"Wow, good job!" Miller gasped, doubling over to catch his breath as he finally caught up to find Nines holding their suspect by the collar of his jacket. His hands were already cuffed behind his back as he cursed and squirmed. Nines' expression remained cool and disinterested. Detached. Miller was used to it by now. He'd been that way for weeks, maybe even months, at this point. He couldn't even blame him, considering what had happened. No one in the precinct even dared to bring it up at this point. It had to be six months, if not a little longer. What had started out as stress and despair had cooled and hardened. He was a lot like he'd been at the start. Cold and unapproachable. Luckily, most people at the precinct knew him better than that.

"Let me go, you useless piece of junk!" Their suspect was approaching middle aged with scruffy brunette hair and steel eyes, lips fixed in a permanent snarl as he twisted this way and that, trying to break Nines' grip. It made no difference to Nines. His hand continued holding the leather collar in an iron grasp, unyielding. "Fucking discount microwave! Uncuff me and I'll fucking show you!" He had quite the mouth on him. Miller was impressed with Nines' restraint. Despite his cool exterior, he had a lot less patience these days.

"Cease your incessant whining before I end it for you," Nines warned with a rough tug of the jacket. Steel eyes glared, but it seemed something in Nines' silvery eyes alerted him to the sincerity behind that warning. The man fell silent and remained that way all the way back to the car. He put up a brief fight as he was pushed in the back, and though he was tempted to kick Nines as he reached across and buckled him in, he thought better of it and settled for glaring instead. They remained quiet as they climbed in. It was almost like Nines had entered stasis. He remained stiff in his seat, staring ahead with unfocused eyes. That was just how things were now. Miller was used to it. As they pulled up, he rounded to the back of the car as usual.

"I'll take it from here. Why don't you go ahead and file the report?" Miller said as he unbuckled their suspect's seatbelt. They both knew Nines was faster at that sort of thing. He may even have sent it already. With a nod of his head and a somewhat curt agreement, Nines headed inside and sat at his desk. He paid no attention to Connor and Hank as he wheeled closer to his desk and laid a hand on his terminal, ignoring the cheerful pink pot that sat on the edge of his desk. How the small plant was still flourishing, he didn't know. The cheerful yellow flowers had opened weeks ago, mocking him with their cheery disposition. He assumed Connor had kept up with its care since he hadn't watered it himself in months.

He spared it a glance as he filed his report, taking in the faded chibi drawn on the side where Tina had gleefully doodled her grumpy Gavin all those months ago. The memory of seeing the pot for the first time popped up in his HUD. It was something he was getting used to these days. Whenever something reminded him of Gavin, an appropriate memory file would pop up and start playing. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to soothe or mock him, but it was always painful. A dull ache filled his chest as he replayed looking at the odds and ends Gavin had placed on his desk to cheer it up. The poor plant had been sickly at first, dehydrated to the point it might not have recovered. With a regular feeding schedule and the proper nourishment, he'd been able to get it back on the right track. Much like Gavin.

Thinking of Gavin was even more painful, so Nines blinked the box away and sent off the completed report. At least, he assumed it had been completed. Such things were often left on autopilot these days. Having finished his current task, and having no outstanding cases until he and Miller were called on again, Nines shut down his terminal and headed for the charging alcoves. It had become his new ritual. A way of coping, or avoiding. He simply allowed the workday to pass, going into stasis whenever he wasn't needed.

What was the point of staying awake? He wasn't allowed to work on Gavin's case, even though he was quite certain that everyone had given up and moved on at this point. When he sat at his desk, he was constantly bothered by others who likely meant well. Connor checked in regularly with reminders to watch his thirium levels, and Miller and Tina often stopped by to see if he needed anything or keep him company. Even Hank would give him those lingering, sympathetic glances that told him he'd been looking sorry for himself for too long. At least in stasis, he wouldn't be disturbed unless it was work related.

