It had been three months. Three months since the android uprising. If you could call it that. It had honestly gone way better than Reed had expected. He'd expected the plastic menaces to be killing humans left and right. What he hadn't expected was to watch a group of androids sitting peacefully, almost in acceptance. It had gotten under his skin. They weren't supposed to be so reasonable. They'd just sat there, singing about peace and shooting off messages about equality. The only violence had come from the human side. He'd watched the reports from the station's break room, seen SWAT mercilessly shooting down android after android. Despite his dislike of androids, he just couldn't be on his own species' side. Shooting unarmed and peaceful beings? That didn't sit right with him.

He'd had mixed feelings when the president had called a ceasefire. Even more so when he'd seen Hank's pet RK800 leading an army of newly deviated androids from Cyberlife for reinforcements. An uneasy peace was declared. Negotiations were going to be made. Androids were going to become recognised as real living beings. Reed had never wanted them to exist. He'd known the moment the first ones appeared that it would be bad news for human workers everywhere. He'd been right. Unemployment levels had skyrocketed within the first year. Now they were free. With the ability to take paid positions. It made them less cheap, but he was sure most employers would still see the value of having a faster, stronger, and overall better android in the workforce.

That night Fowler had sent them all back to work as soon as the broadcast ended. He knew there were bound to be a lot of incidents to deal with. By that point the swelling on Reed's cheek had gone down a bit. The RK800 had a mean punch, he'd give him that. He'd already logged his incident report by then. Agent Perkins had insisted he get it all down as soon as possible, since the evidence tampering had affected the FBI's investigation. Reed had no problem with that. He'd stated honestly that he'd gone in and found the RK800 android tampering with evidence. At the time, it had been no big deal. If he'd shot the RK800, it would have been just a machine. A broken pile of plastic and circuits. No harm, no foul. Cyberlife probably had a few dozen RK800s to replace it with anyway. He knew it had happened at least once.

Time had passed since then anyway. Things around the DPD were busy. That's a phcking understatement. He was surprised, but there'd actually been a drop in the amount of androids working at the station. Quite a few had moved on to different careers after attaining deviancy. It was a dangerous job, and androids were still a popular target for violence. There was also the fact that a lot of their human colleagues would use them as bullet shields, sending them into dangerous situations first because they were just machines and could be repaired. With the drop in androids, they were having to take on more new human officers, but few people were applying at the moment. Things were still tense and dangerous. Reed was pulling fifteen hour shifts almost every day of the week. Sometimes it was every day. It was getting to the point he was actually missing Hank.

Hank had been suspended for the past three months after his bust up with Agent Perkins in the bullpen. Perkins would have pushed to have him fired, but it was too much paperwork for him to bother with. It would also have meant returning to the DPD offices a few more times for follow-ups, and the FBI was based quite a way off. It was inconvenient for something so trivial. He was content to just leave it at a few months' suspension. It was that very Monday morning, as he sipped his sixth coffee of the night before, that Reed saw him walking up to Fowler's office.

"Finished slacking off, old man?" Reed called in a gruff, tired tone. He had an up and down relationship with Hank. He'd always respected him, and there was a time he'd looked up to him. He was the youngest lieutenant on record. Until a few years ago, he'd been a dedicated officer and a great mentor. That had all stopped after his son died. Reed almost felt bad that he'd forgotten the kid's name. He'd only seen him once for a few minutes, and he'd rarely worked with Hank directly, but he still felt bad for not remembering. Was it...Connor? Cole? Cody? Something with a C...

"You wish! I still have a week left!" Hank called back with the barest hint of smugness. Reed envied him slightly, for getting to sit out for the first few hectic months. He was sure things would settle eventually, but until then, the station was always busy. Reed groaned in response, spinning his chair back towards his terminal. He heard Hank's deep, rumbling chuckle all the way up to Fowler's glass door. The captain wasn't doing so well with all the extra work either. Extra cases meant extra paperwork for him to check and sign off. He had an inbox and an outbox, both piled high on his desk. Reed was curious about what his superiors were talking about. He shifted uncomfortably as gestures were made towards him, and the pair kept giving him looks he couldn't quite figure out.

