A/N: I did a playthrough of the game where I killed Connor at every opportunity (for the I'll Be Back trophy), and when a writing challenge gave me Supernatural AU as the theme, something clicked in my head. This story poured out of my fingers in a manner of days.

If you're interested in reading more, you might want to follow the story. I have about four further chapters just waiting to be edited and posted. I can't seem to leave the story alone. ^^;

[Written on and off between 7-15-18 to 7-30-18]

Tags: Alternate Universe- Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy, CyberLife is a Dick, Implied Human Experimentation, Mystery, AO3 FB Challenge, Happy Ending, With A Twist, One Shot

"From the Ashes"

Hank Anderson entered the staff lounge, casting a glance over the few people gathered inside the room. A man and woman in lab coats huddled close together at a table in the corner, their food forgotten in the excitement of a hushed conversation.

He took a seat, putting his brown lunch bag in front of him. So far, his new gig as a security guard at CyberLife was easy and low-stress. It was nothing like his last job with the Detroit Police, which had fallen apart after losing his son and wife. The irony of being hired by the same company he blamed for his misfortunes wasn't lost on him.

Luckily, Hank was nowhere near their android production plant. Instead, he'd been stationed at CyberLife's R & D department. Watching a bank of monitors full of scientists milling about in their respective jobs was soul-numbing at times, but Hank could think of worse ways to spend his time.

The nearby TV was stationed on some talk show, Hank tuning it out in no time as he tucked into his BLT sandwich.

"How is RA1096 coming along?"

"We're still no closer to replicating its abilities, even after all this time." The man abruptly glanced at Hank who quickly projected an air of indifference, a tactic that had served him well during stakeouts in the past. He hid a smirk as the man turned back to his female companion, resuming their conversation.

"That's rough. What are you up to anyway?"

"523."

A low whistle. "Impressive."

The man sighed. "Thinking up new ways has been exhausting."

"I can imagine," the woman said, looking down at her watch. "I should be getting back." She stood, her chair scraping the floor as she pushed it back. "Keep me updated, will you?"

"Of course." The man stayed behind for another five minutes, taking a few bites from an open container of yogurt. When he did leave, the lounge plunged into silence but for the TV. Hank finished his sandwich, mulling over what had to be one of the strangest conversations he'd overheard.

It was obviously some kind of research project. That they'd failed 523 times was mystifying though. What was the name again? RA1096?

Back at home base, Hank settled in for another boring shift. His partner, Ben Williams, an overweight man in his 60s, watched the screens like a hawk on his side of the room. Hank didn't know him very well and Ben didn't seem interested in changing that. Given Hank felt the same way, that was just fine with him.

Hank's curiosity gnawed at him as the shift progressed though and he asked, "Ever heard of RA1096?"

Ben's gaze flicked to him for a moment. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Staff lounge."

"It sounds like a project codename, likely down in one of the sublevels. Official policy frowns on those who discuss such things outside of the lab. Did you catch their names?"

That had been the least of Hank's worries at the time. He shook his head, Ben sighing loudly in response. "Shame," he said, turning back to his work. "You see them again, you let me know, okay?"

Hank had no intention of ratting people out for simply talking to each other, but nodded anyway. "Anderson?"

"Yeah?"

"Forget you heard anything. Stuff like that is above our pay grade. Don't mention it to anyone else, especially not our superiors."

"Right," Hank replied, settling back into his seat, wondering how stupid Ben thought he was. Having had to sign a plethora of papers for the job, including an NDA, Hank had no intention of rocking the boat.

He had almost completely forgotten about the incident until a few weeks later. After being transferred to the night shift, Hank had barely adjusted to the new hours.

"Shit." The heartfelt curse slipped out of Ben's mouth and Hank looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"One of the cameras is down on sublevel 12," Ben said, Hank noticing one of the screens had gone to static. His co-worker pressed a few buttons on the touchscreen panel, but no image came back online. "I bet it's the damn wires again." Ben went to stand, but Hank touched his shoulder, pushing him back down in his chair.

"I've got it." Hank shrugged on a jacket, looking back at Ben for a moment, as well as the black screen, pinpointing its exact location. "12, right?" Ben nodded and Hank headed for the nearest elevator, glad for the chance to get out of the booth for a while. Sitting still for so long made him antsy despite the hourly rounds he had to make in the building.

The descent took around five minutes, Hank stepping out of the elevator once the doors opened before him. The only thing that told him he was on the right floor was a single sign posted at eye level, the rest of the floor's layout the same as every other level. A stark functional design that was utterly professional…and boring. Hank didn't know how the employees who worked there could stand it.

The camera was located outside of a science lab, aimed toward the hallway. As Hank examined it, he could see that some wires were loose, proving Ben right in his assessment. He turned to see if there was a maintenance closet around, needing a ladder to fix the problem when he heard a loud clattering sound come from behind him. Inside the research lab itself.

Technically Hank wasn't allowed inside, but he had just cause. He bypassed the electronic lock, using his master set of keys, waiting a minute for his vision to adjust to the darkness before he explored the lab. The flashlight in his hand bounced around the room, the usual set of desks and scientific equipment about what Hank expected. Nothing of significant interest.

