"Reed! My office!" Fowler's low voice boomed from the glass door of his office, otherwise known as The Goldfish Bowl. Reed swigged his cold coffee and glared at the glass box almost resentfully. Don't I have enough shit to do already? He heaved an internal sigh as he stood, barely able to see his desk through all the open case files scattered across the surface. Things had been tough since the revolution. A real sigh slipped out as he looked across at Jack's desk. The desk that had been empty for over two years now. A desk he still hadn't cleared off and, to his credit, Fowler hadn't asked him to. He tapped the dusty surface on the way by, not daring to look at the family picture that still sat there taunting him.

"Captain?" he grumbled as he shut the door and made his way to the desk, where Fowler was no better off than he was. There were so many files, he'd even piled them in a large cardboard box on the floor, all of them still waiting to be reviewed and signed off. Fowler waved an inviting hand at the empty chairs in front of his desk and leaned back for the first time in hours, pushing down the relieved groan in his throat. He seemed pretty at ease for a change, which meant he probably wasn't in trouble for anything at least. Reed sank into one of the smaller leather chairs and casually cocked one foot over his knee.

"How's it looking out there, Reed?" Fowler asked tiredly as they both looked out at the busy bullpen. To say it was bustling would be an understatement. Almost every officer was juggling both a phone and at least two files if they were sitting at their desks while others were interviewing victims or suspects and even more were out on patrol. The only quiet area was the small space where Reed's desk stood just across from Hank and his pet android's. Those desks were obviously empty. The past few months had been a complete shit-show and, without Hank, running the homicide division had pretty much fallen on Reed's shoulders.

"We're in the shit, Cap, and it won't get any better until we find some new recruits." Reed sighed tiredly as he leaned back and ran a hand over his face. This was the first break he'd taken in twelve hours, already working well past the end of his shift. Hell, he'd barely stopped at all in the past forty-eight hours. He didn't have time! Not with all the open cases he'd picked up. Fucking android cases. With Lieutenant Anderson suspended for God-knows-how-long, and his plastic pet mercifully gone, all the android cases had fallen to the next highest-ranking officer. Bingo. Detective Reed.

"I may just have a solution for that...Here, our latest applicant." Fowler's expression was guarded as he pushed a thin dossier across the glass desk. It certainly didn't look like much, so definitely not a transfer. A fresh graduate? Reed met Fowler's dark eyes suspiciously as he took the file and flipped it open. He scoffed almost straight away as he looked down at the unpleasantly familiar photograph. You've got to be phcking kidding me! "It's a good resume," Fowler defended with a shrug, his posture almost daring him to voice his objections.

"Is this a phcking joke? That machine is a phcking menace!" Reed snapped predictably as he tossed the file back on the desk. He was careful not to hit the small potted plant that sat on the corner. He was an ass, but not that much of an ass. Fowler sat back with a roll of his eyes as Reed got to his feet and prowled back and forth like a caged animal. He often reminded him of a jaguar. Calculating eyes, lithe body, quick movements, and sharp claws. Had one hell of a bite, too. He'd actually been surprised when FBI agents found him unconscious down in the evidence locker after his last encounter with the RK800.

"Is that a fact, or are you just being a sore loser?" Fowler challenged with an almost teasing edge to his tone. Reed paused, fusing his lips together like he'd just eaten something sour. He rested his hands on his denim-clad hips, tapping one tanned heel on the floor. He hated being forced to swallow his pride.

"I'd like to say he fights dirty, but I'd be phcking lying," he admitted with a sigh. In fact, if anyone had played dirty, it was him. That android had kicked his ass fair and square, and he hadn't needed a loaded gun to do it. He'd straight up given him the beat down he deserved, and he could respect that. That didn't mean he wanted the thing back in his precinct though. They may have had a revolution. They may have won their rights. But that didn't mean that they were friends. It didn't even mean that Reed would acknowledge their existence outside of work. Sure, he did his job and worked the android cases that landed on his desk. That didn't mean he liked it. He felt side-lined. Stuck with all the shit cases. All because I'm one of the only fuckers around here who can look at a busted up machine and call it like I see it!

