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Connor sat in the passenger seat of Hank’s Oldsmobile, holding a hand against his left side where a fresh gash slowly oozed thirium. Hank was in the driver’s seat, knuckles white against the wheel and pointedly not looking at Connor. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the crime scene. There had been a deviant-related homicide, and like with many of their cases, Connor had determined the killer to still be near the scene of the crime. Unfortunately, the man had also still been armed and managed to get Connor with the knife before the detective was able to subdue him. They let the other officers on the scene process the arrest and take him in, deciding to head back to the precinct ahead of them to get started on the paperwork.
“When are you going to stop throwing yourself into danger like that, Connor?” Hank suddenly snapped the annoyance that had been building for the past several minutes finally bubbling over.
“I had the situation under control Lieutenant,” Connor said.
“Under control my ass, you got stabbed!” Hank snapped back.
“If I didn’t stop him he would have stabbed you.” Hank seemed to deflate a little at that.
Hank had been the closet person when the man slipped out from his hiding place into the room. With his arm already swung back, Connor had only the time to shove Hank out of the way, not stop the incoming knife.
“And you’re positive we don’t need to go to the hospital?” Hank asked.
“No major biocomponents were seriously damaged, my self-healing program will handle the repairs on their own,” Connor replied. While the wound looked gruesome, only a few minor thirium lines had been severed and would mend back together as soon as he could reattach them together. He didn’t need an android hospital for that, the first aid kit they had back at the precinct would work just fine.
“Fine, but if anything feels off or gets worse, you tell me,” Hank glanced over to him for a second before returning his eyes to the road.
“I will,” Connor agreed. A few minutes later Connor and Hank arrived back at the precinct. They walked through the bullpen then took the elevator upstairs to the small infirmary that had recently been equipped with necessary items for android repair and spare thirium. Fowler was still in the process of negotiating with the government to get a technician on hand, at least part-time, but the process was slow. For now, Hank just had to rely on Connor to know how to repair himself and help where he could for minor injuries that didn’t require going to one of the few android hospitals in the city.
Connor walked to one of the cabinets in the room and began gathering the necessary supplies while Hank stood waiting with his arms crossed near the metal examination table in the center of the room. Connor laid what looked like a roll of blue electrical tape and gauze wrap on one end of the table, then pulled himself up to sit in the center.
“Sorry, Lieutenant, I can’t see to close the lines myself, can you…” he gestured to the tape.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hank picked it up. Connor nodded slipping off his jacket before swiftly unbuttoning his shirt. He took that off as well, exposing the nasty-looking gash in his side, and lay both garments next to him. Hank cringed, leaning down to squint at the damage.
“You’re sure this is ‘minor’?” Hank asked.
“Yes, it will be fully healed by tomorrow morning,” Connor affirmed. Then he pressed a finger into his abdomen on the left side, right below where a human’s last rib would be. His synthetic skin faded away and a panel slid open, giving easier access to the damage. “There are three severed lines. They’re small but they should be easy to find. You only need to push the two severed ends together and then bind them with the tape,” Connor instructed.
Hank grimaced but did as he was told, reaching into the opened panel and feeling around for the severed lines. Connor worked to keep his face impassive at the uncomfortable sensation of hands rummaging inside him. It didn’t hurt exactly, not like when the knife had slashed into him, but it didn’t feel particularly pleasant either.
“What about this?” Connor flinched as Hank’s finger poked against his thermal regulator, sending a spike of pain through his body.
“Shit, sorry,” Hank apologized, quickly drawing his hand back.
“It’s fine,” Connor said. Hank didn’t reach his hand in again just yet, but gave the biocomponent a scrutinizing look.
“There’s a small crack there,” Hank said, frowning.
“It’s nothing major, it will heal on its own,” Connor said.
“If you say so…” Hank huffed after a few minutes. He reached his hands back in to continue looking for the small thirium lines. It didn’t take long for Hank to finish his repairs and Connor gave a small ‘thanks’ before closing the panel and setting to work wrapping the gauze around his abdomen. He had just finished when a pouch of thirium was suddenly shoved into his vision. He looked up from it to Hank who was holding it out to him.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he smiled, taking the pouch from the older man’s hand. He ripped the top off and began drinking the blue liquid. His thirium levels moved from a less-than-optimal 75% back up to full volume. Once finished, Connor hopped off of the metal table and threw the empty pouch into the trashcan in the corner of the room. He then went back to the table and slipped his shirt back on buttoning it up, and then his jacket. The garments were still stained with thirium, but he didn’t have a spare change of clothes.
