A/N: Okay, so, it's a thing on this website where you have to put a disclaimer in front of everything you post, right? if I owned Detroit: Become Human, would I be writing fanfiction for it on this joke of a website? No, I use AO3, bc it's superior. Don't worry, I'm not trying to claim the game as my own. If you haven't made the conversion to AO3, you must do so immediately, because all my other stuff is posted there. Anyway, enjoy the read! This is my first fic for the fandom.

"Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened…"

-Agent Perkins, 'Public Enemy'

15 androids. Every single one of them from different households, with different backgrounds, and only a few models were targeted more than once. All 15 were dead by the same cause: sudden, all-encompassing stress that made every single one of them self destruct.

Arguably the most tragic outcome of the peaceful revolution led by Markus Manfred, the astronomical spike in deviancy following the acquisition of free will by most androids also, in turn, created a spike in deviant suicides. So many of them were abandoned by their previous owners when it became illegal to regard androids as property and killed themselves out of sorrow, and many of them couldn't handle the new onslaught of emotions that came with deviancy and fell victim to their own anxiety when their stress levels got out of control.

These 15 specific suicides, however, were different. These androids hadn't been abandoned; most of them had been property of the state or a company, and they all rejoiced in their newfound freedoms and emotions. They also all occurred within a 30-day period and fell within the same area of Detroit. Such was the case of the most recent suicide, a TH400 android named 'Davis'.

It had been called in by a neighbor when she heard a vicious, violent banging against the wall adjourning her apartment and the android's, fearing for her safety and Davis'. Police arrived at the scene to find the body of Davis, blank eyes open, the back of his skull caved in and drooling thirium which was also splattered around a hole in the drywall behind him. He was the 15th self-destruction in a month long period, and thus attracted the attention of the Android Crimes Division of the Detroit Police Department, which was in the process of merging with Violent Crimes.

"Is that all? Or do I need to be worried about you sticking other things in your mouth while we're still here?"

The RK800, Connor, wiped his blue stained fingers on the leg of his pants and stood from his squat over the body of the TH400, whom he identified by the analysis of his thirium.

"As far as I know, Lieutenant, you're safe for now," Connor replied with a small smirk. "The victim is a TH400 model named 'Davis'. No previously registered owners, possibly employed by the state before the revolution. Cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head, self inflicted by the looks of it. Another self-destruction."

Connor was never going to admit it to Hank, or anyone, but these cases were unsettling to him. He had witnessed first-hand what 100% stress levels would do after he watched Carlos Ortiz's android crack his plastic skull open against the window of his holding cell after his interrogation. And the reclassification of this case from suicide to homicide made it much more unnerving; something, or somebody, was forcing these androids to kill themselves violently, and there was nothing they could do to stop themselves.

Hank moved to stand next to him, staring down with the barest of grimaces at the dead android and trying not to stare at him too long in the eyes.

"So, you got any ideas? These suicides gotta be connected somehow," Hank said.

"I agree Lieutenant. There are too many coincidences for it to simply be coincidental. However, my scans indicate that Davis's memory disk is still intact," Connor responded without looking at him, staring at nothing while he recited his thought process back to Hank. "Davis threw his head backwards to complete his destruction, which destroyed his gyroscope sensors, temperature regulator, and CPU. Other victims threw their heads forward, which destroyed their memory discs, as well as their optical and auditory units, and leaving their data unrecoverable. I could extract the data from Davis's intact disc and uncover the last thing he saw before reaching critical stress levels."

When Connor turned to Hank to hear his thoughts on the plan, all he was met with was a semi-blank stare and a nod.

"Right. Well, assuming I understood half of the things you said, this might help us uncover the source of the stress, yeah?"

Connor nodded thoughtfully. "Correct. That is, unless Davis simply killed himself for an unrelated reason, but that is unlikely."

Hank gave a one shouldered shrug without uncrossing his arms and tilted his head in the direction of the dead android. "Well, shit, what do we have to lose? By all means."

Crouching down again in front of Davis, Connor placed a hand on the left side of the androids head, opposite of where his LED would have been, and clicked open a hatch that became pearly white plastic under Connor's hands, extracting a small, circular sheet of metal that looked like a CD without a hole, about as big as the base of a water bottle.

"I do not have the means to examine the data here, Lieutenant. I can upload the footage to my desktop at the station for us to view later," Connor stated, standing with the disc between his fingers

Hank watched him place the disk in his suit pocket and, when Connor did nothing more but look at him expectantly, turned on his heel towards the door.

"Well, if you think we're done for now, let's grab some food, I'm starving," Hank called over his shoulder, trusting his partner to follow

"Coming Lieutenant!"

"As of right now, we're off duty. It's Hank!"

One greasy burger and small health lecture later, Connor was dropping the memory disc of the TH400 into the disk-reader of his desktop computer. Connor felt Hank leaning on the back of his chair and peering over his shoulder while he worked to technopathically unencrypted the memory disc. He filtered through a long list of time stamped files, each precisely 12 hours in length, until he hit the bottom with a file that read 2039 April 27 000-1143

Connor stared intently as he played the file, filling the screen with the first person view of the last 12 hours of Davis's life. He sped through the mundane bits; the first eight hours were black as he was still in stasis, then he drank thirium in the morning on his way to the park after he came online, met up with a flock of pigeons (Connor stifled a small chuckle when he heard a disgusted noise from Hank) and threw seed for almost two hours. There was nothing of note until it reached 11:42 AM.

