to get in and see the fish to acknowledge or care about the comment, but as they approached the aquarium it became evident that the crowd surrounding the entrance wasn’t just waiting around to get in.

At the center of the mass of people, expertly ignoring the comments and stares, were a group of very familiar public figures.

“Good, everyone’s here,” he heard his dad tell him over the commotion. “Common, time to fuckin’ celebrate.”

They pushed their way forward and his excitement only grew as they got closer to his friends and brother. Markus smiled at him, and Connor began to think there might just be something to this whole ‘birthday’ thing after all.

Chapter 41: Happy Birthday

It was a genuine rarity that the entirety of New Jericho’s leadership had a day off together. In fact, Markus could easily count the occurrences on one hand and have a few fingers to spare. It was an opportunity that none of them were eager to squander.

Besides, the sheer manic joy Connor was expressing at having his friends there for his birthday was well worth missing a couple of stuffy meetings.

Even Josh had made it back in time for the event. He had always intended to try to be home in time for Connor’s birthday, but with his current stature, he had made it a priority. As he had told Markus, he would rather face the revolution again than miss out on this.

And, in all honesty, they probably needed Josh here. Connor’s excitement at being with his friends was only overshadowed by the notion of being absolutely surrounded by fish. He happily bounded from room to room, pointing at various sea life and stating obscure facts that you wouldn't find on their little descriptive plaques. He was hard to keep track of, even with five adults making it their top priority.

Poor Hank looked like he was seriously regretting not putting the kid on a leash.

Still, none of them regretted bringing him. Seeing Connor so exuberant melted the anxiety that had clouded Markus’s heart when he heard he had gone missing. His little brother was safe. He was well. He was happy.

He was climbing into the touch tank.

“Connor, no!” Hank scolded, picking him up before he could get any farther.

“But the anemone!” Connor protested, arm still outreached as though he could will it closer. “Did you know some are highly toxic even to humans? Not that one, but some are.”

“That’s great,” the Lieutenant sighed, blowing a strand of hair from his face. He set him back on his feet, but kept one hand firmly on his shoulder. “You don’t need to go swimming with it.”

Oh that pout. Markus was going to miss the raw display of emotions Connor had come to embrace as a child. He sincerely hoped he would retain some of it rather than reverting to the subdued, almost apologetic way he usually expressed himself.

“Look at this, Connor,” Markus said, trying to direct his attention to a much closer bit of sea life. He reached into the tank himself, gently caressing the starfish attached to the wall there.

Connor’s excited gasp suggested he was successful. Hank relinquished his hold so he could move to where Markus directed. His tiny fingers pet the sea creature with a gentleness that would be abnormal for any other six-year-old.

“You know,” Josh supplied, reverting back to his educational programing, “Sea stars eat mussels and clams. They use the suckers on their arms to pry them open.”

Connor nodded in enthusiasm, curly hair bobbing as he did. “Yeah! They turn their stomach inside out and digest it while it’s still in the shell!”

Hank wrinkled his nose at the tidbit of information. “That’s… neat…”

Encouraged by the Lieutenant’s apparent interest, Connor took that as his cue to prattle on about the various digestive habits of the touch tank’s inhabitants.

Markus watched in somber amusement.

“It’s a shame he’s growing up today,” North said quietly, expressing his own sentiment as she took a seat next to him. “He looks so happy.”

He moved, so she had more space on the small ledge, then snaked his arm around her waist. “I think, as long as he has the Lieutenant, he will be happy either way.”

“I know.” Her head found its way onto his shoulder. “It’s cute how much he loves his dad. It just seems that he doesn’t let himself be happy when he’s an adult.”

There was definitely some truth to that. “Perhaps, now that he’s had a childhood, that will change.”

North didn’t say anything in denial or agreement. Instead, they both watched contently as Hank wrangled a giggling Connor away from the water once again. “I think we’re ready for this,” she said. He could hear her smile in her voice. “Our kid is going to be amazing.”

Markus entwined his fingers with hers. They had talked about this already. After Connor finished with the child body and Simon ran some tests to work out any bugs he discovered in the unofficial test run, they were going to utilize it as it was intended. They were going to be parents. It was exciting, but the reality of it was still daunting.

“I think you’re right,” he agreed anyway. The prospect of having their own kid was enough to numb the silent ache that was the knowledge that Connor would soon be an adult again.

They watched Connor attempt to convince the Lieutenant that it was, in fact, entirely necessary that he pet the bright-colored fish that had just swam out of reach. “I think Hank is ready to have Connor back to full size,” North mused.

Markus knew it would be bittersweet for the Lieutenant too. As exhausted as the man was from chasing after the boy, he also enjoyed the toddler’s antics. “Perhaps. I know Connor is excited, and that’s really all that matters.”

Simon helped Hank pull a disappointed Connor from the edge of the tank. “Maybe you should have just taken him to that bookstore,” he laughed, handing the boy to his father. “He would probably be less of a handful there.”

“Eh, maybe. Depends on the book.” Hank bounced Connor on his hip. “What do you think? Would you rather be at the bookstore?”

Connor’s little face scrunched and his eyes went wide like the question was a serious matter to consider. “I… like books,” he admitted. “But fish…”

“It’s ok, bud.” Hank kissed the side of his head and set him back on his feet. “You don't need to choose or anything, just teasing you.”

“Yeah,” North agreed, sitting up with a mischievous smile. “Besides, there’s no way Hank is going to stop going to the bookstore. From what I’ve heard, he’s very well acquainted with the owner.”

Hank’s face turned pink almost instantly. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

“I’ve got my sources,” she laughed. “Bit young for you, isn’t he, grandpa?”

“Fuck you!”

“Language, Lieutenant,” Markus scolded. “There are children.” While it was nothing Connor hadn’t heard before, there were other little ones about that probably didn’t have a father with quite so colorful a vocabulary. “And North, must you antagonize him?”

