During my hiatus I have spent many hours thinking about a roadtrip au (is this slightly influenced by the amount of driving back and forth we’ve done in the moving process? Probably)
Cause hear me out—
I’ve been musing the thought of post-revolution Connor being so miserable as he tries to come to terms with the blood on his hands and the fact all his pride in himself came from being an obedient dog for Cyberlife. The collar’s been removed and the leash cut, but now he’s directionless.
He knows he doesn’t want to be a detective ever again, that’s for sure. But knowing what you don’t want doesn’t always exactly make it clear what you do want.
Hank doesn’t mind this transition period in Connor. He’s patient with him. He encourages some good old fashioned wallowing now and then even. It’s an odd thing, but watching Connor suffer makes Hank start to get his own shit together. He’s picking up the slack, he supposes.
Eventually, he decides Connor needs a change of scenery to clear his mind. And what better scenery than, well, all of it?