Connor is… special. Hank knows it the minute he sees the trembling boy in the corner, clutching a stuffed rabbit close to his chest, and a pool of blood lying a few feet away from him. Hank had been called in to investigate a new homicide case, one that occured in a married couple's home, and the evidence hints that the mother had murdered her husband before killing herself. The woman must not have thought much about the little boy she left behind but people do stupid things when they aren't in their right mind. The little boy's mother already had been diagnosed with schizophrenia only a few months ago so that could have played a part in her resolve to murder.

"Poor kid," another cop mutters, "this stuff will traumatize the poor little guy for the rest of his life."

At the time Hank didn't know what drove him to take the kid home. He had nowhere to go. He could have had the boy stay at the police station to be picked up by social workers but he felt that the last thing he needed was to be thrust into a world of unforgiving adults. He knew the boy would be safe in his family. His son had wanted a brother anyways. Wouldn't stop pestering Hank for another one even when he explains that he can't give birth like a woman can. If his mother had been there, he might ask her instead, but the woman had walked out on both of them a long time ago. Hank didn't talk about her much even when Cole asked about her. The woman deserved to just be a memory. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Regardless, maybe Cole could help Connor too. Cole was close to Connor's age and he might help the poor kid leave his shell. That's what Hank hopes, anyway, because Connor has been completely mute during questioning. Maybe Cole would get him to talk. Who knows?

So that's how he ends up at his front door with Connor hiding behind his leg. Hank sniffs, rubs his nose, and then gestures inside his home for the kid while saying, "You'll be staying here for the meantime. Until the case clears up and the government decides what to do with you." Hank doubts the kid even understands some of the words he's saying, with how young he is, but Connor has a spark of intelligence in his eyes that a child shouldn't have. It could either be the fault of the events he saw or maybe it was something he already had.

Cole warms to Connor immediately.

Connor doesn't take to Cole as fast as Cole takes to Connor. The boy is relentless in pursuing a friendship with the new boy living under their roof. Cole does what he must to make Connor play with him. He takes him to his room, drags him outside to the backyard, and ushers him to pick up any of Cole's toys. Cole tells Connor that he can play with anything he likes because Cole was more than willing to share. Even when Cole ushers Connor to start playing with him, Connor stares and makes no move to respond in any situation.

Cole is frustrated.

Hank feels sympathy.

"I don't get why he doesn't like me, dad," Cole says, while stuffing his face with over-easy eggs. Hank observes his son with a fatherly affection and then turns his gaze to Connor who had decided to stay on the couch instead of eating breakfast. The boy didn't have much of an appetite. Hank knows he can't force Connor to eat but he can't let him skip future meals either. Connor was beginning to look sickly and Hank doesn't like the way he's losing weight. The boy needs sustenance. He couldn't keep skipping meals until his death. Hank wouldn't stand for it.

"He's not like us," Hank tries to explain to his son, "something bad happened to him and…" how should he put this in words to his son? "He's scared."

"Scared?" Cole tilts his head. Yolk dribbles down his chin and Hank doesn't think twice when he reaches over with a napkin.

"Scared," Hank affirms. "Just like you when we went on that roller coaster, remember?" The roller coaster was fitted for children but it had been the most frightening thing Cole had been on. Hank's son had cried for an hour straight afterward.

Cole's eyes light up in understanding. "I remember that!" He says, "That was really scary."

"Yeah. Connor feels that all the time." Hank reaches up to ruffle his son's hair. "So remember that when you next talk to him, okay?"

Cole nods with a newfound determination.

"Okay, sport." Hank laughs gently. He loved his son to death. The boy looked like he was ready to take on the world and the boy sitting on the couch was the cause of it.

In the few following days, Cole's determination never fades. Hank thinks that Cole's efforts to become friends with Connor may result in nothing until he sees something that makes him do a double take. Connor was… drawing. Cole must have brought out the crayons that Hank recalls specifically hiding in his room because of the last time his son destroyed the walls with colored streaks. Connor draws with his crayons and Cole babbles while he does his own drawing. He doesn't pay too much attention to what Connor is drawing but Hank…? Hank is there, peering from where he stands in the living room, straight into the kitchen where Connor sits next to the table.

He feels sick.

Connor draws a bloody scene. Something familiar.

Cole looks over and doesn't seem to notice at all.

"Wow! Did a battle happen?" He asks, innocently.

Connor, albeit reluctantly, nods. Hank fears what his son might say next. He fears that he might throw out a trigger for Connor because of his innocence but instead, he finds his chest swelling with pride.

Because Cole hugs him.

Connor is stiff but… but… he had let Cole touch him. He usually flinched away from touch.

This was definitely progress.

.

Hank wakes in the middle of the night when he hears sobs.

He gets out of his bed wearily, exhausted, and drags himself out of his room. The sobs come from the living room where Hank sees Connor on the floor.

Hank doesn't really think.

He sits next to Connor the whole night.

Neither talk to each other but Hank thinks that's okay.

Connor must have thought it was okay too because the next day he approaches Hank with a paper in his hand. He offers it to his guardian and Hank receives it gratefully. He looks at the picture and almost tears up at the sight. He knew what it was immediately. It was Connor, Cole, and himself all huddled together as silly little stick figures.

"Thank you, Connor. I really like it."

Connor smiles.

Hank is so shocked that he can't get the expression out of his mind even as Connor's smile disappears as quick as it had flashed on his lips.

Hank hangs Connor's drawing on the fridge.

When the case is closed the court is decided on Connor's fate after Hank pushes himself forward in front of their judging eyes.

He adopts Connor.

Connor would stay with him now. Officially. Legally. Hank tells Cole and Connor. Cole is overjoyed. Connor shuffles in his spot, twiddling with his fingers, as if bashful. Then Cole takes Connor's hand and tugs him into the backyard. His patience is already spent after hearing his father's news and he just wants to play with his new brother.

Hank lets them do as they want until it is deep into the night. He puts Cole to bed and then thinks of doing the same to Connor even though the boy was capable of doing it himself. In fact, Connor often preferred to do it himself, but this night he walks up to Hank and tugs on his shirt.

"What's up, sport?" Hank asks, calm as he can be, but inwardly giddy that the boy had approached him.

Connor has a fight on his face. It's an internal conflict, something he is struggling with until he finally opens his mouth and says, "Thanks, dad."

Hank stands in shock. Connor looks up at him, silent, and then decides to let go of Hank's shirt when he thinks Hank will not reply. Connor looks regretful of saying anything and that triggers Hank to do what he does next.

The man kneels down and sweeps his son into a bone-crushing hug.

Neither are willing to let go.