A/N: I've been meaning to write a nightmare fic for Connor, and a fantastic comic I found on Tumblr was the thing that set me off to do it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing this to hurt him—I love this precious baby boy. I just wanted to get this out of the way so I can write more fluff without this breathing down my neck. I'm not one to write angst fics, but I'd do it if there is room for comfort and a dash of fluff. Just try not to cry during the nightmare portion like I did as I wrote this. If you read further towards the end, things get better. This would be set during Connor's third night living with Hank after the events of the revolution. As for the requests in my inbox, I will get to them sooner or later. I greatly appreciate your patience!

Connor's eyelids fluttered weakly, a soft, weary groan emerging from his lips. He blinked once, twice, three times before he finally managed to regain the focus his visual processors needed. The blue hue of his LED began spiraling to yellow, then to red at the display before him.

"L-Lieutenant…?"

Much to the prototype's shock and horror, his gaze met the seemingly downcast form of Hank, who was perched on his knees as his head drooped downward. He also came to notice the pistol embraced in a tight grasp of his left hand, the arm stretched forward, aiming at the human who knelt before him. He tried to pull his arm back down, but some strange force was preventing him from doing so. He couldn't even walk away.

"W-What's… happening? I can't… move," The RK800 croaked, sounding like a timid child in a doctor's office. "Hank… what am I-!?" He paused abruptly at the feeling of a pair of hands slithering up against his neck, stopping to where the fingers rested against his jawline.

Those hands… they felt… soft, smooth, and cold… ice-cold, similar to-

"Well done, Connor. Your mission is nearly complete."

"A-Amanda!?" Connor whispered, his thirium pump nearly stopping at the voice he knew all too well; the voice of his former handler; the voice that guided him during his pre-deviant days.

"Now for your final objective…" The AI's tone ran like silk with a monotonous timbre, practically whispering the next set of instructions into his ear:

"Kill him and come home, Connor."

"Connor, please don't do this! You were my partner! I trusted you!" Hank's words hurt him like an icy stab to the heart, his silvery gray brows furrowed and his mouth contorted into a scornful sneer, a thin crimson trail forming at the left corner of his lips, whereas a thicker ribbon dribbled from the hairline. He looked hurt; betrayed; disappointed.

The hand clutching the gun trembled in an attempt to resist his orders, screams ringing through from the back of his mind, each begging him to not do something he would regret.

"Say something, damn it! CONNOR!" The lieutenant barked at him in hopes of being listened to, the man's grey-blue irises gazing up into his own glassy dark brown orbs.

As his index finger rested on the trigger, Connor felt an odd stirring sensation lingering within the pit of his stomach, like as if he were going to be ill. Was this what humans refer to as that 'sinking feeling'?

"CONNOR! STOP!"

The android gritted his teeth at the raw desperation in Hank's voice and futilely fought against the "I-I can't stop…!"

"CON-"

BAM!

Connor winced at the loud blare as his human colleague's blood and partial brain matter splattered against the pristine white floors of this odd oblivion. He could only look on in crippling trepidation for the owner to collapse onto his back, the lifeless eyes staring blankly above him, blood oozing from the gaping hole in his forehead as a result from the single bullet.

It was the moment that he had (unwillingly) killed the man when his vision was greeted with the haunting, bone-chilling textile displayed in a red hue so dark that it would easily blend into the evergrowing puddle of red before him:

[MISSION ACCOMPLISHED]

No longer constricted in his stance, the android sank to his knees and ran an analysis on the corpse in front of him, hoping and praying to God that this was not real—that this was some cruel, twisted joke.

[SYNC IN PROGRESS…]

[SYNC DONE.]

[COLLECTING DATA…]

[PROCESSING DATA…]

[LT. ANDERSON, HANK

Born: 09/06/1985

Died: 11/14/2038

Lived: 115 Michigan Street in Detroit, Michigan]

The chocolate irises in his optics shrunk as he struggled to grasp the concept that was provided to him before his very eyes:

Hank Anderson, the only human he ever grew close to—his partner, his best friend, his… family—was no more. And it was all his fault.

"Hank…" Connor choked out a sob, his red LED glaring bright enough to where even he could see it just at the corner of his eye. "What have I done…? I'm so sorry… I-I'm so sorry…!" He finally caved into the regrettable crime he was forced to commit and wailed in despair, repeatedly apologizing for his actions, though it was all in vain.

The taunting voices he could hear from the back of his mind, each condemning, spiteful, and disdainful:

"You look human, you sound human… but what are you, really?"

