Once he reached the door, he was invited in by a sweet feminine voice. A voice he was sure a lot of the male officers would swoon over. She had the same warm quality as the ST200 android. She actually shared a few of its physical features, too. She had a perfect figure, from the modest bust to the shapely calves. Flawless pale skin, with just a few freckles over her nose in an eerily perfect-but-not-quite pattern. Her eyes were a bright emerald green, far deeper and greener than his own dirtier hue. Her hair was a deep orangey red, shoulder length and curled. She was quite stunning.

"Please come in, Detective Reed. I've been expecting you," she greeted warmly as he hovered in the doorway examining her with an edgy and distrustful air. He watched as she moved around her desk with a notepad, measuring her steps with his eyes. Each one looked perfectly even. He shut the door and continued to watch as she crossed to one of the large armchairs and sat neatly, crossing her feet at the ankles. Perfect poise and positioning. "Sit down, and we'll get started," she added in a welcoming tone.

"You're an android." He stated it with certainty. He remained guarded as she faltered just a little. She took on a somewhat resigned expression as she looked at him where he still hovered in the doorway. She'd removed her LED, but Reed's trained eye picked up the signs easily. She was a little too attractive, a little too perfect, and moved with pre-programmed grace.

"You're right. I'm a PR400, originally designed to work in medicine, but after the revolution, I retrained myself as a psychologist." Dr Sanders scanned Reed as he hesitated in the doorway. He was uneasy and a little stressed, but no more so than her other patients had been so far. A lot of them hadn't even realised she was an android since she'd removed her LED and changed a few of her cosmetics. "Does that bother you?" She knew it was a common complaint. Androids were machines. How could they possibly understand the complexity of human emotions and psychological issues?

"I don't know...A little, I guess." He felt awkward at the admission, unsure himself if he really meant it. I mean, we did have a human psychologist before. What happened to him? Did he get cut and replaced by an android? Just like what happened pre-revolution? He knew that the old psychologist had been an older man called Dr Greenwood. He'd hated him and the way he'd pick you apart and analyse you with just a few words.

"And why is that, Detective?" Sanders already knew the answer. It was the answer humans always gave.

"Well...the last doctor was human. What happened to him?" Reed asked in a guarded tone, watching Sanders scribble on her pad. Yes, I'm an asshole, so sue me! He was unwilling to look at the pad on her lap. If he started trying to read her notes, it would become an obsession.

"After the sensitivity training, the DPD decided it would be best to...part ways with Dr Greenwood. He's retired and now spends most of his time these days on the AAL messaging boards." Though she sounded careless, her words were anything but. Greenwood had tried to keep his internet activities under the radar. He hadn't expected the DPD to be keeping such a close eye on their staff. For a while it had even been touch and go on whether Reed would remain after the revolution. Luckily, he'd turned his life around somewhat. The mere mention of the AAL sent a jolt through his vitals, but it wasn't a jolt of fear.

"That old man was in the AAL?" Sanders was surprised he didn't know. Greenwood had travelled in a lot of the same social circles he had at one point. It wasn't impossible that they could have missed each other at those meetups, though. Especially with Reed's loaded working schedule and unpredictable hours.

"He still is...How does that make you feel?" She was curious as she motioned to the seat opposite. Reed finally peeled himself away from the door and slumped down in the large leather chair. It was big and comfortable. Made to put people at ease and encourage a more willing mood. Sanders continued to track his vitals as he crossed one foot over his knee and sat back. He was a little more relaxed, but still on edge.

"I guess...It's none of my business what the old man does. Hell, I didn't even like him...I am surprised though." He struggled as Sanders asked him to clarify. What had surprised him exactly? "The AAL has changed a lot...Before the revolution, it was a group that was made to safeguard human jobs in the workplace. Too many good working folks were losing their jobs to androids because they were so much phcking cheaper than looking after good human workers." Sanders nodded her understanding. She was used to it. The abuse humans spewed at androids just because they were designed to be better. She didn't take his words personally. They weren't aimed at her specifically, and this was something he needed to work through.

