REQUESTS CLOSED! Y'ALL ARE FREAKIN' RELENTLESS, YOU KNOW THAT?! I got 50+ requests and you bet I added about 95% of them to my list. :') I'm gonna be writing this fic till I'm 60 years old.

Requested by Purple_Butterfly25: Guys. we've read about connor having his memories erased/reset. but what if this time it was the reader? you know accidents. went to a coma. then woke up with having no memories. it will be angsty af. cuz poor connor being forgotten by the reader.

I hope you guys really enjoy this one and I hope it doesn't feel like the pace is hurried. I realised as I was writing it that this kind of prompt works better when it's spread over the length of pretty much an entire story, but obviously I wouldn't be able to call this a oneshot if I wrote it that long. I do hope I managed to write it well with the restriction I had :P

Omitted

The steady, repetitive beep of the vitals monitor was both a comfort and a torment, forever reminding Connor that he should never have decided to stay late at the precinct and, by extension, allowed you to drive home alone.

His presence could have changed the outcome of the incident. If he'd joined you in heading home, he would have driven your car, and his advanced reflexes may have allowed him to perform an emergency break in time to avoid the vehicle that had come barreling into the side of you; but that was not how it had happened.

Three hours after you'd left, Connor had received a call from Henry Ford Hospital, informing him that you had been caught in a severe traffic accident. He still remembered the way Hank had looked up at him, his sleepy manner shattered in an instant as the android soberly asked, "Are they okay?" and proceeded to blurt out a million questions when he'd seen Connor's LED flicker red.

You had a severe concussion. The sight of you lying ashen below the white sheets of the hospital bed, a red-stained bandage wrapped around your head, was enough to fill the android with anxiousness - like a loose wire in his chest that kept sparking against essential biocomponents, sending waves of sudden discomfort through his body.

Across the other side of the bed, Hank shuffled in his seat; it was clear from his restlessness that he was antsy over you, which didn't do anything to settle Connor's own nerves. The lieutenant scratched his fingers through his beard, the irritating rustle of the coarse hair alongside the grating noise of the heart rate monitor caused the android to feel even more agitated than he already was.

"Stop doing that", Connor muttered lowly, his lips pulled down into a heavy frown.

Hank paused his scratching, turning his weary gaze from your bruised and scraped face to glower at the android sitting across from him, "What?"

"Stop scratching your beard. It's infuriating."

Hank let out an almost exasperated sigh, "Don't get pissy with me, Connor. I'm worried about them too but you don't see me getting on your ass for repeatedly bouncing your leg or fidgeting with your fingers."

Connor's eyes fell to his lap, where he was indeed wringing his fingers and juddering his leg; he stilled his jittery limbs at once, his forehead creasing with dismay. He'd left his calibration coin on his desk at the precinct in his hurry to arrive at the hospital with Hank, and his hands were aching for something to do that would distract him from the situation.

"I'm sorry, Hank, I'm just…"

"You're afraid. I get it." The lieutenant stated, "The doctor said they'll pull through, so just… quit fretting." It was a half-hearted attempt to instill some repose in Connor's mind, but it was supremely ineffective given the lack of poise behind his assertion.

The android let out a sigh, staring down at his now interlocked hands, "Concussions can have very negative, long-lasting effects", he spoke, having run extensive research via the internet for the whole four hours he had been sitting by your bed, "They can cause terrible psychological issues and sensory disorders, not to mention the possibilities of brain damage-"

"Connor, you gotta stop being so pessimistic."

"I'm not being pessimistic, Hank", the android uttered with a grim knit in his brow, "I'm being realistic. They could be an entirely different person when they wake up."

Hank breathed an audible breath, showing his discomfort, "Connor, they're gonna be fine, okay?"

"The statistical likelihood that they come away from this completely unscathed both neurologically and psychologically is less than two percent."

Before Hank could respond, a soft noise fluttered past your lips and your face wrinkled slightly to reveal that you were stirring from your insensible state; the old man quickly tapped the 'call nurse' button while Connor's attention snapped towards you and the android immediately took your hand, warming it in his own with a slight squeeze.

The muffled voices perforated your slowly reforming consciousness.

It was a struggle to follow the rumble of vibrations out of the clouded sleep of your mind, but you tried, latching onto the incoherent noises with determination in an effort to pull yourself out of the smothering darkness. Besides the sound of people talking, the first thing you became aware of was the pain in your head - it felt as though somebody had stuck a pump in your ear and inflated your brain until your skull threatened to crack. It hurt.