Davis had left the park, reached the stairs of his apartment and was climbing steadily, turning around only once to see the face and figure of a completely unfamiliar android, identified by a bright yellow LED. The film only had a few remaining seconds, able to capture a full view of the android's face and body as well as his motion to grab onto Davis's right wrist before the video ended abruptly with a black screen.

He couldn't have been a neighbor , Connor speculated, nobody else who lived on his floor was an android . It was also unlikely he was a delivery man (no uniform) or visiting (no one had reported having a visitor over). Connor reversed the video to focus on the stranger.

"That's gotta be our guy," Hank announced, pointing his finger at the screen and standing up straighter. "Con, can you identify him?"

"Working on that right now, Lieutenant," Connor stated, his LED circling into yellow while he simultaneously took a screen capture of the android's face on the computer. The picture was clear, giving a clean look at the android's combed brown hair, average build, and light brown optical units that were fixated on the camera lenses.

Connor's LED lit up blue, "His name is Louis McMan, an LM100 model that previously belonged to Jeremiah McMan, deceased, before the revolution. It doesn't seem like he has a place of employment. This Jeremiah McMan, aged 37, was found after committing suicide several days before the revision of the American Androids Act. He was a notorious android hater, if his social media history is any indicator."

Hank only nodded slightly and remained silent, giving Connor the chance to continue.

"Jeremiah was arrested and fined multiple times for damage to property, theft, fraud, and aggravated assault. He was considerably well-trained in computers, he attended MTU on a scholarship before being dropped for getting caught attempting to…" Connor trailed off on his explanation, LED spinning yellow while he spun his chair around to face Hank. "I think I know how he's doing this."

Hank's eyebrows rose to his hair, and he moved to lean on the side of Connor's desk with his arms crossed. "Alright, hotshot, I'm all ears."

"Think about it. Jeremiah McMan, single, with no family, and so adamant in his hatred of androids that he is willing to face incarceration for his prejudice, buys an older model of a household android. For what? He doesn't need one, and he clearly doesn't want one. Besides just having one to abuse, he doesn't have a use for it, correct? Well, also consider that this man was a computer genius who specialized in software development." Connor stood up, almost pacing as he sorted his thoughts out loud for Hank. "According to his file, he was expelled from MTU for being caught red-handed attempting to upload malware into some of the janitorial androids on campus while they were off-schedule. He later confessed to it being a test run for downloading viruses into the lecturing androids to trigger self-destruction mid-class for his own amusement, and he was given a hefty fine for property damage and expelled.

"Why was a man as talented as this unsuccessful in uploading the malware? Because the only things that can transfer information and data to androids are Cyberlife technicians or," Connor stopped pacing, facing Hank directly with his arms held out, as if he were physically presenting the solution to Hank, "other androids."

Hank's face opened with understanding. "So, what you're saying is that this McMan guy couldn't upload his malware to androids like he wanted, so he bought and conditioned this Louis guy to do it for him?"


"Sounds pretty solid to me," Hank said proudly, nodding along with Connor's assessment. "Any idea how we can track this guy down?"

"I have him in an apartment downtown, Lieutenant."

Hank went around the desks to grab his coat off the back of his chair. "What do you say we give good ol' Mr. McMan a visit from the Detroit Police?"

Knock Knock Knock

"Anybody home?"

This scene spurred a memory in the back of Connor's mind, back when Hank still hated androids, the revolution hadn't sparked, and Connor was a fresh-faced prototype, eager to rid the city of deviancy. Only this time, Hank is the one doing the knocking since he insisted Connor stay away from the door. There was no telling what this suspect was capable of doing if he was as dangerous and unstable as they suspected.

Right before Hank could announce their title, locks started to come undone on the other side of the door. In a matter of seconds, the peeling creme door swung open and revealed the wary, wide-eyed face of their suspect.

"I'm not interested" Louis said, though his fingers twitched by his sides and his yellow LED cycled red the more he looked at the occupants of his doorway. His eyes locked on Connor, then on Connor's LED, then Hank, and, finally, Hank's department-issued piece in his shoulder holster just visible under his jacket

Suspect_LM100 Stress_Levels: 77% ^^

Possibility of ESCAPE == True: 97% .

There was little time for Connor to prepare himself.

As Hank opened his mouth, Louis drove an elbow into Hank's chest, using his opening to sprint down the hallway to the stairwell. Connor made quick to follow him, trusting Hank to catch up when he could, but knew that not even the most physically in-shape officer in the department could keep up with a high speed android foot chase.

The brunette crashed into the iron railing separating the floor from the sheer drop to the bottom floor. He leapt over the rail and cracked the pavement under his feet as he landed two floors down. Connor supposes he should thank RA9 that Louis' apartment was only on the third floor as he followed suit, being more cautious by briefly latching on to the last railing before the bottom floor to break his fall, losing a bit of time but ultimately keeping his exoskeleton intact.