"It sounds like you resent the business owners more than the androids themselves..." Reed blinked in surprise. Honestly, he'd never thought about it. He'd hated the whole situation. He'd hated that these perfect machines existed. He'd hated that they were so cheap to buy. He'd hated that businesses had seen no problem in what they were doing. He'd hated that it was so easy and legal to do it. He'd hated that thousands of people, including his own mother, had been tossed in the gutter with no warning.

"I don't know...When it all started, I was just angry...I was a kid. My mum was out of work. She got sick. I tried drugs. I almost ended up in a gang...It was easy to hate androids. They were an easy phcking target." Sanders understood that. She didn't berate him for it or hold it against him. She just listened and made a few notes. "I'd probably be dead now if I hadn't met Fowler and cleaned up my act." It had been close. If anyone besides Fowler had turned up, he probably would have been shot for having a gun in his hand. At the very least, he would have been arrested. He owed a lot to Fowler.

"Did your feelings towards androids change once you were on the right path?" Sanders noted his discomfort as he shook his head. He was at least honest about his prejudices.

"No...If anything, it got worse. I was always worried about it. Androids were being made for all sorts of jobs, so it was only a matter of time before someone like Connor showed up...I phcking hated him, you know? Uniformed officers were already being replaced, and then in walked an android detective. It was a phcking joke!" His tone spiked with venom as he grumbled the words out. He looked very much like his old self as he ground his teeth and glared at the floor. He certainly seemed to have a few issues he hadn't worked out, but she knew from his current record and Connor's own words he hadn't let that affect his work. His relationship with Connor had even improved. Connor considered him a friend, and she felt the feeling was mutual.

"What made you change your mind about the AAL?"

"The whole thing just...changed. After the revolution, it wasn't about protecting human workers anymore. There was always a lot of hate for androids, but the things they started saying, the things they want to do..." He didn't even want to go into it. He was sure Sanders was more than aware of the things AAL members would do if they got hold of her, or any other unsuspecting android. She nodded her agreement, quietly pleased with his responses so far. He was honest. He wasn't afraid of admitting his faults, and he fully accepted the less savoury parts of his past. He didn't make excuses, and he didn't claim to have changed that much. If anything, he seemed concerned he hadn't changed enough.

"With that in mind, and the knowledge of why Dr Greenwood was removed, do you still have a problem with my working here?" Reed paused to think it over.

"No...I mean, as long as the hiring process was fair." Though how any hiring process could be fair when dealing with humans versus androids was uncertain. An android would always score higher than a human. It was a fact. It was also a fact that the DPD didn't have many android employees, so they'd be looking to expand their employee base for diversity, giving androids another advantage over humans.

"Well, I'm glad I have your approval," she teased in a friendly manner, noting that he suddenly seemed to feel bad. I wouldn't have questioned it if a human had gotten the job..."Shall we continue? Tell me about the ST200." Sanders listened patiently as he explained what happened outside. She walked him through the few minutes after and then delved into what happened once he got home. She pointed out that he wasn't alone.

"No...I don't have any family or a partner, so Nines volunteered to come home with me." He left out quite a few things. She noted that he'd avoided calling Nines his partner or his android. He was hesitant to put a label on their relationship. He also hadn't mentioned their living arrangement. It was on record that Nines was currently living in his home. It was listed as a temporary residence, but with Nines being an owned model, he was likely to stay there unless he deviated.

"Tell me about him...your new work partner." Reed floundered at the unexpected line of questioning. He was clearly nervous about something. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, sitting up a little straighter as he rubbed his good hand on his knee and darted his eyes around the room. It was evasive. A very strong reaction.

"Nines? Nines is...He's an android. Looks a lot like Connor...an upgrade actually, an RK900." Sanders knew all that just from looking at his employment file.

"That's not what I asked, Detective...Tell me about him. His personality. His quirks. His likes and dislikes." She'd given him a few simple things to think about that would help him form a picture in his mind. He rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful, if a little uncertain. He seemed strangely reluctant to talk about him. Sanders wasn't yet sure why. She was sure from speaking to Connor that he liked Nines. It was unlikely he would have invited him into his home otherwise. Were there perhaps some unresolved feelings brewing beneath the surface?