"He was bleeding, begging you for mercy, but you shot him!"

"Are you a human being? Or just a machine?"

"Machines don't feel—that's why you killed him. You are just a machine."

The android clenched his teeth and gripped at his usually immaculate hair, a million thoughts speeding through his mind, like an afternoon highway traffic pattern. He couldn't bear to go on with his extended lifespan, knowing that he killed the only human he could ever hold a space for in his nonexistent heart in cold blood.

[STRESS LEVELS: 100% [CRITICAL]]

[SELF DESTRUCT IMMINENT…]

[00:03

00:02

00:01]

"Con-"

"-nor!"

Connor's eyes—fogging up—just about bugged out of his artificial skull in response to the gruff voice stirring through his audio processors, his fear-filled brown eyes meeting the gaze of grey-blue before him as his synthetic skin grew cold and clammy. How was this possible? He shot him. He was on the verge of self-destructing, and he somehow found himself on a familiar sofa rather than an eerily vast blankness, a pillow resting behind his head and a soft throw blanket draped over his body, an oversized DPD hoodie practically swallowing him whole. Neither of them should be alive. They should be dead. And yet, here they were in the living room of Hank's small home, the human hovering over him with Sumo by his side.

"Connor! Can you hear me!?" Hank shouted to him as he grasped the android's shoulders. "Say somethin', damn it! Con-"

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Came a terrified outcry from the android's voice box as he all but shoved the older man away from himself.

"What the f-!?" The lieutenant's surprised exclamation was cut short as he flew back towards the further end of the couch, Sumo flinching sharply at the sudden commotion. He quickly shook off his startled daze and shot an irked glare at the deviant. "Jesus Christ, Connor! What's gotten into-"

"Stay away from me… I don't want to hurt you… I-I don't… I-I…"

[STRESS LEVELS: 90% [CRITICAL]]

Hank's gaze drastically softened at the tone the android was currently attributing: broken; scared. "Connor… Shit…"

The harsh glow of red did not cease within Connor's LED, the artificial tears that wielded the glassy surface of his optics now streaming down his cheeks without even realizing it himself until he noticed the sudden moisture along his synthetic skin. "Amanda, she made me do it. I-I didn't want to… I killed you… I couldn't stop myself. I-It was me…"

"Connor, h-hey…"

"And I didn't fight back! Maybe I really am just a machine…! I shot you! I killed you! There was nothing I could do!"

[STRESS LEVELS: 93% [CRITICAL]]

"Connor!"

"W-Was that real? Or is this real? I… I killed you! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I-"

"Connor!"

The as the android's stress levels increased, his hands began to wring the soft, cotton fabric of the blanket upon his lap, trembling fingers tightly clenching at it. "P-Please kill me, Hank…" He whispered aloud, missing the horror-stricken awe morphing in the human's expression. "Please… I don't want to-" His heartbreaking request was abruptly ceased as he felt a calloused hand pulling him into a pair of warm arms.

"Shhh…" The lieutenant shifted his voice down to a gentle whisper to soothe the anxious android, whose pupils remained shrunken and unmoving. "It's alright. I'm here. It was just a nightmare. I know you'd never hurt me." He pressed his fingers through the young man's disheveled locks and gently massaged the scalp underneath the follicles with the hand that cradled his head, holding it to where the kid's ear was burrowed into his chest. "Just… listen."

Still no words rising from his voice box from the fear-tainted shock, Connor heeded the placid instruction and directed his focus to hear the moderately soft pulsations:

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

[LIEUTENANT ANDERSON'S VITALS: NORMAL]

The soft, rhythmic pulses resembled that of a gentle thump of a drum, playing to a mind-numbingly calm and slow, yet temperate, tempo. His analysis seemed to prove its uselessness since he could auricularly capture the soothing beat through the flesh surrounding the still-beating heart. Gradually, the red in the android's LED spiraled to yellow, only to finally revert back to a calm blue. The tears, however, did not cease to fall - they seemed to increase, in fact.

He was safe - they were both safe. They were protected by the walls of the lieutenant's - no - their home. Hank Anderson was alive.

"I'm… sorry," The deviant sputtered with a small hiccup, trembling in his partner's arms like a leaf in a rowdy gust of wind in the autumn. "I-I was so scared…"

"I know, but there's no reason to be. I don't blame ya. Sounds like one fucked up nightmare by the looks of it. You're alright, Connor. I gotcha. I gotcha…"

And so for the next ten minutes, the human kept the sniveling android in a secure embrace, continuously whispering soft words of comfort into his ear and rubbing a hand along the stiff, shaking back. No other words were spoken by the former deviant hunter, besides the frequent apologies for his outburst along with an occasional hiccup as a result of his crying.

