A/N: I absolutely love writing this story, especially now that I've reached the parts set in the present. I hope the odd posting order hasn't put anyone off thus far. ^^;

Chapter 3: The Beast in My Belly

The car was quiet but for the quiet jazz music playing on the radio, Connor asleep in the passenger seat. Hank had been driving for a couple of hours, going west for want of a proper direction.

By now, Connor's disappearance from CyberLife would've been noticed. Given his presence there hadn't exactly been legal and they would want to keep such unscrupulous practices secret, CyberLife would likely keep the matter internal, using their own men in the ensuing investigation.

Hank hadn't been subtle in effecting an escape and his fingerprints would be everywhere. Still, with the chemical fire that had broken out, maybe they'd caught a break in that department. He hoped Dean was recovering all right and that he hadn't caught flak for letting Hank and Connor getaway on his watch.

By all counts, the escape been a failure because Connor had died. When Hank thought about him silently bleeding out on his car seat, refusing to say anything for fear of getting taken to a hospital, he felt sick to his stomach and intensely grateful Connor wasn't human. Hank didn't know what he would have done if things had been different.

The man in question stirred, for one second looking panicked, then after examining his surroundings, relaxed, smiling at Hank. That he could erase that anxiety in an instant made all the trouble and effort Hank had gone to worth it.

"Where are we?"

"Close to Union City, I think," Hank replied, pulling down the car visor when the sun peeked through a thick blanket of clouds. "You missed the sunrise."

Connor sat up, his eyes glued to the passenger side window, the scenery whizzing by. He held his hand up in front of him, the sunlight bathing it. The look of wonder on his face struck Hank as odd until he realized Connor hadn't seen the sight in 42 years.

He wasn't about to spoil the moment, shifting his attention to the side of the road in search of a rest stop. Seeing the right exit sign after a few minutes, Hank turned, slowing the car down as they approached the rest stop entrance.

"You've got to be hungry by now, right?" Connor nodded, looking over his shoulder at Sumo who wagged his tail enthusiastically on the backseat. "Yeah, him too."

After everything that had happened, now that the excitement was all over, Hank needed either a long nap or several cups of coffee. He wasn't sure about Connor's driving skills, otherwise he'd ask him to take over for a while.

Hank pulled into the closest parking spot and turned the car off, letting out a deep sigh.

"Are you all right?"

Hank flashed Connor a tired grin. "Nothing caffeine won't fix." He surveyed the small building that housed public restrooms on one side and a donut shop on the other. Just thinking of the sugary confections was enough to set Hank's stomach rumbling.

He got out of the car and opened up the back door, Sumo bounding out and heading for the nearest tree. The sign before the picnic area said pets must be leashed, but Hank shrugged, figuring it wouldn't hurt anything.

There were only a few other cars in the parking lot, one family trying to get their overexcited kids in control, a businessman ranting into his phone, and an elderly couple repacking the suitcases in their car's trunk.

"Donuts," Connor whispered with reverence, lying his arms over the top of the car, almost bouncing on his toes, looking for all the world like a little kid and not the mythical being he truly was. "Hank, please."

"I'm right there with you," replied Hank before he whistled for Sumo, the dog padding back to them, unenthusiastically jumping into the car again.

After digging into the trunk for the dog food he'd packed, Hank dumped a good handful into a steel bowl and put it on the seat for Sumo who dug into it heartily.

He closed the car door, leaving one of the windows open a crack. "Okay, let's eat."

Hank had to look away from Connor when he took the first bite of a powdered donut, but the image of his eyes closing in bliss, moaning lightly, the white power sticking to his mouth and chin remained with him regardless.

Connor scarfed down the rest of the donut within a minute as Hank stared into his cup of coffee, trying to calm down. The last thing he wanted was someone catching a glimpse of gold eyes.

Goddamn raging hormones. He hadn't missed them at all.

When he was sure his pulse had lowered enough, Hank raised his head again. "I forgot I liked my coffee with cream and sugar," Connor said before taking another sip of the drink anyway, his expression turning melancholy. "I forgot a lot of things."

Starting into his own goodies, the first of which was a cream-filled long john, Hank smiled. "You've got plenty of time to rediscover yourself."

Connor nodded. "Thanks to you."

"I'm curious," Hank said, putting his coffee cup down on the table. "Why didn't you tell me what you were before, Connor?" They were alone in the small food court for the time being, the employees on the other side of the room, well out of earshot.

Dusting his hands off, his donuts long gone, Connor leveled his gaze at Hank, reminding him of when they'd first met. So full of cynicism and distrust. "Would you really have worked so hard to rescue me if you had known I wasn't human?"

"I didn't want to rescue you because you were human, Connor. I just wanted to see you out of harm's way. What you are…" Hank paused temporarily, deciding it was important to make the distinction. "What we are isn't important."

Connor peered down, Hank spying a touch of wetness in his eyes as he did so. "I knew there was a reason I liked you," he said quietly.

"What, my dashing good looks didn't win you over?" Hank questioned, trying for a smoldering look, knowing he'd failed at it when Connor bit out a rough laugh. He'd never get tired of that sound and if Hank had his way he would be hearing it a hell of a lot more often.

Connor's mirth slowly died off. "Hardly," he replied. "But then I don't always notice people. I had completely stopped caring about them until you showed up in the lab. You captured my attention like no other, Hank."