Hank seemed to be annoyed and passionate about something, but not in his usual drunken, angry way. This was the old Hank. The Hank that Reed thought had died with his son. There was this strange fire in his blue eyes as he spread his arms and jerked a thumb towards the bullpen. Fowler seemed receptive to whatever Hank was saying, but his shoulders slumped somewhat as he waved towards Reed. Reed pretended to be looking at a file as he sat back to get a better look through the glass. Hank was upset now, arms waving in that slightly oversized faded leather coat of his. Fowler, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, held his arms up in a calming gesture. The conversation had deescalated somewhat and Hank was looking thoughtful, hands on his hips as he nodded at the faded grey carpet. He touched Fowler's arm in a friendly manner before returning to the bullpen.

"Reed, you're in tomorrow, right?" he checked in an almost prying tone, though he seemed to try hard not to seem too interested. Reed scoffed as he held up the file he was reading. He'd been in the office since the morning of the day before. He'd worked clean through the night, and unless Fowler noticed his clock-in card, he had no intention of going anywhere for the rest of that day either. There was too much to do. Too many cases left hanging. They were short on experienced officers, so he was pretty much pulling triple duty.

"With all the shit that needs doing? I'll be here until next week!" His answer seemed to appease Hank somewhat as he stopped by his desk and looked at the cluttered surface. He hovered by his chair for a while, checking over the few notes and files that had been dropped on his desk. He didn't have any current cases, but with everyone else busy with real-time cases, the cold ones were ending up in Hank's inbox for when he got back. He fingered one of the files idly before looking across at Reed with a calculating air. Reed was leaning back with his feet crossed on his desk, something he could only get away with right now because they were so overworked and Fowler was letting it slide.

"Around nine?" Hank checked in a tone that was dripping with fake casualness. He watched the cogs turning in Reed's head as he realised he was actually going to be needed for something. He almost winced as he dropped his feet and leaned on his desk. Hank was almost amused at his despair as he tried to imagine what he could have possibly done to warrant a meeting. He'd been working his ass off for the past few weeks. There was no way he'd done anything wrong.

"Please tell me you're not dumping even more work on me! I'm snowed under as it is!" he complained with a whine, feeling somewhat reassured as Hank waved it off. Hank almost looked a little relieved that's all it was. Reed couldn't help but also notice that Hank looked a little different. He was a little neater, a little more clean-cut, and his clothes were actually a little looser on him than a couple months ago. He was looking good. More in shape than he had for a while.

"Nothing like that. In fact, this may even go towards reducing that workload." Hank's response seemed tempting enough for Reed to agree. He was exhausted and pretty much running on caffeine at this point. He nodded tiredly as he prepared to return to his file. Both men turned as the glass door across the pen was tossed open. Fowler appeared, frowning and holding up a slim bit of cardboard that Reed recognised all too well. Ah phck! Sharp brown eyes swept the pen to find him. He sank down in his chair to avoid notice, hiding behind his file. Hank smirked as he watched him squirm.

"Reed! You've been here for over twenty-six hours? Go the fuck home! Right now!" Fowler barked in his rough growl of a voice. Reed winced at the almost fatherly edge of his tone. He knew Fowler wasn't angry about the extra wage he was snagging with the overtime. He was more worried about having a burned out detective collapsing on the job. He'd known Fowler a long time. "And don't you dare fucking drive!" he added before heading back into his office. A really long time...

"You heard the man, kid. Better rest up for tomorrow," Hank encouraged before heading out. Reed watched him go, noting his back was straighter and more confident. It was a good look. He'd missed having the reliable Hank Anderson around. It almost annoyed him to think that it was probably that damned android that had brought him back from the edge. The plastic puppy had been more or less glued to his side for weeks. He sighed as he gathered a few files, hiding them in his jacket as he headed out to call a taxi. He probably shouldn't take files home, but hey, what harm could it do?