AUTHORS NOTE: I can barely remember the last time I wrote any fanfiction, but this show has inspired me.

From quite a big fan of the Tom/Anya pairing, but I'm struggling to write any 'proper scenes' between them.

So this is a one parter. Anya's POV, post S2 finale (so obv spoilers up to this point)

She cradled the glass of water between sweaty palms as she stared blankly out of the window into the darkness. Anya hadn't had much sleep since events at the airfield some four days ago. It was hard to sleep when she was unable to switch her mind off. There were too many thoughts flooding her head. Headlined by regret and a deep feeling of loss. So many 'what ifs'.

The family had established themselves at the airbase temporarily, setting up base with what they had left of food. The first two days had been spent searching as far as was practical on foot, scouring every outbuilding and every farmhouse they came across. At first they had searched with optimism and determination. They weren't leaving one of their own behind, certainly not a man who was responsible for their own survival. But now the likelihood of finding him at all was wearing thinner by the hour. Anya could see the weariness and pessimism sinking in. She had continued to hope, wandering fruitlessly through the surrounding fields, but she knew that the thoughts of the others were gradually turning to the future.

There was some talk of the family leaving the area and continuing their path to the coast, but Greg and Abby always discussed that with low, hushed voices. Anya supposed that they didn't want her to hear, and she wished that she didn't. She knew that it would be the right thing to do for all of them, but if they moved then she would have to resign herself to never seeing him again and that didn't bear thinking about.

There had been times in the past that she had wished that Tom would just leave them and go his own way. He was the antithesis of everything she believed in and all her old world morals. He was something that she would have despised and distanced herself from, something that repulsed her to her very core. Violent, unpredictable, cold, uncaring. Part of her still felt like that, but she couldn't deny the inexplicable attraction that she had felt. From the start his excitement at the new world had fascinated her. She had thought about ending it all, and yet he was so driven by the need to survive, the need to live. Where she struggled to find a purpose to go on, he had embraced it. His spirit so early on had raised her own, and she would always be thankful for that.

Day by day she had been able to see that he was more than just a thug. He had shown such bravery and courage in the face of the new world, and although he would never have admitted it she knew that Tom now felt a loyalty to the family. Almost against his will he had become bonded to them, and had put his own life on the line so many times. She knew that he was no longer just doing it for her.

She felt safe when he was around, as if no one could harm her. When he said that he would kill anyone that hurt her, she knew he meant it. It had sent a cold chill of fear down her spine, and had rendered her speechless, but in some crazy way she had been touched by the sentiment.

Although she had said very little directly, the others seemed to sense Anya's turmoil. They didn't know the half of it, but some connection between she and Tom could not have been missed within the tight-knit family. They weren't stupid, and though much more subtle than Al and Sarah's relationship, it was clear that there had been something between Tom and Anya.

Abby seemed able to sense that she didn't want to talk about it, and Anya was grateful for that. She didn't really want to face any questions until she managed to get her own thoughts in order. Anya had never really been very good at those in-depth conversations about feelings, as she had never really known who she was. She had never been entirely comfortable with her sexuality, and even Pat had found it near impossible to draw anything out of her at times. Being a closed book was much easier to confessing that she didn't even know herself.

An inability to open up was something she and Tom shared. Some narrow piece of common ground, although at least she was in touch with her emotions. There had been times in the past that she had found herself looking at him and wondering if there was any emotion in him at all, an ability to feel anything beyond anger.

The valley had changed that. In the time that they shared down by the stream she had been taken aback by the emotion in his eyes and a tenderness that she had never thought him capable of. He hadn't said much, but then she never expected him to. Actions always spoke louder with him.

Afterwards, as they laid side by side on the grass, she had wondered how it was that the same hands that had the blood of so many on them, had been able to reduce her skin to goosebumps with a gentle touch.

To be close to someone again like that had felt so invigorating. The simple pleasure of feeling another warm body beside her own, to feel his heart pounding through his chest, was something she never could have regretted. And once she had felt that buzz of excitement, that longing, she knew she wanted him again.