Even his wife had never looked at him like that at the apex of their relationship. Like he was the center of the whole damn world.

Hank tore into his other donut, using it as a distraction. While their situations couldn't have been more different, Hank too had a similar attitude before meeting Connor. Things had perked up significantly afterward.

Hell, he'd actually looked forward to going to work after a while, which was a miracle in itself considering Hank's employer and what they stood for in his life.

Hank cleared his throat. "I know exactly how you feel," he admitted, Connor beaming at him from across the table.

Towards the end of the meal, almost finished with his second cup of coffee, the caffeine buzzing in his system, temporarily banishing any remnants of sleep, Hank asked, "If things hadn't gone pear-shaped towards the end, would you ever have told me about your true nature?"

Connor crinkled up his napkin, putting his head to the side. "Eventually, when I found the right moment," he said. "Not everyone reacts well to the news. Some can barely handle the real world, let alone what lies beneath it.

"I've only told two other people in my lifetime, Hank. Both of them didn't believe me until they saw proof and then inevitably things were different. It got to the point where everything fell apart and I had to start over elsewhere."

He shot Hank a grin. "I'm glad you reacted favorably."

"It's because I used to be a cop," Hank explained lightly. "Seeing through bullshit is an invaluable skill I learned fast. Even if I hadn't seen you revive in front of me, if you'd said you were an inch-high alien wearing human skin who shot butterflies out the ass, I would've believed you because you've never lied to me, Connor, except by omission.

"The rationale behind that decision was sound. I know you're still holding back a lot, but I trust you. You'll reveal everything when and if you want to, and that's just fine with me." Hank stood up, clutching the car keys in his pocket, thinking of where they could go next. Caffeine would only last him so long.

Connor chuckled, beginning to collect their refuse on the metal tray on the edge of the table. "How do you do that?"

"What?" Hank watched Connor walk to the nearby trash bin and dump everything. He left the now empty tray behind on top of it.

"Constantly see the best in me," he replied, coming to stand next to Hank. "I'm not a saint, Hank. I've done my fair share of bad things, probably more than you could ever imagine given my lifespan."

Hank didn't doubt it in the least. He wasn't perfect either. "Remind me later to explain how exactly I lost my job at the DPD."

Holding open the door leading outside, Connor said, "I'll hold you to that."

The motel was on the seedier side, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Hank was running on his last bit of energy and desperate for a good night of sleep. He approached the front desk, barely paying attention to the red-headed woman behind it.

Digging around his wallet for the reloadable credit card he'd prepared for such an event, Hank almost passed over his ID as well out of habit until he realized it was of no use to him anymore. She'd take one look at it and assume Hank had stolen the whole wallet.

He leaned on the counter, hoping his ID wasn't necessary. She punched the keys of her computer, likely checking which rooms were empty. A black and white monster movie played on an old tube TV behind her, the damsel in distress screaming for all she was worth. "That's a classic."

She scoffed, casting Hank a disbelieving glance. "Like a young kid like you would know it."

"I'll have you know I watched it and the rest of the series at a film festival back in 200-"

"Man, that was a long drive!" Connor interjected, suddenly springing to life from behind Hank. "I'm bushed."

Shit, that had been close. He was so used to relying on his age to make others listen to him, getting thrust back down to the level of a young college student was infuriating. The knowing look in Connor's eyes as they met Hank's all but said it was a feeling he knew well.

"Just the one night?" Hank nodded, relieved when she merely ran the credit card without blinking an eye. He'd made sure the information he'd registered on the card wouldn't lead back to them, the name the dullest thing he could come up with and the address for an abandoned property on the outskirts of Detroit.

She handed him an electronic key card, then turned back to the TV behind her. "Check out's at 11 AM, have a nice night."

Hank clasped Connor's elbow as they passed out of the front office and he breathed a sigh of relief. "If she'd given more of a shit, that wouldn't have gone so well," he said, making a mental note to call Vera as soon as he got a chance. They needed new identities ASAP.

"Sorry to throw a wrench in your plans," Connor replied sheepishly.

Hank shook his head. "No worries, in a way this works out better for us. No one's going to be looking for two young men after all."

Fighting a yawn as they headed in the right direction, Hank finally gave into another one as they entered their motel room. He put down the suitcase he'd been carrying on the floor and flopped down on top of one of the beds, not bothering to crawl underneath the covers.

He heard Connor stop by his own bed, letting out a contented sigh. "A real bed. Amazing."

Hank mentally rolled his eyes. If anything, they were hard and uncomfortable, the comforter a bit scratchy. Still, he kept his complaints to himself. Who was he to deny Connor a little happiness as he appreciated the small comforts in life?

Weariness dragged at him, Hank struggling to keep his eyes open. Connor's face abruptly appeared before his with a warm expression.

"Sleep, Hank. Your entire physiology changed in an instant and that doesn't come without consequences. Rest and heal, okay?" Connor lightly patted his shoulder before popping on the TV, Hank listening to the dull news report as unconsciousness loomed near.

"-berLife's buildings caught fire in the early hours of the morning. There were no casualties, and while the cause is unknown at this time, an active investigation is underway. More on this story as it develops."

Nothing about Connor or a renegade security guard, which meant CyberLife was already showing how fine their control of the media had become over the years. Still, Hank would take what they could get. The fewer people after them, the better.