"You're the highest in rank for this department without Lieutenant Anderson here, so tell me Reed, what do you think of that resume?" Fowler leaned back in his chair, watching Reed almost roll his eyes as he sat down and flipped the file open. He forced himself to ignore the picture of the familiar hazel eyed robot with its perfect brunette hair and looked at the employment history instead. Pretty predictable since he'd been working at their precinct. Sure, he had a pretty high success rate considering the short time he'd been there. Minimal casualties on each case. Diverting an android meltdown. Helping track down Jericho. Saving a few human officers during a hostile deviant encounter. It wasn't a perfect record. Suspected deviants had escaped more than once, but he was a pretty solid candidate. Obviously, he didn't really have an educational background, but he was fully versed in everything he needed to know as a detective from the various programs he had installed.

"It's a solid resume," he admitted reluctantly, shutting the file and handing it over to Fowler. He didn't need to ask if he was going to go ahead with it. He wouldn't have bothered calling him in if he wasn't serious. "Any others?" Reed asked hopefully as he sat back and folded his arms, the dull ache in his spine slowly subsiding as he relaxed into the leather. He'd been bent over his desk for hours, and not in a good way.

"Not many. Our precinct is quite low on the list of priorities right now. A lot of the smaller precincts have even less staff than we do." Fowler's quiet tone suggested that this was just between them. Reed's brows raised at the news. He knew things had been bad since the revolution. A lot of places had lost almost their entire workforce overnight, but he hadn't thought it was this bad. I always said plastic beat cops were a bad idea. This phcking proves it! Most android cops had either been decommissioned during the revolution or walked out once they were free. Reed couldn't blame them. They didn't exactly have an insurance program yet, so any damages would need to be paid for by them. Since they were no longer property, they were no longer listed under company insurance the way office supplies were. The government also hadn't figured out fair wages for androids yet. "I'll get onto the RK800 about starting work."

"Sure...Later, Cap," Reed replied with a tired groan as he got to his feet and returned to his desk. He sighed as he sat down and opened the latest file he was working on. Another AAL attack it looked like. It was textbook. The android had been jumped in the night and left smashed up in an alleyway. They even had a fingerprint this time, so once they'd run it through the system, it would probably be pretty standard stuff. He looked at the clock. Forensics had only been on it for a few hours and they were as swamped as the bullpen with all the extra work they had to do. He dropped them an email query and flagged it amber. Important, but not so important that they needed to stop whatever they were doing. Just send the results as soon as they're ready.

He spent the next few hours like that, flicking through various files and chasing up calls until it got too late to continue. Since it was too late to call people, he swapped to writing up reports and making plans for when the sun came up. When was the last time I went home? Blinking his tired eyes, he realised he'd forgotten. He knew he couldn't have been at his desk for three days. He would have passed out hours ago. Probably. He jerked upright in his seat as his eyes drooped. Nope! Reed, you've got shit to do! His eyes begged to differ.

Coffee...Coffee and a smoke...then I'll get back to it. He pushed himself up on stiff legs, whining like a wounded animal. No one paid him any mind. The night shift already looked as fucked as he was. They were more than used to seeing him still at his desk these days. One officer clapped his shoulder sympathetically on the way by in a show of solidarity as he passed with a steaming mug. No one envied Reed's position. He got some pretty fucked up cases these days. People were way more creative with android murders than human ones. Something about them being just machines made them go crazy. The alley was their canvas, the thirium their paint.

Reed yawned as he made his way to the old coffee machine, nodding to the uniformed officers standing at his usual table. He wouldn't disturb them tonight, already intending to head up to the roof for some air. He waited for the grinding machine to fill his mug. The one Tina had bought him. It must have been a custom job. It was a black mug that had a wild cat silhouette in white on one side and white block writing that read Sergeant Asshole on the other. He'd pointed out the mistake in rank when she'd given it to him, but she'd insisted that he was the sergeant of all assholes in her mind, so it worked.

Pulling out his cigarettes, he headed up to the quiet rooftop and leaned on the stone ledge to look out over his city. He didn't actually own it, but it still felt like it was his. He'd lived in these streets. Fought in them. Protected them. Almost died in them multiple times. He tried not to think about those times. Every cop had the odd case they couldn't solve. The one that got away. And someone always pays the price for that...

He took another deep drag and held it as he shut his tired green eyes. His partner had paid the price for that. The partner he'd been with for seven years. The partner who'd been his friend since the academy. He'd named him best man at his wedding, and godfather to his child. Reed had cared about him way more than he should have. He kicked the low wall with a gentle tap. Jack would have turned thirty-seven in November, just a month after he had. He didn't even keep in contact with Sandy and Kitty. He couldn't face them. How could he? He couldn't look them in the eye knowing that he was the one who'd...