"Well, he's only been out of Cyberlife a few weeks, so his personality is still forming...So far, I'd say he's...uncertain. A little socially awkward, but kind. He's not like Connor. His social programming is a lot less developed, but he's quite expressive if you know what to look for. He has a lot of programmed quirks, like Connor. The way he stands, the way he tilts his head sometimes...If he doesn't want you to know what he's thinking, his expression goes a little blank, but his eyes always give him away. We're still pretty new to each other, but I guess he likes leather and turtlenecks, bold colours, and he enjoys cooking. I know he doesn't like Cyberlife, no surprise there...Other than that, I'm not sure." He was surprised by how little he could say about him. They'd been together constantly for the past few days, and yet he'd found out so little. I guess I'm just content being around him. We've never talked about anything besides work and random stuff...I don't even know if he's figured out many likes and dislikes because he spends all of his time with me. Working. The thought was a little sad.

"You look like you have something on your mind," Sanders observed as she sat back, watching Reed's green eyes take on an almost guilty edge.

"I guess I don't know him as well as I should." He was reluctant to admit it, though he could always learn. Sanders nodded her understanding as she made a few notes. The glide of her pen filled the awkward silence.

"How did you feel while you were blind, being alone with your new partner like that?" Reed's expression softened slightly. It was an interesting reaction. It looked like he was recalling a fond memory.

"Safe...I know I can trust Nines...I don't know, we just get each other." He sounded almost flustered at the admission. She moved on, not wanting to press him too much in one session. They still needed to go through the second incident. This one was a lot fresher in his mind, and he could give her a lot more details about the event physically. "It was the first time I heard Nines speak when he shouted at me." The detail wasn't necessarily relevant to the trauma. It surprised her he felt it important enough to mention, or even remember.

"He was non-verbal before that?"

"Yeah. While he was at Cyberlife, they-uh-they ripped out his voice box." He didn't know the technical term for it, but he knew Sanders would understand just the same. "We were using sign language before that." It was an interesting detail in the story. Reed continued, explaining how he didn't actually remember much after being shot, but he did remember Nines jumping in to protect him.

"What about afterwards?"

"I woke up in the hospital, stayed there for a day, then went home and came back to work today." He didn't really see anything special about it. She hummed thoughtfully as she made a few notes. That wasn't normal protocol for gunshot wounds. He'd usually be expected to stay home until the wound had healed enough to allow him to work normally.

"Would you say you're ready for active duty?"

"Phck no! I can't even lift my arm right now," he replied with a huff as he motioned towards the large sling his arm was resting in. The wound was tightly bandaged, and it didn't bleed, but it was still pretty fresh. Pulling or moving it too much could easily re-open the thin layer of scab that had formed over the hole.

"Then why have you returned to work? Most officers would rest at home to allow their bodies time to heal." Reed almost scoffed at the idea of resting. As if he had the time or patience for that! His cases wouldn't work themselves, and the precinct was still woefully understaffed.

"Look, lying around at home would be a waste of my time. I'm part way through an important case right now, and I already had to waste a day while my eyes healed!" His tone was a lot snippier than he'd originally intended. "I just don't like sitting on my ass when there's work to be done," he said, as if that solved everything. She could tell he certainly had some issues. Like many officers, he was a shameless workaholic, and he'd let that affect his physical health.

"You work a lot, Detective Reed...Would you say that affects your physical health at all?"

"No, of course not...Unless you mean physical injuries. I get a few of those on the job, but who doesn't?" He seemed overly defensively. So, he clearly knew he allowed himself to be overworked and didn't look after himself as he should. He was agitated, likely because she could have him signed off work. She didn't think he was a real danger to himself or his co-workers at this point, and he would likely be more distressed at being forced to stay home.

"Perhaps that's something we can work on." Reed held up a finger and shook his head.