Thinking about the intricacies of internal investigations and what it might mean for them in the future, Hank dropped off into nothingness.

He sat alone on the beach, the sun setting on the horizon before him, a huge warm orange ball in the distance. Hank twitched when the waves suddenly reached his feet and scooted further up on the towel he was sitting on.

Hank frowned when the water followed him like it had a mind of its own. As it suddenly started making a whining sound, Hank's pleasant surroundings dissipated, the dream breaking up completely.

He opened his eyes in the darkness of the motel room and looked down at the end of the bed where Sumo was licking his toes. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sumo sat back on his haunches, turning his head to the other bed in the room where Connor was sleeping. The last remnant of drowsiness instantly fell away as Hank realized Connor was groaning loudly, tossing and turning stiffly.

Getting to his feet, Hank went over to the bed and pulled the covers down, revealing Connor's tense body, his left hand clutching his right forearm, face wet with sweat and contorted in pain. Some kind of nightmare.

No, that wasn't right. A sleep terror.

Hank tried to remember what to do but kept thinking of sleepwalkers where waking them up was bad. Was it the same deal? He didn't want to inadvertently make it worse.

Shrugging mentally, knowing he had to do something, Hank leaned down and carefully touched Connor's shoulder. No response.

Hank gripped him harder and shook Connor a few times. "Connor?" He took a quick step back when Connor shot up from the bed, his eyes wild and unfocused.

Two lines of wetness ran down his cheeks as he blinked, breathing unsteadily. "Are you all right?"

Connor's head twisted towards Hank at the low inquiry, seeing him but not at the same time. He looked down at his arm and finally let out a shaky sigh of relief, total awareness popping back.

Connor wiped at his face with the back of his hand before turning to Hank with an uneasy expression. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"What was that all about?" For a moment, Hank was sure Connor would dismiss the entire episode, but instead he patted the space beside him. The bed dipped as he sat down, noting that Connor's hands were trembling faintly on his lap.

He took a deep breath. "One time, someone got the bright idea to use liquid nitrogen." Connor's voice went mocking as if he was quoting someone. "Just to see what would happen, if my cells could handle it." He scoffed. "It went about as well as you could expect."

Hank stared, aghast, his mouth going dry as he imagined what it had been like to see something like that coming while being helpless to do anything about it. "Christ, Connor, that's…"

Words failed him.

The cold hard reality was within Connor's mind lurked monsters in the shape of countless memories of torture and death, waiting to strike whenever he gave himself up to sleep. Though he'd left the CyberLife R & D building behind in the dust, true escape was impossible for him.

Hank didn't know how he could stand it, but the knowledge strengthened his resolve to keep as far away from the bastards as possible.

Slipping an arm over Connor's shoulders, Hank pulled him close, doing the only thing he could: provide comfort.

Making a sound like a soft hiccup, Connor turned into Hank's side, his hands clutching the back of Hank's shirt with an air of desperation.

While he couldn't say everything would be all right without lying through his ass, Hank placed his free hand on top of Connor's head, stroking it gently. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, pressed so close together Connor's steady heartbeat echoed his own, but finally Connor's breathing slowed and his body relaxed against Hank's.

Beyond getting the hell out of dodge and picking up new papers, Hank hadn't given much thought to the potential aftermath of the escape, much less the possibility that Connor would have trouble adjusting again to normal life.

Chiding himself for being so short-sighted, Hank carefully laid back on the bed, shifting the body in his arms. He didn't mind in the least when Connor moved in his sleep, snuggling closer, laying his head on Hank's shoulder.

Despite the fact it'd been a sleep terror that had driven him to it, it was nice having someone else in his bed that wasn't of the canine persuasion. It had been a long time, even longer for Connor.

Hank glanced across the room, seeing that Sumo had claimed his own bed now that he wasn't using it. Since he'd been the one to notify Hank about Connor, he figured that was fair payment for services rendered.

"You enjoy that, buddy, you earned it."

It only took a few minutes to get back to sleep, the warmth at his side a comforting presence that followed him into the rest of his dreams.

It was hot.

Hank grunted as he opened his eyes. Connor was nestled tightly against his left shoulder, Sumo lying on his right side. Considering there was another bed available, there was no reason for them all to be squeezed together. Giving in regardless, Hank shifted slightly, readjusting to get comfortable, dropping back off into sleep.

Eventually, Hank stirred, coming fully awake. He sat up, one of Connor's hands gripping his shirt stubbornly, still fast asleep. "For fuck's sake, you're not a little kid."

He carefully pulled away, patting Sumo's side when the dog rolled his eyes up at him before cozying up to Connor who laid an arm over the dog's side. Hank couldn't help smiling as he stood up, heading to the bathroom to take advantage of the downtime.

Once he'd finished showering, Hank slipped a towel around his waist and approached the foggy mirror. He wiped a hand across it, thinking the thick beard and mustache didn't really look right on such a young face.

He didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

Of all the things he expected out of life, becoming a phoenix and having his internal clock reversed never entered his mind. For good reason too. Now what seemed impossible in the past was entirely probable, his worldview irrevocably changed.

Hank reached for his shaving kit and got to work.

"What time is it?" Connor asked tiredly from his bed, voice breaking towards the end to yawn loudly.