Walking towards the end of the room, Hank noticed another door. Surprised it wasn't locked, he stepped through, most of the space taken up by a large plexiglass cell, a large grid of small holes drilled into it from the ceiling to the floor. A dim light was situated overhead, barely illuminating the inside of the space. The only splash of color within it was a red blanket on a cot. Something was lying on it, utterly still, huddled in on itself.

Hank stepped forward when he read the nameplate in the corner, straining his eyes, trying to make out more detail. He pressed a hand to the glass, casting his flashlight over the interior. A small analog clock rested on the cell floor, likely the source of the noise Hank had heard earlier. Though he had tried to stay silent, the lump on the cot shifted, spinning around to look at him.

The shock of seeing another human being staring back at Hank through the clear divider rendered him speechless. He swallowed as the man sat up, slowly standing and approaching the clear divider that separated them.

The first thing Hank noticed was soft brown eyes set in a square face, a smattering of light freckles running down a straight nose and smooth cheeks. Short cropped brown hair and light stubble framed his face and neck. His skin was pale as if the sun hadn't touched it for years. He wore a white tank top and cotton drawstring pants, by all accounts appearing a perfectly normal human being.

What the hell was he doing locked away down here? Did CyberLife have other lab rats stashed elsewhere in the building?

The man said nothing for a while, examining Hank silently, then opened his mouth, his voice rough as if he hadn't used it in a while. "Who are you?"

"I'm Hank," he said, sticking his hand through one of the openings, holding it out, figuring his uniform said everything else for him. Looking as if he'd start crying for a moment, the man set his shoulders and clasped Hank's hand firmly.

"I came down here to fix a camera, but…" Hank scratched the back of his head. "I never expected this. Who are you?" He glanced at the nameplate in the far corner. "It's not R.A., is it?"

The man seemed surprised Hank bothered to ask, briefly squeezing his hand. "No, my name is Connor."

"What's R.A. then?"

Connor dropped Hank's hand as he shook his head, either out of ignorance or reluctance to explain what it meant. He took a deep breath. "What's today's date?"

Hank wondered why it was important, but answered the question anyway. "It's October 6th, 2038." Connor sank down to his knees, looking stricken by the news. He muttered to himself quietly, Hank leaning closer to hear what he was saying.

"…-6 the last time. …lost so much…"

"Hey, Connor." There was no response. "Connor!" He finally looked up, his expression so devastated Hank wished he could offer some reassurance. More than just a single hand. "What's the big deal?"

Connor's mouth lifted in a sad smile, proving it was anything but. "It's nothing," he said flatly.

"Why are you down here anyway?" Hank said, kneeling down so he could see eye to eye with Connor.

Connor just looked at him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Anderson, what the hell is taking you so long?" They both jumped at the loud squawk from his radio on his belt. "Reconnect everything and let's go."

Hank muted it quickly, glancing at Connor. "You're being held here against your will, right?" he asked quietly, wanting to make sure he understood the basics of the situation. The cell itself was a pretty big tip-off he was, but Hank had seen people do crazier things in his lifetime.

One of Connor's hands clutched at a hole, fingertips bent over the edge of it, peering at Hank hopefully. "Yes."

"Then I'll be back," Hank said, getting to his feet. He didn't want Ben coming down after him anytime soon.

"Don't make promises, please," Connor said, a thread of anxiety in his voice. Like he'd heard one too many and couldn't take any further disappointment. There was a well of pain within his eyes that Hank couldn't fathom.

Hank scoffed as he examined Connor, his fragile physique and emotional trauma beyond obvious. As much as he wanted to, Hank couldn't leave him down here. Human experimentation was beyond the pale and not something Hank's scruples could stand. "I keep my word, Connor. Trust me on that if nothing else."

Connor's haunted gaze stayed with Hank long after he'd left the science lab.

The next night, Hank barged into the room at the back of the science lab, making Connor jump when he appeared in front of the cell. He dropped the thick book in his hands to the ground, a ghost of a smile playing around his mouth as his eyes went wide. "You're back," Connor said, slipping off the cot.

"Of course I am. I promised, didn't I?" Hank replied, sitting down on the floor. He reached behind him, pulling out a small tablet computer from the small of his back, which he offered to Connor through one of the holes. "It's an older model so it's slow, but it might help alleviate some boredom."

Connor reached up, short shirt sleeve riding up, revealing numerous needle marks in the bend of his arm. He saw Hank looking and gently grabbed the tablet, yanking his hand back down, seeming ill at ease. He avoided Hank's quizzical expression by staring at the item in his hands.

"It's a computer?" he asked, Hank raising an eyebrow questioningly. He seemed to easily recognize various bits of technology, but interacting with them was another story.

"Jeez, how long have you been down here anyway?" Connor stared at him, apparently still waiting for an answer to his question. "Yeah, it's a computer. Power button's the round one on the side."

Connor pressed it, his eyes lighting up in interest. After a moment, he squinted at the screen, peering up at Hank. "Who's Cole?"

Hank felt his face tense up, kicking himself for not reformatting the tablet when he had a chance. "No one important," he replied impassively. "In any case, they don't need the computer anymore." He hoped Connor didn't pick up on the slight tremble in his voice towards the end.

If he did notice, Connor ignored it, leaning over the tablet. Hank pointed out the browser and Connor opened a new window, the screen going straight to a search engine. "What do I type?"