“Absolutely.” She grinned at him without a shred of remorse, not that he expected it. Markus suspected he would never truly understand the push and pull relationship between the Lieutenant and his fiancé.

“Dad does talk to Mr. Mars a lot,” Connor observed, completely missing North’s insinuation. “Is that odd?”

“Not at all,” North assured him. She got him to come closer so she could lift him onto her lap. “In fact, I’m impressed. Should be good for him. So long as he doesn’t break a hip, that is.”

Connor opened his mouth, presumably to ask how being ‘friends’ with Shaun Mars could result in a broken hip, but Josh cut him off, eager to change the subject. “As great as it is, discussing the Lieutenant’s personal life, maybe we should move on? I think there’s an octopus exhibit up ahead.”

“Cephalopods!” Connor blurted with infectious enthusiasm.

All of their attention was pulled from teasing Lieutenant Anderson and back to the birthday boy as he bounded excitedly towards the exhibit, hands still dripping from their time in the touch tank.

The leaders of New Jericho and the head of the DPD’s android crimes division had no option besides chasing after the toddler in rather undignified fashion. Not even Markus’s preconstruction software could predict the erratic yet efficient path his little brother took through the crowd of other patrons.

“Connor!” He heard Hank call in frustration as they pursued him.

Josh, having been the one closest to that particular exit, was the one to actually catch Connor. He cut him off and grabbed him around the waist, hoisting the kid into the air while his little legs swung in the air like he was still trying to run. “Hey, hey. Not so fast,” he scolded. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

Undeterred, he reached for the glass of the first octopus display. “Did you know their blood is blue, like ours?” he prattled, no remorse for the mad dash he had just made. “They’re like androids of the sea!”

“Yeah… sure… ok,” Hank panted as he stumbled in to meet with the rest of the group. He waved his hand disconjointedly indicating he wanted Josh to hand Connor over which he did. Instead of holding him, he set him on the ground with a hand firmly on each shoulder. “I told you not to run off like that.”

Connor, at least, had the sense to look sheepish under his father’s stern glare. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Hank took a deep breath, a challenge after his recent sprint, and sighed. “Just don’t do it again, alright? We’ll see everything, there’s no need to give me a heart attack.”

“Right, ok,” Connor nodded dutifully in agreement, but Markus could tell even from where he was standing he was only just paying attention to the request. Ever focused on his ‘mission’, he was just eager to get back to looking at the sea life and was ready to agree to any of Hank’s terms to make that happen.

The Lieutenant could tell too, if his eye roll was anything to go by.

“Come on then,” North laughed, taking Connor’s hand firmly and guiding him out from under his father’s frustrated grip. “Let's all go and look at the octopuses.”

Connor lit up, eagerly agreeing to the suggestion and only pausing to look to Hank for approval. How the Lieutenant could withstand those puppy eyes in any fashion, Markus would never know.

“Yeah, yeah,” he gestured at the tank nearest to them. A yellow creature with blue spots used its tentacles to crawl across the floor of its enclosure without any care for the outside observers. “That's why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Oh, the way Connor’s face could light up never failed to warm his systems. He needed no more invitation, rushing to the tanks and prattling on about the different species while North struggled to keep hold of his tiny hand.

“At least he can’t climb into these tanks,” Markus remarked to Hank as they followed behind his brother and fiancé.

Hank let out an unamused scoff, crossing his arms in front of him as they walked. “Are you actually daring to underestimate Connor?”

“That is… an uncomfortably fair point,” he admitted with a slightly nervous chuckle. Honestly, there was no telling what Connor was capable of when he put his mind to it. He ‘always completed his mission’ after all. And right now, that mission was to see some octopuses.

Or so he thought.

Apparently he had taken North’s words to heart and he was now determined that they all needed to be present, or it didn’t count. He noticed that they were lagging behind and immediately prompted them to join him. “Come on, you’re missing it!”

What exactly they were supposedly missing, Markus had no clue, but they still joined the rest of the group for Connor’s detailed lecture on octopus anatomy. Admittedly, it was all good information. Just not anything any of them were particularly eager to learn about. Still, they all loved Connor and were simply pleased to see him so happy.

It was certainly a welcome sight after everything that had happened, and Markus wasn’t about to take it for granted.

Chapter 42: Healthy Choices

After they had thoroughly explored the various tanks and exhibits, the crew found themselves in the aquarium’s tightly packed gift shop. Where Connor had been full of boundless energy before, he now seemed to shrink behind Hank, almost as though he were hiding from the displays of aquatic-themed merchandise.

Not that Markus could really blame him. There were enough people here that he was feeling claustrophobic.

“Go on,” the Lieutenant tried to prompt him. “Go pick something out.”

Connor looked at Hank like he’d just asked him to single handedly solve world hunger. “What… What am I supposed to get?”

A subjective choice without a clear answer resulting in someone spending money on him in a way he likely believed he didn't deserve. It was really no wonder he was hesitant. It appeared that, even as a little boy, the damage CyberLife had done to his self-esteem was still present. That wouldn’t, of course, stop any of them from doting on him.

“Whatever you want,” Markus encouraged gently. He took Connor’s small hand, trying to coax him out from his hiding place behind Hank’s legs. “Come on, the Lieutenant wants to get you something. You wouldn’t want to deprive him of that, would you?”

Connor’s eyes went wide and his head snapped towards Hank for confirmation. The Lieutenant, not missing a beat, nodded with an exaggerated pout. “It’d break my fuckin’ heart.”

“Oh!” His grip tightened in Markus’s hand and his mouth gaped in horror at the concept. “Ok, let’s go.”

And there it was, the most effective way to convince Connor to do something. Was it manipulative? Probably. But as long as they were using the strategy to better the boy’s life, he figured no one would mind.

“Well, since you’re all set with that, we’re gonna borrow Hank for a minute,” North declared, threading her arm around his elbow.

“But-” Connor began to protest immediately before she reassured him.