“Alright, now that you’re taken care of, I’ll go give our report to Fowler. You can get started on the paperwork,” Hank said. Connor nodded and followed his partner out of the infirmary and back downstairs. Hank went to the captain’s office and Connor split off from him, going back to his desk. He reached a hand out, interfacing with the terminal, and began to work. Hank returned to his desk a few minutes later and turned his own terminal on, delving into his own paperwork.
As the day wore on, Connor found himself feeling unusually fatigued and hot. It was probably just from his self-healing program running, but he ran a quick diagnostic anyway.
….Biocomponent: Thermal Regulator…. mild damage….
….Thirium levels: 98%....
….Contaminant detected in thirium supply.…6%....
Connor frowned at the strange message. He had never experienced any warnings before about a contaminant in his thirium, usually his thirium filter took care of anything that would be a problem before it came up in a diagnostic. But that knife the criminal used had looked pretty dirty, and was already coated in dried thirium from the man’s first victim. Something must have gotten into his system when the blade cut through those thirium lines. It explained the fatigue and overheating though. His self-healing program wouldn’t begin to work until his thirium was completely pure, otherwise contaminants would cause further damage to his biocomponents. With his thirium filter working to isolate the contaminant, that left his thermal regulator only half-functioning. Connor sighed and slipped off his jacket, laying it over the back of his chair.
“You alright Connor?” Hank asked. Connor glanced over at the older man. It seemed he’d been watching him while he was lost in thought. He was tempted to just brush over it to avoid worrying his partner, but he knew Hank probably wouldn’t believe him if he said nothing was wrong.
“It’s nothing major, Lieutenant. There appears to be a contaminant in my thirium supply, but my filters are working to clear it out,” Connor answered.
“What happens if your filters can’t clear it out?” Hank asked.
“I would purge the contaminated thirium from my systems. But that shouldn’t happen, the amount is small.”
“Purge?” Hank scrunched his face up, looking a little grossed out, “well I hope you’re right,” Hank said, before returning to his work. Connor also reached out, interfacing with his terminal once more.
By the time Hank and Connor were ready to head home, Connor’s fatigue had doubled and the uncomfortable heat had increased. He stood up from his chair but had to grab onto the corner of his desk as a sudden vertigo overtook him. He felt a hand grab his shoulder, and turned his head to look at Hank. The older man was watching him with an intense stare.
“You look terrible,” Hank muttered, looking the android over. Connor brushed the hand off and stepped away from his desk, managing to stay upright.
“I’m fine,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. Hank scoffed and moved forward, placing a supporting hand on his shoulder once again.
“I’m not blind, son. How bad is it?” Hank asked. Connor walked forward, ignoring the question. He didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the bullpen with everyone watching them.
“Hey! You’re not answering the question,” Hank said, following close behind Connor as they exited the building.
“I just need to go home and enter rest mode, then all of my power can go to clearing out the contaminant and repairing my thermal regulator.,” Connor explained hastily. Energy currently spent on keeping necessary processors running while he was awake wasn’t leaving enough power left over. They reached the Oldsmobile and Connor slipped in first, Hank following soon after. As Hank began to drive a new warning popped up in front of Connor’s vision.
…Entering forced rest mode in 10 minutes….
Connor brushed the warning away as Hank entered on the driver’s side. He shut off a few background processes to buy himself some more time. Still, this shouldn’t be happening so quickly. Connor began another diagnostics scan. It would take more power than he wanted to use right now, but he needed to know what was going on.
….Biocomponent: thermal regulator….mild damage….
….Thirium levels: 95%....
….Contaminant detected in thirium supply.…17%....
That wasn’t right. The contaminant shouldn’t be going up, unless… He ran another diagnostic, searching harder this time.
….minor leak in thirium filter….
The damage was so minor, likely the smallest of scrapes from the knife when it pierced through his body. It was so small that it was impossible to notice at first, especially when compared with the larger damage. But due to the contamination, his self-healing program never kicked in to repair the damage. Connor’s eyes went wide as a new warning suddenly flashed before him.
Initiating thirium purge.