"No, absolutely not. I'm not a victim, I'm not suffering any residual trauma, and I don't need to waste my time talking about unresolved issues. Thanks, but no thanks," he insisted as he waved a dismissive hand. Sanders smiled at him sweetly. He didn't like that smile. He'd seen women smile like that all over, and it never boded well. He levelled his best glower at her in response.

"I was asked to assess your mental state, Detective Reed, and it's my belief as your doctor that you would benefit from a series of sessions." She watched his vitals spike. He was a little angry, but mostly afraid. He didn't want to be taken apart piece by piece and put back together again. The problem was, he also knew he didn't have a choice if he wanted to continue working. As a doctor, she had the power to have him signed off. She's worse that Dr Greenwood. "So, I'll speak to Captain Fowler and work out some session times that will work around your regular hours."

"Do we really have to do this? You've seen my case rates. I'm clearly managing fine!" Sanders looked up sternly from beneath her long lashes.

"Just because you have an exemplary work ethic doesn't mean you have exemplary physical and mental health. It's my job to ensure you're fit for duty." Reed's jaw tightened in annoyance. Dr Greenwood had always let his sessions slide, or eventually ended up forgetting them. He was under the distinct impression that Sanders, an android doctor, would do no such thing. Phck! "I'll see you again soon, Detective Reed," she added in her annoyingly sweet voice. Reed grunted out a response before leaving, definitely not slamming the door in his wake.

His annoyance still hadn't gone away by the time Nines and the others returned. Their three suspects were led to separate interrogation rooms while the detectives got ready to begin the interviews. Nines noticed his stressed mental state right away. It was impossible not to pick up on it. Sharp green eyes were almost boring holes in his monitor as he typed with loud clacks. He'd barely done more than grunt his acknowledgement at Nines' return. Connor and Hank seemed to have agreed to ignore it. Nines was not so tactful.

Why are you distressed? He thought he would prefer keeping their conversation relatively private, so he signed it. Reed ignored it as he got to his feet and headed towards the interrogation rooms after Hank and Connor. He only stopped when Nines' hand caught his upper arm and stopped him, turning him back so that they were eye to eye. Tell me. Nines' soft and open approach only annoyed him more.

"It's nothing, Nines. Phck, you're not my phcking nurse maid!" It came out much sharper than he'd intended. Thinking he'd likely upset Nines, he continued following the others. He was surprised to find himself unable to move as the hand on his arm tightened.

"But I am your partner." His thumb stroked small, soothing circles on his upper arm that were really far too intimate for work colleagues. You seemed fine earlier. What happened? He tilted his head with the query and put on the best puppy eyed look he could muster. Reed wasn't sure if Connor had been teaching him, but he'd definitely improved. He sighed in defeat and kicked the floor like a nervous child.

Fowler made me see the psychologist. His admission came with a certain amount of vulnerability and shame. Nines wouldn't care, he knew that. He didn't know the stigma that was attached to it. If you saw the psychologist, that meant you had problems. Mental problems. Emotional problems. Problems you couldn't sort out on your own.

Is that not a good thing? Many humans are reported to have a positive reaction to therapy. Nines was quietly pleased that his human was being encouraged to improve his mental and physical condition. Reed seemed upset at his answer, taking it as a personal slight that he agreed that he needed therapy. That he had problems.

I don't need fixing, ergo I don't need a phcking therapist! His hands made sharp clapping sounds as he signed. He was clearly agitated, and Nines wasn't the most experienced in dealing with agitation. If anything, it made him feel nervous. If he ended up upsetting him too badly, he may decide to throw him away. Give him to someone else. Despite that risk, he did think it was a good idea. The problem was telling Reed without upsetting him further.

Perhaps not, but it wouldn't hurt to take advantage of the situation. I'm sure you will have a positive experience. He did his best to sidestep Reed's earlier words. Obviously, he didn't need a therapist as a matter of urgency. He could go from day to day and function well at work. It was his attitude around work that could use some guidance. Perhaps these sessions would make him feel more positive and he'd take better care of himself.