Sitting at his desk was often worse when he wasn't bothered. Looking across, he would be faced with Gavin's empty chair. The surface of the desk was exactly as he'd left it. He hadn't even removed the case files they'd been working on. Each morning he wiped the surface to ensure dust didn't gather. Gavin would hate to come back and find his things dusty, as if he'd been forgotten. The terminal remained inactive and cold; the chair rolled under the desk. Neat and orderly. The humans didn't dare move so much as a pencil under Nines' searing gaze.

There had been some talk, just a few days ago, about Miller temporarily claiming the space since they were now working together. To his credit, Miller had instantly turned it down, saying he was happy with their current arrangement. It would be a lot of hassle to move all of his belongings just to move them back when Gavin returned. He was one of the few who still used that word. When. Connor and Hank had switched to if many weeks ago, unwilling to get his hopes up. Most people didn't even talk about him anymore.

Nines couldn't help feeling anxious. A few weeks ago, it had been Miller who was offered the desk. What if they found a real replacement for Gavin? Perhaps not a sergeant, but a new detective at least. What if he found himself in the position Gavin had been in when he'd first arrived? What if he had to clear off Gavin's desk and allow someone new to take his place? He could now imagine how Gavin had felt when he'd first arrived. Seeing him in Jack's chair, yelling that he didn't belong there, and grudgingly getting used to his presence. Is that how things would go for him, too? Would Fowler find someone else to take Gavin's place? Or would he hold off until they knew for sure? The thought made his LED spin red as he approached the charging alcove and stepped inside, doing his best to ignore the anxious look Connor sent his way.

"Do you think I should say something?" Connor asked quietly as he looked across at Hank, who didn't even look up from his terminal. He didn't need to. He knew what he was talking about. It had been the same for weeks, and his answer was still the same.

"Nines knows you're here for him. Right now, he wants some space. It won't do any good to breathe down his neck all the time. You'll just end up stifling him. It's better to wait until we have something concrete to share." Connor nodded reluctantly, LED spinning yellow as he watched Nines' silvery eyes dim further. His LED swapped from blinking red to solid yellow, a sign he'd entered stasis. The only good thing about this situation was that he at least knew his brother wouldn't collapse from lack of charging, as he had a few months ago. He was now functional. He recharged as he should, topped up his thirium, and kept to his scheduled hours.

It was hard to say how he was coping beyond that. Nines had turned down invitations to visit Hank's house and see Niles, and they barely spoke at work at all. It was somewhat lonely. There was a time when Nines came to him for advice, but now he didn't. Connor wasn't sure if it was bottled up resentment or if he felt let down. Maybe he felt he was being coddled too much with his constant reminders to keep up his energy levels, but he was only trying to be a good brother. Colin kept him updated, at least. They didn't meet often, but Nines still checked in for updates now and then. Twice a month. It used to be every day.

It was startling how little had changed without Gavin. This was his first time experiencing such a loss. Much as he hated to view it that way, his own faith that Gavin would return had wavered. It was unlikely, over six months down the line as they were, that Gavin was still alive. The Hickory Killer had never kept anyone so long. He'd tried to reason it out and give him the best chance he could, but no matter how he looked at it, his survival was unlikely. The Hickory Killer had toyed with Gavin over the years, but what would he possibly gain by taking him and keeping him alive? His enjoyment came from slowly killing people. Surely, that meant Gavin had met the same fate as all the others, though it had likely been a much slower and more painful end.

The worst part was seeing the effect it was having on Nines. Unlike most others, Nines hadn't given up yet. He couldn't. Connor understood a little of how he felt. He was also reluctant to admit he'd given up. If it were Niles, he'd probably be the same. How could he ever go on after such a loss? Looking at Hank, he had a new understanding of what he'd gone through. The difference was, Hank knew for sure Cole was gone, and he'd had the chance to mourn his loss. Nines couldn't do that, not when he was still convincing himself that Gavin was alive. At least the investigation is still ongoing...The FBI was on the case, whether Gavin was alive or not.