"Anything you please. The wi-fi's signal's strong down here so you can watch cat videos all night if that's your thing." Connor's thin fingers punched away on the digital keyboard, taking to the computer alarmingly well, glancing up at Hank when he stood up.

"I've got to continue my rounds," Hank explained, noting that Connor looked like a lost puppy. He felt bad about having to leave him alone again. "I'll be back to pick up the tablet before my shift ends. I don't think you're supposed to have anything extra in there."

Connor nodded, his expression somber as Hank began walking away.

"Hank?" He glanced back over his shoulder. "Thank you," Connor said, smiling widely at him. It was the first time he'd seen Connor remotely happy. It brought life back to his eyes, a look he carried well.

"You're welcome," Hank mumbled back, slightly embarrassed at having such a grateful look directed at him. He continued on his way, chiding himself for the color that spread across his cheeks. The way he couldn't get the image of Connor's heartfelt smile out of his head.

Hank shook his head. "What the hell am I doing?"

Over the next week with the tablet computer Hank had brought him, Connor rapidly consumed vast amounts of knowledge, becoming well versed in subjects Hank only had a passing understanding of. His mind was sharp, retaining everything he read. He even brushed up on popular culture, putting Hank's own select expertise to shame.

"What's your take on androids developing sentience?" Connor asked one night while watching the latest news report, which had brought the subject up.

The old feeling of anger and resentment rose up and Hank sighed. "To be honest, I've never met a machine I liked. They're always so stiff and cold. Maybe if I actually met a deviant, I'd change my mind." They'd have to leave one hell of an impression too, he thought.

"There's an android they use for errands in the lab. John's always very polite and friendly. He's the only other person I talk to besides you. As hard as it would be to see John go, I think I would want him to have his freedom." Connor slid the tablet back to Hank after checking the time, confirming Hank was about to leave. "So at least one of us would."

"Connor." Hank laid a hand on the tablet, cursing internally as he realized the situation couldn't continue as it was. He met Connor's gaze through the glass. "What would you say to leaving this place?"

Connor's reply was instantaneous, no thought required. "I would like that very much, Hank."

It's probably a little late to ask this, but you don't have any nasty diseases, do you?" Hank asked, sitting across from Connor, the glass separating them, eating a slice of cold pizza. He was on what he considered his lunch break at 2:30 in the morning, confident Ben wouldn't come close to the lab during his single round of the building. As dedicated as he was in the main booth, his near hatred of exercise meant he did the least amount of walking as possible.

Connor shook his head. "No, I'm not here for that." His voice was strained as he added, "Ask about anything else, just not that. I can't talk about it."

"Can't or won't?"

"Won't," Connor affirmed.

Hank nodded, thinking it was unfair that Connor held onto his secrets so tightly when Hank had been nothing but honest with him. He started in on his second slice. "Okay, I was just making sure I don't drop dead anytime soon. Sumo would hate that. I would've haunted the shit out of you if I did though."

"I would have enjoyed that," Connor said with a grin, then tilted his head in interest. "Sumo?"

"My dog. Big Saint Bernard." Hank still remembered him as a puppy, needing help to get up on the furniture. Now the dog's size practically rivaled everything in the house.

"I like dogs," Connor replied.

"A man after my own heart," Hank said half-jokingly, the intensity of Connor's gaze on him making Hank nervous. He had the distinct feeling Connor was seeing beyond his physical appearance and though he was fully clothed, Hank felt naked before him.

Connor looked down at the floor for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Forgive me if I'm bringing up anything painful, but the owner of the tablet you've been letting me borrow is dead, aren't they?"

"Yes," Hank said, seeing no reason to lie about it. The familiar ache that seized him wasn't new, nor was the sudden lump in his throat. He cleared it before speaking. "He was my son. It's been three years now."

Connor reached through one of the holes and touched Hank's shoulder, looking so damned earnest it was practically unfair. He'd been holding onto his pain for so long, it felt good to talk about it. "Losing him nearly destroyed me. It still is in some ways. My old job and wife, they're gone. I can't get them back and if I'm honest, I don't want to."

"I've never had kids so I can't imagine," Connor said quietly, shifting his hand down to Hank's which rested upon his knee. His fingers were warm, Hank overturning his hand so they pressed against his palm. It was Connor who moved his hand down until their fingers intertwined.

Just that small touch was enough to ease some of the grief Hank felt and hasten his heartbeat at the same time. He smiled. "Thanks for not offering empty platitudes, I've had more than enough of those."

Connor squeezed Hank's hand before letting go. "It's the least I can do after everything you've done for me."

"What about your family?" Hank asked, Connor sitting back, chuckling softly.

"Gone," he said simply, gaze falling to the last piece of pizza on the paper plate next to Hank. "Can I have that?"

Aware Connor was changing the subject and unsubtly at that, Hank shrugged and handed it over, amused to see Connor handle the food lovingly before taking a delicate bite. His eyes closed and he groaned, chewing leisurely. "This is amazing."

"It's just pepperoni pizza," Hank said, thinking the face Connor made while savoring food was downright sinful. It gave him ideas that made him uncomfortable. "Cold pizza at that."

Connor finished the slice, licking his fingers afterward for want of a napkin. "You wouldn't say that if you'd been eating what I have. Bland over bland."

"I promise I'll change that soon," Hank said.

