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Hank opened the front door for Connor and helped him to lay Sumo on the couch before kneeling down to examine his leg.
“He’s gonna be okay, Connor. It looks broken but he’s okay.” Hank whispered in an unusual tone as he stood and left the room to find some bandages. “I’ll call a vet tomorrow. For now, I’m gonna wrap and splint it.” He smiled to himself when he found the his first-aid kit and turned back to the living room. “It wasn’t your fault, Conn-”
Connor was gone.
Hank swore to himself before kneeling down and setting to work on splinting and bandaging Sumo’s leg. He’d done it before, Sumo was rather accident prone, so he knew what he was doing. He also knew no vet would be open until the morning. It was too late to call one now.
Connor was a mess. Hank wished he knew what to say to convince him that Sumo was just a big strong bastard, or that his life was worth far more than he apparently believed. He played out multiple conversations in his head as he finished patching Sumo up, but none of them seemed right.
So he decided to wing it.
Hank stood and, with a final glance at Sumo, went to find Connor.
The most logical place to look was Connor’s bedroom, but Hank feared that, maybe, Connor’s self-esteem had gotten to him first. If Connor believed he didn’t belong, that Hank and Sumo were safer without him, then… what if he’d run away? Or worse…?
His fears faded when he heard the sound of soft sniffing from the other side of Connor’s door. He sighed in relief, knocking on the door softly.
“Connor?”
“Yes, Hank?”
“I’m gonna come in, okay?”
“Okay…”
God, it was a pitiful sight.
Connor was lying face down on his bed, his face buried in his arms, red LED flickering violently. Blue blood stained the pillow, reminding Hank that Connor had been hit by the car too, thankfully not badly.
“I’m sorry, Hank…”
“Stop right there, Kid.” Hank whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed as he rubbed Connor’s back. “It ain’t your fault in any way. I’m just fucking glad it wasn’t you.”
“Why?” Connor sniffed, pulling his face out from his arms to blink up at Hank in confusion.
“State-of-the-art Android, my ass.” Hank muttered. “Got fucking anxiety.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You’re my Son, Connor. No-one wants to see their kid get hurt or… or die.” Hank sighed. “Kids make mistakes, they drive you insane, they ask for things they shouldn’t and half the time they get it, they make mess and stick their fingers in shit they shouldn’t, and they mean more to their parents than anything in the fucking world. And you tick all those boxes, Connor.”
Connor shifted, moving to lie on his side as he wiped his face with his injured hand. Up close, Hank could see the skin had been scraped off, revealing wiring and Thirium and god knows what. Hank stood without a word and left the room to fetch the first aid kit.
Connor lay still, staring blankly at the photo of himself, Hank and Sumo on his bedside table. They looked like a family… but did he really belong here?
“A year before he died,” Hank started as he entered the room, a roll of bandages in his hand. He sat on the bed and took Connor’s hand gently, wrapping it. “Cole and I went for a walk after school. We were only supposed to go to the fucking toy store, but Cole wanted to see the animals, and I fucking let him. Next thing I know, we had a fucking dog.”
“Sumo.” Connor whispered.
“You’re a fucking rocket scientist, you are.” Hank smiled, finishing with Connor’s hand. Then he sighed. “Connor, what do I need to say to stop that red light show on your head there?”
“I do not know…” Connor confessed. Hank forced a smile.
“Tell me what’s going on in that noggin o’ yours. What’re you feeling?” Hank asked.
“I feel… out of place.” Connor curled up on himself. “I… I am questioning my place in this family, calculating the percentage of your safety with and without me. I am confused as to why you call me Son when I am just a piece of plastic designed to accomplish a task.”
“Well, firstly, that thing you said you are? You ain’t.” Hank smirked. “You didn’t accomplish shit with Cyberlife. You didn’t kill Markus, you didn’t stop the revolution, and you didn’t remain a machine. So, you gotta find a new purpose, and being my Son is good enough, I think.”
“But-”
“As for my safety, I don’t know what I’d fucking do without you, Connor.” Hank scoffed. “Probably go back to drinking every day-”
“You still drink every day-”
“Maybe play a few more games of Russian Roulette, maybe throw myself off a building-”
“Hank-”
“It’d be like losing Cole all over again and…” Hank looked down. “I can’t fucking do that again… If you hadn’t come along… I’d be 6 feet under right now. I need you here, Connor, in this family. I don’t… Fuck, don’t you fucking dare tell anyone I said this… I don’t want to be alone again.”
Connor sat up, curling up wordlessly against Hank. Hank smiled and wrapped his arm around Connor’s shoulders.
“Your mood ring’s yellow, thank Christ. Scares the shit outta me every time it goes red like that.”
“It goes red when I am under extreme stress or in pain.”
“What does yellow mean?”
“It is like a warning, it means I am starting to get stressed, or that I am coming down from feeling stressed. It can also mean I am confused or deep in thought. It also goes yellow when I receive or make a transmission.”
“Blue means you’re okay, yeah?”
“Yes, blue means I am happy or unaffected.”
“Okay, cool. Any other colours I should know about?” Hank asked, pulling away.
“One. But I shall leave that one for you to figure out.”
“I don’t like surprises, Kid.”
“I’m certain it will be a pleasant one.” Connor sniffed, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, it better be.” Hank chuckled. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better. Thank you, Hank.”
“You know, it’s okay to have doubts. Just… Make sure you talk to someone about them, okay?”
“Okay, Hank.”