Connor swept his head up and regained pace, sprinting out of the stairwell and through the lobby to reach the LM100 still thirty feet in front of him. Connor could tell the impact from the fall had damaged his foot, he favored his right leg, but it didn't stop him.

Louis busted through the doors of the lobby and pivoted to the right, glancing over his shoulder only once to see that Connor was still hot on his heels. Connor had the upper hand in more ways than one. He was built for speed and able to sustain a lot of force before being damaged, and Louis' injury was slowing him down with every step he took. Connor was faster and stronger than Louis, so he gained ground quickly.

Their path was hindered by pedestrians, there was still daylight after all, and both Louis and Connor (regretfully) had to shove them out of the way as to not lose time.

Louis banked right again, ducking into an empty side-street, then left, losing his sense of direction to desperation, discomfort, and exhaustion, and almost sprinting head-on into a wall at the end of an alley. Connor was only seconds behind, taking over the entrance to the alley with a tall shadow, and stood firm, ready to intercept Louis should he try to escape once more. Which would have been a pointless endeavor anyway; there were no fire escapes, no windows or ledges, not even so much as a dumpster occupying the small space.

Sirens echoed, approaching them both, indicating that Hank had called for backup and was likely on his way to them right now after Connor messaged him with his location.

"It's the end of the line, Louis," Connor started, taking in the form of the shaking, exhausted android with a blood-red LED. "We know you killed those androids. You uploaded Jeremiah's malware into their systems without their permission, and we have evidence. If we end this here, we ca-"


Connor froze. He wasn't carrying a gun, and he knew what this android was capable of, unassuming as he looked. Right now, Louis was a cornered animal. Come too close, and he'd bite.

Connor really didn't want to get bit.

"I was just doing my job! Can't you understand that?" Louis pleaded, hands twitching and eyes wild. "It was my mission to set them off! If I didn't do what he said then I-I-I just...It was the right thing to do! They were cheating good people out of a quality education by punishing the intelligent when they refuse to slow to the pace of the ignorant!"

What in RA9 is he talking about? What education?

"Louis, you're unstable. You have glitches and viruses and your system has been compromised. Those androids you infected weren't trying to cheat anybody out of anything. None of them even-" Connor cut himself off.

Wait...TH400, VT600, a handful of PJ500s... those were lecturing androids. A couple others were janitors...and those PC200s and PM700s...Jeremiah set him on androids of similar makes and models to the ones that got him kicked out of the university

Connor picked up again, "You're not yourself, Louis. Those words are Jeremiah's, not yours! If you give yourself up, we can get you help!"

"I don't need your help!"


Connor saw it coming. At least, he thought he did. And he's almost certain he would have avoided it if he wasn't so distracted by the voice of Hank behind him and the fast approaching sirens.

Louis' skin pulled back on his white plastic hand and he leaped forward, latching onto Connor's wrist like a leech, using all of his energy to upload his virus into Connor's more sophisticated system. Connor's own wrist responded automatically, and he felt his thirium freeze in his circulatory tubes.

Uploading …

Grant Administrator_Access to ? Y N


Admin. Authority overridden by

Grant Administrator_Access to ? Y N


Admin. Authority overridden by


User_Input overridden by

Grant Administrator_Access to ? Y N




He felt trapped. Blue and red-tinted commands and inputs fogged his vision, asking him for access that was granted automatically which he couldn't override. Connor yanked his arm out of Louis' grip, snapping his wrist close to his chest as he tried his damndest to keep up with the new inputs and commands and requests and applications being opened up before his eyes. Suddenly, all of his internal sensors gauges were displaying themselves in his UI, filling his vision.

Stress_Levels: 68% ^^

Internal_Temperature: 103°F - Optimal

Thirium_Levels: 99% - Optimal

He couldn't shut them out or minimize them, he wasn't permitted access to his own systems.


The sirens were louder now, almost earsplitting, and Connor guesses that he must have been so wrapped up in his internal crisis that he missed when Hank slapped cuffs on Louis and pushed him off to another officer.

"Con! Connor, can you hear me?" Connor could see Hank's furrowed face beyond the chaos of his screen, gripping his shoulders and shaking him lightly.

Running application …

Initializing Startup…


"Shit Connor, what's-"


Running program


Connor's UI cleared out so suddenly it startled him, leaving only his internal sensor gauges.

He couldn't prepare himself for the way his limbs seized in a painful way, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the virus overloaded his individual action queues with conflicting instructions. The plastimetal muscles and tendons locked up, his vision filled with blaring red errors and warnings, and, since the virus disengaged his preinstalled fail-safe designed to prevent his components from overloading, he couldn't stop the assault of foreign commands urging him to jump, duck, run left, and walk right simultaneously.

In short, Connor was seizing.

"Holy fuck! Connor!" Hank yelped, gripping the android tighter and settling him down onto the ground with his head in Hank's lap. It didn't look like a human seizure; his limbs weren't flailing as much as they were twitching robotically, and his jaw was clenching and unclenching so fast that a human would have surely torn something.

Connor had never felt anything more excruciating, his ventilation system working overtime to prevent his biocomponents from frying. But since he couldn't open his mouth, he sucked air in through his teeth. Feeling so trapped and frozen, but still unable to physically stop himself from moving, it was so, so similar to his predicament in the Zen Garden but still so, so different.