Connor nodded. "I believe you." Looking into his eyes, Hank hoped he could deliver on his promise.

Hank tiredly unlocked his front door, then stepped through, a shape moving toward him from the dark confines of the house. Sumo propped himself up on Hank's leg, barking excitedly at his owner's return. Hank sat down the bag of groceries on the floor before kneeling down and hugging the dog around the neck. The familiar smoothing scent and soft fur was a balm, serving to remind Hank he was home.

"Sorry to leave you on night watch duty this last month," Hank said, rocking back on his heels. Sumo licked his cheek, apparently accepting his apology. "Still in your good books, huh?" The dog having extracted enough affection for the moment retreated, wandering towards the living room.

Hank hauled the bag of groceries onto the kitchen table, shortly putting everything away. He grabbed a notepad and sat down, resting his chin on his hand, leaning over the table. After a few minutes, Sumo shoved his head into Hank's lap, rolling his eyes up at him expectantly.

Chuckling, Hank obliged, petting him. Abruptly, Connor's face flashed in his mind and Hank sighed, looking down at Sumo. "I must be crazy. How the hell am I going to get him out of there?" The dog uttered a soft woof and Hank scratched the area between his ears. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He got up to get a drink, pouring himself some whiskey. While not at his best after a long shift of work, Hank knew he could come up with something. He threw back the shot of liquor, feeling the burn all the way down to his stomach. As if triggered by the alcohol, something in the back of Hank's brain sparked and he took a few minutes to think the idea through.

It was crazy, reckless, and probably would end up getting him killed, but every good deed was worth doing, right?

"Okay," Hank told Sumo who was getting a drink of water from his dish. His gaze dropped to his phone on the table, reaching out to grab it. "I need to call in a few favors." His personal life was in shambles so Hank would probably spend a while apologizing before he could ask anyone for help.

He sighed heavily. "Wish me luck." Sumo sat next to him and panted silently in support as Hank started to dial.

Fidgeting, Hank watched Ben slowly down his cup of coffee, barely paying any attention to the security feeds before him. The sleeping pills were taking too damn long. Just when he thought he'd have to take things into his own hands, Ben yawned.

A few more minutes passed and his head dipped once, then twice before Ben's chin hit his chest, his eyes closed. Hank leaned over and snapped his fingers a few times, Ben showing no response. Grinning, Hank powered down the bank of monitors, cutting off the recording feed, then stole Ben's security ID so if he unexpectedly woke up, he couldn't reactivate them.

He was committing work suicide, but couldn't stand to see Connor mistreated any longer. Luckily, with Ben down and out, Hank could move around freely, his only worry running into other employees. He was always good at bullshitting people though.

Carefully grabbing the duffel bag from underneath his seat, Hank left the booth, walking as casually as he could down the hallway toward the elevator. He was never as thankful to be on the night shift as he was now. During the day, it would've been impossible to get Connor out.

Striding toward the lab, Hank crossed his fingers before reaching the door. If they'd moved Connor somewhere else, his plan was shot. In the month Hank had known him, Connor had never given any indication he went anywhere but the lab next door.

Still, Hank's relief was immense when he saw Connor sitting on his cot. Part one of the plan was at least going well. "Thank god," he said, lying the duffel bag on the floor. Connor shot to his feet, going to the front of the cell, pressing his hands against it.

"Hank, what's going on?"

"You're getting the fuck out of here. Tonight." Connor's face lit up and he watched Hank move to left side of the cell.

His fingers shook as Hank took out a small black plastic circle from the duffel bag, then slowly pushed it onto the complex electronic lock. Hank looked up at the ceiling, brow knitting at the sight of the water sprinkler overhead. It was too high to sabotage so he'd have to hope the explosive packed enough punch to do the job before the water system activated.

"Get as away as you can," Hank advised, Connor scrabbling toward his cot, hauling it into the right corner of the cell. He hunched down behind it for cover and anxiously gave Hank a thumbs up.

God, he was nervous. Hank input the activation code and left the room, a solid five seconds passing before there was a small booming sound. "Connor, are you all right?" he called out, Hank's eyes tearing up from the smoke that had filled the room.

Around the area where the lock used to be was a ten inch ring of smothering plastic and metal. Hank barely touched it with his foot and the lock fell backward, crashing to the floor. Damn. His friend Reggie did solid work.

"I'm fine," Connor called out in a rough voice. Hank easily pulled open the cell door, heading where he last saw Connor. He found him lying on his stomach, coughing madly into his hand.

The sprinklers finally kicked in, cold water raining down on them from above. Hank suppressed a shudder as he knelt down and helped Connor up. With the fire department likely notified and on their way, their window of escape had been cut in half.

"Come on," Hank said, grabbing his duffel bag. "We have to really hurry now."

"Why tonight?" Connor asked as Hank held open the door to the science lab.

"Androids are occupying Hart Plaza, vying for equal rights as we speak. CyberLife has other things on their mind than one human test subject."

"But what about you? You have a whole life here."

Though they'd left the active sprinklers behind, Hank could feel water dripping down his neck and back. "Correction: I had one. These days, Detroit only reminds me of memories I'd rather forget." Hank handed the duffel bag to Connor. "Now change into those clothes already. We don't want to linger any longer than necessary."