“Just for a bit,” she insisted. “We need his help getting some things out of the car. He’ll be back well in time to fork over the credit card for whatever you pick out.”

Markus was well aware that neither Connor nor Hank were entirely comfortable being out of each other’s sight after what had happened. But he also knew that the sort of paranoid dependency something like that could breed would be unhealthy. It was a small step North was pushing them towards, but an important one.

What's more, it was something he had already discussed thoroughly with Hank.

“I’ll be back soon, little fish,” the Lieutenant told the boy. He leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the top of his head. “You’ll be with Markus the whole time, don’t worry.”

Connor still didn’t look convinced, but nodded in agreement.

With Connor’s tentative consent, the rest of the crew squeezed their way out of the shop leaving the brothers alone. “What do you want to talk to me about?” the boy asked once they were gone.

The question caught Markus by surprise. “What?”

“You wanted Dad gone, I assumed you wanted to talk to me about something,” he reasoned, looking up at him with soft, inquiring eyes.

Markus just smiled. Still perceptive, even as a child, it would seem. “No, I don’t have anything in particular that needs discussion,” he insisted. “At least, nothing that requires the Lieutenant’s absence. We just felt that it would do you both good to spend a little time apart.”

“Why? I like being with Dad,” Connor said, clearly offended by the idea.

He wasn’t sure if Connor’s regression would prevent him from understanding, but Markus strived to be open and honest with his little brother. “We are trying to avoid the development of unhealthy attachment habits,” he explained softly. “With what happened… well, it would be easy for the two of you to become codependent.”

Connor was silent for a long moment. He stood there with Markus, people bustling around them and paying them little mind besides those who stared, recognizing him as a public figure. His face was drawn into a frown as though in concentration. “Ok,” he said finally.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t like it,” he admitted with a pout, “But I understand the concern.” He looked back up at Markus, a hint of his logical side gracing his expression. “I want Dad to be healthy, after all.”

“Well, of course,” he agreed. It was always about the wellbeing of the other with these two. “But that’s not what we should be focusing on right now, is it?”

Connor’s little frustrated face was priceless. No doubt he had been hoping they would forget about the task of having him pick something out. It was amusing, honestly. He’d happily drag them all across the aquarium without a thought, but having to choose a gift for himself? That he struggled with.

“Can’t you just pick for me?” he tried.

“Oh no, that’s not how this works. You need to choose something you like.” Markus gave his hand a squeeze and started leading him through the aisles of toys and trinkets. He used his own body to protect the child from the larger and less observant patrons that might step on him. “Why don’t we see if we can find something before your father gets back, hm? I think you can manage a mission like that.”

A somewhat cruel part of him was going to miss how easily Connor could be manipulated as a child. He could practically see him accept the ‘mission’, all focus now shifting to the task at hand. Connor would always be Connor.

“Ok,” he nodded, already looking as though he were identifying parameters for his search.

Predictably, Markus had to guide those parameters a bit. It took a little convincing, but he managed to direct Connor away from locating the absolute cheapest item in the shop and focus on something he would actually enjoy.

What he eventually chose didn’t surprise him either.

“Wow, look at that,” Hank praised as he maneuvered his way back into the gift shop. The others weren’t with him, so Markus assumed they were rejoining them once they finished here. He gestured at the stuffed octopus in Connor’s arms. “Good choice.”

Connor beamed, and held it up proudly, happy that he had ‘succeeded’ in his mission. It was bright blue with purple accents and was large enough that the tentacles would drag on the ground if he wasn’t careful. “It’s an octopus!” He declared despite it being obvious.

“Yeah, it sure as hell is,” Hank acknowledged. He picked up both the child and the stuffed animal, settling him comfortably onto his hip like he was molded to fit there. “Come on, let’s get that paid for then I need some lunch. Last thing we need is for me to start getting hangry on you.”

“No one wants that,” Markus agreed. He’d seen the Lieutenant with low blood sugar. It wasn’t pretty.

“The others already headed to the cafeteria,” Hank said as they began walking. “Said they’d find a place to set up.”

Connor frowned, looking confused at that last part. “What do they need to set up?”

“You’ll see,” Markus chuckled. He knew damn well Connor would be less inclined to come quietly if he was aware of the little party they were getting ready for him. Best to let him be surprised.

Instead of graciously accepting the suspense, he turned his attention to his father and reiterated the question. “What are they setting up?”

Hank just smiled knowingly at him. It briefly turned into a grimace when the octopus was rung up and he saw the price, but he hid it well. Last thing any of them needed was Connor doubting his choice.

If it turned out to be too much of an issue, Markus would gladly reimburse the Lieutenant. After all, it had been his job to help him pick something.

With the octopus, officially named ‘Henry’ as Connor proudly declared, purchased and properly gifted, it was time to squeeze their way out of the cramped gift shop. They maneuvered themselves, Hank careful to keep a solid hold on his kid and Markus making sure the stuffed animal’s swinging tentacles didn’t get caught on anything.

Connor no longer seemed bothered by the crowd, content to rest easily in his father’s arms, holding onto both Hank and Henry.

Markus saved a few memory files as snapshots. The image was far too adorable not to preserve.

Finding where the rest of the crew went was not difficult. They had tied several bright collared balloons to a chair and littered the table with crepe paper streamers. Markus was relatively certain the aquarium’s employees were less than thrilled with the display, but vowed they would clean it all up before they left.
Connor went stiff as soon as he saw the decorations, uncertainty radiating from his little body. “Um?” he asked the both of them, confused and probably at least a little concerned.

“Well, this is a celebration, isn’t it?” Hank hoisted Connor a little higher on his hip and planted a kiss on his cheek. “We’re not done celebrating yet.”

Chapter 43: Simple Tastes

The trip and the stuffed octopus were Hank’s birthday gifts to Connor, though admittedly there was a lot more waiting for him back at home that he hadn’t felt like lugging to the aquarium. The rest of them, however, still had to give him their presents.