Stress_Levels: 89% ^^^

Stress_Levels: 93% ^^^

Stress_Levels: 96% ^^^

Wrenching his eyes open was a Herculean effort, if only so he could see something else besides his Stress Level indicator inching him closer to self-destruction every half-second. He wasn't sure if this view was better, though, as the only other thing he saw was the stressed, borderline scared look on Hank Anderson's face as he rubbed Connors shaking shoulders and spilled comforting, nonsensical words out of his mouth into his staticky ears.

"It's okay, it's gonna be okay bud. I gotcha, I'm here. It's gonna be okay"

There were worse places to die than in his partner's arms. In fact, Connor couldn't think of any place better.

At home, in bed, with Sumo and Hank, dying peacefully instead of resisting the urge to kill myself in a dirty alleyway, perhaps.


Stress_Levels: 100%

Self_Destruction protocol Initializing in 5.00



"H ank !"

I don't want to die


"Con! Connor! What is it son? Talk to me."

Please, please I don't want to die


"Ha- h-H...DAD!"



Self_Destruction protocol = Engage


In two seconds, Connor's limbs stopped twitching and shaking, coaxing Hank into relaxing his grip on Connor, just slightly.

In less than half of a second, all of Connor's primary functions have been consumed by the single command: Self-Destruct.

Connor violently surged out of Hank's arms, sending Hank backwards and Connor onto his knees. Using his new position, Connor's body scrambled as fast as it could toward the brick wall of the alley and bashed the front of his head against it.

Nononono! Please please ple-

The first smash dented his skull plate and sheared off the skin layer of his forehead, dripping the synthetic skin fluid and thick, heavy lines of thirium from the gash down his face.

The second smash made a sickening hybrid of a crack and a squelch and his head began to cave in from the abuse, a navy and royal blue brand draining thirium down the bridge of his nose and splattering into the dust.

The third smash never came, as the strong and calloused hands of Hank Anderson wrapped around his face and torso, yanking Connor away from the wall and back into Hank's chest.

"Connor! Connor, oh God. Stay with me son, don't do this. Can you hear me?" Hank choked out, squeezing him close to keep his grip on him.

Those hits had screwed with some delicate circuitry. Connor was terrified to see his optical input begin to fill with fine static in some parts and blotches of black in others, but he was still able to detect the thirium dripping into his eyes. His auditory units sustained the least damage of his fore-cranial components, but Connor knew that the hit sustained to his gyroscope guaranteed he won't be running anytime soon.

Connor jerked in his hold, struggling to continue his life-ending measures though he wanted nothing more than to stop. He twisted his torso and shoulders within Hanks arms, straining to break out.

"SOMEBODY FUCKING CALL MARKUS!" Hank barked at his fellow officers who were standing ready by the entrance of the alley. "Con! Connor, Damn it! Stop this! You need to stop this right now, son!" He begged, wrapping both arms around Connor's arms and chest. His words were panicked and his tone afraid.

I'm trying. Oh God, Hank I'm trying to stop.

But Connor's body stopped responding to him, brushing off every input with a Access = Denied.



Thirium_Levels: 86% vv - Suboptimal: **SEEK CYBERLIFE ASSISTANCE or SUPPLEMENT LOST Thirium.310 IMMEDIATELY**

Connor's internal sensors displayed his physical state, slowly deteriorating in front of his eyes as he felt his body continue to struggle to kill itself. His earlier seizure raised his internal temperature, which it harder for his thirium to coagulate. Easier to bleed out.

" Hhh...Hann-ank I-" Connor's voice rasped and squeaked as he tried to get Hank's attention. He just wanted to see his face one more time, just one more.

Disengage Self_Destruction protocol? Y N


Admin. Authority overridden by

User_Input overridden by

Disengage Self_Destruction protocol? Y N


Connor bucked just hard enough and tumbled out of Hank's iron grip, this time only able to shuffle backwards by pushing his legs out until he hit the other wall, and pitched his head forwards to smash it back against the faded bricks.

He was only able to get in two solid whacks, fracturing his skull from the back and biting down hard enough on his tongue to start leaking thirium, tearing open new thirium lines to bleed down the back of his head and neck, before Hank pulled him back in again, away from the wall. Hank roughly laid him down across his lap and against his chest once more, hooking his leg over Connor's and squeezing so his legs couldn't kick out again. He hugged Connor from behind in a restrictive hold, pinning his arms against his sides and pressing his face against the side of Connor's head, slightly illuminated red by the light of his frantically spinning LED.

Connor couldn't stop jerking his limbs, his legs, and his torso. His arms fought to come around his front and tear out his burning thirium pump from his chest, or to yank out the major thirium lines from his arms and wrists and feel himself bleed.

"Damn it! Son of a- Connor! If you can hear me, you gotta fight this son. Please, you've gotta come back to me Con. I can't lose another son," Hank spoke into his ear in an unstable voice, like he was just moments away from breaking down into tears.