"Ten-thirty," Hank replied, stepping out of the bathroom, Sumo jumping off the bed at the same time. Hank went to the door, going for the leash that was lying on the desk in the corner. Since they were on the ground floor, he tied the end of the leash to the doorknob outside and let Sumo do his thing in private.

Connor lazily sat up as he glanced up at Hank, stopping short. "You changed."

"If you didn't notice before this, you really do see the world differently," Hank said, feeling heat rise in his face as Connor stood up, studying him.

It had to be all the revitalized hormones in Hank's system that made him feel shaky as Connor's fingers touched on Hank's clean-shaven face, moving up into his roughly chopped hair that barely touched Hank's ears now.

"When we first met, I didn't see your age, Hank. That's always been inconsequential for me."

As Connor smiled at him, Hank's chest tightened, wondering exactly when the man standing in front of him had started to mean so much. Not after the escape. It had started before that.

Hank thought back to when he'd spontaneously offered to get Connor out of CyberLife with no real thought as to how. Yeah, probably then, though Hank wasn't conscious of what it meant at the time.

He did now.

Tugging on Connor's arm, Hank pulled him into a tight hug, gratified when Connor melted against him, gripping Hank's shoulders, a sigh dropping from him. There was no push to go further, both of them enjoying the moment for what it was. There was plenty of time to take things slow should they want to.

Whining and scratching came from the front door and Connor pushed Hank towards it in silent understanding.

"We'll have to do something about your appearance as well," Hank called over his shoulder, Sumo going straight for his water dish. So far, there hadn't been any major screw-ups and Hank intended to keep it that way.

Connor yawned again. "Black, blond, or red, huh?"

"Dealer's choice."

Connor bolted down another hamburger, bliss on his face. The greasy diner food was clearly agreeing with him, Hank having lost count of how much he'd eaten. "You're going to give yourself a stomachache if you don't slow down."

"I don't care, it's worth it. This is great." Connor ate more fries, all but demolishing them. "I don't know how many times I dreamed about food like this."

Hank smiled as he sipped at his coffee, his own meal of two pancakes and a handful of bacon long gone, modest compared to Connor's. He was grateful the coney island restaurant was at least cheap fare. The money at his disposal was of a limited amount, reserved for gas and emergencies.

To look at him, Connor didn't seem like a big eater. Hell, he'd been painfully skinny to look at sometimes in the lab. "You're going to eat me out of house and home," Hank joked, instantly regretting the comment when Connor's face lost some of its joyous expression.

Connor finished the last bit of his burger, licking his fingers afterwards. "Back there, I couldn't trust the food. Sometimes they put things in it if they wanted to do certain procedures. I…got tired of waking up in new places unexpectedly."

He looked down for a moment, then pinned Hank down with an earnest look. "I know I've said it already, but thank you. Really and truly thank you. I know what it cost you, and I can never pay you back enough."

The earnest speech didn't fit the image of the binging man in front of him, a bit of ketchup smudged around his mouth, the juxtaposition jarring.

Hank shrugged one shoulder. "I needed to escape just as badly as you," he admitted, thinking of long nights trying to sleep in a bed that used to house two, one ear constantly open to the cries of a child who would never suffer a nightmare again.

"Maybe worse. I don't think I realized how lonely I was until I had something to look forward to. Someone to talk to who wasn't tied to my former job or silently judging me for my past decisions."

Picking up on the sudden downer mood, Hank awkwardly scratched at his chin. "You might have helped me more than 20 hours of mandated therapy did." He meant it as a joke. Sort of. Connor's serious expression told him it hadn't landed, or he was choosing to ignore the light jab.

Someone cleared their throat, breaking the silence between them. Their waitress, a small woman who couldn't have been more than 18, dropped the bill on the table, a tinge of red in her cheeks. She clearly felt she was imposing.

"I'll, uh, be back for that later. No hurry."

Hank watched her walk away with a raised eyebrow. When Hank glanced at Connor, one corner of his mouth twitched and he broke out into laughter. Unable to help himself, Hank joined in, ignoring any questioning looks sent their way from the surrounding tables.

When the moment had passed, Connor heaved a light breath, warmth lighting up his eyes as he addressed Hank. "I'm glad, Hank. I truly am." He pushed aside the remnants of his junk food massacre, already having wiped his mouth clean. "Shall we get going?"

Inside the grocery store, while Connor was off browsing hair colors, Hank stopped outside the liquor aisle. It was strange, but the inclination to grab the usual suspects was far from his mind. Whereas before it was a prerequisite to get through the daily grind of monotony.

Maybe Hank's life was just too chaotic of late to even contemplate dulling his mind with alcohol. That or making a new start had served to lighten the burdens that used to weigh him down.

Connor reappeared at his side, dumping a small box into the cart. "Hank?"

He shook his head, pushing the cart past the aisle. If Hank was past that dark period in his life, it was about damn time. "It's nothing. You need anything else?"

"Sunglasses," Connor replied. Hank perused the other cart contents, which was junk food aplenty. At least it wouldn't cost much. His wallet could handle that. Hank would have complained, but he ate unhealthily himself most of the time, too lazy to cook properly.

Hank had a good guess why Connor wanted them, but wanted to let him bring the subject up at his own leisure. Idly, he wondered whether or not Connor missed seeing certain items on the grocery store shelf.

"All right, can do."