They had claimed a table in a corner of the sizable food court to try to achieve a little privacy despite the crowded venue. Hank got himself some lunch and they all got themselves settled. Connor was doing his best to not look too eager for his presents, but with how he was practically vibrating, he was doing a poor job.

God, his kid was adorable.

“Ok, birthday boy,” North declared happily, plopping a conical hat onto his head with one hand while holding her contribution in the other. “Time for the fun part.”

“The whole day has been fun,” Connor insisted, but that didn’t stop his eyes from locking onto the package in her hands. He adjusted the strap of the hat, resigning himself to the fate of wearing the obviously unprofessional item. Hank was proud of him for not making a fuss, but figured it had less to do with the hat and more with the sense not to argue with North.

She smiled at his excitement, choosing to hand over the gift instead of tormenting the poor boy any longer. He accepted it almost reverently. The shiny blue paper was bright enough to reflect in his eyes only adding to his expression of childlike wonder. “Thank you,” he said, gaping at it.

“You have to open it, silly,” North teased, ruffling at his hair playfully and dislodging the carefully adjusted party hat.

He stared at it a little longer, hesitantly. “But it’s so pretty…”

“Yeah, ok, that one’s on me,” she sighed. “I should have known better than to doll it up too much.”

Hank popped a french fry into his mouth, wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, then pulled his kid onto his lap. “Come on, kiddo. Just open it, that’s what it’s made for. Don’t you want the present inside?”

“Well… yeah…” he admitted quietly. Hank could practically see the internal struggle the little boy was going through.

“I’m sure North wants you to see what she got you,” he reasoned, reaching around him to snag another fry.

“You know I do.”

Connor nodded slowly, but still hesitated.

“Here, little fish,” Hank offered. “I’ll help. We’ll be gentle and not rip the paper, alright?”

The boy seemed appeased by that suggestion. Carefully, and with painstaking slow precision, Hank helped Connor dissect the gift. He couldn’t help but muse at how different the scenario would have been if it were Cole. That kid couldn’t care less about what his presents were wrapped in. Paper would fly like shrapnel as soon as he was given the go-ahead to open them.

But not Connor. No, everything just had to be perfect, even how he opened packages.

The paper, however, was soon forgotten as soon as the gift itself was in view. “Woah!” He exclaimed excitedly. “Thank you!”

Hank was… less excited about the gift. “You gave my son firecrackers?”

“Oh relax, old man.” North dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “The box says ‘fun for all ages’.”

“North,” Markus tried to reason. “Fireworks? Really?”

She rolled her eyes, but still smiled playfully at her fiancé. “It’s not like we’ll be irresponsible with them,” she insisted rather unconvincingly.

Heaven help the world if this was the kind of parent North was going to be.

“Can we light one?” Connor asked, ignoring the debate taking place above his head.

“No!” Both Hank and Markus shouted in unison.

Markus regained his composure first. “Connor, we don’t shoot fireworks inside,” he said simply.

The kid blinked as though the concept was new to him. “Oh. Right.”

Hank sighed, but still gave him a little snuggle. “Can’t rip the paper, but blowing shit up? That you’re up for? What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

“How about the rest of us give him his presents now,” Josh suggested before Connor could respond to the rhetorical question.

Markus gently and tactfully removed the box of explosives from Connor’s tiny hands. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

Hank was going to miss how easily his boy could be distracted by something shiny.

Josh presented him with several murder mystery novels that he had no doubt the kid would finish by the end of the week along with an ornate journal monogrammed with the letter ‘C’ on the cover. He told him it was so he could try writing his own story.

Hank was honestly a little concerned about what he might come up with.

Markus’s gift consisted of a new sketchbook and fancy paints that Hank would never be able to afford on his salary. He noted that there were extra bottles of the ones they both knew Connor had decided were ‘happy’ colors.

It was Simon’s gift, however, that gave them all pause. Connor gently removed the sparkly purple bow and lifted the lid of the plain white box to reveal… a cake?

They all stared at the small, intricate decorated pastry for a moment as though it would speak up tell them what they were missing. It looked good, designed to look like a seascape complete with a blue gradient to the frosting. But it was still, in fact, a cake.

“It’s been a while since I’ve baked anything,” Simon admitted, now nervous from the group’s silence.

“It’s… really pretty,” Connor said kindly despite his confusion at the present. “I like the fishies.”

Simon smiled, relaxing a little at the boy’s acknowledgement. “I thought you might. I wasn’t sure what flavors you’d prefer, so I wanted to at least make it look pretty.”

Hank frowned, confusion only increasing. “Flavors?”

“Well, yeah.” The man was clearly not catching on that they were all still confused. “I went with basic vanilla.”

“But Simon,” North voiced since they were all wondering. “Why a cake?”

He frowned, clearly confused at her confusion. “I figured he should have the chance to have a birthday cake while he still has his artificial digestive system.”

All at once the cake was the least surprising part of the afternoon. There was only a beat of stunned silence before Connor and Hank responded in shocked unison.

“He has a what?”

“I can eat?”

Poor Simon looked as shocked as the rest of them. “I mentioned that, didn’t I?” He stammered out.

“No,” Markus answered for them. Hank was aware he had been there when Connor had gotten his run down of what that body could do and knew as much as any of them. “No, you most certainly did not.”

“Oh, well I guess that explains the confusion,” he said, almost to himself.

“I love you, Simon,” Josh laughed. “But sometimes you have the perception of a blender.”

“I’m not that bad,” he protested, almost as petulantly as Connor could get before a nap. “I was just more concerned with alerting him to the limitations of his new body, it must have slipped my mind. I could explain how it works if you’d like. It was quite the process. I had to-”

“Yeah, how about we skip the techno-babble,” Hank interrupted. He could feel his eyes glazing over already as the technician readied himself to launch into his explanation. “I think Connor here should have a taste of his birthday cake.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” North chimed in agreement, cutting off Simon’s protest and sparing them all a likely long winded and dry discussion on the boy’s inner workings. "I’ll go see if I can nab some plates and silverware. Hank, maybe you should share some of those fries, give him a taste of what junk food is like.”