What was this? The world's worst hangover ever? You didn't recall going out drinking the night before. There was pain in your chest every time you took a breath - had you fallen down the stairs? Just how drunk had you gotten last night?

A soft, pained sigh escaped your throat and the voices around you ceased for a brief few moments - a feeling of warm pressure engulfing your hand - before a slightly clearer, ragged voice spoke your name.

"Are you awake, kid?"

You didn't quite have the energy to give a verbal response, so you furrowed your brow, trying your best to blink your eyes open despite the bright white light from above. You just about managed, wincing slightly as your eyes stung; your vision was blurred, but the more you blinked, the clearer the image grew, until finally the figure sitting to your right turned sharper and less fuzzy.

"Lieutenant Anderson?" you croaked.

It became obvious in that moment that you were not at home in your bed, recovering from a night out on the town with Tina Chen - no, you were in a hospital room, evident from the various beeping machines and vitals monitor, not to mention the pristine white room.

You were in hospital. Had you been in an accident?

Your eyebrows knitted slightly. Why was Lieutenant Anderson sitting by your bed?

"You don't have to be so formal, kid", the lieutenant said with a gruff chuckle, "You had us worried there for a minute. How's your head?" He spoke with surprising softness, something you'd never heard before from the old, disgruntled man.

Alarm bubbled up inside you, combating the daze you felt and pushing you into a clearer state of mind as you tried to think why the lieutenant - of all people - would be sitting by your bed, looking at you with a face full of concern. You hardly spoke to the guy at work, surely it would've made more sense for your partner, Gavin Reed, to be sitting by your bedside. Then again, Gavin had a pretty dry sense of humour - he probably would've just sent a 'Get Well Soon' card to your room and nicked the box of chocolates that Tina likely would've brought you.

You shook your head, lips parted in confusion, "What ...happened?" you asked, ignoring the lieutenant's question.

He frowned, "You were in a car accident. Some fucker ran a red light, crashed into the side of your car… you got a pretty bad head injury, some bruises and scratches but that's about it. Nothing broken… well, nothing except your car."

"Fuck", you hissed. You'd just bought that car.

Someone else spoke your name, and you turned your head with a slight wince to find a man - no, an android - sitting to your left. He continued to speak, his voice calm and distinct, "Are you experiencing any dizziness, nausea or confusion?"

He was pretty attractive, as all androids tended to be, his brown hair neat and short, a soft little wisp falling down his forehead that only seemed to add to the kindly air about him; his pale pink lips were pursed and his skin was dotted with little moles and blemishes in a way that most android's skin wasn't. He looked strikingly human if not for the blue, spinning LED on his forehead. It may have been the eyes - yes, definitely the eyes - they were somehow warm, incredibly emotive for an android.

Was he your doctor? He sounded like a doctor but he certainly wasn't dressed like one.

You were about to answer the android with a brazen 'uh, yeah, all three', but you quickly became aware that the warm pressure around your hand was, in fact, a result of the android's hand wrapped firmly around yours.

You tore away from his gentle grip, wondering why the fuck an android doctor had been holding your hand, and stared at him with vague consternation as his eyes flickered down and back up in a heartbeat, LED now cycling a vibrant yellow.

He spoke your name, mild and inquisitive, and you stared hard at the android before voicing the question floating around in your thoughts. "Who are you?" you uttered, and the android's LED flashed red.

Connor's mouth fell open, his eyes blinking rapidly for a moment before flicking to Hank in a fleeting glance.

"Kid, quit playing around!" Hank snapped suddenly, though the apprehension in his eyes was palpable, "You were in a serious accident- scared the damn shit outta us!"

"What? I- I don't… know what you're talking about?" you squinted, eyes crinkling with what looked like pain, "Who- who's the android? Why's he even here?" you lightly felt the gauze wrapped around your head, your fingers shaking as you did so, "Surprised you even let him in here… you hate those things."

Your voice was somewhat slurred, Connor could see the dazed confusion in your eyes as you looked upon him with an apathetic stare, and every word out of your mouth only made his heart sink further. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, too afraid that you'd treat him with indifference like the first couple of days you had known him - back when he was just a machine in your eyes.

Connor noticed Hank glance at him from the corner of his vision, face swathed with trepidation, before the lieutenant turned back to you, "Do you… know what year it is?"

You scrunched your nose and it was clear from your slow blinking and drowsy expression that your head wound was causing you a lot of pain, "Uh…? Yeah. 2037", you responded, looking between the other two occupants of the room for some form of confirmation - but all that was returned were dismal stares.

Connor's thirium pump gave an unsettling judder. It was almost 2040. That was an alarming amount of blank space between your your last memory and now. The android promptly scoured the internet for a couple of keywords.