It was a short walk back to the motel from the grocery store, the length of maybe three blocks. With everything they'd bought bundled into four small canvas bags, Hank was enjoying the excursion. Though there was still snow on the ground, it didn't seem to be as cold, probably due to the lack of blowing wind.

"You know, back in 1996, scientists thought we'd be in living in space by now," Connor announced out of the blue, Hank only too happy to pick up on the conversation thread.

"Everything was different then." Hank thought back, memories of playing around in the playground more than studying rising to the forefront. "I was in sixth grade, only 11 years ago. People were more optimistic then compared to the crapsack world we live in now."

One corner of Connor's mouth quirked upward. "You make it sound like so bad." He raised his eyes, scanning the surroundings as they walked down the street, the grocery store far at their backs. "But everything is so bright and fast. Humanity's progressed so far. It's only times like these that I realize how much time I've missed out on. Physical media is a niche thing, ads spring up everywhere, and androids are a part of everyday life."

"That last part is a complicated issue," Hank explained, glad he hadn't been in the police force to navigate the moral complexities of such issues. How did you judge a deviant anyway? Hold them to human standards? It didn't seem right. Allowances had to be made somewhere.

"It's chaotic right now because there's still a lot of people who think androids should be decommissioned because they've become defective. As if humanity were some type of virus."

"I hope John got out all right," Connor said, frowning.

With his hands occupied with bags, Hank nudged the side of Connor's shoulder. "I'm sure he did. Given how long he played the fool, he's a smart guy."

Connor nodded. "A guy, yes." The distinction seemed important to him.

Thinking of Connor's incarceration, Hank glanced at the man at his side. Now was as good a time as any, and there weren't many people lingering on the streets either.

Hank cleared his throat. "All right, Connor, listen to this ex-detective for a few minutes as he tells you how to avoid detection in 2038.

"Never go into big cities. You might think it's easy to lose yourself in big crowds but places like that have a shit ton of patrolling drones and it only takes a second for them to run a facial scan and contact the police if they find a criminal.

"I'm at the disadvantage there since I'm already in the system," Hank said, curious what some of his former coworkers would think of his new look if they did catch him. Really good plastic surgery maybe? "Luckily, you're not. We can use that to our advantage if needed.

"Always use cash or reloadable credit cards. The former might get you a glance or two, but society has yet to switch completely over to paperless payment methods. Reloadable cards are great because they don't leave much of a trail and can be chucked into the trash without anyone batting an eyelash."

They'd reached the motel in no time.

Hank handed Connor one of the bags so he could unlock the door to their room. Once they'd crossed over the threshold and closed the door, Hank turned back to Connor, eyeing him closely, wanting his companion to pay close attention.

"Lastly, CyberLife will likely keep your disappearance under wraps and use their own men to pursue us. That doesn't rule the cops out though as they're frequently used by other government agencies for another set of eyes or feet on the ground. It goes without saying avoid making a scene since I don't know who's friend or foe."

Connor started dumping the bags out onto one of the beds, Sumo leaning a paw onto the side of it, interested in the goodies they'd brought as they landed on the sheets. "In other words, trust no one but you and Sumo."

"Pretty much," Hank replied, relieved they'd picked up some premade meals that would only take a few minutes in the microwave to prepare. He'd never been a particularly good cook, that bit had always been Erin's preview. When she hadn't been busy with work that was.

Dragging his thoughts from the somber subject, Hank focused on helping Connor stash the meager amount of groceries into the tiny fridge underneath and atop the desk, food the next order of business.

Once supper was finished and the paper plates and silverware had been dumped, Connor looked up to the ceiling before springing into action.

Dragging a chair to the center of the room, Connor climbed it and put a hand over the fire alarm in the ceiling, ripping most of it off in one move. The alarm gave a long discordant whine, then died pathetically. When Connor stepped down from the chair, there was only a single wire hanging from it.

"I'm going to assume you vandalized that for good reason," Hank said, watching Connor position the chair at the end of the bed across from where Hank was sitting.

Connor inclined his head. "Phoenix 101, Hank."

"I don't need you to tell me what to d-"

Leaning forward with a mischievous look, Connor placed a finger over Hank's lips. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to mind your elders?" He laughed at Hank's deadpan expression, dropping his hand.

"This isn't payback for earlier?" Hank thought he'd kept his advice rather short considering everything Connor had to learn about modern-day society.

"Nope," Connor reassured him, then grew more serious. "Rule #1: Make friends with sunglasses until you can keep your eyes under control. They'll shine whenever you're excited…both innocently and carnally, as well as when you're angry. Speaking of, it's best to avoid losing your temper. Why? Well…

"I apologize in advance."

"What?"

Connor slapped him hard out of nowhere, Hank too stunned to react. He repeated the action twice with no warning until Hank snatched Connor's wrist before he could do it a fourth time, irritation creasing Hank's features. "Connor, what the hell?"

He moved straight into pissed off as Connor punched him with his free hand. Grabbing Connor's shirt collar, Hank yanked him forward, holding Connor off the floor easily.

Hank forgot what he'd been planning to say when smoke began to rise from his fingers, bursting into flames a moment later. Hank relaxed his grip, setting Connor back on his feet, fire licking his hand, stretching up to touch Connor's chin.