[STRESS LEVELS: 69%]

What struck the artificial human odd was why he felt so terrified by what was just a mere illusion. What haunted him within the depths of his nightmare had never actually occurred in real life, so why was he still scared? Before he could do so much as utter a single syllable, he felt himself being lifted from the couch cushions and into Hank's arms, said human carrying the android towards his bedroom, just across the bathroom on the opposite of the hall.

"Hank, what are you-"

"Taking you to bed."

"But… I don't have-"

"I know, so you're gonna sleep with me tonight."

"But I-"

"Shut the fuck up, Connor."

Pushing the ajar door with a foot, Hank proceeded towards his own bed and carefully lowered the android onto the mattress, crawling in afterward. He gripped the comforter and lifted it to shield their bodies from the blistering cold of the midnight breeze lingering through the crack of the entry doors from the outside. Next, he shifted himself closer and gathered the deviant into his arms, enfolding him into a warm, comforting embrace once more.

"H-Hank…?" The android questioned faintly.

Instead of receiving a verbal response, the lieutenant started to lightly drag his blunt fingernails up and down the android's back after slipping a hand beneath the aged hoodie, his digits just stroking at a very slow pace. He chuckled warmly as he watched Connor shiver before he gradually eased himself into the touch. "Feels good, huh? I used to do the same thing for Cole whenever he had a nightmare to help him relax. Works every time."

"A bit spine-tingling at first, but it becomes very… soothing…" Connor admitted softly, his eyelids fluttering lightly. The sensations of the human's blunt nails drifting along his back tickled him ever so slightly, but they were relaxing, nevertheless. "I like this. It feels pleasant."

[STRESS LEVELS: 54%]

Hank took this as a cue to continue brushing his extremities along the android's back, which gradually became less tense as he went on. "You, uh… You wanna talk about it?"

"Why would I want to talk about it?" Connor quizzed with a tilt of his head and a puzzled expression that made him look like a lost puppy.

"Because by talking to someone, you're facing it, but you're not facing it alone. Plus, gettin' it out in the open helps you move past it. But you don't have to if you don't want to."

A tense, awkward silence began to saunter throughout the master bedroom as Connor began to contemplate the offer. He spent an utmost three minutes of deliberating before he finally came to a decision. "Well, I suppose if it will work, then I'm willing to confide to you."

The older man gave off a sympathetic nod, his grey-blue eyes never leaving the android as he continued to stroke his back. "I'm listenin'."

He then inhaled through his nose to further compose himself before he began to disclose the events of his nightmare. "I seem to remember that I was lying on the couch, and I suddenly found myself in some sort of… oblivion. I looked down to find you on your knees. You were bleeding, and… a-and I've held you at gunpoint. I was… confused and… scared… I've tried to throw the gun away, only to find myself unable to move. I wanted to just… drop the gun, but something prevented me from doing so: Amanda."

"Amanda?" Hank questioned with apparent perplexity, but with gentle caution.

"She was my handler, whom I would update on the progress of my missions when I was just a machine."

"Like your boss or somethin'?"

The android nodded slowly. "In a way…"

Hank could easily discern the hint of pain that strayed within the artificial human's tone, and he ultimately decided to delay on the particular topic, for his kid's sake. "Sorry. Go on."

A wistful sigh ventilated through the deviant's lips as Connor pressed on with his story. "I… I could feel her hands. I could hear her voice, ordering me to kill you as the last objective of my mission. As you were begging me to go against my instruction, you sounded angry; hurt; disappointed." He emphasized said adjectives with raw emotion, missing the shock that morphed into the man's expression. "I-I wanted to stop myself, but I couldn't! I-I-I… I shot you! I killed you! I-" Another heart-wrenching wail ripped through his voice box as he buried his face into Hank's chest, his entire frame shaking heavily.

"Aw, Jesus, Connor…" Hank's heart hurt for the weeping android, prompting him to pull him closer to himself and proceeding to rub the synthetic skin of his back with the hand beneath the hoodie. He gave no regard to the fact that his shirt was beginning to grow damp from the artificial tears - his kid was in pain, for Christ sake! "It's okay, son. That's it, just let it out…"

"I-I hate this! I hate feeling this way!" The prototype cried miserably, clinging onto his human companion as if his life depended on it. "I-It hurts!"

