AN – this started as a drabble for a prompt 'trapped in a room' but it ran away with me a bit. First Primeval fic so all comments and concrit appreciated.
Set during and potential mild spoilers for season 3, episode 5.
Connor slid down the wall, his body no longer able to support him. As he wrapped his arms around himself he felt the cold creeping into every part of his body.
It crawled through every pore, invading his senses, crippling his joints, claiming his vital organs.
Conner tried to fight the cold, stave it off. He'd fought so many things these years with the ARC. Fought for respect from the team; fought the knowledge that Abby didn't love him, not the way he wanted; fought the pain that overwhelmed him when he had let Cutter go. Fought dinosaurs for god's sake.
But the cold was winning.
He knew then that this was right. Connor Temple was not destined to go out in a blaze of glory, but trapped in a room alone, shivering out his last breath.
He watched the air fog each time he exhaled. Watched as it hung in the air until it was joined by the next.
He wondered which would be his last. Would he actually watch his life slip away? See his one final breath dissipate into the air in front of him?
But no. The icy fingers of the cold had got into his brain now. It made thinking difficult and urged him to sleep. Just to close his eyes, go to sleep and let the cold claim him; take him away.
And Conner started to welcome the peace that the cold was offering him.