It danced around his neck, caressing it almost lovingly. Hank expected it to burn both of them, but it was as if there was an invisible barrier between the fire and their flesh, even their clothes remaining untouched. Within a matter of seconds, the blaze had extinguished itself and Connor smiled, having proven his point.

"I did apologize," he reminded Hank pointedly. "We're fireproof and humans are not so please don't lose your temper." Luckily, the stinging heat on his face was fading, and Hank let go of Connor, thinking the lesson had been unconventional if well-delivered.

He rubbed his jaw, filing away the info Connor could throw a mean left hook. "That's going to be difficult for me, but I'll try my best." Hank wasn't exactly known for his patience. Even before his life had gone to hell, he was always moving forward, anxious to solve cases as fast as possible. It was that quality that made most of his career successful.

"And now the most important rule: don't die. Right now, you don't have any control over how you regenerate and a man suddenly becoming brightly alight before walking away after having sustained fatal injuries is going to draw unwanted attention. That's the last thing we want."

"I know that," Hank said shortly, still slightly sore about the earlier abuse.

"Hank," Connor called, pushing aside the chair, and taking a seat next to him. "I've been around a long time and the only reason I ended up at CyberLife is that the wrong person saw me get hurt. I thought I'd covered up the incident relatively well, unfortunately it was all downhill from there.

"So, please be aware of your surroundings and avoid situations where it's possible you could get injured." Connor laced his arm through Hank's and rested his head against Hank's shoulder, his voice going low. "For me at least. I think I would lose it a little if I lost you now."

Hank blew out a breath, feeling the leftover tension in his muscles release as he leaned his head against the top of Connor's. It was hard to stay mad when he opened up like that. "All right, point taken," he said faintly, then louder. "Anything else, oh wise and powerful elder?"

Connor shook his head, getting back onto his feet. "That's enough for now. Feeling up to helping me with the hair dye we got?"

"If you don't mind my lack of skill, sure."

Hank shook the bottle of dye while Connor finished blow-drying his hair. He finally took a seat on the chair they'd brought in from the main room, pulling a towel over his shoulders.

He had only done this once years before when the budget had been tight, back when he was still married, and only half-successfully at that. His wife had been sore at him for the incident a week afterwards.

Reading the instructions again, Hank put on the gloves that came with the box, carefully approaching the back of Connor's head. Grabbing a strand from the bottom, Hank squeezed a little dye out of the bottle and pressed it into Connor's hair.

"Back then, when you regenerated in the car, you damn near shined like the sun. Not one scientist saw that and thought, 'phoenix?'"

Connor's body language turned tense. "The only reason it was so bright then is because my regeneration set off yours. The process isn't usually painful, but I was unaware of your transformation at the time. I hurt you unintentionally."

"It's not like you did it on purpose, Connor."

Thinking back, it hadn't been completely painful. More surprising than anything else. Connor's smile was quick in the mirror, but he seemed to appreciate Hank's words anyway.

"Anyway, once I figured out what my abductors wanted, I suppressed the full process, restricting it to healing only."

Hank's fingers froze against Connor's hair as he thought it through. "So…every time they hurt or killed you, you healed without that light. Doesn't that hurt?"

"It isn't so much a light as a protective aura. Without utilizing it, it's like raking every nerve in your body on razor-sharp spikes." Connor shuddered in remembrance, Hank putting a hand on his shoulder briefly in silent support.

Connor half-opened his eyes, staring at the floor. "All anyone ever saw me do was recover from any injury and death they could think up. I felt like an ant under a giant magnifying glass.

"So, no, none of the CyberLife employees had any idea what they had locked away. I kept it that way on purpose. If I hadn't, I have a feeling I would have ended up in an anonymous underground bunker somewhere in the desert, far from any prying eyes."

It was the most Connor had said about his captivity and Hank was content to leave it at that.

Hank had noticed something strange as soon as he'd touched Connor's hair though. Figuring he wouldn't mind the change in subject, Hank asked, "Is it weird that I'm sort of really enjoying this?"

He always considered haircare a pain in the ass, which is why Hank usually kept his own semi-long so he could tie it back and out of the way, or super short.

Still, even with the potent smell of the colorant wrinkling his nose, it was an oddly calming activity working the dye into every strand of Connor's hair.

"It comes with the territory, I think. I spent one of my lifetimes as a hairdresser and didn't regret one minute of it."

Hank wondered if he shouldn't pick up an ornithology book to see what other surprises laid in wait. If eggs were in the offing, he was out no matter how positively Connor tried to spin it.

"I can totally see you as one too." He finally hit the ends of Connor's hair and peeled the plastic gloves off, tossing them and the bottle of dye into the trash. "My curiosity is killing me. Exactly how old are you?"

Connor twisted the chair around, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, looking at Hank in interest. "Do you want to make a game of it?"

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Hank replied warily.

"Every time you guess wrong, you have to take off one piece of clothing."

Yep, Hank had been right in his earlier assessment. Connor was definitely a handful. "One question before I start guessing then. Is it three or four digits?"

"Three digits," Connor confirmed. So, he was definitely under a millennium. That was good, right?

Examining Connor himself yielded no clues. Without the stress and trauma of CyberLife upon him, if Hank didn't know better, he'd assume Connor had just finished high school.

With only four articles of clothing on him at the moment, Hank had to make his guesses strategically. He stroked his chin, leaning back against the bathroom counter.

