Connor clipped the edge of the doorway as he walked through it.

Nobody noticed anything unusual; people did that all the time. Only Connor wasn't people. He was an android. A deviated one, yes, but still. Andriods didn't clip doorways.

Connor hadn't been quite right all day. Nothing particularly noticable: he couldn't seem to sit in the center of chairs, instead having to shift his weight after the fact. He'd tried to stand up too close to his desk and banged his knees on it. He'd knocked over a coffee he was attempting to pick up.

Taken together, his lack of coordination was becoming concerning.

"You coming?"

But right now they had a case.

He couldn't worry about the fact that his hand didn't quite catch the handle of the car door. He couldn't worry that he fumbled getting his seatbelt on.

"Something up?"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant?"

"I dunno, you just seem… off today. You haven't been annoying me at all."

Despite himself, a small smile tugged at Connor's lips. "I can remedy that, if you wish."

The deflection worked; Hank started grumbling about smart-ass partners.

It was significantly darker when they got to the crime scene, though it was only three in the afternoon. It hadn't turned overcast either. It was like someone had turned down the brightness on the sun. Hank didn't seem to notice anything odd. Connor filed it away.

He followed Hank under the yellow caution tape and into the house swarming with officers. Hank gave them a gruff hello before kneeling down by the woman's body.

It was open-and-shut. The boyfriend had to have done it. Easy.

At least, it should have been easy. But Connor couldn't seem to scan anything, couldn't pick out the details that humans missed. He had to grope around to locate anything. He walked cautiously, because things weren't where they should be. Officers were in his path when they hadn't been a second ago. Corners rounded later than they should have. He spent much of his time in the house bumping into people and walls. The sun couldn't be setting yet, so why was it getting darker? He was starting to get looks. Hank was ambling over.

And then Connor tripped.

He didn't fully realize what happened. He never saw whatever it was that tripped him. He was upright, then suddenly on hands and knees.

Hank was crouched at his side in a second.

"Kid, you alright?"

Connor hesitated. "There's something wrong with my vision," he said quietly.

Connor could no longer see Hank's face, but he could hear his voice soften, the added gravel. "Christ. Okay, we're gonna get you out of here and get you fixed. You'll be fine."

"I know, Lieutenant." He hadn't made a move to get up. He heard Hank stand. There were a few seconds of silence deader than the woman lying not ten feet away.

"Uh, Connor? Take my hand."

"I can't see it," he admitted.

Hank made a noise in his throat. "I'm going to touch you, alright?"

Connor nodded, and he felt Hank's warm hand on top of his own. He shifted so that he was gripping it, and Hank helped him up. He tried to separate once he was standing, but Hank didn't let go. He led Connor carefully out of the house, away from the prying eyes of other officers.

He opened the passenger side door and guided Connor into the seat. Connor jumped at the slamming door. He heard Hank get in, and the car rumbled to life. They peeled off.

"You're gonna be fine, don't worry. You're gonna be fine." It sounded like a prayer.

"Hank, I - I'm scared," Connor confessed. He hung his head.

"Oh, Connor." Hank's voice was breaking. He reached across the console and took Connor's hand.

"I know. But I'm right here, kid. I'm not going anywhere."

Connor held on tight.