Written because I couldn't get the scene with Stephen walking into Abby's apartment when Abby and Connor are both in their underwear out of my head. He just seemed so happy and pleased to see Connor. Anyway, here's a story from Stephen.
Warning: Unrequited love.
Day 1,
Stephen had seen him before. Being Nick Cutter's assistant had its perks. Stephen had stepped around corners, heading for work, in time to see papers fall across the floor and muttered curses and hurriedly stuffed dissertation notes slammed into the drop box outside of Professor Cutter's office. He'd noticed the high marks on papers graded, the scrawly hand barely legible but spelling out brilliant thesis. He'd spotted, once or twice, a suave style hat and half-gloves bent over a computer in the rec center or on a random wall on campus.
Stephen had seen him before, but never this close. Tripping over himself and trying to catch Cutter's attention, Stephen took note of the old jacket and pressed vest, the torn trousers and worn trainers. He turned away before he could focus on the curling hair at the base of the neck.
Stephen would never admit to wanting to entertain the idea of conspiracy and mythical creatures just for the sake of being on a student's good side. He'd never admit to finding it both annoying and cutely pathetic the way a nerd tried to tease someone clearly not interested. He'd never admit he found that shoulder bag accentuating.
Cutter didn't know him before today, but Stephen did.
Connor Temple.
Day 10,
Stephen had seen him before – collared shirts, pressed vests, old ruddy jacket. Stephen had seen him in torn gloves, fingerless gloves, dark gloves, pink gloves, ties of all types. Stephen had seen the hats change out like a fashion line, as though Connor wore a hat twice and then never again, though Stephen knew that was ridiculous. Connor was poor and his hat collection was one of the few things he treasured. The jeans, the shoes, the shirts and accessories; they all changed and grew worn, and Stephen had seen them all.
Stephen had seen him before, but never this scantily clad. Dressed in a wife-beater and red, dotted underwear, Connor bounding down the stairs was a shock and a pleasant surprise. Stephen had never had such a clear view of his muscles, pressing out from his arms, his chest, his neck, and his legs. Stephen had never thought of Connor to be the type to walk around half naked, but he couldn't say he disagreed with the idea or with the press of Connor's gloved hand on his back.
Abby may not have appreciated Connor's gleeful acceptance of the broken thermostat, but Stephen did.
Day 11,
Stephen had seen him before. He was all grins and jokes and pent up energy just dying for a physical outlet but lacking the skills for true physical activity. He was a ball of kinetic power, mind constantly whirring and buzzing and spouting off facts that may or may not be related to the situation. He was weak and defenseless Connor – except when he wasn't, because sometimes he fought ancient sea dodos and the loch ness monster and came out unscathed. Sometimes he fought Cutter, and sometimes he fought Lester, and no matter how against him they were or how little faith they had, he was always optimistic and spurned on by the awe of the work they were doing and the things they were learning.
Stephen had seen him before, but never with tears in his eyes. Connor bending over his computer, eyes shut and lips quivering, hiding in some corner of the office. A vacation, Nick had said. Report first, said Lester. Stephen leaned in the doorway, his white sweater keeping the chill of a government office off him, and refused to admit he could bring any sort of comfort to his teammate. He watched as Connor worked and Connor cried and Connor smiled through the tears for Cutter, pretending they weren't important or that his friend's death wasn't echoing in his ears with every breath he took.
The others didn't seem to understand him then, but Stephen did.
Day 45,
Stephen had seen him before, skidding into the Home Office, late again. He had seen him running with clear glee as he went to tell Cutter about his newest idea or revelation. Stephen had seen Connor's arms flailing, his legs sprawling, and had seen his many silly runs. Stephen had seen Connor's feet mix up which was left and which was right and send the geek to the ground in a hyper pile of childish wonder. He'd seen Connor bounce back right up from a fall and keep going. He'd seen him dart across campus and office and forest all day.
Stephen had seen him before, but never in the fear that gripped them both now. A pterosaur three times his size is swooping down and opening its jaw to suck him in, its sharp nails prepared to snatch him if it missed. Stephen couldn't hide the fact that he was yelling, calling out to the desperately running man in the same way as Abby and Claudia. He waved his arms and wished he had more than a tranquilizer in his grip. Stephen had never been so relieved as when Connor dove into a pit and returned to them unharmed.
The others called him idiot and stupid, but Stephen didn't.