When Connor stepped forward, ignoring the bag, and hugged Hank, he stopped, stunned at the display of affection. Connor pressed his face against Hank's shoulder, his frame trembling slightly. Laying an arm around Connor's back, Hank silently let him work through the emotional high. Connor had been tight-lipped on the details, but Hank knew he'd been through a lot.

"Thank you for this," Connor said, his voice shaky and muffled, fingers tight on Hank's back.

Hank chuckled. "We're not out of the woods yet," he replied. "Thank me then." He gently pushed Connor's shoulder, the man wiping at his eyes before he dug into the duffel bag, pulling out clothes.

"They might be a little big." Hank couldn't help but notice that Connor was painfully thin, his ribs showing with little muscle mass anywhere on his body. What the hell had they been doing to him? Aware he was being watched, Connor's shoulders tightened and he smiled weakly as he stepped into a pair of jeans. A long-sleeved dark shirt and jacket completed the outfit.

"They're just clothes, but they make me feel better anyway," Connor commented softly, running his fingers down one of the leather sleeves of the jacket with a satisfied expression. He scanned the lab, his eyes narrowing. "Hank, do you have another explosive in that fun bag of yours?"

"I do actually," he said hesitatingly. "I wasn't sure if one would do the job or not."

"Can you set it to go off in ten minutes?" Connor said, heading to a big industrial fridge. He opened it and took out a tray of blood samples, Hank assuming they were Connor's own. He studied a nearby shelf of chemicals, seizing a bottle of something, Connor's hand blocking the label.

Tipping it over, Connor slathered it over the entire tray of tubes. Bubbles and smoke rose from it in a matter of seconds. When Connor was satisfied the samples were sufficiently destroyed, he took the explosive from Hank and stuck it on the shelf of chemicals.

Hank was amused by Connor's sudden vindictive streak. "I suppose adding arson to the list of crimes is nothing at this point."

"Sorry, but while they'll have digital records stored elsewhere, I can't allow them to have any viable samples of my blood." Connor paid no mind to Hank's questioning look as he went toward the lab door, stopping to wait for Hank.

"Whatever makes you feel better," he said, Hank checking his watch before peeking out into the hallway. He'd given Ben enough sleeping pills to last for hours but still felt the need to proceed with caution.

They swept out into the hallway, Hank bypassing the elevator at the end completely. Going back to the main floor and out the front door wasn't an option. He set a fast pace as they navigated through the hallways.

Nearly to the emergency stairwell, Hank heard footsteps close by. He surveyed the hallway for a place to stash Connor. He remembered passing a utility closet not too long ago and they backtracked, Hank practically shoving Connor into the small room, turning to face the person who rounded the corner.

The telltale uniform identified him as an android and inwardly Hank's anxiety twitched to life. He knew people, machines not so much. He scanned Hank, eyes moving from his wet hair and clothes to the duffel bag in Hank's hand.

"John…" Connor's sotto voice made Hank glance at the closet door. It was still open a tad, the edge of Connor's jacket sticking out. The bottom of Hank's stomach dropped.

They were screwed. John would report it and CyberLife would persecute Hank to the fullest extent of the law while Connor would go back to being nothing but a goddamn guinea pig.

The android looked past Hank, examining the closet door closely. His LED pulsed wildly before blinking a solid red. Hank thought he saw one corner of John's mouth lift as he stood there with his hands held behind his back, patience personified.

"Out on rounds? Better hurry up, Mr. Anderson," John said, his voice steady. "The fire department will be here in exactly three minutes." Hank stared in disbelief as John waved in the direction of the closet door before he continued down the hallway.

Connor peeked his head out, calling out to John while Hank tried to figure out what hell had just happened. "There's an explosive in the lab, get out while you can."

"I'll be careful," came the eerily calm response as John disappeared from view.

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll be a son of a bitch. He just saved our asses."

"I told you he was a good guy." Hank wondered how long John had been a deviant. Long enough to form some kind of attachment to Connor, which wasn't a hard thing to do as Hank could personally attest to. Even machines were weak against him. A truly impressive talent that.

"I believe you," Hank replied. Now, he finished in his head.

Connor suddenly grabbed his arm once they'd made to the stairwell, looking Hank in the eyes. "Promise me one thing, Hank. Don't leave me behind, no matter what."

Hank nodded. "I promise," he said solemnly, glad to see some of Connor's trepidation dissipate. If only it could strengthen his own belief they could get away safely. Every second they spent talking was one they could have spent moving. "Now come on."

"Gladly."

Once they hit the bottom floor, the basement, Hank breathed a little easier. It was used as storage most of the time, and quiet as a tomb. Both of them looked up upon hearing a resounding boom, then shrill alarms. Hank checked his watch, confirming it had been ten minutes.

"I have a feeling you put that thing on the shelf with the most volatile chemicals," Hank said as they crossed the basement midway point.

"And you would be right," Connor confirmed.

"Sneaky bastard."

Hank finally spied what he'd been looking for: the service elevator. One short ride to the parking garage and they were almost home free. He punched the call button and waited as Connor drew up on his side, looking tired. Hank clapped him on the back in silent support, using his ID tag to activate the elevator once Connor was aboard.

The doors peeled open a few minutes later and Hank's heart hammered at the sight of the familiar security guard standing in front of them. CyberLife must have called in reinforcements on account of the fires. Dean Johnston was one of the few friendly guards he'd met, having actually tried to get Hank to go out drinking with him a few times.

