"Connor, wake up! Connor!" Hank stood outside of Connor's car door, shaking him to wake him.

"Hmm...?" He wasn't sure what was going on...and he was still really tired...

"C'mon, Connor, we're here, let's go get you fixed up," Hank unbuckled him and started pulling him out of the car.

He protested weakly, wanting to stay were he was. However, Hank was stronger at the moment and helped him into the shop. Connor was far too tired to look around, but he could hear beeping and comforting voices, clipboards and pens clicking and writing down information.

It had the aura of a walk-in clinic.

Connor, who was covered in thirium, didn't have to wait at all. Repair technicians surrounded him, shining bright, blinding lights in his eyes and poking and prodding at him all over, they used cold equipment and loud beeping, it all made his head hurt and he wanted to go back to sleep and--

Where was Hank? Had the technicians pushed him away? Had he left? Connor's stress levels rose even higher. Soon all but two technicians left, one seemingly attempting to steady him and the other looking at the bullet scars from earlier.

Okay, they were inspecting him. Now where had Hank gone? Connor looked around, having a hard time focusing. He noticed that he had been moved into another room, away from everyone else, including Hank. He wondered if Hank had given him up willingly or been pushed away...

The technician assessing his stomach wounds then opened his panel door, and Connor felt an explosion of a new kind of pain. He screamed in agony as she began pulling at wires.

She immediately pulled back, shutting the door. Connor gasped, falling backward onto the other technician there. Hank burst through the door.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?" Hank grabbed the technician by the collar.

"Hey!" The man behind Connor lay him on the table and pulled his friend away from Hank.

"I-I was only trying to look at his panel..." she nervously responded. "I was trying to see what was wrong..."

Hank turned his attention to Connor. "Are you okay?"

He nodded weakly, tears streaming down his face. His stomach was still a bit sore...

Hank sat down next to him, rubbing his back. "It's gonna be okay..." he turned to the technicians. "What's the diagnosis?"

"W-well we don't know yet..." the technician stumbled over her words. "We've never seen an android in pain before, a-and we didn't have enough time to properly look around..."

"Well you better figure out a way to fix him," Hank scolded.

Connor put his head on Hank's shoulder, allowing himself to get lost in thought. What was going to happen to him? Was he going to be okay? He didn't want to keep...getting headaches and throwing up...

THIRIUM LEVELS LOW

Ah yes, he had nearly forgotten. He was so tired, and so much was going on...he needed thirium. Maybe that was it, the whole thing, thirium levels low. Maybe if he had more thirium, regained what he had lost when he had gotten shot, he could be all better...

"You know what? Fine, come on Connor, we're leaving," Hank pulled him off of the table and began to drag him to the door.

"Thhhiirium," he muttered. Hank stopped.

"You're right...how much do you need?"

Connor shut his eyes against Hank's shoulder again. "Three."

"Uuh," Connor felt Hank move around a bit, looking around for thirium. "Okay, sit here." He moved Connor to a chair.

Connor wanted to "go back to sleep..."

"Hey, here," Hank handed him three packets of thirium, a gentle yet desperate tone in his voice.

Connor opened his eyes to him, smiling. He hoped this would help, this would have everything all better and he could just go home... He drank every last drop.

Hank looked slightly--okay rather disgusted. But he tried to keep a smile anyway.

Connor smiled, feeling relieved. Maybe that was it, low thirium, and now he was all better and refreshed. "Thank you," he stood up.

"Feeling better?" Hank followed his lead towards the door.

"Yep, all better, let's go home." He walked out and stood by the car.

"...Connor, we can't just blow this off like it never happened." Hank crossed his arms, standing by the car.

"But Hank, I'm all better! All I needed was--" Woah what was this new feeling? His whole body suddenly began "buzzing," mainly in his head. It felt...staticy. Like he was vibrating, like he was floating, like he wasn't even there...he heard ringing, his vision couldn't focus...

"CONNOR!"

He fell forward, collapsing onto Hank.

"Connor hey it's okay," he sounded like he was more convincing himself...

Connor came back into reality, the weird buzzing drifting away... "I'm okay..."

"We're going to Kamski's," Hank shoved him into the car.

"Kamski? Why?" He asked worriedly, having his seatbelt buckled for him.

"Maybe he can help," Hank replied as he got his own seat and turned on the engine. "He's our last chance."