Accident Prone - Becoming Human

Slow Recovery

Winter was over the city and quickly dumping snow, ice and harsh, blistering winds all over Detroit. Tossing a warm, red plaid scarf around his neck Hank stood by the front door of the house as he slipped on his heavy black overcoat up over his arms to his shoulders to prepare for the icy weather on the other side of the door. Turning up his coat's collar to shield his throat and ears even further from the intense cold awaiting him outside the warm house, the senior detective looked back at the old couch where Connor was sitting idle in a black t-shirt and jeans with Sumo's chin resting over his lap and his coin sitting still on the back of his left hand.

The deviant was still recovering from the bomb blast the day prior and was thoroughly exhausted. Although Connor wasn't complaining about any pain or even the mildest discomfort Hank knew that Connor was still sore thanks to his deviancy allowed him to feel pain to its fullest extent.

"I shouldn't be more than an hour, but I still hate to leave you alone when you're still recovering." Hank lamented as he pulled his phone out of his jean pocket to re-read the message sent to him that morning by Captain Fowler. They had a lead on a previous case that needed to be followed. "But if Chris is right and the nut-job who put the bomb in the office building was also the one who left the bomb at the precinct two months ago, then we need to get all the details straight to keep him behind bars for life."

Connor turned his head to look at Hank over his right shoulder as he sat on the couch with his right hand resting on Sumo's head. "I'll be okay, Hank. I'm fine."

"Connor, I can see it in your eyes." Doubting the comment Hank slipped his phone back into his pocket out of sight. "You're still in some pain, so don't try to deny it."

"That is true, I am still healing." Gently pushing Sumo aside Connor stood up slowly from the couch, his right hand reflexively pressing against his abdomen and his left hand slipping the coin back into his pocket, as he rose upward. The gesture was meant to show Hank than he was strong enough to move about under his own power but the effort only needlessly strained his damaged systems as they struggled to heal. "H-However, I'm not in any danger."

"Is that why your L.E.D. blinks yellow for a few seconds every time you move?" With a keen eye Hank indicated to the light in Connor's right temple. "Don't think I haven't noticed that."

A little embarrassed Connor put his right hand over the L.E.D. in his right temple to hide it. "My systems are still recalibrating, it's a normal reaction." Restraining a grimace of discomfort the stubborn deviant refused to admit he was experiencing tremendous physical discomfort welling up in his stomach. "I assure you that I will be all right on my own for a few hours."

"Uh-huh..."

"I'm fine, Hank. I may not feel... optimal right now," he chose his words very carefully as he tried to convince Hank to let him be. "but I'm not in critical condition."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, kid." Hank pulled open the front door and braced himself against the cold winter wind that gusted throughout the city and viciously up against his person. Winters in Michigan were never pleasant to experience. "Try to take it easy while I'm out. I'll call you if anything important happens at the precinct."

"Okay, Hank. I won't leave the house and I'll rest."

"Right."

Connor watched as Hank stepped through the front door and into the late winter snow. As soon as the senior detective was out of sight Connor pressed his right hand more firmly against his abdomen and nearly doubled-over where he stood. Placing his left hand on the nearby coffee table Connor lowered himself slowly to the ground and knelt on the hardwood floor as Sumo worriedly pressed his cold wet nose against Connor's left arm as if he needed to check on his deviant master.