/Searching/Concussion_amnesia/

297,948 results returned.

/Select/Retrograde_amnesia/

Retrograde amnesia is a loss of memory-access to events that occurred, or information that was learnt, before an injury or the onset of a disease. In the case of head trauma, depending on the level of damage to the brain, the amnesia can be temporary or permanent. Effects of temporary amnesia can last anywhere between hours and months.

Hank was growing steadily perturbed by Connor's silence, as were you; your gaze switched between the lieutenant and the android with rising discomfort, and then you spoke.

"Stop looking at me like that. Jesus Christ, you're freaking me out", you garbled, a mild underlying bite beneath your words, and Connor felt a pang of hurt in his chest as you reprimanded him like he was just some misbehaving appliance with no care for his feelings - why would you care? You clearly didn't see him as anything more than a piece of equipment.

"...you really don't… remember him?" Hank queried bleakly, pointing lacklusterly towards Connor, and the android scanned your face for even the slightest hint of recognition, but you shook your head faintly.

"My head hurts", you whispered, tears springing to your eyes, "I… don't feel good…"

The nurse blessedly entered the room at that moment and Connor rose to his feet, leaving quickly without a word despite the sound of Hank's voice calling out to him. He moved through the halls swiftly but aimlessly, eventually discovering an isolated corner where he found himself staring at the too-white wall, searching the internet for any sort of treatment for retrograde amnesia.

There was no straightforward way to fix your supposedly lost memories - it wasn't like there was simply a stream of corrupted data that could be mended by a little clever engineering; the short list of possible treatments consisted mainly of therapeutic methods to help facilitate the eventual restoration of your recollective abilities.

Psychotherapy, hypnosis, occupational therapy… none of them were surefire. In most cases, amnesia could resolve itself without the use of treatment aid, which involved a lot of patience and understanding, but the time it could take for lost memories to return varied greatly, and even then it wasn't always a certainty. Connor was shaken by the thought of your memories being permanently lost forever.

Everything. Gone.

You looked at him like he was a stranger, as though you hadn't spent the last two years building a close bond and a blossoming relationship - it was like a brutal blow to his pump regulator, leaving him effectively winded despite not needing oxygen to survive.

It wasn't just him, either. If you believed it to be 2037, then you'd forgotten one of the most important events in recent history - Markus's peaceful revolution that had won the rights of androids everywhere, pushing for change and equality. Connor was not well aware of what your thoughts on androids had been before you met him - it had taken you quite a few days to warm up to him, but you'd come to see him as a person relatively quickly, at least that was what he believed.

What if this gap in your memories caused you to treat him like an object? Just a machine with no independent thoughts?

"Connor", Hank's voice came quietly from behind the android as a hand laid against his shoulder, and Connor peered back at the lieutenant, spotting the troubled furrow of his brow, "Are you alright?"

He surely knew the answer to that already, but Connor let out a sorrowful sigh, "They've forgotten me."

"They've forgotten a lot", Hank assented solemnly, "but they will remember, okay? Look, this stuff is rarely permanent, right? They just need… a reminder. We can fill them in, maybe it'll jog their memory!"

Connor turned to face the lieutenant, processing the hopeful optimism in his words, and frowned, "It's not that simple, Hank. Exposing an amnesiac to past personal information is not enough to reverse retrograde amnesia; I don't know the extent of the damage on their brain, so I cannot determine the statistical likelihood of them experiencing a spontaneous recovery-" the android's eyes widened abruptly, "Hank, what if… what if they never remember?"

Hank's hand grew tight on Connor's shoulder, "I already told ya, kid. They will remember. Now stop sulking - we have a lot we need to explain to them."

It took you a while to grasp the fact that just over two years of your life were missing from your memory, and it was frightening to be thrust into a world in which you felt horrendously out of place; the biggest shock and perhaps one of the hardest things to comprehend was the actuality that androids are, in fact, people. People with thoughts and ideas and real feelings, just like humans.

You hadn't bought it at first, practically laughing in Hank's face when he explained everything to you, but then you'd taken in the serious, stern expression on his face and realised that he wasn't pulling your leg.

The android, Connor, was not just a highly advanced machine, he was practically human on all levels but physical. He was your coworker, close friend, and much, much more. This quiet, soft-looking man made of plastic and metal was, evidently, your boyfriend; the revelation was somewhat off-putting at first, filling you with an odd sense of discomfort, and you could tell by the android's dejected look that it showed on your face.

You hadn't meant to upset him, but you couldn't help but think initially that there must've been something wrong with you for you to have to resort to dating an android instead of a human, but you learned in the three weeks that followed that that simply wasn't the case.