“Hank, I-” he choked and there was suddenly a rush of thirium spilling from his mouth all over his chest and the floor of the car.
“Oh Jesus, fuck!” Hank cursed. The car swerved as Hank pulled off to the side of the road. The horrible bubbling sensation built up in the back of Connor’s throat again, and his whole body convulsed as more thirium poured from his mouth. He could faintly feel a hand on his back, but everything else was fuzzy as dizziness combined with the overheated feeling. He coughed, hunching over on himself until his elbows rested heavily against his knees. Blearily, he noticed a counter blinking down in the corner of his vision.
…. Entering emergency rest mode in 5…4…3…
Connor closed his eyes and could distantly hear Hank shouting something, but he couldn’t make out what. And then everything faded away.
“Connor!” Hank shouted as he watched his partner slump forward in the car seat. He gripped onto the android’s shoulder tightly, and shook him. But he got no response. Even through his clothes, Hank could feel the heat radiating off Connor and he felt nauseous as the chemical smell of thirium permeated the car. A long string of curses slipped from Hank’s mouth as he hurriedly shifted the car back into drive and pulled out onto the road again. He turned away from home, setting his destination instead for the nearest android hospital.
“Connor!” he tried rousing the android again as he drove, “Come on, wake up!” All he got was a small, pained-sounding whine, but Connor didn’t move from his hunched position. He didn’t understand why this was happening so suddenly. Connor had mentioned something about urging, but that wasn’t supposed to happen unless things were serious. Why hadn’t he told Hank sooner that it was this bad?
Hank made it to the hospital in record time, car screeching to a halt in the mostly empty parking lot. He threw his door open, running around to the passenger side door and opening that as well. He reached an arm under Connor’s chest, pulling him back against the seat so Hank could take his seatbelt off.
“H…Hank…”
Hank’s eyes shot up to Connor’s face. His eyes were open, but half-lidded and his LED was flashing an alarming red.
“Don’t worry, son, we’re at the hospital,” Hank soothed. He slipped one hand behind Connor’s back before moving the other under the android’s legs, lifting him up from the seat. Hank kicked the car door closed, trying not to jostle the android too much. Connor’s head hung limply against Hank’s shoulder and he could feel the intense heat coming off of him.
“Sorry ‘bout the car,” Connor mumbled into Hank’s shoulder, voice slurring.
“That doesn’t matter,” Hank said, walking as fast as he was able to the emergency entrance of the hospital.
“I didn’t think-” Connor tried to continue, but he made a small choked sound and coughed, spraying thirium across Hank’s shirt. Hank burst through the doors of the hospital, and the android working behind the reception desk startled, LED flashing yellow at the noise.
“He needs help, there’s some kind of- he lost a lot of thirium,” Hank said. The receptionist’s LED cycled yellow again and a few seconds later two more people ran into the room with a stretcher. He laid Connor down, the android unconscious once more. The two people rolling the stretcher took off, and Hank followed close behind. One of them glanced back at Hank.
“Sir, maybe you should wait in the-”
“No,” Hank said firmly, “I’m staying with him.”
The man frowned but didn’t argue anymore. They brought Connor to a sterile room, with stainless steel cabinets lining one wall and a metal examination table in the center. A couple of white plastic chairs were lined up along the wall to the left of the door. There was already another android - a technician it seemed - waiting in the room. The two men rolled the stretcher to a stop next to the table and lifted Connor off, transferring him over to the metal table. They then quickly pushed the stretcher off into the corner of the room and all three jumped into action.
Hank felt numb, watching as they Hooked up various wires and sensors to Connor. They pulled off his shirt and jacket before opening the panel to access his chest, just as Hank had done earlier. Only now it didn’t seem like such a simple fix.
“Sir.” Hank startled, noticing one of the men had stopped working on Connor and was now standing in front of him.
Hank cleared his throat, but his voice still came out sounding watery with emotion, “Yeah?”
“Can you tell me what happened before he started purging his thirium?”
Hank began to explain, starting from the incident at the crime scene all the way up until Connor had suddenly started spewing his blood out in the car. But everything felt so numb and distant, like it was someone else recounting what happened and he was watching from a distance.
“His thirium levels are dangerously low, we don’t have enough here. Go grab some extras,” the android currently working on Connor ordered to one of the other men. He nodded and ran off out of the room, brushing past Hank. Hank stumbled back until he reached the wall, and slumped down in one of the small plastic chairs.
