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''Cole,'' Connor's voice breaks open, effectively splintering while the impassivity he'd managed to inhabit runs dry. Hank's blood freezes at each word out of Connor's mouth. ''You want Cole, you want him, but I'm,'' His voice is small, coloured with a persistent, fragile quaver. "I'm not Cole, Lieutenant -''
''Excuse you?''
''I didn't mean it like -''
''No, you think I don't know that? That I don't know you aren't my deceased son?'' Hank snaps back, the elder's voice both demanding and exacting. ''Well? Come on, you don't get to go silent on me now. Why don't you tell me again what it was that you just fucking said!''
This time, Connor can't repress a sharp flinch.
Immediately, he manually overrides his facial expression program to force his affect to remain neutral and prevent another slip-up, but the damage has already been done.
''That you want your son here, not me. It was an observation,''
''Well, here's a little tip for you, keep those little 'observations' to yourself. Don't start this kind of conversation with me, Con. You won't like where it leads,''
''I know, I've already accepted that, I'm not discussing this with you because I think I'll like the resulting outcome in any way. I'm speaking with you about this because it's needed,''
''Connor -''
''You want your son here. And I want him back for you. I've tried being the tourniquet for the wound his absence left on you. I appear to be of little use though. I can't ever hope of remedying or coming close to what you've lost,''
''Stop talking,''
''Lieutenant, I wish nothing more than for you to be able to be the person you were at that time, the person that didn't need alcohol to cope. And I've wanted nothing more than to help you. But I realize now that I can't do that for you, not while I'm still me and you're still you. Because I'm not what you need,''
''Christ, Connor, shut up about this!''