Request from AO3 user s1mplyp0tat0: Okay so I got this idea for a one shot. So basically Connor gets sick and hey I know what your thinking- "How does an android get sick?" Well viruses. So when Connor does that weird hand connecting thing to other androids, he sifts through all of that android and if theres a virus on the android the uninfected one will pick it up. As you know Connor does that alot so hes at higher the reader cares for Connor when he does get sick for a few days (because Connor got those annoying viruses that adapt and change) till his sytem purges it. Also make it fluffy please and can you give him an android version of the flu or a reallly bad cold please? Thank you!
Thank you for this awesome request! I got so inspired that I wrote it all at once, I hope you enjoy it!
Software Bug
It began with an almost imperceptible change in his demeanour.
Connor had questioned the witness about a stabbing - an AP700 model android by the name of Harriet - but had struggled to obtain any useful information with verbal queries alone; Harriet had insisted there was an issue with her memory that made the recollection of the incident oddly fuzzy, so Connor suggested that he probe the android's memory in order to ascertain whether or not they could identify the suspect that way.
Although timid, Harriet had given her consent for Connor to carry out the invasive method, and offered her hand, her synthetic skin dissipating as Connor did the same, and that was most notably the moment you recalled the odd change in the detective android's conduct.
Watching from the corner of the quiet room, you observed the knit in Connor's eyebrows as he reviewed the stored visuals in Harriet's memory banks; the LED on the side of his head blinked an ambivalent yellow as he processed what he was seeing, and while it wasn't exactly strange for Connor to adopt such an intense look of concentration when probing another android's memory, the unusual action he exhibited was at the moment it was over, his hand recoiled sharply as if he'd been burned.
"What was it? What did you see?" Hank questioned as Connor flexed his fingers for a moment, eyeing Harriet with an inquisitive stare.
Connor paused. "Harriet's auditory and optical components appear to have been faulty during the time of the incident, thus I am unable to distinguish the identity of the attacker, however, I did manage to make out the presence of another potential witness and scanned their face - Jensen Pearce, human male, age thirty-eight-" he broke off mid-sentence, eyes squinting slightly as he regarded the android before him, a look on his face that you couldn't quite distinguish, "What was the problem with your components?"
You frowned at his sudden line of questioning, wondering why Connor seemed so interested in the status of the other android's defective parts.
Harriet shook her head, "I am unsure. I thought I had damaged them somehow - I was going to see about getting them repaired today, but they appeared to correct themselves overnight." She shrugged, and Connor looked contemplative for a few moments, before nodding his head.
"Thank you for your help, we're done here."
Upon leaving the interrogation room, you didn't miss the way Connor stumbled over his feet a little, managing to right himself before he could fall, and the brief display set off alarm bells in your mind because androids did not stumble - not unless there was something terribly wrong with their systems, like if they'd been severely damaged.
Hank hadn't noticed, too busy taking down the name of the second witness to catch it, so you didn't say anything out loud, figuring you would ask Connor about it later - you didn't want to make a fuss in case it was nothing, but you endeavoured to keep a firm eye on the android.
At roughly two o'clock in the afternoon, you realised it probably hadn't been so wise to brush off the mild stagger in Connor's step - there was definitely something wrong, and you deduced this as you watched him from your desk adjacent to his.
He was panting.
Androids didn't need to breathe, or at least that was what you thought - as far as you knew, it was purely aesthetic in a way to make them appear more human, and while the sight of Connor's chest rising and falling as his artificial lungs inflated and deflated had never been unusual in the slightest, you'd never quite seen him draw breath in such a laboured way.
Even after an impressive sprint, Connor did not breathe at an accelerated rate - it always remained exactly the same pace.
But right there, right now, Connor looked winded.
"Are you alright, Connor?" you asked from your seat, but he did not respond, continuing to stare off into nothingness rather worryingly. You raised your voice, "Connor? Hello?"
Still nothing.
You were quite concerned now, an uneasy sensation crawling its way up your spine as you rose from your seat and took three steps until you were right beside the spaced-out android.
"Connor", you exclaimed, leaning over his desk to snap him out of his atypical idle state.
He blinked, brown eyes focusing on your face as his LED turned yellow, processing for an abnormally long time before he spoke, "Can I help you, detective?"
"Connor, you're freaking me out. What's wrong?" a troubled look passed over your face, you could still clearly make out the noise of his strained exhales, but the thing that alarmed you the most was the inattentive expression on his face.
Despite the fact that he'd spoken to you, he looked absent-minded, his eyes seemingly fixed on something else entirely, as if he was seeing something in front of your face that was invisible to your gaze.
His LED still hadn't cycled back to blue.
"I… I-" it was always unnerving when Connor stuttered or paused in his speech, "I appear to… be experiencing… some problems."
Your gaze narrowed in on the agitated android, "Have you run a diagnostics?"
"Yes", he responded, his eyebrows drawing together in what you assumed to be frustration, "I have… run several."
"And you found nothing?"
