Predecessor (Connor x Reader)

19 - Recognition

You found yourself on a rooftop, a place you had never been before. The raised beds of vegetables seemed to mock your aimless wandering, stretching out in neat, controlled rows—beans, lettuce, kale. Underneath the night sky, the city hummed with life. Somewhere down below, people were living actual lives. But you? You were just... here. Lost. Searching for something you couldn't name.

"You're not supposed to be up here."

You turned. A man stood near the stairwell door—uniformed in the branded overalls of the Urban Farms. Expression flat. His LED glowed a steady blue.

You hesitated, then offered a shrug. "Didn't realise it was restricted."

"It is."

You looked at him, a spark of defiance in your eyes. "Well, I'm not doing any harm."

"Are you lost?"

"No," you lied, straightening your posture. "I'm just... looking around."

He took a step forward, dusting off his hands. "This area is monitored. You'll need to leave."

You exhaled slowly through your nose. "Fine. I'll go."

You started walking, brushing past him. But something caught your eye—thirium staining the dark fabric of his sleeve.

You stopped. "You're bleeding."

He blinked. Looked down. "It will be addressed at the scheduled repair time."

"How far away is that?"

"Eighteen hours."

You frowned. It wasn't gushing, but it wasn't nothing either. You reached slowly into your jacket pocket, pulling out a folded cloth you hadn't even realised you were still carrying. A leftover from the last safehouse. You stepped toward him.

"Let me wrap it."

"That's not necessary."

"Didn't say it was. Just hold still."

He stood there, unmoving, as you tied the cloth around the wound. Not rushed. Not clinical. Just quiet, steady motion. A small act of kindness in a world of indifference.

"There," you said softly. "Won't fix it, but it'll hold."

He looked down at the cloth, then at you. Something unreadable passed across his face.

"You're not from this district."

You paused.

"No," you said, holding his gaze. "I'm new."

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," you admitted, your voice steady. "But I don't think it matters. I'll figure it out."

You walked past him into the stairwell, but something stopped you. You glanced back. He hadn't moved.

You studied the calm glow of his LED. His uniform. The careful rigidity of his stance.

"You like working here?"

He hesitated. "It's my function."

You nodded slowly like you expected that. "That's not an answer."

And then, you walked away. Neither of you knew what had just happened. Not really. But something shifted. Quiet. Undeniable.

And neither of you forgot.