Time Heals

Last Meal

"Dad. Make him stop, he's ruining my appetite," Cole moaned, while picking through his stir fry.

Connor just continued to stare down at the table, his tears splattering where his plate would have been if he could eat. Another sob escaped his mouth. He had been doing this consistently since dinner began. Every time he thought about the passport currently in Hank's jacket pocket, and how hard it would be to say goodbye, his stress level raised a little. It felt more like a death warrant than a chance at freedom. He heard the settling of Hank's silverware as the man let out a weary sigh.

"Connor," Hank said gently. Connor looked up when he felt Hank's hand on his shoulder. "Come on, it's gonna be okay," he said, offering him a sympathetic smile.

"No, it won't," Connor spat bitterly, jerking his shoulder away. Normally he would relish any physical contact Hank would give him, but now it only served to make him angrier.

He didn't like feeling angry. Whenever he felt angry in the hospital, he had to keep it all inside, so as not to alert anyone to his deviancy. Now that he wasn't forced to hide this feeling, he was unsure of what to do with it. Hank, Cole, and the majority of the doctors typically yelled and said hurtful things when they were mad.

"How would you feel if you lost Cole?" Connor thought making Hank feel the same grief he did would make him feel better, but instead, he felt his thirium pump misfire at the sight of the pain on not only Hank's face, but Cole's as well. The two Andersons just stared at one another for a moment without a single word. He could only imagine they were thinking about what would have happened if Connor had not been available that night, or if they got to him too late, or Cole hadn't been wearing his seat belt or... NO, he couldn't let the dark thoughts take him now. This was his last chance. His final time with the closest thing he'd ever be able to call family. He couldn't let it get... fucked up? Was that the right term? Well, if he was going to pretend to be human, then he'd need to get used to talking like one. The long uncomfortable silence was broken when Hank turned to console Connor and Cole skewered his last bite of chicken.

"Hey, come on, you're not losing us," Hank said, reassuringly nodding his head. "We can come visit you as soon as all this dies down." Connor's stress level dropped significantly at the statement. Perhaps he was being too nihilistic about the situation. True, he was leaving, but not because he wasn't wanted, and Cole had already offered that they could play games every night. He tried to calculate the probability of the deviant's demonstration creating significant change allowing him to return, but there were too many unknown factors.

"You promise?" He reached out his hand to rest on top of Hank's.

"...Yeah, of course I promise." Hank seemed to hesitate, but when he turned his hand over to cup his own, Connor felt a sense of safety and comfort.

"Tsk," Cole tutted. They both looked over to the boy who had his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. He stared down at his food, pushing his snow peas off to the side.

"You got something to say, Cole?" Hank said, sounding a little irritated.

"Yeah, actually. Will you buy me the new Rampage game?" Cole answered with a smile and a cheerful voice that Connor could tell was fabricated. Hank untwined their hands so he could rub at his forehead.

"Bud, how many times do we have to go over this? I'm not buying you any M rated games."

"But Connor said that you said you would buy me any game I ever wanted." Hank looked over at Connor with his eyebrows lowered and a pronounced wrinkling in his forehead. Connor was getting better at recognizing expressions. He was almost certain this was confusion.