"I saw the elevator log your tag so I thought I might catch you here. Where's Ben? Who's this?" Hank didn't answer, only charged ahead, barreling into Dean, tackling him to the floor. He was younger than Hank by a good fifteen years, but Hank managed to get in a few punches thanks to the element of surprise.

Dean recovered fast, driving his fists into Hank's stomach and chest, driving the wind out of him.

"Hank!" He wheezed on his hands and knees, sure Dean had busted a rib or two. When Hank managed to get a good breath in, he was just in time to see Connor hit Dean in the head with a metal trash can. The guard dropped to the floor, looking dazed, and Hank stood up, Connor's worried expression all the motivation he needed to keep moving.

"I'm fine," he said unsteadily, motioning to the automatic doors that led into the parking garage itself, his chest aching every time he inhaled. "Don't stop."

They'd just gotten to the first row of cars when Hank heard the sound of a gun cocking behind him. Without warning, he was pushed from behind, Connor crying out in pain. Something stung his side, and Hank winced, recognizing a bullet graze when he felt it. Dean must have let loose with a few shots.

Though Hank had been hoping he wouldn't have to use it, he drew his revolver and held his breath as he spun around, firing twice. His aim wasn't to kill but to distract Dean long enough for them to get away. One bullet struck the garage wall and the other hit Dean in the lower right leg.

Dean dropped his weapon, going to clutch his leg. Hank resisted the impulse to turn around as he began running, Connor pulling up beside him, keeping pace as well as he could. His brow was pinched, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Great," Connor grunted, out of breath as they descended to the next level of the garage. Grateful he'd spent the last few months gradually getting back into shape, Hank pointed out his vintage car in the far corner, digging out the keys from his pocket. So far, they hadn't been pursued, but Hank knew it was only a matter of time.

After unlocking the doors, throwing the duffel bag in the back, and taking a seat, Hank waited for Connor to get in, then started the car. He peeled out of the parking garage as fast he safely could, loud heavy metal music blaring out of the car speakers. Connor turned it down and switched it to a news report.

"Though the androids have not hurt any of the armed forces, tensions are mounting and there is sure to be some confrontation eventually. With the city curfew in effect and thousands of citizens in potential danger, we will remain on the scene to report anything new."

Hank turned it off while Connor rubbed his arms, starting to shiver as he eyed Hank in concern. "What about the curfew?"

"Not a problem," he replied, staying off the main roads as much as he could, constantly checking the rearview mirror for any signs they were being followed. "An old coworker of mine is in charge of one of the squads. She warned me in advance when she heard about the protest. Even gave me an alternate route out of the city and what to say if we did get stopped at a roadblock.

"Give it another minute and you can turn the heat on," Hank finished, noticing that Connor was huddling in on himself, holding an arm over his stomach. He gave Hank a shaky nod and Hank turned his focus back to the road, not believing their luck when they entered the outskirts of Detroit, the city lights behind them, a tense thirty minutes later.

Spotting a long dirt road ahead, Hank turned onto it, driving until he stopped behind what looked to be an abandoned farmhouse. He turned to Connor who was slumped in the passenger seat. "We're safe, Connor."

He didn't move even after Hank shook his shoulder. Looking closer after turning on the overhead light, Hank realized there was a large bloody spot on Connor's left side and the car seat underneath him was covered in red. Though he knew it was futile, Hank checked for a pulse, finding none.

Cursing a blue streak, Hank laid his head against the steering wheel. All that work come to nothing. Connor had tasted freedom for all of an hour after years of captivity. It wasn't fair.

Hank punched the steering wheel a few times, no doubt bruising his knuckles when a bright light went off inside the car. It was hot, such an intense burn that he feared it would set the interior ablaze. Sweat ran down Hank's face and he felt like his skin and eyes were baking underneath an unforgiving sun. Everything hurt and Hank wondered if he would go blind from the strange illumination, even with his eyes shut.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted until it was gradually dimmed. When it had finally receded, Hank had to wait for spots to leave his vision to properly see, glimpsing huge circles every time he blinked. Something touched him and Hank recoiled, his head striking the car window before blackness swallowed everything.

"Hank?" He stirred as he opened his eyes, sure he was dreaming. Hank was slouched against the driver's side door, Connor kneeling before him, gripping his shoulders, jostling Hank roughly. Color and vitality had returned to Connor's face and body, making him look years younger. "Are you alright, Hank?"

"This is a nice dream," he said, reaching out and laying a hand on Connor's cheek. It was soft and warm, startlingly real underneath his fingers.

Connor smiled at him, putting a hand over Hank's. "I can assure you that you're wide awake," he said softly, then retreated to his seat, having taken off and put his jacket over the large blood stain. "You may want to take it easy, you've had a shock."

Hank forgot about his swiftly developing headache, shaking off his fatigue, stunned to see Connor alive and well again. "What the fuck is going on?" Hank asked, wincing at the sound of his own voice. It felt off for some reason. Maybe Hank had finally cracked after all this time. He was sure Connor had been dead as a doornail a moment ago.

"I didn't mean to frighten you earlier," Connor started, taking in Hank's silence before sighing lightly. "You may find this hard to believe," Connor continued, Hank snorting in disbelief. After the night he'd had, he'd believe anything. "But I'm what's commonly known as a phoenix."

