Connor was quiet as he went through the boxes of his things that Lester had packed away for their return. Abby was already taking things out of her boxes and making their new flat more home-like downstairs, but he was feeling strangely melancholy. He wasn't sure why. They had their jobs, a new flat, and they were beginning to settle into the new team.
He sighed, and reached into the cardboard box again, searching within by touch rather than looking over the edge to see. His fingers brushed against something that felt like... His eyes widened imperceptively as he picked up the Ipod, and his breath caught as he saw the initials scratched into the metallic surface.
This was Stephen's I-pod, the one he'd joked to his friend about getting if he died. And then Stephen really had died, and he'd hidden the I-pod away, not able to bear looking at it. At the same time, he'd been unable to leave it behind when he'd moved out of the flat to make room for Jack, so it had wound up in Lester's kitchen drawers, at the very back.
Lester had put it in the box.
With a sad sort of smile, Connor carefully put the I-pod down on the bed, fingers touching the screen once more before he turned back to the box. If Stephen's I- pod had been in here, that also meant...
Yes, the photographs were in here, paper clipped together. And the compas Cutter had given him when his own broke. Connor hadn't been able to use it after Cutter died, the constant reminder too painful for him. He'd hidden that, and like the I-pod, hadn't been able to bear not taking it to Lester's with him. Now Connor placed it reverently on the bed as well.
"Connor." There was much more in that single utterance of his name than Connor would have imagined, and he turned, attempting a smile at the sight of Abby, hands braced on either side of the doorway. His forced smile faded at the understanding in Abby's eyes. "Do you want some help? We can put those on shelves and hang the photographs up, if you'd like..."
He didn't trust himself to speak, suddenly finding his eyes watering with tears. His body shook, and Abby moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
"It's okay to cry, love." She murmered. He shook his head. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, not wanting to let go. "It really is." Abby said softly. He felt tears fall, and felt the tension fade from his body at that. He sniffled, and she kissed his nose as he pulled back just enough to look at her face.
"Will you help me?" He asked softly. Abby knew he didn't mean just the little things that Cutter and Stephen had left them, and nodded.
"Yes, Conn."
Her hand slipped into his as they walked over to the box.
There was much more than keepsakes and photographs in this box. There were memories, and neither of them could tackle it alone. But together - in this, as in all other things, together Connor and Abby could do anything.