Connor had his hands in his lap, looking relaxed and open. Reminded of tense afternoons trying to wrestle the truth out of suspects in the interrogation room, Hank crossed his arms. "800?"

Connor shook his head, Hank sighing as he removed his outer shirt.

"600?" Connor blinked twice in the space of a second and Hank seized at the little tell, pulling off his t-shirt. Did he go higher or lower?

Hank licked his lips. "610?"

"No," Connor said, a gradual smile overturning his mouth when Hank kicked off his jeans. Standing there in only his boxer shorts, one move away from going fully nude, Hank knew he had to make his last guess count.

"650?"

He could see the struggle on Connor's face before he exhaled in resignation, throwing Hank's jeans back towards him. "You're only off by three years so I'll give it to you," he said, sounding vaguely frustrated. "I'm impressed with your acute deductive reasoning skills."

Stepping back into the jeans and pulling them up, Hank's brow knitted in thought. "So which is it: 653 or 658?"

"653."

Hank checked the clock on the wall, barely seeing the numbers as he digested the information. He'd run away with someone over half a century old. A man born in 1385 who'd seen empires rise and fall firsthand. It was unreal, but then everything felt like that lately.

"Hank?"

The uncertainty in Connor's voice made him look up, pondering how someone as old as he was could still seem so vulnerable and unsure. He supposed things like that never changed no matter how much time passed. "I appreciate you telling me."

"It's not like I'm ashamed of it."

"No reason to be," Hank reassured him, motioning to the tub. "Ready to rinse that crap out?"

"Please."

It took nearly ten minutes for the water to run clear, Hank glad he didn't have to bother with hair dye himself. Connor reached for the conditioner that had come with it, Hank leaving him to finish the job.

When he walked out of the bathroom a short time later wearing nothing but a towel, Hank saw for the first time the effect regeneration had on the rest of Connor's body. No one would have mistaken him for anything less than healthy with his muscular frame, the hint of a tan on his skin.

"I guess I'll find out if blondes have more fun."

He had to admit that Connor didn't look bad as one, the slightly bleached eyebrows completing the picture. The shade itself wasn't too extreme, something the box called cream soda, but Hank just saw as a medium blonde color.

"Why don't you come over here and find out?"

Excitement lighting up his features, Connor came to sit on Hank's lap. Running a hand through the freshly dyed hair, finding it softer than expected, Hank shifted his grip to the back of Connor's neck, using his free hand to leisurely run the tips of his fingers down Connor's right arm.

Connor's eyelids fluttered shut and Hank leaned forward, kissing them with the barest of touches. This close Hank could pick up what had to be Connor's natural scent, a curious blend of warm heat and sharp spice that instinctively called to his new nature, exciting Hank in less than a second.

He skipped past Connor's mouth, pressing close to his neck, breathing in more of the invigorating scent as Connor's arms tightened around Hank's shoulders, his breath gusting out lightly.

"You smell amazing, though I have no idea how," he muttered, Connor laughing, his chest rumbling against Hank's ear.

"You're not bad yourself," Connor replied, burying his nose into Hank's hair. "Like a well-aged dark rum."

Hank chuckled under his breath. "That's ironic. Alcohol and I had an uncomfortably close relationship for a while." Connor leaned back on Hank's lap, understanding and equal amounts of heat showing in his gaze.

"With your system reset, that shouldn't a problem anymore." Connor pressed forward, hovering over Hank's mouth, his breath slowly going off-kilter. The restraint in holding himself back was obvious. "You have to let me know if anything gets too overwhelming."

Hank smirked. "Please. Do your worst, old man."

Connor's eyes flicked to gold as he descended onto Hank, shifting his body until Connor was straddling his hips. He started out gentle, kissing everything but Hank's mouth until it was Hank himself who growled in frustration and pulled Connor's chin in the right direction.

He was amazed as ever by the shock of heat that ran through him as their mouths met, Hank's body going from anticipatory to amped in no time flat.

They'd been rushed back at the house, things cut short just as they were getting interesting. Now Hank took his time exploring Connor, probing every inch he could reach, pushing back every time Connor responded in kind.

Connor nipped at Hank's bottom lip, making him groan as he ran his hands up Connor's back, the skin smooth and unmarked. He briefly wondered if phoenixes could scar at all, Connor shivering as Hank dug fingers under the edge of his towel, pulling it down, exposing Connor completely.

It was immediately clear that he was well enjoying himself, and Hank gently placed a hand around him, relishing Connor's soft gasp against his mouth at the light touch.

"So, confession time," Hank said, leaning slightly back, his breath unsteady. "I might have fooled around with men a few times in college, but it's been a long time. I never thought another guy would capture my attention again."

"Glad to be the exception to the rule." Connor's hands moved from Hank's shoulders to his waist, his eyes momentarily closing as Hank shifted his grip.

Connor's own fingers touching on the front of Hank's pants, he looked at him with a furrowed brow. "It doesn't bug you? Thinking how often I've done this?" he asked.

Hank shook his head. "When it comes to things like this, I prefer my partner to be more experienced."

"Always handy with the right answer."

"Not always."

Beginning to lower Hank's zipper, Connor paused. "Thank you for trusting me," he said, suddenly serious. "In this and everything else."

"Not a problem."