He gazed at Connor for a beat before saying, "As in the Greek mythological figure that rises from its own ashes once killed?" Connor inclined his head, seeming pleased and a little mystified at Hank's knowledge on the subject. "What? I know I don't look like a big reader, but I had to minor in something at college…aren't you supposed to be a bird though?"

"A giant flaming bird sticks out in a crowd and that's the last thing I want," Connor said, his eyes glowing an eerie gold for a moment, then shifting back to their normal brown. "Especially now that I've escaped that place."

"Is that what you really look like?" inquired Hank, his curiosity chasing away any irritation he felt about Connor concealing such a huge secret.

"It's one of my forms, yes. I rarely stay in it since it takes a lot of energy to maintain."

"So you're definitely older than you look." Suddenly, Connor's shocked reaction upon learning the date when they first met made more sense. If he had no way of keeping track, there was no telling how long he'd been CyberLife's prisoner.

"Yes," Connor said mysteriously before adding, "But I can age normally so long as I don't regenerate."

"So the research taking place…" Hank had a good guess, but he wanted to hear the truth straight from Connor himself.

"They were killing me over and over, trying to find out my secret." Hank's stomach turned in distaste, more than ever convinced he'd done the right thing getting Connor out. There was surprisingly little anger in Connor's voice, but maybe he'd learned simply accepting his fate was easier than fighting it.

Hank was impressed Connor had held out so long though. Under similar conditions, he probably would have broken after a few deaths. "If I had revealed myself, it would have been problematic since there's far more than just my kind in the world."

"Just the tip of the iceberg, huh?" Hank sat back in his seat, not the least bit shocked to find out that humanity wasn't alone. Even before androids had come along and muddied the waters, he'd seen strange shit working in the police force. Unsolved murders and wounds that defied conventional explanation.

"You have no idea." The way Connor said the words were odd, along with the intense way he was studying Hank. He wondered if he was bleeding from the head or something. Hank pressed a hand to it, feeling the faintest trickle of wetness near his forehead. He looked up at the rearview mirror and froze, the world stuttering to a halt at the image he saw reflected there.

Instead of a middle-aged man with silvery hair and a well-worn face that had seen its share of joy and pain, there was a brown-haired young man staring back at him, his skin smooth and spotless, in the full blush of youth. He pinched his cheek and it hurt. When Hank opened his mouth, his reflection did as well and he turned to Connor in bewilderment.

"What the…"

Connor smiled at him, all patience and understanding as he pointed towards Hank's side. He looked down, noticing that part of his coat was torn. Hank shrugged it off his shoulder, the small red wound reminiscent of Connor's, only more minor. "Back in the garage, when I got shot, the bullet must have gone right through me and grazed you. With just enough of my blood on it to make a difference."

"Did you know this could happen?" Hank asked, feeling the smallest edge of hysteria brush against his awareness, quickly pushing it back down before it gained a hold. The current situation was so far beyond his understanding, he had no idea how he felt about it. It was one thing for Connor, but Hank as well?

"Not at all, but it's a very pleasant surprise, don't you think?" Hank focused on the rearview mirror again, at a face he hadn't seen in 30 years. "You've been taken back to the prime of your life, Hank. How's it feel?"

As far as significant life changes went, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to him. The raw energy coursing through his body was plentiful and far different from the tired apathetic attitude he'd carried on his shoulders for the last three years. It'd been an accident, but Connor had inadvertently given him a fresh start.

"Pretty goddamn good," Hank admitted both to himself and the man next to him, flashing Connor a grin. "It'll certainly throw CyberLife off our scent." He had a lot of other questions to ask, but they'd get to that in due time. Hank had an excess of that now.

"It will at that. Do you have any other business in Detroit before we leave?"

Hank nodded, starting the car again. "The most important kind."

Unlocking the front door of his house, Hank stepped inside, a shadow rising from the corner. It stopped just before reaching Hank, head lowering as a growl rumbled out of the large canine's mouth.

"Wait, Sumo," Hank said hurriedly, thrusting out his hand under the dog's nose, hoping enough of his original scent remained on his clothes. "I know I've changed some, but I'm still your owner."

Sumo sniffed, his head slowly rising until he licked Hank's fingers. Smiling, Hank leaned forward, hugging Sumo around the shoulders. "Good boy."

"Can I come in now, Hank?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Connor slipped into the house, his eyes alighting at the sight of Sumo. He knelt down on the floor, making clicking noises with his tongue. Sumo left Hank and went to Connor, staring at him for a moment before deciding Connor was okay with him by shoving his head under Connor's hand. The latter chuckled, ruffling the fur along Sumo's neck.

"I love animals," Connor said, scratching along a floppy ear, grinning widely. He laughed as Sumo licked his cheek in wide strokes while Hank looked on, pleased to hear Connor's laughter. It was a nice sound and proof that what he'd been through hadn't permanently damaged him. "I haven't seen one since 1996."

"They clearly love you back," Hank said, chuckling until the full implication of Connor's words hit him. 1996? He'd only been 11 years old then. Hank did the mental math, his fists tightening at his side as a surge of outrage filled him. CyberLife had held Connor prisoner for 42 years. How the hell could he act so goddamn blasé about that fact?