“I'll do you one better.” He turned to the boy, grinning. “I’ll get you your own lunch, anything you want to eat. Wanna hit up the gift shop again? I think I saw candy and shit in there.”

Connor’s eyes were wide and his little mouth hung open slightly as he sat there still absorbing the new information. “I… I don’t know. How am I supposed to know what I like if I don't know how anything tastes?"

“Alright, yeah.” Hank had to admit, “I guess that’s fair.” For once, he really couldn’t blame Connor for his indecision. “I’ll go pick something out for you then, how’s that?”

He left him in the care of his brother and friends and let the kid’s enthusiastic agreement warm him from head to toe. There was something distinctly pleasant about the level of trust his boy had in him, even in such a small thing. Still, he didn’t want to fuck it up, so he went with a classic in the realms of junk food.

Connor’s eyes lit up with excitement as Hank set down the bright red happy meal box. His little legs swung under the table and he gripped his octopus tightly like it was the only thing keeping him impatiently awaiting a cue that it was alright to dig in.

“Go on,” Markus encouraged him with a gentle nudge.

With permission finally given, he enthusiastically opened the box to claim its contents. Hank had opted for the cheeseburger meal with fries and an apple juice, but it was the cheap plastic toy that immediately caught the boy’s attention.

The thing was a cheap plastic cutout of a dolphin, a sticker being the only thing to give it any sort of features. While Hank silently lamented a time when those boxes had actual toys in them, Connor excitedly showed off his new trinket proudly.

Fuck, he loved this kid.

“Wanna actually try the food?” North suggested with a warm smile.

“Oh, right!” He turned his attention back to the box. Josh helpfully pulled the food from it so it wouldn’t spill and unwrapped the burger for him.

Connor seemed to sniff at the burger in distrust. The whole act of eating was foreign to him, despite it being simple in nature, and regardless of his previous excitement he showed clear hesitation.

“Go on,” Hank coaxed. “Give it a try. It’s not gonna bite back.”

Cautiously he took a bite. He chewed, froze for a moment, then swallowed. And then promptly burst into tears.

Whatever reaction had been anticipated, none of them had foreseen that.

“Connor, what’s wrong?” Markus asked before anyone else had the chance. Hank immediately wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulders.

“It’s good!” he cried in utter, heartbreaking, anguish. “It’s really good!”

“Then what’s wrong?” Hank asked, understandably concerned. He wiped at the tears that spilled down the toddler’s face.

Connor sniffed, looking at the burger like it had personally offended him. “How am I supposed to expect you to eat healthy when this tastes so amazing?”

“Oh, Connor,” the Lieutenant cooed immediately, pulling him closer. “Connor, don’t worry about shit like that. I’m a grown-ass adult that can make my own bad decisions.”

“But… but…” he sniffled, “cholesterol…”

Hank laughed, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Let me worry about that. You just enjoy your food before it gets cold.”

He looked skeptical, like he didn’t quite trust Hank with his own dietary choices, but with a few more sniffles, Connor nodded and took another bite. His tears dried fully as he was quickly distracted by his food.

Hank leaned back in his uncomfortable plastic seat and enjoyed his own meal while he watched his kid experience eating for the first time. First finishing off his happy meal, then diving into his cake. They all joined in with the tradition of singing and having Connor blow out the candles and make a wish. Hank had to stop him from swatting at the fire to put it out instead of blowing on it.

Evidently, he was enjoying eating. The other androids seemed just as excited as he was and happily listened as he described what it was like. He probably should have scolded him for talking with his mouth full, but he wasn’t making a mess and seemed so happy, there was no way in hell he was going to fuck with that.

Silently, he hoped Connor would still be this easy to make happy when he returned to being an adult.

If Hank was being honest with himself, there was a strong, selfish part of him that didn’t want Connor to grow up. Not that he didn’t love him when he was big. God, there was nothing on this damn planet that could stop him from loving the kid. But he was pretty sure that every parent out there secretly wished that their babies could stay small forever.

But that was both the joy and the curse of being a parent, he supposed. Kids grew up way too damn fast.

Lots of people had told him, back when Cole was just a baby, that he would blink and he would be all grown up. That, of course, had been false in the most painful way possible. But now, as they all brought the birthday party to a close and headed to New Jericho, Connor would give a rather literal display of that phenomenon.

So, Hank held him just a little bit tighter as he carried him to Simon’s lab. Enjoying how the little boy fit in his arms while he still did. Fuck, he didn't even know for sure Connor would want him to hold him once he was big. Sure, he had hugged him as an adult before, but it wasn’t like the cuddles they did now. Adult Connor was reserved and professional, not his excitable little fishy. Hank choked down the dread that crawled through him.

Connor’s head drooped sleepily onto his shoulder. They had skipped his nap today, so his battery was likely running low after all the excitement. “Do you think Dog will still recognize me all grown up?” He asked through a yawn.

“Of course she will,” he reassured him. “That little fluff ball loves you. She’s not gonna care what you look like.”

“Promise?”

Hank leaned his cheek against Connor’s head, soft synthetic hair tickling at his ear. “I promise, little fish.”

Connor’s responding tired smile was only interrupted by a tiny yawn.

“I think it’s about time to get him ready for the transfer,” Markus said softly, reaching as though to take the boy from his arms.

Hank responded instinctually, rearing back and resisting the idea of losing his hold on his kid. Connor made a startled squeak at the motion. He hid his sheepishness over the absurdity of the action behind a disinterested grunt before relenting and handing him over for the last time.

Markus just gave him a knowing smile as he accepted his little brother.

“I think I’m going to fall asleep,” Connor slurred, still trying futilely to shake away his grogginess.