Day 100,
Stephen had seen him before, hair wild and flat. He'd seen him in old shoes and, recently, new shoes. He'd seen Connor dressed for gaming, dressed for sleeping, dressed for work and for school. Stephen had seen Connor wearing costume glasses and hats, had seen him in geekdom paraphernalia. He hadn't admitted the Doctor Who shirts were catchy or intriguing. He had let himself laugh so hard soda came out his nose when Connor walked in with a retarded fish on his head, but had left it as 'ridiculous' without letting it escalate into 'adorkable'.
Stephen had definitely seen him before, but never this good looking. Connor was dressed in all black, from his hat to his shoes. He was slimmed; he was sporty; he was suave and intelligent. He acted the same, just as goofy and curious, but his clothes were like hot damn, and Stephen couldn't help but wonder who it was Connor pulled 'sexy' out for or what the occasion was. He ignored the part of his gut that wondered if Connor was dolled up for a date.
No one else seemed to take notice of Connor's bitchin sense of style, but Stephen did.
Day 101,
Stephen had seen him before, clumsy fingers and hands and limbs all around. He had seen him drop papers, drop vials, drop bags, and drop guns. However, he had never seen Connor drop a computer or technical device. Stephen saw Connor's nimble fingers on a keyboard, his quick reflexes on a game. He'd seen him hack a system in little time and write codes for fun. Stephen had noticed the joy on the other's face during these moments of down time, when his calculating mind could work up some clever new device he may never get to build. Stephen kept his smiles to a minimum while Connor explained his gadgets to him with animated hand motions and energy.
Stephen had seen him before, but never as good with a gun as this. A raptor charging for his head was something new, but Connor's shout and his form running out with a gun held high was a sight Stephen hoped would never grow old. He admired the way Connor's arm flexed as he pulled the trigger, but he adored the way Connor's body went lax with prideful relief and he joked about the guns. He looked damn good as the hero.
No one else may have trusted Connor with a weapon after that, but Stephen did.
Day 135,
Stephen had seen him before, all loyalty and wearing his heart on his sleeve. He'd seen him laugh, seen him cry, seen him proud, and seen him shamed. He'd seen a range of emotions in his little geek, but never the one he'd wanted. They were friends; they were comrades; they were partners in crime; they were brothers. Stephen felt it all and he enjoyed every moment of it. He loved watching Connor through the stages and being there to help him through them. Stephen saw lots of things between them, but he never saw love.
Stephen had seen him before, but never in such a passion. With Abby dead and everyone giving up the fight, only Connor cried for another try, another search. Only Connor was sent home to live with himself and his misery. Stephen wanted to help, but he couldn't. He couldn't even calm him down. Connor pushed him away, just like everyone else. Stephen watched as Connor fought on and helped discover the anomaly. He saw the way Connor struggled and held on and stretched himself to the limit. He heard the way Connor's lips spoke the words 'I love you', and he knew they weren't for him.
Connor may not have known the awe and the pain his actions had formed, but Stephen did.
Day 150,
Stephen had seen him before, scared and shaking and nervous. Stephen had seen him brave and bold and heroic. Stephen had seen him nerdy and witty and wise. He'd noticed the distance between them, had even possibly known this was where he was headed. Stephen had known he was causing the rift himself, had known Helen was just a distraction – with her short hair and her rough ways. He'd known he felt empty with her, felt deceived. But Connor loved another, and Stephen had known that too.
Stephen had seen him before, but he could not see him now. His gut told him Connor was safe, would be alright. His heart told him Connor would mourn him, but he would not hold on to him. Connor had a better future waiting, one filled with bundled up energy and furthering his nerdom and inventing great machines to better his body and mind. Stephen knew Connor would be alright, because Connor had Abby, and Connor had Nick, but mostly he had Abby. Stephen kept his eyes on his mentor, his teacher, his friend. He kept his eyes on Nick, but he thought only of Connor and his goofy grins and his tears. Stephen thought of all the mistakes he'd made in these last days and wished he could do them over, but he thought he knew the ending would be the same. Connor would still have Abby. Helen would still have deceived them. Nick would still have needed saving. Connor would still not be his. Stephen would still be dying. He kept his eyes on Nick and took a deep breath as the predators covered all exits.
The others may never know how Stephen Hart's twisted heart had beat for another, but Stephen did.