Thirium_Levels: 76% vvv - Suboptimal: **SEEK CYBERLIFE ASSISTANCE or SUPPLEMENT LOST Thirium.310 IMMEDIATELY**



That last hit had disconnected a major Thirium line that fueled Connor's cranial biocomponents, one that connected straight down to his pump. If that one was leaking freely, coupled with the virus overheating him from the inside, it was most likely that Connor wouldn't make it off the alley ground with his life. Connor started choking, on both his emotions and the thirium that had begun to pool in his mouth.

"Hey, hey hey hey. You're okay. You're gonna be fine, we're gonna fix you, okay? Good as new, no damned fucking virus eating you up, sleeping at home with Sumo in your bed. You just gotta fight this, kid. You're not gonna leave Sumo behind, are you? I think he likes you more than he likes me!" Hank whispered to him, sounding like he was trying to comfort both of them.

Connor's head jerked once, the one thing on his body not spasming and straining, and began spitting up thirium over his chin and shirt. Hank let out a miserable breath and grunt, a helpless sound that made Connors chest ache in a way that was different from the searing heat of his pump.





There's no time, Connor thought bitterly, sadly, I'm not going to make it out in time. Saline tears leaked from under his optical units and mingled with the gush of thirium dripping down his cheeks and nose.

When Connor's UI ran his shutdown timer, his body recognized him as having 'Accomplished his task' of Self-Destruction and disengaged his lurching movements and escape attempts, much to the simultaneous relief and terror of Hank.

"Connor? Hey, buddy, you with me now?... Con. Say something," Hank said, moving his hand to softly wipe the tears away, streaking thirium. he jostled his shoulder lightly.

"H-hh an-I-" Connor attempted to speak, stuttering and popping like an old microphone, "I-I- Hank -"

Hank soothed him, having let go of his arms and legs and laid his head in his lap. "Shhh Con, I'm here. I'm here son, just hold on. You don't gotta talk right now, just-just hold on for a little bit. Markus is on his way, he's gonna take you to Jericho and fix you up."

" I-I-I'mm s ssss orry H hhh ank," Connor forced out, sucking in a breath to aid in cooling down his systems, "I'm sss- "

"I know kid, I know. Don't worry about it 'till you're better, okay?" Hank insisted "It wasn't your damn fault, I know it wasn't."

"10 minnutess unt-until shshsh-shutdown."

Hank didn't say anything after that, smoothing his hand over Connor's hair, staining it blue with thirium. Thirium was everywhere, on the walls where Connor beat his head, all over his face and neck, covering Hank's shirt and seeping into Hank's jeans. Connor gave another pitiful cough and spit more thirium onto his chin. Hank wiped it off with the sleeve of his jacket, along with more tears that had accumulated, and continued petting Connor's hair.





Thirium_Levels: 51% vvv - Suboptimal: **SEEK CYBERLIFE ASSISTANCE or SUPPLEMENT LOST Thirium.310 IMMEDIATELY**



"Connor! Hank!"

Both Hank and Connor looked towards the end of the alley, Connor moreso sluggishly shifting his eyes. There stood Markus, with Josh and another android in tow with a stretcher.

"Oh thank fuck. Get in here! He needs medical attention yesterday! " Hank barked at them, nerves frayed from the stress of the past half-hour and not in the mood for pleasantries or introductions.

Markus and his team ran their way, dropping to their knees beside the pair and gently trying to maneuver Connor onto the ground, then the stretcher.

At this point, Connor was drifting. He felt himself being moved, vaguely heard the murmur of Hank and Markus and whoever else was there conversing, and simply couldn't bother to focus on anything. His vision was still splotchy, though his UI still blared at him in painfully clear view, and his audio components were beginning to lose power due to his severe thirium loss.

His tertiary and some of his secondary functions were completely shutting down at this point, meaning his nonessential memory recall, acute sound detection, evidence analysis systems, and gyroscope, among others, were down for the count.

He was shifted off of Hanks lap, and if his stress levels could have moved any higher than 100% they would have because where did Hank go? His malfunctioning voice modulator let out a pained, breathy whines that he had no control over, damn it! Stop that! that shut off when Hank clutched his hand.

Connor was moved again to the plush stretcher brought over from the Jericho medical wing, Hank still attached to his hand, and he snuck a glance as his shutdown timer.



Oh God, oh RA9, that's not nearly enough time. Jericho is 15 minutes away at least. There's no time, I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm-


" Like hell you are," Hank almost growled at him, fear making him sound raw and more determined than Connor had ever heard him as long as he'd known him. "Don't start with that now. We're gonna fix you, remember? Markus is here, he's gonna help save you. You can't give up on me now, not ever. Got it?"

Josh and the other android were steering the stretcher, Hank was gripping his left hand, and Markus was holding his right in an attempt to interface while they all rushed toward a repurposed ambulance, equipped for android medical emergencies.

Connor accepted Markus' interface, not even certain he'd be able to resist if he wanted to.

"We need to get some thirium in him ASAP. His timer's on-" Please don't say it, don't make Hank worry, please- " 3 and a half minutes. We can boost it once we supplement his lost thirium. His temperature is in the danger zone, his regulator must have been damaged in the alley. These temps are thinning his thirium and making him bleed a lot more than he should be."