"Whatever. We have work to do." Reed clearly wasn't pleased with him siding with Fowler. Nines suppressed a wince, hoping that he would calm down during the interrogation. He followed as Reed headed into the observation room, and hesitated at the door to the interrogation room itself. He felt something. Scared? Nervous? Worried? Uncertain? He paused and looked at the observation room door, biting his lower lip. He suddenly needed to see Reed. He was unsure how to proceed.

"What's the holdup, kid?" Hank asked as he stepped out and shut the door. Something in Nines' chest dropped a little as Hank stepped out. It wasn't the human he wanted to see, but Hank still offered him some comfort. He seemed to understand a little of what he was feeling before he even spoke. His wise blue eyes softened as he approached and laid a strong hand on his shoulder. "Feeling nervous?" His voice was soft and encouraging. He wanted him to speak openly.

"Perhaps...I have not done this before." It came out sounding more robotic tone than usual. Hank would have thought he'd turned off his feelings altogether if not for the insecurity in his usually sharp eyes and the way he nipped his lower lip. Nines didn't want to voice his uncertainty to his superior, but he was worried about making a mistake. What if he asked the wrong question? What if he missed something? What if Reed was displeased with his performance?

"You've got nothing to worry about, kid. You have the right programming. You know all the case details. You just need to ask him what we want to know. If you get in trouble, or we think you need support, me or Connor will be in before you know it." Hank's encouraging tone suggested he'd had this talk before. It would make sense. As a lieutenant, he'd probably helped to train up a lot of rookies in his time. By their age difference, it was likely he'd trained Reed as well. Nines nodded timidly. Hank was right. He knew what to do, and the first suspect wasn't even their main suspect. This would be a practice run. A way for him to get started. "Go on, son. Get in there." Hank gave him a firm tap on the shoulder. There was a slight clatter as the observation room door opened Reed's scruffy brunette head poked out.

"Nines, you good?" he asked in a serious tone, green eyes searching his face warily. Nines felt his chest swell at Reed's appearance. He'd probably come because he was taking so long, likely impatient to start. He was pleased he got to look at him again before he started. He nodded quietly as Hank retreated and headed into the smaller room. "Well then, get the phck in there," Reed added in an almost encouraging tone. Nines took an artificial breath and nodded as he turned to the door.

"Gary Palmer," he greeted simply as he opened the door. The young man at the table looked up. "My name is Nines. I am a Detective for the DPD." He used the same level tone, sounding very much like an undeviated android as he approached the table. He examined the human before him. As expected, he was in his early twenties. They seemed to have caught him at work. He was wearing oil stained overalls that belonged to a mechanic's workshop. That explains why he'd go to the yard for car parts...

"Am I in trouble? I had a feeling I missed a red light the other day, but I swear it was an accident! I always turn right on that road, but the road sign is-" Gary's nervous stammer cut off as Nines raised a silencing hand. Curious. He seems genuinely concerned about a speeding ticket, but didn't mention the parts he illegally removed from the yard...Gary had scruffy brunette hair that he constantly shook out of his brown eyes. He was clean shaven with a simple lip ring. He clammed up at Nines' signal for silence.

"Mr Palmer, do you truly believe you would see a homicide detective over a speeding offense? Or that you would even be brought to the station?" Gary's jaw dropped in shock and disbelief. He's not the one. Nines was certain. His vitals were screaming shock in a manner that would take years for a human to fake. Many humans wouldn't even consider the fact that they needed to fake their vitals. The DPD only had two androids that could scan for that.

"Homicide? Like, as in killing someone? Look, man, I swear I don't know anything about any murder!" Gary was earnest, big brown eyes pleading with Nines to believe him. He absolutely did, but that didn't mean their interaction had to be completely useless. Nines nodded his agreement as he sat straight in his chair, resting his hands on the table.

"I believe you are telling the truth. However, you may have information that will assist us." Gary eagerly agreed to help in any way he could. Nines tried not to seem too pleased. He couldn't help but feel that his first interrogation was going well.