Virus (Yandere Connor x Reader)

Trust (End)

".... Hank....?"

His voice could barely be heard, leaning his head in his hand. Getting work done seemed to be more and more difficult. Perhaps the aftereffects of the virus he'd been told about was making him lag.

The lieutenant gave a quick glance, but looked at his partner properly once he noticed the android's state. "Connor, what's up with you? You've been dragging your ass for days. Do you, like... fuck, I dunno, need an update?"

"Hank, something is wrong with me." Not the best thing to say when you'd already done some serious damage under a virus. "I cannot explain it properly. I..."

Oh, boy. Hank actually got up and dragged the chair in front of his desk, so he could sit beside the kid. "Talk to me. What's going on? I noticed you have a weird tendency to space out sometimes, is that part of it?"

Connor turned his head so he could face the human, though he still leaned on his hand. "I... I don't know. When I "space out", as you put it, I am trying to process details that don't fit together."

"... why? If they don't fit together, why bother?"

"That's what I don't understand....." Hearing the kid's voice cracking honestly hurt. "I am more prone to noticing details that do not matter to me personally. So I stop and try to understand, but I have gotten nowhere."

"Uhhh..." Shifting in the chair, Hank made a series of faces as he tried to understand, as well. It failed spectacularly. "Okay, give me an example."

"Violet."

"..... what."

"Violet, Hank. The color. Something so mundane shouldn't catch my attention. Yet every time I see it I can't look away." A couple of tears made their way from his eyes, and Connor looked down a bit. "There is a shirt in my closet that doesn't belong. It's violet and there is a hole in the fabric. It is not something I wear but... I cannot bring myself to throw it away."

Very slowly, the lieutenant sat up straighter. "So... just the color? How long has this been going on?"

The detective shook his head, lifting it but keeping his gaze down. His hands wrung in his lap. "Since I woke up in Elijah Kamski's home. And no, it isn't limited to the color, though... that is the worst offender." He paused, but continued. "I know there is major construction on 82nd Avenue, but even getting near it is awful. I get uncomfortable in a way I've never experienced, and I have been actively avoiding it. I know I was forbidden from attending the ceremony for Detective Reed, and I don't believe I'd have wanted to go, but... being forbidden does not sit well with me, Hank. I don't know what had happened, but it's concerning every time I see his desk."

Now sitting up completely, Hank couldn't look away from the kid. "So.... does all that shit give you bad feelings?"

Shaking his head, the detective still didn't look up from the floor. "The latter two, yes. Very much so. I know I have lost a sizeable chunk of my memory, but..." Now he looked up. "Do androids experience muscle memory despite not having them...?"

"... kid, I am the last person to know the answer to that." The idea was turned over regardless. "But... muscle memory is a thing. And... you're self-aware. So I don't see why you can't feel it."

"There's... something else," Connor added, almost deciding against it, but talking about this felt... right. "When I perform self-tests, I am... not transported, but... there is a garden. I know every detail, and it's become something of an escape sometimes." Then he frowned. "It's gone. I cannot find it anywhere. It's been replaced with some sort of... gallery."

Jesus fuck. "Like, art gallery? Paintings, all that fancy shit?"

"Yes. And... like in the garden, I have a mentor. It's... you." The android had no idea that Hank had volunteered to be in his partner's mind palace. "But there is supposedly a second. I believe they're behind locked doors, but... I cannot open them." With a quiet groan, he folded his arms on his desk and buried his face within. "Hank, it's eating away at me," he finished in a muffled voice.