Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

November 8th, 2038
AM 08:46:21

Panic was in the air, and blood was on your hands.  A tangy smell came with death and it's dripping blueprints.  The gunshot burst in your ear every time it started to quiet, like a rotating siren; a trailing scream lost in the echo.  It was almost as deafening as Captain Allen's order to stand down when you'd picked up your partner's gun and bolted outside.

Truth was – SWAT didn't get there in time...and inaction was an action itself, one you weren't fond of.

You were taken out, just the same.  Faces floated in the stars, pulsing between each beating helicopter blade.

Your friend.  Kara.  Alice.  Carlos Ortiz's android that didn't have a name.  The more recent of the many you'd let down in your lifetime.

A glass door opened, and someone stepped outside.

This was it.  This was when you'd get saved.  This was when Connor negotiated with the deviant and saved your life.

Except it wasn't him.  It was a different man.

His eyes were crystal blue.  A set of moonstones that'd captured your heart the first time you'd seen them.  They looked great behind glasses.

His hair was black and shaven on the sides, the thickness of it pulled back in a wide streak.  It hadn't always been like that.  While he usually wore it up, at one point, it was a full mane.  One that was hard to maintain, like the beard that he used to let grow along his newly-exposed jaw, sharp and pointed.

There was a time when you'd loved him so much.  When he loved you.  It was passionate at first, even beyond the years where such intimacy was said to transform into routine infatuation.

But now, much like you, he'd donned new markings.  He'd asserted himself as the pack leader he really was; and he was hot on your blood trail – eyes narrowing as he bent to retrieve a haunch from his kill.

"We could've accomplished remarkable things together." A claw traced your cheek.

He toyed with you, because a quick and painless death wasn't his style.  It never had been.  He'd always loved to sink his fangs into you and drag things out until the reversed guilt ripped you to shreds.  Gaslighting at it's finest.

Every time you tried to scream for help, a voiceless gasp leaked from your lungs.  And it kept going – kept draining you of life until there was none.

Where was he?  Where was Connor?  This wasn't right.

"How..." Elijah shut your eyelids with two fingers, "...Unfortunate."

Help.  You needed help, because you were wounded prey with a wolf at the door.

Connor-

...

"I'm here, it's okay-"

Get him off, get him off, get him off-                                                         

"It's me-"

You opened your eyes, finding your bedroom door pressed against the wall.

Your chin was draped over a shoulder.  Your chest rose and fell, having little room to inflate itself.  Your mouth was dry and stale.  Rapid pulses drummed your body.

There was something soft against your ear.  Hair.  Brown in color, painted yellow by a light just out of view.

"Connor?"  Your voice was scratchy and hoarse, like sand paper grating on your throat.