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Fowler wasn’t totally surprised when Hank entered his office, but he did sigh in resignation. He hadn’t been looking forward to having this conversation, and was hoping they could just skip it altogether. But he should’ve known Hank better than that.
“Jeffrey,” the lieutenant started.
“No, Hank.”
“How the fuck do you know what I’m gonna say??”
“Doesn’t matter. The answer’s still no.”
“Look,” Hank tried again. “I can’t get Connor or Reed to really tell me anything at all about what happened while I was gone. I need to know so I can help Connor as best as I can. He’s really fucked up about all of this. I know there’s footage-”
“No.” Fowler didn’t mean for so much emotion to come out in his voice when he said it. “Absolutely not.”
Hank’s brow furrowed slightly and he blinked, taking a small step back. He could tell how much his friend was affected. “Why?” How bad is it?
“It won’t help you, Hank. Either of you. Trust me. Besides, if Connor isn’t telling you, he’s allowed that level of privacy. Even from a concerned..friend.” Fowler couldn’t meet Hank’s eyes as he said that. He knew it was far more than friendship between them, without a shadow of a doubt. But he couldn’t let Hank have even an inkling of how he had come to that realization.
Hank growled a sigh. He knew Fowler was right about Connor’s privacy. “But, I just…”
Fowler heard the concerned helplessness behind the anger in his tone. “Hank,” he said more gently, “I know you mean well. But you know Connor wouldn’t take kindly to you going behind his back like that.”
Hank frowned a little. Since when did Fowler know Connor that well? He was absolutely right, but it was still strange. Last he’d checked, Fowler barely thought of Connor as alive. He felt an aching longing in his chest to understand every single thing Connor had gone through, but…
“I don’t think it matters if you know the specifics or not. What Connor needs is you. That.. that was what he needed while you were gone. Now you’re back. You need to focus on how you can help him now, rather than dredging up the past.”
Barely the past, Hank thought, but let it drop. Fowler was more emotional than Hank had seen him in… well, and he was right. Hank was stuck on this idea that knowing everything would give him more tools to help Connor, but maybe he didn’t need the perfect tools. Maybe he just needed to be there. “...Yeah. Okay,” Hank finally grudgingly agreed. He appraised his friend again. He and Jeffrey had known each other for the better part of 30 years, since they were roommates in college. Jeffrey had always been there for him no matter what happened. For a man who’d never had kids of his own, he’d always had the best advice whenever Hank had been at a loss when it came to Cole. And it seemed Jeffrey still had the most sound parenting advice. It was a strange, traumatic echo of dozens of conversations they’d had… before.
“He’s tough, Hank. He’ll be okay,” Fowler said quietly but firmly. “And you will too.”
“...Thanks,” Hank said genuinely.
When Hank finally left, Fowler sighed again and dropped his head into his hands. Thank god he’d gotten Hank to agree not to watch the footage of Connor. And thank god he’d made it through that without having to tell Hank the whole truth. The truth that Fowler had finally been convinced of android life, by seeing Connor having a reaction so human it literally hurt to watch. The truth that Fowler had been severely shaken up by said reaction, because the only other time in his life he’d seen someone that distressed was when he’d made it to the hospital where Cole’s surgery had just failed. The truth that Fowler knew Hank and Connor were family because the similarities in their grief were so apparent that Fowler had been momentarily transported back 3 and a half years.
Like father, like son, after all.