Hank was unable to restrain himself from cringing at the last emotional exclamation. It almost sounded like… Cole. "I know, son. I know… You're safe now. You don't have to go through this alone. I ain't goin' anywhere. I gotcha…"

With a sniffle, Connor reluctantly pried his head from its makeshift nest and peered up to meet the human's gaze, his doe-like, brown eyes running with stray tears. "Hank… can I ask you a personal question?" He asked, receiving a nod in response. "Do you… Do you question yourself?"

"Well, yeah. Sometimes, at least. Why's that?"

"I… I think I may be questioning myself as to what I am," The whisper that left the android's lips sounded so doleful and helpless it made Hank feel like he'd been punched in the gut. "What if Amanda is still there? Had I not escaped in time, I-I would've shot Markus! What if… what if I'm still a machine? A machine undergoing malfunctions? What if I'm just a broken machine? I-" His rambling had come to an abrupt halt as a calloused hand clasped over his motoring lips, ultimately shutting him up.

"Hey, hey, hey! That's enough!" Hank chastised, swearing underneath his breath as he could see a fresh sliver of tears welling up in the android's eyes as his LED glowed red. Clearing his throat, he withdrew his hand from his mouth an looked him dead in the eyes, not breaking contact. "Let me tell you something. I don't know about this Amanda bitch, but you've proven that she couldn't control you. You learned that there are more important things in life than to accomplish a mission. Like that deviant with the little girl, for example. You tried to climb over the fence to get to them, and what'd you do? You stayed put because you knew the risk. When you were chasing a deviant on the roof of a building, and I was hanging from the edge, what'd you do? Instead of goin' after him when you could've, you saved my ass. Those two Tracis at the Eden Club who were trying to escape together? You let 'em go so they could lead a new life because you could see they were in love. What about that girl at Kamski's place? Instead of shooting her to get information about deviants, what'd you do? You spared her because you put yourself in her shoes—you showed empathy. Hell, you practically flipped off Cyberlife by breaking into their tower to wake up all those androids and practically lead a fuckin' revolution. Not only that, but you saved my life again from your spitting image. You took the time to get to know me, and I would've shot ya, had you guessed the wrong answers to my questions. And when that dictating bitch came back to try to regain control of you, did you let it happen? Hell no! You took a stand and turned against her orders. You didn't let her order ya to shoot Markus on stage."

[STRESS LEVELS: 21%]

Connor's pupils had all but shrank as he listened to Hank's words. His vision grew blurry as a fresh set of tears—not of woe or fear, but pure happiness and pride—began to trickle down his cheeks.

Hank carefully wiped the cascading teardrops away with his thumbs, a warm smile gracing his facial expression. "Look, I know it's hard to forget about the past. Trust me, I'm still trying to move on from Cole's death. But you can't let the past fuck up your life, not if it'll consume you with grief, anger, anxiety, trauma, or regret. What's past is past. You can't change it, but you can learn to move forward—to live life. I'll tell you what, I'll move on from Cole if you can move on from, uh… her. We'll help each other. How's that sound?"

Connor returned the offer with a smile of his own, his LED flickering a calm blue. "I'll gladly accept your terms."

[STRESS LEVELS: 9%]

"Feelin' any better?"

"My stress levels are down to nine percent. Thank you, Hank."

"You're welcome, son. You wanna try to get some sleep now?"

The smile immediately fell from Connor's face and his LED transitioned to a bright yellow, momentarily worrying Hank before the frown shifted to a small smile, the gold morphing back to a docile cerulean once more. "I suppose it would be wise to get some rest."

With that being said, Hank resumed dragging his blunt fingernails along the android's back, light and slow, eliciting a small yelp from the slightly tickled deviant before he eased himself into the relaxing sensations. The prototype pressed his ear into the man's chest once more, simply allowing the gentle heartbeats to clear his mind. The next thing that happened had captured the lieutenant's attention with ease:

After placing his left hand upon his broad right shoulder, a notable patch of artificial skin of Connor's appendage began to pull back, revealing a porcelain plastic layer beneath.

"Why's your hand peelin' its skin?" Hank asked, slightly taken aback by the vanishing skin, yet his tone still carried a peaceful softness, despite his minor shock.

"Hmm?" Connor hummed sleepily as he shifted his gaze onto the retreating skin. "Oh, that. You see, androids subconsciously peel off their skins to anyone they truly trust, adore, and love; whether it's familial/platonic or romantic. In this case, I have a familial/platonic love for you."