It had been more comfortable at the lab, more intimate, and she had fallen asleep cradled in his arms, her head resting peacefully on his chest. Their peace hadn't lasted long, as Abby's shouts had raised the alarm that Whittaker had shown up. Tom had seemed put out by the interruption, and she could see a flicker of irritation in his eyes as he had hastily pulled on his clothes to join the others.

"Anya"

Abby knocked her out of her thoughts and back to the real world. She smiled falsely at her intruder.

"I couldn't sleep"

This seemed to be becoming a bit of a night-time ritual.

"He's out there, somewhere"

Abby, forever the optimist. Anya wished she could believe it, wished she could have the same drive and determination that Abby had shown in her search for Peter. But belief didn't account for the fact that Tom had been shot. A bolt of panic had shot through her when she found out. She still had visions of him lying wounded in some ditch somewhere, dying alone, thinking she didn't care. She wondered if he knew how much it had taken for her to end it, or how easily she would have gone back to him.

"Perhaps"

"You and Tom..."

Here it came, Anya thought. Abby continued, probing.

"Were you...?"

Anya avoided eye contact; there was no simple answer to what she and Tom had been. She would have killed for a cigarette in that moment, but she had long gone without. Ever since the pack that Tom had presented her with back in the city. He had remembered that tiny detail of their first meeting, but then Tom noticed everything about everyone.

Abby hesitated. Anya guessed that she was probably concerned. Tom was dangerous. But she wasn't stupid; she hadn't gone into this with her eyes closed. She hadn't gone into it with any wild ideas about changing him, reforming him. She hated that side of him, but the closer they became, the more she saw another side to him. He was probably changing her more, opening her eyes to the darkness and evil within the world. She hadn't been naive before, but she had been too trusting, too eager to see the good in people.

"It was all such a mess. I don't know what we were"

She felt Abby place a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

"Try and get some sleep"

To her relief, she heard Abby's footsteps retreat, returning to the room that she shared with Peter.

Anya lay reluctantly down on her side, knees clutched up to her chest, eyes clamped open. Why had she ended it? Was she so afraid of letting him in, taking a risk? She was never one for risks.

He had tried to seem unaffected by her rejection, but by that time she had known him well enough to see that under the surface he was upset. He had stammered when he had repeated her sentiments back to her "there is no future, you told me that". Tom didn't stammer. Every sentence was always so controlled, so planned and calculating, spoken with such certainty and conviction. Not then. It had betrayed his feelings. And the way he avoided looking her in the eye when he declared "animals are happy enough", with that tinge of desperation in his voice. It had torn her up, and it had taken such effort to end it. He had tried to show passive indifference, but she knew better. That was why she raised her hand to his cheek; to offer him some form of comfort and in doing so console herself. But in that moment the emotion left his eyes, replaced by his usual stolid indifference. He removed her hand coldly, and had turned his back on her. She wondered if he had turned to watch her as she left the room, or if he had simply ignored her as she walked away from him.

Why did she think they would end up hurting each other? Truth was that it was hurting her more without him. She knew that she would never have been able to resist him if he was still around. Sooner or later she would have given into him again. That was if he would accept her again. Tom didn't seem the sort to forget easily. She got the sense that his quiet declaration of love was a first for him, that she had been the first to see another side to him beyond the anger and intimidation. Why did she have to be the one to screw it all up?

Only too late did she realise how much sense he made. How right he was about everything. Perhaps he was right when he said that trust could only lead to getting hurt. Why had she trusted Fiona Douglas? Why had she let herself be manipulated by her own naivity? Why hadn't she listened to him from the start, proceeded with his customary caution?

And what would happen if she did see him again? Where would it go from there? She wasn't going to kid herself that it would be all sun and flowers, because it never could be. But having him around would be enough.

Maybe she did love him, much as she willed it not to be so. She hoped she would get the chance to find out.