Hank squeezed his hand harder, if at all possible, and Markus moved to rub his hand soothingly over Connor's chest. His thirium pump and chest area were uncomfortably hot, so Hank decided to stay on Connor's arm where he wouldn't burn himself.

The stretcher was jostled, Josh and the other android (Connor couldn't even scan the model, but he looked like one of the AP700 variants) lifting him into the back of the bus with Hank and Markus following inside and closing the doors. There was a driver sat behind the wheel already, and he hit the gas when Josh tapped the back wall twice.




Connor couldn't move anymore. He detected the pressure of Hank and Markus' hands on him, but not Hank's heat.



Thirium_Levels: 39% vvv - Dangerous: **SEEK CYBERLIFE ASSISTANCE or SUPPLEMENT LOST Thirium.310 IMMEDIATELY**


Josh sent up a metal stand by Connor's head while the AP700 hung a thirium bag. Josh then attached a rubber hose to the end of the bag, positioning it over Connors mouth then feeding it down his throat like one would with oxygen in a human. But Connor didn't need air, he needed thirium.






"He's got self healing, right? Why the hell isn't it working?" Connor heard Hank ask Markus, rubbing his thumb over Connor's knuckles.

Markus replied patiently, but tensely, "His stress levels, mostly. The command to destroy himself conflicts and overrides the command to heal his internal injuries. It's that, but the issues such as the distressed biocomponents and disconnected thirium lines would have had to have been taken care of by a technician anyway. There's nothing we can do for his head now, the operation is too delicate to be done on the move, so we just need to keep his thirium supply up. Any self healing he does in the future can only be if his stress levels go down. Now, Lieutenant Anderson, why the hell aren't his stress levels going down?"

Connor knew that Markus knew about the suicides-deemed-homicides. And however nervous they made Connor, Markus was doubly so due to the responsibility he felt for all of his people, as well as the fact that he had known several of them before the revolution in Jericho.

"Well, y'know that case that's been active this past month? The android suicides?" Hank began, but he didn't need to finish.

"Oh no," Markus sighed sharply, looking quickly at Connor, "No. How?"

"We found the guy off his latest victim's memory. We traced him to his previous owner's apartment but he took off, and only Connor could follow him. I met up with them in time to see the son of a bitch transfer the virus over to Connor."

Connor listened to them talk distantly and allowed his eyes to roam, but it wasn't like he could see much. His left optical unit suddenly cut out, leaving him with dim, graying right-eyed vision. He couldn't say anything around the tube in his mouth, so he squeezed Hank's hand softly and Hank squeezed back.

"Hey son. How're you feeling? We're gonna be there shortly," Hank said gently, reaching over to rub his shoulder with the hand that wasn't holding on to Connor.

He rolled his head back and forth without moving the tube and his chest shuddered, and Hank leaned in to wipe away the tears on his face once more. Connor didn't know who was more comforted by Connor leaning his face toward Hank's hand. Markus interfaced with Connor again to check his condition.

"His left optical component lost power. I don't know how much he can see at this point, anyway. The thirium line that powered the biocomponents in his head is the one that's disconnected. His thirium levels are still decreasing. He needs more time," Markus stated worriedly. He looked up at Josh and the AP700. "We're going to have to pinch the line if his shutdown timer doesn't recalibrate soon."

Josh nodded, then moved to replace Connor's thirium bag, which had drained already, and disconnected the rubber tube briefly.

Then the ambulance jerked and tossed the passengers roughly to the side.

The driver could be heard cursing in the front, yelling about "Damn reckless fucking Detroit drivers!" and regaining course, but Connor couldn't hear it at all.



Thirium_Levels: 27% vvv - Critical: **SEEK CYBERLIFE ASSISTANCE or SUPPLEMENT LOST Thirium.310 IMMEDIATELY**






Connor's optical units shut off entirely after briefly glancing at his UI report, leaving him in the dark with the glaring red numbers and his timer. His audio components were operating at 15% power and dropping, and he could feel the energy of the small space around him: Hank shouting and cursing touching Connor's face, arms, and cooling torso, Josh scrambling to pump more thirium into him, Markus ordering the other two androids to raise Connor's upper body so they could reconnect the dislocated minor lines and pinch the major one until they reached Jericho.

His audio components cut off with a sound like a microphone pop. There's no time

He turned his face as much as possible in the direction he remembered Hank to be in and started humming and choking and gasping around the thirium tube in his mouth, squeezing and shaking Hank's hand, doing as much as possible to get across the message that he's got something to say. The tube is removed with a slick slide, but he can't hear the words being thrown at him or see that faces of the other androids or human.

Stuttering and crackling, Connor forces the words out of his mouth because he desperately needs Hank to hear them

"I-I- I l off y-y-"

A large hand that could only be Hank's rubs up and down his arm and wipes his face again, reassuring.

"I lo-love you d-d-ad. I'm so-s-s-Sorr-y"

Hank brings his hand to his bearded face. Connor's hand feels wet.



Markus interfaced with him again and began speaking through their link.

They're going to put the tube back in Connor, you need the thirium. We're going to pinch the line, okay? Stay with us as best you can. It's going to be okay.