Markus walked him to where the others were waiting at the assembly hook, the same one he had woken up from just a couple of weeks ago. “It’s alright. You can sleep if you want too.”

“Will I be big when I wake up?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Hank responded for him. “Yeah, you will.”

Connor yawned again, blinking almost comically with how sleepy he was getting, and Markus gently connected him to the assembly arm. “You’ll still be here, right? When I wake up?”

He reached over, taking his tiny hand in his own and giving it a small squeeze. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

The little boy smiled, the expression staying on his face as he drifted off and the machine began its work.

It was stupid and selfish, but somehow it almost felt like he was losing him again. His little boy was growing up. He was going to be an adult. Mature. Independent. Not someone who needed his daddy. He loved his boy, big or small, but no matter how he tried to reason it away, Hank couldn’t stop the fear that Connor wouldn’t be as concerned whether or not he was there once he woke.

But, regardless of his concerns, he meant it. He would be here as long as Connor wanted him to be.

Chapter 44: A Return to Normal

It was odd, being tall again.

A good odd, but still. Connor had grown used to his smaller stature and being back to all six feet of his usual height was a change. He had already smacked his head on the car twice and tripped over his own legs more times than he planned on admitting to the Lieutenant.

It was his calibration that was off, really. Despite Simon assuring him it would even out after a short while, it was still proving to be cumbersome.

“You know, we can always take another couple of days,” Hank said from his place behind the wheel. “No need to rush back to work, I’m sure Jeffery will be fine with it.”

Connor looked away from where he had been staring out the window to give Hank his full attention. “We have already been off far too long,” he countered. “It’s not fair to our coworkers to continue covering our cases when we are perfectly capable of returning to work.”

“Still a fuckin’ workaholic,” he sighed, carefully merging onto a far busier street then they had been on.

Admittedly, he had only gotten his adult body back the day before. He hadn’t had it for more than twelve hours, so it was understandable why he might find it a little fast. But Connor wanted to get back into his normal routine. He missed his job. “I do enjoy my work. You know that, Lieutenant.”

“Lieutenant.” The word was said like it left a bad taste on his tongue and he wrinkled his nose as though in disgust. “Right. Guess we’re back to that shit.”

Connor frowned at the negative response. It always eluded him why Hank was so resistant to his professional title at times. “We are going to work,” he pointed out. He always called him Lieutenant at work.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” As if to illustrate that point, he pulled into the precinct, taking only a few moments to find a vacant parking space.

Connor took the time to evaluate the Lieutenant's odd behavior.

He certainly didn’t seem opposed to other people using the title. He was a man proud of his accomplishments and had no issue with people acknowledging them. Hank only seemed irritated when he addressed him that way. Despite Connor’s issues with self-esteem, he knew better than to believe Hank had a problem with him. Hank loved him.

No, this was different. And more pronounced than what he had seen before. They had been off work for several days, so perhaps he had just grown used to the familiarity over professionalism.

He tried to catch Hank’s eye, but he was staring stubbornly at the dash. “Lieutenant,” he started, but noticed how his brow twitched in irritation at the sound.

Then again, maybe it was less the title and more professional distance it commanded.

His bigger body wasn’t the only thing that he needed to adjust to. He and Hank had grown used to their interactions with him being small and neither really knew how close they were allowed to be now that he was an adult again. It was a drastic difference considering how inseparable they had been following his kidnapping and while Connor would readily accept any of the affection Hank had shown him as a child, he understood that it wasn’t how grown men typically behaved.

But in all honesty, he missed it.

He missed it a lot.

Maybe… Maybe Hank missed it too.

“You know,” he started softly, averting his gaze to the bland, unscenic view of the parking garage. “It doesn’t matter what title I use to address you. I’m still your little fish… right?”

There was a long moment of silence and with each second that passed, Connor began to fear that he had misread the situation. That Hank wanted distance from him.

Then, that distance was gone completely.

In a single movement, Hank unhooked his seatbelt and wrapped his arms around Connor. Warmth flooded his system and he melted into the embrace he had craved so much.

They stayed like that for a long moment. Hank’s thumb rubbed up and down the back of his neck reassuringly and his beard scratched at his ear as he took several shaky breaths. “Yeah, you are,” he said at last. “You are. Fuck, I… I was worried you wouldn’t want to be now that you’re all big and shit.”

“Why would you think that?” Connor questioned, still not pulling away from the hug. If these were going to be rare now, he was going to make it last for as long as possible.

Regrettably, Hank pulled away. Likely, the embrace was getting uncomfortable for the man considering the odd angle and that he was reaching over the center console of the car. “I just thought, now that you’re all grown up again, you wouldn’t want your grumpy old dad smothering you,” he explained with what appeared to be a self-conscious shrug.

Connor let his expression show his confusion. He had assumed Hank was exercising distance due to being less comfortable with open affection for adults. He hadn’t considered that it was because he believed Connor would have a problem with it. “I don’t believe it is possible for you to smother me, Hank,” he insisted. “At least, not in the sense you are implying.”

Hank’s eyes formed little wrinkles at the corners as he smiled warmly. “Maybe I should take that as a challenge,” he teased.

He leaned into the touch as he pulled him in again, planting a kiss on his forehead. Maybe an average adult would be put out by it, but Connor just enjoyed the affection. “Just so long as we maintain a sense of professionalism while on the clock,” he was sure to specify.

“Yeah, you and your professional bullshit.” Hank rolled his eyes, but didn’t look as though he were actually annoyed. It was a definite improvement on the strange tension that had been there since he had re-uploaded. “Come on, might as well head inside, ‘Detective’.”

Connor certainly didn’t miss the sarcastic lilt to the Lieutenant’s voice with the use of his own title. He was proud of it though, proud of his position at the DPD and happy to be returning to work, so he just smiled pleasantly at his father.