Hank had all but froze in place as he comprehended his reasoning. It had only been a few days since he had moved into his home, and he already developed strong familial feelings toward him. He was thankful the android couldn't see his eyes beginning to grow glassy. He opened his mouth to speak, only to pick up on the sound of light breathing, and he was tempted to look down at the deviant entangled in his arms.

Connor's eyes were closed and a soft smile lay present upon his lips as he slept, his blue LED gently flickering on and off. He looked so innocent. It was actually pretty goddamn cute in Hank's eyes.

Hank smiled warmly and carefully pressed a light kiss into the android's hair before adjusting himself into a more comfortable position, avoiding to make any sudden movements that would likely stir the deviant from his sleep. "Good night, son…" He whispered, slowly drifting off within minutes.

Connor's eyelids gently fluttered as he blinked owlishly, trying to deplete the sleepiness lolling within his eyes. It took a few minutes of nictitating and withstanding foggy morning blur before his vision became as clear as it has always been. He blinked momentarily, only to find himself in the bed alone, much to his surprise.

Just as he could voice out a passable call for his human companion, he turned to find Hank reentering the bedroom, a cup of self-brewed coffee in hand. "Well, look who's up." He remarked with humor lacing in his tone as he approached the bed.

"I should be saying the same thing to you," Connor retorted with sheer playfulness, throwing a coy smirk in the lieutenant's direction.

Hank regarded the sudden sass with a huff as he deposited the filled cup atop the side table and seated himself on the mattress, scooting closer to the deviant. "So now you're back to bein' a smartass, eh? No more deviant angst bullshit? Who are you, and what the hell have you done to my son?" He questioned humorously as tweaked the android's sides with gentle pinches.

Connor tensed up before he burst into a fit of giggles with an occasional squeak, flailing as he lightheartedly pushed the human's hands away from his torso, giving him a warm smile. "Don't worry about me, Hank. I can assure you that I am feeling fine. As you've told me, what's past is past. If you can move on from Cole, then I can certainly move on from Amanda."

"That's the spirit, son," Hank chuckled proudly, tousling the kid's hair with a hand, earning a giggle as he did so. After a few more seconds, he retracted his hand and reached over to the side table to retrieve the awaiting beverage, leaning his back into the pillows.

"Hank, I don't think it would be wise to drink coffee at this time," Connor admonished as he ogled at the caffeinated drink with a shred of concern.

Hank regarded the android's advice with a carefree scoff. "Connor, I'm 53 years old. I'll drink what I damn well please in the mornin'."

"While that may be, it would prove to be negative to your health."

"Connor, if you start rambling about calories and acid, or any other health-related shit, I'll tickle you 'til ya short circuit…"

With a challenging purse of his lips, Connor simply decided to push his luck further toward the edge, shifting his back into the pillows to settle himself into a more casual position. "Naturally, humans contain high levels of cortisol within their bodies early in the morning, and it creates two problems would occur, should you consume any caffeinated drink before noon. One of the issues is that caffeine interferes with the body's production of cortisol, which a hormone that is released in response to stress and low blood gluCOSE! Hahahahank, nohohoho!" He was instantly cut off by his own giggles as he felt the familiar, tingling feelings coursing through his sensors, making him squirm and lightly thump his feet against the mattress.

Hank, who quickly shifted himself over the android's twitching legs after abandoning his coffee on the side table, only responded to the giggly protests by peering down with a toothy grin filled with such immense mischief. He wasted no time in yanking the oversized hoodie upward, providing himself with more access to the android's sensitive, synthetic skin of his toned belly. "Ya know what? I think I just found a better alternative to wake myself up. And by the way…" He drawled just before he leaned in close to the quivering tummy beneath him, his lips merely grazing at the rim of the navel that lay at the lowermost of his abdomen. "…This is for ruining coffee for me~" With a deep breath, the older man buried his bearded face into the dreadfully sensitive skin and attacked the skin with a messy raspberry, grinning as Connor shrieked mirthfully.

Connor burst into loud fits of squeaky cackles, reaching down to gently push at Hank's intruding head with little effort. He squealed in response to the man's calloused hands latching onto his artificial hipbones, squeezing and massaging. Despite the immense feelings of tickle-induced endorphins, he made no attempt to put a stop to his father's attacks. He needed this, they both did.

And all the while, the coffee sat on the surface of the bedside table, long forgotten.