Connor was patient - he took time to help you understand things, even repeating himself when you didn't quite absorb it the first time; he offered a gracious answer to every dumb question you asked him, even the ones that may have been construed as rude or inappropriate, and didn't get irritated or angry when you asked him to clarify time and time again. It was through the android's help that you managed to build up a timeline in your mind of all the important events in the last two years that your brain had misplaced.

Connor was kind - he looked after you while you recovered at home, taking time off work to ensure that you didn't end up overexerting yourself just by moving around too much. He helped cook for you, helped to clean and tidy the house, insisting that you sit or lie down to rest half the time, and he even helped to change the bandages around your head, his brown eyes warm and meaningful as he did so.

Connor was understanding - he knew that your loss of memory resulted in a barrier when it came to closeness, that you weren't entirely comfortable with affection given that, in your mind, you'd technically only known him for three weeks. You felt bad when you expressed unease at the thought of him sleeping in your bed beside you, but the android seemed to have expected it, and instead stayed downstairs in the living room while you slept at night.

After just a few weeks, you realised your initial thoughts had been wrong - there wasn't anything wrong with you. Connor was an incredibly caring person, and you couldn't fault yourself for having fallen for him at some point, but despite this development in awareness, your lack of memories surrounding him stopped you from opening up to him.

You wanted to remember. You wanted to understand the connection you had, and you wanted to bask in it, but your brain refused to just spontaneously remember everything you had been through with him. It made you endlessly frustrated.

It was Hank who suggested that you visit the precinct, given that in the two years you had blotted out, the police station was where you spent an overwhelming amount of your time, and it was possible that the familiar environment could help free some of those tightly imprisoned memories.

The building hadn't changed much in two years. The only noticeable difference was that the desk opposite Hank's was now occupied by the android, but your focus was more on the people there. Tina was still Tina, Chris was still Chris, Gavin was still an asshole - well, a slightly more tolerable asshole, but an asshole nonetheless - and seeing them all again filled you with a rush of contentment.

Captain Fowler allowed you to hang about for a few hours, clearly showing his sympathy to your condition in his own little way, and you took the time to wander around and assimilate the familiar surroundings while desperately hoping that something or other would trigger a memory. Connor stayed by your side the whole time, walking you about and reminding you of specific events and encounters in the hopes of stimulating your frontal lobe.

Before long, you found yourself in the viewing expanse to the empty interrogation room.

"This was actually where we first met", Connor spoke matter-of-factly, looking through the one-way mirror with a very reminiscent expression on his face, as if he was watching the scene play out all over again.

"Oh really?" You enquired with a small smile, "And how did that go?"

Connor could quite literally see the memory taking place before him, due to the fact that he recorded and filed away all his experiences in an easy-to-access corner of his processor, "It was my first case with the DPD. Hank was interrogating the android who had been identified as a deviant, and you walked in with Detective Reed, so I introduced myself-"

'Hello, my name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife.'

You blinked rapidly for a moment, the sound of the android's voice echoing in your mind; you felt strange, a discomfiting dizziness overtaking you briefly and you reached out your hand, laying your palm against the wall to stabilise yourself.

"Are you okay?" Connor asked, by your side in an instant.

It felt as though images and sounds were burrowing into your mind, forcing you to relive a memory you hadn't known was attainable - you could practically see the android as he had once been, stiff in posture, neutral in expression, his voice mechanical as he spoke lines that had been programmed into him.

'The fuck is this thing?' Gavin scoffed, shoving past the android to lean against the wall while you observed Connor with curiosity and a quirked eyebrow, not quite sure what to make of him, but finding that there was something about him that piqued your interest.

Your head was pounding. Connor was speaking your name, trying to get a response out of you, and Gavin stood at the door with a cup of coffee in his hand, looking mildly concerned at the sight he'd just walked in on.

"Uh, are they okay?" Detective Reed questioned the android, and you blinked yourself back to reality, reaching up to press your hand against your aching head.

"I don't feel good… my head it killing me…"

Connor's hands were on your arms, keeping you steady, ready to catch you in case you were to suddenly keel over without prior warning, and Gavin snorted, covering the brief flicker of worry on his face with aloof humour.

"Probably all the excitement of seeing me again, right?"

Despite the pain and pressure that was steadily building in your head, you let out a grunt of amusement and responded, "Well, you do have the tendency to give people headaches."

"Wow", Gavin deadpanned, "You sure you're not back to your old self?"