"I… there is. Is. I am- unable to… identify the issue, for some- some reason."
Repeated words, disconnected speech patterns, unnatural breaks in his sentences - oh yeah, there was something very wrong indeed, and Hank seemed to think so too, having just caught the lack of articulation in Connor's diction as he'd shuffled past you to reach his desk.
Lieutenant Anderson's face was that of bafflement for a couple of drawn-out seconds, and then, almost impulsively, he raised his hand to Connor's forehead, like one would do to a human with a high temperature.
"Jesus, Connor", Hank snapped, retracting his hand very suddenly, "You're burning up, what the fuck's wrong with ya?"
Consternation settled over your features and you followed Hank's gesture, feeling the heat rising from behind Connor's synthetic skin before you'd even made contact with him, and grimaced at the intensity of it.
"Surprised you haven't melted", Hank spoke in jest, but you could sense the underlying intonation of concern for the android's safety.
"You're overheating, Connor", you stated, hoping the android would have a rational response that could explain what was happening to him. It wasn't particularly warm outside or in the DPD office, so it certainly wasn't clear to you what was generating the sharp rise in his body temperature. A sudden thought occurred, "Does it have anything to do with the fact that you're wheezing?"
Connor's eyes twitched, his LED blinking in time with the subtle movements - still yellow - and then he gave one hard blink, "Mm- my respiratory system is… is- is inTERLOCKed-" the sudden forcefulness in his elocution almost made you and Hank jump - it appeared to be yet another indication that the android was frustrated by the issues that were transpiring in his components, "-with my… cooling procedures. It is sup-supposed to stop me… from overheating."
Similar to the way a struggling computer's fan would whir just a little louder when attempting to carry out a command, you supposed.
"Well it ain't working", Hank helpfully supplied, before giving you a purposeful look, "He needs to go home and cool off, if I give you my keys, will you take him?"
You only had a few more reports to fill out before your workload was complete for the day, and if you brought your laptop with you, it was easily a task you could finish out of work. Besides, you were fretful of Connor's current state - it was more important to help him out.
"I'm fine, Ha-ANK", Connor attempted to protest.
"You, shut up", Hank pointed a silencing finger at the android, whose expression scrunched up in what could only be exasperation.
"Yeah, of course", you nodded your head, "I'll take care of him."
If Connor had been in control of his frantic respiration, he may have let out a sigh of resignation; the android's face smoothed out as he came to terms with the fact that he couldn't continue working in his afflicted state and pushed his chair back away from the desk to stand.
He managed for all of two seconds before his legs failed to carry him and he buckled swiftly, falling flat on his face with a resounding thwack as he hit the floor. It all happened way too fast for you to react, and you quickly scrambled to his side in aid.
"Holy shit, are you okay, Connor? That really looked like it hurt!" You felt bad for not having more efficient reflexes or you could've saved him the humiliation of his tumble - then again he didn't seem too embarrassed about it as much as he just seemed vulnerable. His LED had turned red, however, as his processor registered the minor force of the impact, and he looked vaguely defeated in his slumped position.
It may have had something to do with the fact that Detective Gavin Reed was laughing in complete hysterics after having witnessed the entire scene take place.
"Androids do not feel pain", he informed when he finished discerning your exclamation, as if you didn't already know that little scrap of information, and he made the move to push himself up. You quickly offered your assistance, holding his side and positioning his arm over your shoulder so that you could easily bear his weight.
The echo of Lieutenant Anderson verbally abusing Detective Reed was prominent throughout the area of the station - you felt a swell of pride for Hank as he silenced that jerk's neurotic-sounding laughter - and you helped the struggling android to your car, sitting him in the passenger seat and even buckling his seatbelt for him before taking your place in the driver's seat.
"I… don't know what's wrong with me", you heard Connor softly state before you could start the engine.
The quiet admittance made your chest tighten and you swallowed before determinedly affirming, "Don't worry, we'll figure out what's wrong and fix it." His vacant stare at the glovebox compartment in front of him failed to betray whether he had appreciated or even heard your reassurance.
By the time you reached Hank and Connor's house, things were not much better. Sumo barked at you as you entered, cocking his head at the unusual sight of Connor slumped against your side, but must have sensed that the situation was rather dire, because the dog sensibly stayed back as opposed to jumping up in greeting.
"Good dog", you remarked as you practically dragged Connor towards the bathroom, heaving him along in a way that made it impossible for his legs to even attempt to aid the transit. You might have felt bad if it wasn't for the fact that the heat of Connor's body was leaving red patches against your skin where you came into contact with him.
"Sorry for manhandling you like this, but I'm worried you might actually melt if we don't cool you down right the fuck now", the words blurted out of your mouth, not giving the android time to respond - you weren't sure he would have anyway - before hauling him into the bathtub, as gently as possible, and turning the cold tap to maximum.
A deluge of icy water erupted from the showerhead, drenching Connor in blessed cold - you hadn't bothered to remove his clothes, figuring you'd garner the same result regardless of the android's state of undress, besides - the idea of stripping him while he was essentially incapacitated just didn't feel right at all.