"Hank, Connor. My office." Fowler looked rigid and troubled as he called from them the door. That didn't bode well. Looking across, Connor found Hank looking his way. He shrugged his aged shoulders as Connor tilted his head. He didn't know either. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good news. Tucking his chair neatly under his desk, Connor followed Hank across the bullpen and up to the office. Fowler waved them to sit, brow furrowed almost angrily as he rolled up to his desk and leaned his elbows on the surface. He looked like he'd just swallowed something unpleasant. In a manner of speaking, he had. "I have some bad news." That much was obvious.

"Bad news? About what?" There were few things it could be, and Hank's wary tone suggested he'd already guessed what it could be about. Connor wasn't quite as fast as he remained standing at Hank's shoulder with his hands behind his back. He couldn't help twitching his fingers as he waited, anxiety swelling in his chest as Fowler let out a worn sigh. He hated delivering bad news and coming off as the bad guy, but it was an unfortunate part of his job.

"Gavin's disappearance is being moved to the cold case division, effective immediately." Connor's hazel eyes widened in shock, and Hank pushed out of his seat fast enough to send it rolling back into his knees. His agitated pacing suggested he'd considered it, but hadn't wanted to hear it. Fowler was no better, fisting his hands and hunching his shoulders with a deep frown. It wasn't what he wanted, either. It was never an easy pill to swallow. That one of your own was gone.

"Jesus Christ! We don't even know for sure that he's dead yet! Are we really giving up on one of our own?" It was a good thing Nines was in stasis. There was no way he'd miss Hank's yelling, even if a few of the humans out there didn't notice. Connor had to agree, though he wouldn't shout as Hank did. It seemed too soon to set this case aside. Fowler was nodding along at his desk, clearly agreeing with Hank's outburst.

"Apparently, we are. Higher-ups don't think it's a good use of resources."

"Not a good use of-What the fuck do they think we are? A pet care service? It's our job to find missing persons, especially when they're one of ours!" Fowler's jaw tightened in agreement. "Fuck them, Jeff! We'll keep the case active. They probably won't even notice, fucking pen-pushers!" Fowler let out an almost affectionate huff. Unfortunately, he couldn't allow that. The higher-ups said the case would move to the cold case division, so to the cold case division it would go. He wasn't happy about it, Hank and Connor weren't happy about it, and he knew damn well that Nines would be downright furious.

"As far as they're concerned, this case gets enough attention being part of the FBI's ongoing investigation." That was a fair point, but there was one key difference.

"But the FBI isn't looking for Gavin. Their only goal is the Hickory Killer himself." Fowler nodded his understanding. Connor was right. The FBI didn't give a damn about what happened to Gavin. The only thing that mattered to them was finding and stopping the killer himself before he got to his next victim. Unfortunately, things had been quiet on that front.

"As far as they're concerned, finding the Hickory Killer and finding Gavin are the same thing." Hank scoffed at the predictable justification. Of course, that's what they'd say. Anything to save themselves a few bucks. Gavin was just a statistic to them. Now that the original media hype had died down, and his name had been largely forgotten by the masses, they didn't give a damn. "I held them off for as long as I could, but we're looking down the barrel at seven months at this point. They're unwilling to stretch it to a year." Figures. Connor's brow creased with regret and worry. What would Nines say?

"We'll look into it on our own time," Hank piped up, to which Fowler nodded. He'd expected no less, but they wouldn't be able to use precinct resources for it. He seemed hesitant as he sighed and looked up at Connor.

"Do your best to keep this from Nines for now...You know he won't take it well, and he's not even supposed to know anything about this case." They all knew Connor and Colin had been keeping him informed, despite how close he was. Connor's scowl deepened at that. It seemed wrong to lie to him. Technically, it's omitting the truth, but still...He felt dirty at the very thought of not letting him know. How would he react later if he found out on his own?

"He might be right on this one...just until we figure out how to break the news..." It would be a bitter pill to swallow, that's for sure.