Divine Singularity || Reader x Murder Drones

I

When you powered back on the next day, you had been expecting the pain to be the first thing you felt. But surprisingly there was none. Your optics blinked open with a faint whir, mechanical irises adjusting to the light that spilled weakly through the grime-streaked window. You were still in your little garage, but the place was notably cleaned up. Dust no longer coated every surface, and items weren't strewn about everywhere. In the corner, framed by that thin slant of light, was J, busily stacking boxes onto shelves.

For a long moment, you simply watched her. It felt strange having someone else in here. Usually, it was always you by your lonesome when in your little part of the manor. Then, your gaze dropped to your chest, where there should have been a jagged wound split open to the core. But the metal there was smooth again, your frame restored and sealed. Your optics widened. It looked... almost new.

"When did this happen?" you murmured, voice crackling slightly from disuse.

"Tessa fixed you up when she had the time," J said, without even turning to face you. "You were still powered down, so she took the opportunity to make repairs."

You felt a brief cold wash over you. If Tessa had been the one repairing you—had she seen? Had she seen what lay beneath your shell? For a moment, your internal fans went into overdrive as panic surged through your circuits.

But J, as always, seemed to read your silence. "And just to reassure you," she added, brushing dust from a shelf, "she didn't see anything she shouldn't have. I was there the whole time. I made sure."

Relief flooded you so suddenly it almost made you dizzy. The tension in your shoulders eased, and you allowed yourself to exhale a synthetic sigh you hadn't realized you were holding. "Thank you, J," you said quietly. And then you noticed something else—even the distortion in your voice had vanished. No more stuttering between syllables. The filter that had broken before was perfectly clear again.

Tessa really had done an exceptional job, especially given everything she'd learnt was from experience and books. Years of patching up battered drones in secret had turned her into something of an engineer herself.

"Don't mention it," J replied flatly, still not looking your way. "And I got what you asked for. Over there."

She pointed to the small table beside your old chair—the one where the carnation Cyn had given you still stood, vibrant and alive despite everything. Resting beside it were three items: the dove's egg, nestled carefully in a bundle of soft cloth; Tessa's doll, its stitched smile still the same as always; and something you hadn't expected to see—the small, worn book from the church.

You froze, optics narrowing. How did J find it? You didn't even remember dropping it. You must have dropped it along with the Doll at the dump when you reverted back to your drone form.

"I won't ask what that thing's for," J said casually, arms crossing as she leaned against a shelf. "I figured it was important to you, so I brought it too. I've seen it before, in the forest. You tried to hide it whenever you were reading, but..." She shrugged. "You're not great at that."

Her voice carried no judgment, but you still felt a pang of guilt spark through your chest. She didn't know what that book truly was, or what it contained (neither did you, to be fair) and it was better that way. There were truths even J didn't deserve to bear. She was already involved with you, and knew part of your secret, but you didn't want her to have to deal with the knowledge of Cyn as well. The less she knew, the safer she'd stay.

"You... didn't read it by any chance, did you?"

She shook her head once, expression unreadable. "No."

You watched her for a moment longer before a small chuckle escaped you. "...Thanks, J. You've already done so much for me—and now you're cleaning the room too? You spoil me, I hope you know."