Virus (Yandere Connor x Reader)

Sixty-Two

Nearly everyone sat in a painful silence. Connor just eyed everyone in the room, not understanding why everybody seemed so... depressed.

Then there was the fact that there was another RK800 model present. "... for what purpose have you been activated?" The newer model blinked at him. "Forgive me, but I had been informed that the rest of my models were destroyed."

The RK800 nodded a touch. "Most have been destroyed, yes. I was... woken and given certain tasks, yet now that those have been completed, I am... lacking direction, I suppose."

His response was so careful: truthful yet just vague enough for the delicate situation.

Whereas your--

No. No, I can't... he's not mine anymore.

The newly-repaired android stared at you. "Are you, perhaps, mixing me up with him? Because I promise you that you do not look familiar to me."

The upset combined with shock, pain, and his unintentionally cruel question made you snap at him. "I worked for fucking CyberLife, I think I can tell the difference between two of the same model."

"Did you? I still don't recognize you."

"I get it," you hissed. "Stop repeating yourself, I know you don't fucking recognize me! Stop rubbing it in my fucking face!!"

Connor didn't flinch, but he certainly had a reply. "Directing your anger at me will accomplish nothing. You are lashing out over things I do not know about." Swinging his legs over the edge of where he'd been laying, the detective got to his feet- and in your face. "Kindly direct your fury elsewhere. I do not know you, I do not know how you've gotten here, and I don't believe I want to know you." Stepping around you, the android walked out of the room, visibly annoyed.

[Having a strange woman screaming at me is not how I'd wanted to start my day. I want answers, not headaches.]

A hand slowly lowered onto your shoulder. Your skin crawled, but you were frozen in shock and could not brush it off. "Sweetheart, don't take it personally. Please. He's confused as fuck, but we'll do whatever we can to jog his memory." When you didn't speak, he looked towards Kamski, who just shrugged. Helpful. "... you want me to get you home, then?" Still no answer. The lieutenant moved and knelt down, noting your expression and ultimately wanting to smack Connor. The kid couldn't help it, he'd reacted like anyone else when being yelled at by a stranger.

But he didn't have to cut so deep.

●○●○●

After promising to talk to you daily, and Elijah agreeing to get you home himself, Hank sighed and left the place, seeing his partner waiting outside the car. Connor looked both annoyed and deep in thought.

Once both were settled in the car, he started the engine and cleared his throat. "In all seriousness, Connor, you all right?"

There was a deep rut between the android's eyebrows. "Lieutenant, I just... I don't know what's going on. I wake up in a strange place, surrounded by people I know, another version of me, and some woman screaming at me."

"... Hank, Connor. Use my name. You've known me for how long?"

Managing a very slight smile, the detective nodded. "Over a year and a half, Hank, I know. I'm sorry, it's become habit."

Year and a half?! Trying not to seem alarmed, he drove away from Kamski's property. "... Connor, listen. I can answer your questions, but not all of them. For one, I'm fuckin' awful at all that science bullshit. And two, some of those answers shouldn't be coming from me."

Not from Hank? "You're one of the few people I can trust, Hank. You were there when I woke up, surely you know what happened?"

"I do. I hate that I do, but yeah."

That didn't tell him anything. "If not you, who should I be asking questions to?"

The look in the human's eyes told Connor that something terrible had happened. "The woman you snapped at."

●○●○●

The precinct was almost completely empty. Only a few remained, lingering in Fowler's office. As soon as Connor noticed the lack of people, those in the office saw him and froze. As expected, the Captain came out and stormed over, though he was less furious and more concerned. "Hank, what the hell is going on?! I've got about a dozen different reports of a goddamn--" Seeing Connor, he went quiet. He'd been there long enough; the android standing there wasn't the same that massacred the others. Quite the opposite, the kid looked confused as hell.

"He's been fixed, Jeff. No trace of the virus left. As well as about the last six months."

Both of them stared at the lieutenant. Fowler groaned and rubbed his face, then turned to the detective. "I'll say this, kid: you're real damn lucky. If you weren't a stellar detective, I might not have believed this shit." He clapped Connor on the shoulder before sighing. "And now for the paperwork..."

As the Captain trudged away, the android finally let his alarm show. "Hank, what virus? What about the last six months? What happened to me?!"

His hands rose to try and get the kid to settle. "Easy, easy. Let's at least get to our desks, okay?" Once they were reluctantly settled, Connor booted up the desktop and ended up staring at the date. It was the truth: six months had passed and the detective couldn't remember a goddamn thing. "You ready to ask questions now?" Hank spoke, watching closely.

Tears were running down his face. "... I don't even know where to start..."

●○●○●

Two weeks had gone by. Elijah had taken you to the hospital to be properly let go, then took you home. But nothing in your house was handicap accessible, and you lived alone. The RK800 offered to be a caretaker, but Eli quickly shut that idea down, knowing it would be hard enough for you. Instead, the newer Connor would stay with him; he could always use an extra set of hands, and the RK800 was incredibly fascinating.

A quick phone call and half an hour of research later, Hank hired a caretaker for you himself. It was more like a family instead of a single being, but the trio worked well together. The female was incredibly sweet, keeping your house together as well as her own and making sure you took care of yourself, as well. The male ended up being impossibly tall and pretty imposing, but he was quiet and didn't want to be in your way. You hated having to ask to be carried to and from your different rooms, but after three days of your frequent apologies he just started laughing to himself. The little one couldn't physically help as much, but she liked doing your hair every morning, and her regular chatter was far from irritating; it was nice to have the noise as you worked.

As promised, Hank kept in contact daily. The first few days you couldn't help but ask him about Connor, desperately clinging to whatever hope hadn't been shattered. After repeatedly being told there was no change... you simply stopped asking.