You couldn't muster up another dry retaliation and instead looked to Connor, everything shaking from your legs to your voice as you spoke, a tremble of urgency to your words, "I need to go home."

Something roused you from your sleep.

Connor had urged you to head to bed as soon as he brought you home from your DPD visit, despite the fact that it was only five o'clock in the afternoon, but you hadn't had the energy to contend, nor had you really wanted to at that point.

Your headache had largely alleviated after a few solid hours of shut-eye, and you noted as you drifted slowly to consciousness that it was dark outside; a glance to the clock on your bedside table revealed that it was almost ten o'clock in the evening, and you intended to lie your head back down and return to the blissfully painless slumber - except your attempt was interrupted.

There was a noise coming from downstairs - something soft and melodic. Was it singing? You listened for a few minutes, not quite able to make out the words of the muffled voice, but you discerned that it must've been Connor, given he was the only other person in the house.

Intrigued, you rose carefully from your bed and left the room, moving slowly down the stairs as the crooning refrain grew sharper but no less gentle.

"Hold on just a little while longer…"

You peered into the living room from the hallway, catching sight of the android sitting unmoving on the couch, his eyes closed as the words drifted from his lips like the sweetest lullaby.

"Everything will be alright, everything will be alright."

His voice was bewitching, the song sounding so beautiful on his tongue, and yet also solemn - the words left his lips delicately as though singing them any louder would cause them to shatter.

'Fight on just a little while longer…"

You shivered, an unwarranted tear trickling down your face before you even realised you were crying.

'Pray on just a little while longer…"

You wanted to listen to him sing forever, but you were afraid that any longer would cause you to start sobbing violently, and you didn't want to ruin his gorgeous melody - still… you could not bring yourself to return to your room. You were fixed to the spot, captivated even.

'Sing on just a little while longer, everything will be alright. Everything will be alright."

Like a flood, images filled your mind, a sense of panic taking hold of you as you crumbled to your knees. You remembered watching the live footage of the android demonstration on television, biting your knuckles in fear as Markus and the androids of Jericho were surrounded, weapons pointed at them with the intent to kill - and then the leader had begun to sing.

You had been so angry with humanity, so afraid for the lives of these androids - including Connor, you hadn't heard from him since he'd disappeared to find Jericho - and the intense rush of relief and hope that had engulfed you when the military had lowered their weapons was fierce.

You remembered it now, as clear as day, exactly what you had felt when you listened to what Markus may very well have believed to be his final, desperate swan-song - an accumulation of defiance, appeal, and longing for the chance to live.

And with it came everything else.

Fingers carded through your hair, soft and tender as you slowly woke to the agonising feeling of another wretched headache, but you felt warm and protected, willing to endure the pain until it subsided - whenever that may be - as you forced yourself to relax. You were reclined, your head cushioned on something, but the ground beneath the rest of your body felt firm; it took a few dizzying minutes for you to understand that you were lying on the floor with your head in somebody's lap.

Judging by the flickering ring of blue from above, that somebody was Connor.

"Shh", he whispered when you parted your lips to speak, "I've got you", he promised, his fingers threading through your locks soothingly - something Connor tended to do when you were upset or panicked, or when you awoke from a horrible nightmare - and you felt your lips curl into a smile despite yourself.

"You fainted", the android helpfully supplied, "only for a few minutes. Just take it easy, okay?" he instructed, which was his way of telling you not to move or speak just yet.

"Connor", you murmured anyway, "I remember."

Even through the painful, dense fog of your mind, you knew the moment your words processed for him, because his eyes widened and his grasp on you grew a little firmer with mitigation.

The details of your accident were still fuzzy to you, but you were sure you remembered everything important - like the curve of Connor's beautiful face when he smiled with authenticity, or the way his eyebrows furrowed adorably when he was having trouble processing something, or the way he would preen every time he walked passed a mirror. Yeah, all the really important things.

"I'm sorry I forgot you", you whimpered, unexpectedly struck with the cognizance of how awful the past three weeks must've been for Connor, "I won't do that again", you added, eyes filling with tears, in an attempt to lighten your spirits, "I promise."

Connor's lips pulled into a smile and he leaned down, brushing a kiss to your forehead, "I'll hold you to that."

Notes: Leave me a review if you believe we were robbed of the chance to hear Connor singing that beautiful song.

As stated in the top notes, requests are now closed because I am absolutely swamped. I intend to fill as many as I can, but I probably won't be doing them in any particular order. I'll just open up the document I have them all saved in and pick one that I'm feeling when I go to write :') I must say, you're all very creative with your requests and I got a lovely wide range of prompts. Very excited to fill quite a few of them! ;D