Without any further notable discussion, the two of them made their way from the car to the precinct. As was usually the case, the whole place was too busy to give them much mind, but the receptionist, Linda, welcomed him back warmly. They exchanged brief, polite greetings before Connor eagerly followed the Lieutenant to their assigned desks. He was anxious to get back to work after being off for so long.

When he got there, however, confusion awaited him rather than professional satisfaction.

Evidently, someone had been using his desk while he had been gone, but for what purpose, he couldn't work out. Brightly colored crepe paper was wound around the legs and draped haphazardly across his computer monitor. Several packages and decorative bags littered the surface, and there was a helium balloon tied to his chair that said 'celebrate!'.

"Uh?" he said to no one in particular. A subtle glance at Hank indicated that he wasn't surprised by the state of his desk, which only furthered the mystery.

"Surprise!" Tina shouted from behind him. He turned to look at her and she yanked violently on the cord of a firework popper. The string pulled away, but there was no pop of confetti. "Dammit," she complained, frowning at the defective object.

"Officer Chan?" Connor asked. His confusion was only worsening. While she was prone to spontaneity, this behavior was still out of the ordinary.

"It's a party, Connor," Chris supplied. He pulled the attached to his own popper, spraying colorful bits of paper across the precinct floor.

Tina looked annoyed that his had worked while hers hadn't. She frowned comically, but didn't comment, choosing instead to elaborate on Chris's statement. "It's kinda a combo of 'happy birthday' and 'welcome back'."

"Would you look at that, these assholes can actually be nice once in a while," Hank joked, putting an arm around Connor to guide him closer to his desk and the festive clutter that adorned it.

Connor reverently picked up one of the packages. It was wrapped with bright green paper, converted with stars. A curly, yellow, plastic ribbon was stuck to the top with tape. "I wasn't gone very long," he said, touched that they would go through so much effort for him. “And my birthday was yesterday. The Lieutenant took me to the aquarium.”

"Well, yeah," Tina shrugged. "But we didn’t get to celebrate with you, so we’re doing it now."

“And we still missed you, even if it was only a few days,” Chris added.

"If that's the case, why don't I get any welcome back presents?" Hank asked with an amused smirk.

"Because nobody missed you." Gavin chimed in from where he sat at his desk. He hadn't joined their little group, but was apparently listening in.

"So, you're actually admitting you missed Connor?"

The jibe came from Ben this time. He meandered over, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cup of coffee. He gave Connor a warm smile as he got closer which he returned.

Gavin just scrunched his nose at the question instead of answering. He turned back to his computer and continued pretending he was occupied with work.

“Ah, don’t mind him, you know how he gets,” Tina told him, shooting her colleague an exaggeratedly annoyed look. She draped an arm over Connor dramatically, pulling him away from the Lieutenant. Hank gave a disapproving grunt, but didn’t argue beyond that. “Now come on, open your presents!”

Without waiting for him to agree, she took one of the packages, presumably the one she was responsible for, and deposited it on top of the one he was already holding.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. He readjusted the items, setting the one he had picked up initially back on the table to give Tina’s gift his full attention. He was intrigued. While he certainly had his share of birthday presents from his friends at New Jericho when he was there yesterday, the concept of receiving things from people other than Hank was still a novel concept for him.

“What the hell is going on here?” The stern, unamused voice called from the other end of the precinct.

Connor quickly deduced that the entirety of his adult tendencies had yet to reactivate as he had to fight his first instinct of hiding behind Dad under the Captain’s apparent disapproval.

The whole group turned to the Captain as he approached.

“Don’t be a hardass, Jeffery,” Hank said. His hand found its way to Connor’s arm, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze, still attuned as ever to his anxieties. “It’s the kid’s birthday.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Captain Fowler snapped, annoyed. He turned his attention from Hank to the rest of the group, though he seemed to omit Connor from his glare. “Now which of you idiots thought it would be a good idea to start this thing without me?”

Ben just looked away and took a long drink of his coffee while Chris and Tina pointed at each other comically.

“Fine then, be that way.” His expression took on a more amused than annoyed look, but he still slid the package Connor was holding from his grasp leaving him wondering why he was the one facing repercussions from the apparent transgression. “You all get your first-present privileges revoked.”

Connor really didn’t have time to process how the bizarre situation was unfolding before the present was swapped, for the second time, with another different but equally decorative package. “Happy birthday, Connor,” the Captain told him with a smile.

He was about to thank Captain Fowler, relieved that apparently no one was actually in any trouble on his behalf, but Hank interrupted instead. “As if you weren’t just lookin for an excuse,” he scoffed, unamused. “Just let him open his damn presents, for fuck’s sake.”

Jeffery just rolled his eyes at the Lieutenant’s insubordination before waving a hand at Connor to indicate the package he was holding. “Well, he can get to it then, I’m not stoppin him.”

“Come on, open it so you can do mine next,” Tina insisted, grabbing his arm excitedly and inhibiting his mobility to comply with the request. In Connor’s opinion, they were making far too big a deal of all of this. He would open them all eventually after all, the order was ultimately irrelevant.

Still, he knew enough to understand that this was all for their enjoyment as much as it was his, so he would continue to indulge them and their strange traditions. He was touched they had put in so much effort for him after all.

One arm still inhibited by Tina, Connor finally managed to voice his thank you to Jeffrey and carefully pried open the paper on the Captain’s gift with surgical precision.
Inside the colorful package was a miniature diorama kit. According to the picture on the box, tiny bits of wood and plastic were designed to fit together and create a detailed cafe scene perfectly sized to fit between two books on a shelf. It was tiny and quaint and Connor genuinely loved it.

The gift amused him as well. The Captain had long since joined Hank in his campaign to find him suitable hobbies besides work, it seemed this was another attempt to spark an interest. “Thank you,” he told him, honestly excited to begin working on it. The finished piece would look great between his copies of the books Deadly Deserts and A Taste of Death.

Jeffery just smiled at him, then waved at the others that they could start in with their presents.