"Phck!" Reed ran a stressed hand through his messy hair. Two years! Over two years, and he still couldn't stop thinking about it. Jack screaming through the gag on the other side of the door, probably trying to warn him about the trap. The scuffles of the chair as he'd desperately tried to free himself, or at least move out of the way. He'd wondered early on what would have happened if he'd turned up later, but forensics had already figured it out. Nothing. Nothing would have happened. If he'd turned up after twelve, it wouldn't have worked. The gun had been set up on a pulley system. Once the bells tolled, they would have knocked the mechanism loose and it would have fired harmlessly at the floor below. It had only fired at Jack because he'd opened the door before the bells tolled. I turned up too soon, phck!

Reed slapped the cement wall before tossing his cigarette and taking a swig of lukewarm coffee. It tasted bitter. He headed back inside to his desk, where he intended to stay for the next week. Or month...Or year. Anything so that he didn't have to stop and think about it. Think about that voice. Those murders. Those mocking notes. Tick-tock, Detective. Tick-tock. He ran a hand over his face as he flipped open the next file. Android in a dumpster. Classy. It had even been set on fire. The AAL was spoiling him this week. Less physical evidence this time, so he'd actually have to set up some interviews and get out of the precinct to canvas the area.

"Hello again, Detective Reed." The voice was annoyingly familiar, with that irritating, pre-programmed fucking service chime. He didn't bother to hide his disdain as he outright glared at the gentle RK800. He didn't remember its name, but it was probably a fucking stupid one. Stupid like its fucking face, picture perfect fuckboy that he was. Complete with those pathetic glistening puppy eyes.

"The phck do you want, Tin Can?" Reed snapped grouchily as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes were almost burning now. How long had he been awake again? Doesn't matter, probably not important. He shrugged it off as he raised his cup, disappointed to find it empty again. Had he really drunk it already? He was sure it was full just five minutes ago...Or was that hours? Connor's LED flashed red as he regarded the clearly ailing human. Reed's reddened eyes blinked slowly as he stared into his empty mug, dazed and disoriented. His skin was pale and sallow from all the time he was spending hunched over his desk, not to mention his lack of sleep. The dark rings beneath his eyes only enhanced how peaky he looked.

"I have just returned from a meeting with Captain Fowler. He suggested that I start right away, and since Lieutenant Anderson isn't here yet..." Connor trailed off warily. He didn't particularly relish the idea of working with Detective Reed. Reed had always disliked him. He'd even tried to shoot him not so long ago. It also didn't help that right now he was...not doing so well. His stress levels were three times their usual limit, and his caffeine intake was close to damaging. His body was teetering on the edge of a forced shutdown. "Detective...how long have you been here?" Connor asked gently as he tilted his head, quickly dodging the foot that almost kicked his shin.

"Mind your own damned business, asshole!" Reed replied gruffly as he got to his feet, resting a hand on the cluttered desk as the room span. Vertigo...just stood up a little fast...He shook his head to clear the fog and scoffed at the puppy-eyed look of concern he was getting from the android at his side. "What? Your usual human disaster isn't here, so you're gluing yourself to my ass? Is that it?" he demanded sharply as he took his cup and stormed towards the break room. He was annoyed. Heat coiled in his chest as he stumbled his way towards the kitchenette.

"Lieutenant Anderson will return later on today, however the captain did mention that you have a lot of android related cases I may be able to assist with and-" Connor cut off sharply and grabbed Reed's upper arms to support his weight. Reed quickly regained his footing and shrugged off the helping hands, but that didn't stop Connor from remaining annoyingly close as he made it to the counter. "Gavin, I don't recommend further caffeine consumption in your current state..." His LED span red again at the spike in Reed's vitals.

"Phcking androids! Keep your phcking scans to yourself, dipshit!" He was antsy, fingers twitching restlessly as he waited for the machine to refill his mug. When did we get two machines? The phck? He squinted his dirty green eyes and shook his head as he noticed the haze in his vision. A voice was speaking, but it sounded like it was coming through water. A gasp slipped out as he felt a hand on his arm. "Phck!" He flinched in surprise, but it was just the RK800. When the phck did he get so close?

"Detective? Detective Reed?" The android's voice sounded concerned, but it was strange. Distorted. Something wrong with his voice box? He also seemed to have two LEDs spinning red on the side of his head. His soft eyes blinked as Reed reached out and touched them. When did I grow a third arm? Oh wait, it was his eyes that were messing up. That makes more sense. Why was he seeing double? And why was Hank's android still speaking so funny? "Gavin!" Connor's arms snapped out as Reed slumped against his chest.