He felt sick, watching as the technicians guided a tube down Connor's throat, hooking it up to a bag of thirium hanging from an IV stand. He buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t watch this. It was too much like last time, waiting and unable to do anything while his son died in front of him. He couldn’t lose Connor, he didn’t think he’d be able to live if it came to that. The android had barely been in Hank’s life a year, but he meant the world to the old Lieutenant. He gave Hank a reason to actually give a shit about his own life again.
The man who’d left earlier returned, carrying an additional three bags of thirium with him. He set about switching out the almost empty bag while the other two continued their work. Hank wasn’t sure how long had passed - it felt like hours - but the energy in the room died down and the technicians finally pulled their tools out of Connor’s chest. The one who’d ran to get the additional thirium, pulled down his mask, a tired smile on his face as he approached Hank.
“He’s going to be okay,” the man said. Hank felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and sucked in a breath.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Hank breathed out, slumping over in the chair. He took a few seconds to compose himself before looking back up at the technician. “What happened to him? Why did he suddenly get so sick?” Hank asked.
“He had several minor injuries that ended up causing a major system failure. When an android has a contaminant in their thirium, it can make it difficult for their other systems to work. He has a filter for those contaminants, but there was a leak preventing it from working. This prevented his thermal regulator from self-repairing and also allowed the contaminant to build up,” the technician explained. Hank didn’t understand the more technical stuff the man had said, but all he knew was that the next time Connor got hurt Hank was bringing him to a technician no matter how minor his friend insisted it was. Or better yet, try and convince the idiot to stop putting himself in the direct line of danger in the first place.
“But he’s going to be okay now,” Hank asked again. He needed to hear it again.
“Yes, we’ve replaced all of the contaminated thirium and sealed the leak in his filter. We also repaired the damage to his thermal regulator. He should be awake and ready to go home in a couple of hours. Though he will probably still feel tired since this put a lot of strain on his systems,” the technician said.
“Okay,” Hank nodded, “thank you, for saving him. All of you,” Hank addressed the other two who had worked on Connor.
“Of course sir,” the android technician smiled at him, and the other man also gave a nod.
“We’re going to bring him to a room where he’ll be more comfortable, if you’d like to follow.”
Hank followed behind as they brought Connor to another room. This one was less sterile and far more comfortable. There was a plush bed in the center of the room, which they moved Connor into. The wall opposite the door looked out over the city, lights making it bright even in the dark of the night sky. Even the chair by the wall looked more comfortable, with cushions instead of being completely made of plastic.
“We’ll leave you alone then. Let us know if you need anything,” and with that Hank was left alone in the room with Connor. Hank dragged the chair until it was next to Connor’s bed and plopped down. Hank closed his eyes and must have dozed off for a moment. He woke up to the sound of someone calling his name.
“Hank?”
Hank startled, sitting up straighter in the chair. Connor was awake, his brown irises tired, but clearer and more alert. He still looked terrible, but not nearly as much as before.
“Hey son,” Hank reached out, taking one of Connor’s hands in his own, “how’re you feeling?”
“Drained,” Connor sighed.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he smirked, but then his expression turned serious. “Connor, why didn’t you tell me before it got this bad?” Connor frowned, and looked away from Hank, staring up at the ceiling instead.
“I didn’t think it would… I thought my self-repair program would be able to handle it once we got home and I could enter rest mode. I hadn’t realized there was a leak in my thirium filter until we were heading home, but then…” he trailed off, his eyes drifting back to look at Hank. “I’m sorry Hank, I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Hank could see the barely concealed worry in the android’s eyes, that Hank would be angry with him.
“You really did scare the shit out of me,” he gave Connor’s hand a soft squeeze, “but I’m just glad you’re alright.” Connor returned the gesture, squeezing Hank’s hand back as well.
“I’ll try to be more careful in the future,” Connor said
“You better. And next time I’m taking you to a technician no matter what you say. Even if it’s just a paper cut,” Hank said, only half joking.
“That seems a little excessive,” Connor said.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m not losing another son,” Hank said, blushing slightly. The last part had just slipped out. But he was too tired to really care, he meant it anyway. Connor looked away again, eyes shimmering slightly.
“Okay… I’ll make sure you don’t.”
“Good.”