Tina wasted no time, shoving her contribution back into his hands with a frighteningly mischievous grin. Once it was open, he could see why. “You’re wearing that for our Sharknado marathon,” she said, leaving no room for argument as he stared down at the adult sized shark onesie in his hands.

He thanked her, trying not to let the dread he was feeling seep into his voice. Earlier in the week, put on that t-rex onesie Hank had been so enamored by for movie night. His father hadn’t been able to resist snapping a picture and sharing it with their coworkers, much to Connor’s horror. He stood by his opinion that the article of clothing was entirely impractical, even as sleepwear.

It was cozy though.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

From there, the others were far less insistent on the gift-giving order. Ben had gotten him a tie with little dog faces on it. They were beagles, not St. Bernards, but still had no right to be that cute. Chris gave him a decorative pen set. Its handle was beautifully inlaid with mother of pearl and the ink flowed smooth as butter.

There were several other gifts from practically every coworker in the precinct. Decorations for his desk, trinkets, toys for Dog and Sumo, cards with varying levels of sentiment and familiarity. All little assurances that they cared and he had been missed. He couldn’t quite express how happy that made him.

“Seriously, Hank?” Tina scolded the Lieutenant as Connor centered the little ceramic pug figurine on his desk. “You didn’t bring him anything?”

“Hey, I got him plenty of shit, I just gave it to him yesterday,” he countered. “You know, his actual birthday.”

“A likely excuse.” Tina draped herself across Connor’s shoulders dramatically. If he wasn’t built so solidly, he would have crumpled under the sudden weight. “I just hope you remember who really loves you, Connor.”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at her theatrics. Hank had, of course, given him several presents the day before. In fact, in Connor’s opinion, the Lieutenant had gone a bit overboard with everything he had given him. Hank, on the other hand, disagreed. He argued that, as his father, it was his God-given right to spoil the shit out of him. He genuinely didn’t mind that he hadn’t held back a gift to participate in today's festivities.

But the joking sarcasm was heavy enough in Tina’s voice that even he could pick it up with ease. It appeared this was a time for teasing, not sincerity. “Well, of course,” he played along. “Perhaps I should start going by Connor Chen.”

“Ungrateful brat,” Hank chided around a chuckle. He playfully swatted at the back of his head, being careful not to hit Tina. “I’m taking your squid back.”

“Henry is an octopus.” Connor was reasonably sure the Lieutenant had mixed up the species intentionally to get a rise out of him, but he wasn’t going to let it go without correction. “And he is non-refundable.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re non-refundable.”

It was said as a jest, like a middle schooler would say in a playground argument, but there was an underlying note of truth to it that warmed Connor’s thirium pump. He was non-refundable. At least, in the sense that they had finalized the adoption papers. He was now, officially and legally, Connor Anderson.

It was, indisputably, the best present he could have ever received.

“Alright, enough fighting you guys,” Chris interjected. “Connor still has one more to open.”

He was right, there was still one package left. It was the one he had first picked up, actually. The small star-covered box still waited patiently for its contents to be uncovered, but it wasn’t the package that intrigued him with this particular gift. This one, unlike the others, had no note. There was no to/from sticker, no card, no hand-scrawled message on the paper itself. No way to define who it was from.

As a police officer, one that was particularly prone to death threats at that, an unmarked package was usually cause for alarm. But none of the others seemed concerned by it, so he proceed.

Once the gift was opened, Connor had no doubt who had given it to him.

Inside was a small, egg-shaped, electronic device. It hung from a keychain and a black and white pixelated screen displayed a tiny, undefinable, creature.

“Holy shit, is that a Tamagotchi?” Hank asked in disbelief as he looked over Connor’s shoulder to see what was in the box. “Fuck, I haven’t seen one of those things since I was a kid. Who gave you that?”

Instead of answering right away, Connor finally removed the small plastic toy from the box. It made tiny, electronic beeps whenever he pressed a button, and the digital animal performed various animations expressing its ‘mood’. He loved it.

“There is no card,” Connor said, already setting alarms on his internal clock to remind him to feed his new electronic pet. “I do believe that means the person who gave it to me wants to remain a… secret.”

“Ooh, I like a good mystery.” Tina made a grab for his toy, but Connor pulled it away. She pouted, but didn’t reach for it again. “I wonder if you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

“I highly doubt that,” Connor deflected. He was certain that Detective Reed had given it to him and doubted he would appreciate being called an admirer. He himself didn’t particularly like the idea.

Hank picked the toy from his hand. “Well, whoever gave it to you,” Connor swore he glanced in Reed’s direction, “they’ve gotta be an old fuck like me.”

“Oh come on, everyone knows what a Tamagotchi is,” Gavin protested, speaking up for the first time since the gifts had been handed out.

Tina grinned, apparently catching on to Hank’s suspicion. “I dunno, Gavin. I’m not old enough to remember those things. Are you?”

The ‘you’ was pointed and almost accusatory. Reed went pink in the face and turned back to his desk, ignoring the question rather than engaging. It was as good as a confession for Connor, but he wasn’t going to antagonize the man for it.

“No matter who gave it to me,” he said, taking his new toy back from his father. It beeped as he accidentally pressed a button. “I appreciate it.”

His colleagues seemed to take his cue, leaving Gavin alone for now despite them all being sure he was the mystery gift giver. After all, none of them were particularly keen on antagonizing him into being cruel to Connor again.

He smiled back down at the little game. He could see why these things had been so popular when Hank was little. There was a genuine possibility, while his mind was still adjusting to being an adult again, that it could actually affect his productivity. Connor would need to be careful about that.

Then again, maybe a small drop in productivity wouldn’t be terrible, he thought, looking at the people around him. They were joking with each other, laughing. No productivity at all really.

But they were happy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was more important.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who read this whole thing! I never imagined I'd ever write a 44 chapter fic. Hopefully you all enjoyed it as much as I did. ❤️❤️❤️