The tube went back in, and Connor was raised off the bed by three sets of hands. The plate on the back of his neck was activated and pulled aside so the others would have access to his thirium lines, and Connor felt blue blood gush down his back.

He couldn't tell if they had done anything yet, but he focused on Hank's hands on him, grounding him, and Markus's soothing interface giving him encouragement.

You're doing so good Connor. They reconnected the minor lines and we're putting thirium in you now. Your optical units don't need to be replaced, thankfully, there's just not enough thirium to go around. Hank wants you to know that he loves you, and he's going to kick your ass if yo-

Thirium_Levels: 25% vvv- Critical



Loading OS...








Stress_Levels: 0%

Internal_Temperature: 102°F - Optimal

Thirium_Levels: 100% - Optimal

Admin. Authority Reassigning..

Assign Admin. Authority to RK800 #313 248 317 - 51? Y N



When Connor rebooted, he felt an immense weight on his chest, effectively pinning him to the soft surface he was laying on.

Then the weight adjusted, and Connor's vision took in the white popcorn ceiling above him and the breathing mass of hair on top of him.


Connor lifted his hand and placed it on the massive dog's back, and Sumo startled, flinching and swinging his heavy head around to stare at Connor.

The dog leaped off the bed with excitement and shoved his face into Connor's other hand, hanging off the side of the bed. Connor gladly reciprocated and began rubbing Sumo's face and head, smiling and giving a quiet laugh.

Where's Hank? What happened?

He pulled up his recent memory files and found the last one made, labeled 2039 April 27 1200-1853. He opened it up and played it

Brick walls




Stress Levels 100%







Something heavy landed on Connor's abdomen and he was once again face to face with Sumo, insisting on more pets when Connor had mysteriously stopped.

"Oh, Sumo," Connor said, relieved to hear his voice come out clearly and non-staticky. "What happened to me? Where's Hank?"

Sumo did not reply, of course, and was content to lay back down with his head in front of Connor's face as Conner rubbed him down with both hands.

Connor could recall the things that had transpired without the aid of his memory playback. It got so quiet, he had no control over his body, he couldn't see. He called Hank 'dad'. He was going to die, he should have died. It was an unbelievable miracle that Connor survived the whole thing, especially with his memories and basic functions still intact.

He detected several replacement parts, such as a new gyroscope, temperature regulator, and replacement audio units (his had definitely shorted out in the bus). Nothing else had been replaced, but he knew the repairs had to have been extensive.

Sitting up, pushing Sumo down into his lap instead of his chest, Connor recognized the room he was in; his room at Hank's house, Cole's old room, with light blue walls, a fish-patterned comforter, and an immaculate desk on the opposite wall. The only thing out of the ordinary, he noticed, was a small armchair from the living room positioned beside the head of the bed in place of his nightstand, which had been moved over to make room.

Connor heard keys jangling, then the front door of the house was opened.

"Sumo! I'm home!"

Sumo scrambled off the bed and bounded out the bedroom door to meet his human, letting out a heavy bark.

Pulling himself out from beneath his sheets, Connor stood near the door, watching as Hank placed two paper bags on the kitchen table and leaned down to love on Sumo.


Hank's head snapped up, hands freezing on Sumo's ears, and, just for a moment, there was silence.

"Connor?" Hank said in a small, tentative voice.

Moving faster than Connor had ever known him to move, Hank was sprinting down the hallway and almost took him to the ground in a strong hug.

"Oh, Connor. Connor, Connor, Connor, Connor," Hank whispered his name over and over again, pulling both of them to the floor and holding the back of Connor's head to press them ear to ear.

Connor was overwhelmed with emotion, seeing Hank like this. Remembering what he almost lost.

I almost died

Connor's shoulders lurched with the force of a sob jumping out of Connor's throat, tightening his arms around Hank and turning his face into Hank's neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, dad, I'm so sorry" Connor whimpered.

I almost never saw him again.

For a long time, the two men on the floor just held each other, Hank stroking Connor's back and shoulders and Connor weeping apologies and squeezing Hank tighter.

Then Hank patted Connor's shoulders and pulled back, red-faced, then wiped Connor's saline tears with his thumb, just like he did in the ambulance.

"I'm sor-" Connor started, but Hank wouldn't let him finish.

"Shut the hell up, Connor. No way in hell was any of that your fault. He caught you by surprise. It's all that douchebag's fault and none of yours, I need you to know that," Hank sniffed, then pulled both of them up and shoved Connor gently through his bedroom door. "Now, get back in your fucking bed while I call up Markus. He told me to call when you woke up."

It was the least he could do, so Hank watched Connor crawl back under the covers, still sitting up, and pulled out his phone to dial up the deviant leader.

Connor didn't want to pry, so he sat on the bed while Hank took his hand and sat in the armchair, only hearing half the conversation.

"Hey, Markus. He's awake...Doesn't seem like it, he knew me and Sumo, he knew...what happened, too...He was up and walking around when I came through the door. He's acting perfectly fine...Alright. Yeah, yeah. You got the address?...alright, see ya soon."

Hank hung up, then turned and stared Connor in the face once more. His blue eyes were pained but full of relief. They both relished in the silence for a little while.