Connor's smile faltered as he took in Hank's abrupt silence. "Is something wrong?"

No. Hank took a series of deep breaths, pushing his rage back down with effort. He had the wrong target, it wasn't Connor's fault. It was CyberLife's. "No, everything's fine," he said reassuringly, grateful when Sumo took the focus off Hank by pushing Connor to the ground, licking his forehead, catching the edge of Connor's hair, making it stick up in places.

Hank left Connor to rescue himself from Sumo's clutches and started packing up pet supplies. His own belongings, the most important ones at least, were already packed away in a few suitcases inside his car's trunk.

With a contact in the State Department that was willing to provide fake IDs and papers for both of them, Hank only had to send all the pertinent information once they were safely away from the city. Cost a small fortune, but he never expected starting over to be easy. Hank passed by his reflection in the bedroom, pausing briefly, still not used to the change, and knew that from now on, things would only get harder for them.

Having to explain why Hank was asking for an ID featuring his younger self was not a conversation he was looking forward to having. The world had changed a great deal since Connor had been out in it and hiding in the shadows might not be an option anymore. They might have to fight back and Hank, for one, was hoping he could get a few good licks in CyberLife's general direction.

Time was limited, but Hank stripped off his uniform, unable to stand wearing it any longer. He expected to see some kind of scar on his side where the bullet had grazed him, but Hank's skin was unmarred. It took him a few minutes to notice that every scar he'd acquired in his lifetime was gone too, including the one from the car accident three years ago.

Everything hit Hank at once and he sat down on the end of his bed, rubbing his forehead as he fought the hefty emotional influx. A lot had happened in the last 24 hours with many more changes on the way.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, Hank's hand falling to his lap as he looked at the doorway where Connor was leaning against the doorframe. "I was so excited to get out, I didn't stop to consider how it would affect you."

Hank sniffed, casually running a few fingers across his cheek as he stood up. "It's okay. It's not like I didn't know what I was getting into." He quickly pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, uneasy lounging around half-naked, physically or emotionally, in front of the other man. "Well, mostly. The phoenix thing came out of left field.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it," he corrected quickly, not wanting to offend. "It suits you really, but I don't know about me." He was the middle of putting on a flannel shirt, only one sleeve on when Connor placed a hand on Hank's shoulder.

"If anyone deserves such a gift, it's you, Hank. I've seen hundreds of people look at me as if I was nothing. A mere medical mystery to be solved." A glint of gold shone in Connor's eyes as they met Hank's. "You saw a person and took the time to get to know me."

Connor took a step closer to him. "That meant everything to me. Is it any wonder that I grew to care for you?" Hank's breath caught in his throat when Connor pushed forward, brushing his lips against Hank's. He kept his eyes open and the vulnerability and open affection Hank saw there shut down any misgivings he had about the turn of events. Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it.

Connor leaned back a bit, seeming nervous about the lack of response until Hank started to laugh underneath his breath. "I would say that age would be an issue, but you're way older than I am," Hank said with a smirk before he tugged Connor closer, initiating the kiss this time.

He'd meant to keep it light, but Connor was more aggressive than Hank anticipated as he opened his mouth wider, touching Hank's tongue with his own, arms tight around Hank's neck. Connor tasted like a bonfire, all smoke and hot spice, the inside of his mouth warm, soft, and extremely responsive.

Rejuvenated nerves sparked to life throughout his body, Hank moaning at the intense sensation, a shudder running down his spine. He was grateful his ribs were healed, otherwise he wouldn't be having any fun at all. Heat pooled in the pit of Hank's stomach, Connor's eyes burning a solid gold.

Unable to stand it anymore, Hank lifted Connor off his feet, carrying him to the bed. He broke off from Connor's mouth regretfully as he laid him down on his back. The sight of Connor's flushed face, the sound of his unsteady breathing, and the feel of his body beneath Hank's, which was not unhappy to be there, made things worse when Hank's common sense decided to kick in.

"As much as I want to continue this, we really don't have time."

"Shit, you're right." It was the first time he'd heard Connor curse and Hank would have said something about it if Connor hadn't skimmed one of Hank's eyebrows with his thumb. "I never saw it from the other side before," he said breathily as Hank stared at him. "Your eyes reacted just like mine," Connor explained.

Hank glanced back at his closet mirror, the gold eyes eerie in the darkness of the room. It brought home the fact that in the addition of everything else, Hank had left his humanity behind as well. "Well, that's…new."

Connor sat up, pressing a soft kiss to Hank's cheek, causing him to groan in exasperation, holding Connor back. "Don't start that again or we'll never get out of here."

"Sorry," Connor said, not looking the least bit apologetic. Hank realized he would have his hands full dealing with him, but it was a challenge he relished. It would certainly keep things interesting at the very least. Not to mention entertaining.

Five minutes later, Hank closed the driver's side door, putting his hands on the wheel as he turned to Connor. Sumo was lying on the backseat, unmoved by everything, probably happy they were going for a car ride.

"Okay, Connor, where would you like to go?"

Connor grinned at him, his good mood infectious as Hank responded in kind. "Anywhere but here."

"Agreed," Hank replied, starting the car. Sooner or later they'd have to dump it for something less recognizable, but for right now, Hank would take it as far as he could. He backed out of the driveway, pressed the gas pedal, and they were off, disappearing into the night.