"Connor, are you alright? Speak to me", you implored, nervous that he hadn't said anything in a while - not since you'd left the station with him in a rush - and you tilted his head towards you with tender hands on his heated cheeks.
His LED was red, doing absolutely nothing to soothe your worries, but Connor blinked as his gaze focused on your anxious face, "My temperature has… reached critical point."
Your stomach jumped in fear, and you clambered in place for a moment before giving the android a panic-stricken pat on the shoulder, and then abruptly jumped up to sprint from the room, "I'll be right back!" you called, reaching your destination, the kitchen, before you'd even finished your sentence.
You exhaled in relief when you spotted a bag of ice cubes in the freezer, and unapologetically carried the entire lot to the overheating android - Hank would just have to deal with lukewarm glasses of whiskey for the time being - and dumped the entire contents of the bag onto Connor's saturated body.
A human would have jerked at the iciness, or even yelped, but Connor did nothing but lie there, his eyes following your frenetic movements as you spread the frosty cubes evenly over his body, inserting the plug into the tub so that it might slowly fill with water.
"Is this- is this going to help?" you asked, "God, what happened? This came out of nowhere."
Connor did not immediately answer. It was several minutes before his LED displayed yellow, which still wasn't fantastic, but it was definitely favourable when compared to red, and the moment it did, the android seemed to notably relax.
"My core temperature is well-balanced", he spoke, and you almost let out a groan of abatement, "but I am still un-unable to pinpoint the exact problem-" his speech seemed to have stabilised a little more than before, "-I do, however, have a vague notion of what may have hah-happened."
"What would that be?" you enquired, a lot less stressed now that Connor was lucid and coherent; you felt an overwhelming desire to thread your fingers through his strands of wet hair, but managed to restrain yourself - now was not the time.
"The AP700 this morning, during the transference of memory, transferred a vi-virus", he explained, and you nodded with a sigh - that made so much sense.
"Why didn't you tell me? Or Hank?"
Connor had the decency to look sheepish, "I thought my systems could neutralise it, and I- I didn't want to worry you."
"Oh, Connor", you let out a subdued laugh, an exhale leaving you in a mix of alleviation and exhaustion, "if anything like this ever happens again, I want you to tell me immediately, got it?"
Connor smiled, "Got it."
You cushioned your head on your folded arms against the edge of the bathtub, your eyes trailing to the yellow LED on Connor's head, and you watched it flicker for several long minutes of silence before an amusing little thought popped into your mind.
"I don't wanna seem like a smartass but have you tried turning off and on again?" You'd meant it as a joke, but Connor quirked an eyebrow at the suggestion, appearing to contemplate the merits of such an action.
"It could potentially offer a solution."
You blinked, "Oh, wait, really? I mean- it's what I do whenever my computer is acting up and it always seems to fix it…"
Connor's eyebrows drew together for a moment, "Rebooting my processor could be advantageous. The feedback from my- my diagnostics is displaying nothing but meaningless symbols and characters, a restart could resolve the i-i-issUE-"
"Bless you", you interjected, unable to help yourself. That last stutter had sounded far too much like an adorable sneeze.
Connor let out a breath of amusement, "This may take a few minutes."
You took a shuddering breath as Connor's LED dimmed to grey, indicating that he was shutting down, and his eyes slipped closed, leaving you feeling completely alone in the room; you shut off the cold tap, finding that the bathtub was sufficiently full, and sat in harrowing silence, nothing but the clink of ice cubes sloshing around together in the water to break the quietude.
The grinding of your teeth joined the minimal noise of the room when Connor didn't power on straight away, but before you could find yourself agonising over the idea that he might not turn back on at all, his LED flashed to life, a glorious illumination of blue that you'd never been happier to see.
"Oh, thank fuck", you mumbled under your breath, your worries mitigated, and waited for Connor to open his dazzling brown eyes once again.
When he did, his pupils darted back and forth briefly as he ran another diagnostics, and this time, he was successful in locating the virus, "I can quarantine the corrupted code, this way it will be easier for my central processing unit to develop a resistance", he sounded adorably proud of himself and it stoked a warmth in your chest. You reached out to brush away a few stray droplets of water from his face, your thumb sweeping over his cheekbone affectionately, and to your surprise, his hand circled around your wrist - the simple touch doused with sentiment.
"Thank you, detective, for your firm assistance. I truly appreciate it", he blinked his warm eyes, eyelashes inadvertently fluttering against his cheeks in a way that was far too endearing, and you gave the gorgeous android a brilliant smile.
"Anytime, Connor."
He seemed content to hold onto your wrist, his cold fingers trailing over your warm skin gently, and the gesture alone seemed to communicate all of his gratitude.
"It may take a few days for my processor to run optimally again, and to purge the virus completely", Connor notified.
"Well, until you're better, you can rest."
"Android don't need rest."
"Android don't get sick, either. But here you are."
This one was so much fun to write :')
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