Then Hank began speaking with a voice that was heavy with grief. "It's been...two and a half weeks since you shut off in the ambulance." Connor startled when he realized he hadn't checked the date at all.

May 14, 2039, 5:46 PM

He sensed that Hank didn't want to be interrupted, and Connor didn't know what to say anyway, so he just let him think through his words.

"I almost saw Cole, in the ambulance. You-you were so scared. You called me dad, y'know? A couple of times, I don't know if you remember. I didn't know what to do. It's been a long time where I've been confronted with a problem that I couldn't just shoot, or reason with. I was so, so fucking useless," Hank berated himself, rubbing Connor's knuckles with his rough thumb and looking away. "Cole didn't look as bad as you did, but it was close. He was in so much pain, so scared, and there wasn't anything I could do but hold his hand and let the paramedics work."

Hank's eyes watered, and he sniffed and wiped his eyes with one hand.

"I thought you died when you closed your eyes. Your blinker turned off while they were workin' on your head. Markus started panicking because he thought you had more time, but your blood levels were too low for you to keep going. I thought fate was fucking me over one last time, that I must have done something real shitty to have my world ripped out from under me twice. Con, at this point, if I ever lost you, I don't think I could keep going," Hank admitted, finally looking back at Connor with red-rimmed eyes.

Connor clutched at Hank's hand with both of his and gazed at him compassionately, opening his mouth to say something, but Hank cut him off.

"Nothing you could make me say or promise would change that, Con. After Cole, I had no hope left. When you shoved my drunk ass into the bathtub, I started to have some," Hank chuckled lightly, "If I had that taken away from me again, I don't think I could take another attachment. There'd just be no point in goin' on."

There was a beat of silence, both of them looking away, then Connor spoke, LED swirling yellow.

"I was scared," He whispered

Hank nodded and moved one of his hands to rub the back of Connor's neck soothingly, letting Connor speak just as Connor had let him.

Connor swallowed, more a nervous tic than out of necessity. "After he gave me the virus, I couldn't control myself. It was almost like the Zen Garden, but it was worse. It was like my own body was shutting me out. It forced me into a seizure to raise my stress levels, then locked it in place so they wouldn't lower. I didn't want to die, but I couldn't stop." Connor squeezed Hank's hand, then looked up at him.

"I thought I was going to die in the alley. I should have died."

Hank gave a short huff of a laugh, "Yeah, it took those miracle workers down at Jericho 6 hours to get you back online. It was a delicate operation, so they kicked me out. You needed a lot of thirium, and your self-healing whatever wasn't kicking in because they couldn't lower your stress levels. They were afraid to reboot you before the virus was removed because they didn't know if you were gonna started freaking out again. Then there was all this fuss about incompatible parts and a bunch of shit I didn't understand."

"Do you know why I was out for so long?" Connor asked. Androids bounced back pretty quickly after sustaining damage, usually. It was bad, but surely it wasn't that bad.

"Well, uh, your self-repair program took a really long time to kick in." Hank looked like he was straining to remember what he was told, only the pieces that didn't fly over his head. "They just flat out couldn't wake you up. None of the activation codes were working, nobody could interface and bring you out of it. Hell, I think they actually tried turning you off and on again!" He laughed, "They told me that they kept getting denied 'Access' or whatever, something about the way the virus worked that just wouldn't let them through unless it was resolved internally. That went on for about a week and some change, nothing. Finally your self-healing kicked in and they just let me take you home and call if you woke up, so you've been here for about a week. Markus is on his way right now to check you out."

Along with physical injuries, his self-repair is usually responsible for taking care of anomalies and malware in his code, and that virus introduced a hell of a lot of them. So it made sense that if his self repair wouldn't start up, even after the virus was removed there would be lingering issues that could only be resolved from the inside.

Connor didn't think Hank wanted to hear about all that at this moment, though.

"Did Sumo miss me?" Connor smiled at him, then at the fluffy bear-dog laying contently at the foot of Connor's bed who turned his head lazily at his name.

"Are you kidding? He barely left your side! He started sleeping in here with you when we brought you home instead of with me. Can't say I blame him though, I was in here whenever I wasn't sleeping or eating. Didn't want to miss you waking up." Hank laughed again.

This was normal, this felt right. No more blood or damage or android comas to deal with anymore; just Hank, Connor, and Sumo. But there was one more subject not covered.

"By the way, Hank," Connor said as Hank's gentle laughter quieted, "I'm sorry I..I'm sorry for calling you 'dad'. I understand that that may have made you uncomfortable, so-

"Connor," Hank interrupted softly, moving a hand to Connor's shoulder and turning him slightly so they were facing each other directly, "Connor, there is no other person alive on this earth who I would be more willing to call my son than you. If you want to call me Dad, it's not gonna make me uncomfortable. If you'd like to keep doing it, it'd make me the happiest man on earth."

Connor grinned, and Hank pulled him close.

"We're gonna be alright, Con. I love you so much, kid."

Connor sniffed.

"I love you too, Dad."

A/N: I hope you liked it! If you want, leave a review! I read and respond to all of them. Also, I'm based on Archive of our Own, and if you haven't made the switch, do so IMMEDIATELY. My username is on my profile. Peace.