He squirmed as Connor's hands slid against the front of his stomach, dipping dangerously low. So tantalizing close, Hank almost couldn't stand it. He stifled a moan as Connor stopped teasing him, his grasp gentle but firm, moving with confidence that spoke of a vast well of familiarity.

Though Connor seemed to barely shift his fingers around him, a sensation of flickering warmth enveloped Hank, his nerves alight with pleasure. He panted, beginning to tremble beneath Connor.

"H-How are you doing that?"

A self-satisfied chuckle dropped from Connor. "Look down, Hank."

He did so, Connor's hand surrounded in yellow and orange flames. Something in Hank jerked in primal response and he moaned, shaking violently as he rode the sudden release out.

Connor chuckled when Hank finally went still, shakily raising his head, the happy smile on Connor's face all the motivation he needed to keep going. Though Hank was completely out of his depth, he couldn't find it in him to care.

"Are you all right?" Connor asked, using his thumb to wipe some of the sweat off Hank's forehead. "Do you want to keep going?"

Given he was already twitching to life again within Connor's digits, Hank smirked. Had to love having his libido jacked back up to 11, the refractory period was practically nonexistent. "What do you think?"

"I think you're amazing," he said, kissing the side of Hank's mouth. "And brave." Another on his lips. "And I couldn't have found a better companion if I'd tried."

"You say that now, but just wait until you get to know me more." He was grumpy, short-tempered, and stubborn as a mule. Before long, Hank was sure Connor would regret his choice. For now, he'd take whatever he could get.

His body still reeling from it all, Hank breathed, "You could've never done that if I was still human."

The loss of his humanity was something he hadn't fully faced head-on yet, but right now there were more important things to focus on at the moment.

Connor leaned forward, kissing Hank's forehead. "We would've made do, but no, I couldn't."

"Thank god I'm not." It was an amazing experience, one Hank was glad he hadn't lost out on for simply being human.

"Indeed."

Connor's fingers shifted downward and Hank grunted, trying to give as good as he got. It was hard to concentrate when the body against his was warm, willing, and oh so happy to be there.

Hank bit his lip, reluctantly admitting his failing at being able to cope with the rather strange foreplay technique. "Much as I like what you're doing, you'll run me ragged here."

"We don't have to go further than this today," Connor replied, the fire around his hand and Hank gradually dying until it was no more. "Best keep some mystery in our relationship yet, don't you think?"

Though he'd asked for it, Hank couldn't help but be disappointed Connor had complied so quickly, though it was nice being able to think fully again.

"So sure it'll happen again, huh?" Hank teased, pressing forward to bite gently at Connor's collarbone, the man against him shivering, weaving an arm around Hank's shoulder and neck.

"Yes," Connor growled, the rough sound sending a jolt down Hank's spine and suddenly he couldn't get enough. He pressed closer to the body on his lap, their lower halves finally touching, Connor's low moan swallowed by Hank as he kissed him firmly.

It didn't matter that his partner more than six times his age, only that he was here now when Hank needed him, both of them embracing another chance at life.

Pulling back a touch to take a much-needed breath, Connor's hand closed the circuit around Hank's and together they moved with a concentrated goal in mind, the additional grinding of Connor's hips a welcome addition to the party.

It was all Hank could do to hold out, determined for Connor to be the one to break this time given how long it had been for him.

Connor must have had the same thought because as thick tension coiled tighter and tighter in the bottom of Hank's stomach and lower, a fine heat built around the outside of his body.

Hank opened his eyes to see a thin aura of fire covering them both, flickering towards the ceiling. Connor's gold eyes were shining as he panted, the flame he'd summoned apparently just as much a turn-on for him as it was for Hank.

Hank groaned, nearly seizing as his finish crashed upon him, searing his very nerves, the grip around himself and Connor growing taut for a moment. It was just enough of an added sensation to shatter Connor's self-control as well, the arm around Hank's shoulders growing painful as Connor cried out practically in Hank's ear.

The fire around them flared up for one instant, bathing a spot in the ceiling above before dissipating into nothing.

Aware of fingernails digging into his skin, a few going deeper enough to draw blood, Hank breathed heavily, aftershocks running through him.

"Goddamn," he whispered underneath his breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Connor's shoulder.

For his part, Connor let out a long sigh, nudging his nose into Hank's no doubt sweaty hair.

Finding it hard to move at all, Hank reluctantly pulled himself away, Connor lying down on his back, the contented grin that spanned his lips a silent testament to how much he'd enjoyed himself.

Fetching a washcloth from the bathroom, Hank cleaned up the mess they'd made of themselves, not bothering to go back into the bathroom, just tossing the washcloth into the sink instead.

Connor motioned to the spot next to him and Hank laid down on his side, glad they'd broken the tension that had lingered between them ever since they'd originally met.

"We could go again," Connor said, glancing at Hank. "If you wanted."

Hank chuckled, feeling wrung out and not at all prepared for another round. "You trying to kill me?"

"On the contrary." Connor turned on his side as well, facing Hank. "I want you to live a nice long life."

"Then you should let me rest while I can."

Connor shook his head as he reached to the bottom of the bed for the covers, shortly laying it over them. "I suppose I can do that."

Quickly growing warm and comfortable both by the bedding and the man spread out next to him, Hank spared a thought for how the motel staff would react to the strange dark smoke pattern on the ceiling once they'd checked out, then gave himself up to oblivion.

To Be Continued…