10/04/08
Title: Time and Distance.
Chapter: One – History always repeats.
Author: Squeezynz
Setting: two years plus after the end of S2Ep7.
Pairing: Abby/Connor to start with, Abby/Stephen to end with.
Tagline: Abby reflects on her life...and is given a chance to press the reset button for herself.
Author's Note:
What can I say? I couldn't keep away.
This picks up a couple of years after Stephen's demise. It is almost completely AU, using the time-line established in series 2 to base the characters and their past histories on, so not all of the facts will jibe with what we know about the characters from series one. Something else. I have never believed, from the performances put on the screen in either series one or series two, that Connor was right for Abby or that they had the sort of chemistry on screen necessary to pursue a serious relationship. He was no way ready for a committed relationship and needed a great deal more life experience before settling down. That said, I just think he is wrong for her, certainly in relation to series two Abby and the way she is portrayed. So if you are a Cobby/Cabby or whatever fan, you are not going to like this story.
Oh, and as far as I'm concerned, the location of the ARC is still a bone of contention, so I've centralised it in Birmingham this time.
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"Con, get the phone would you?"
Sunlight stabbed at her eyelids, the headache growing exponentially with the volume of the phone ringing off the hook.
"Con! Get the bloody phone!" She waited a beat, then sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted and she groaned. "Dammit...I'll kill you if I find you sitting out there and just ignoring it."
Slowly standing up she staggered a little but made it to the door, her stomach lurching queasily. The phone continued its incessant racket, Abby squinting at the light flooding into their small flat. "Bloody sunshine...why does it have to be so bright?"
Shading her eyes she tottered over to the phone and snatched it off its cradle, the silence total and very welcome. Bringing it slowly to her ear she muttered her name into the receiver.
"Abby Temple speaking..."
"Mrs. Temple this is the police..."
"Oh my God! What's happened...Connor...is Connor alright?" Abby felt the room start to darken, her heart thumping heavily in her chest. The voice on the end of the phone continued to speak despite her interruption.
"...we have a man here who has given your name as a contact. Rather, we found your name on his person."
"What? Then Connor hasn't been in an accident? He's not dead?"
"I presume you are referring to your husband, Mrs. Temple?"
"Of course I'm referring to him...who else?" Abby felt a sharp stab of pain lance through her head, lifting her hand to press her fingers against her forehead in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing.
"We seem to be talking at cross purposes Mrs. Temple..."
"Abby...for goodness sake call me Abby..."
"Well...Abby...as I was saying, we have a man here who has your name as a contact. I was hoping you could come down to the station and identify him."
"Where abouts are you?" Abby pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Sorry, didn't I say...Hollingsworth Police Station, on the Manchester Road."
"Manchester? You must be joking."
"Not that I'm aware of Mrs. Temple."
"Abby...does this man have a name?"
"That's why we're calling you. He had no identifying documents on him, other than your name and phone number on a slip of paper in his pocket. I'm afraid he's not being very co-operative, so we have him in custody until we can verify his identity."
"But I don't live anywhere near Manchester," Abby stated, her head slowly clearing but still aching from the previous nights over indulgence. If she was truthful, it had been several nights of over indulgence, including most of the days as well.
"So I understand from you phone number. Are you able to come up sometime today or tomorrow. We really would appreciate your help in this matter."
"Yeah...alright...alright...um...I've got a few days off...I see what I can arrange. Give me your contact number and address and I'll let you know when I'm due to arrive."
Abby hung up the phone after several minutes and just stood staring at the piece of paper in her hand. A shiver shook her frame, reminding her that she was standing in little more than her underwear and the central heating wasn't on. As Connor hadn't appeared from out of the side rooms, she deduced he was out. Swearing under her breath, she scurried to the bathroom and quickly turned the shower on.
Half an hour later she emerged swathed in toweling robe and turban, her feet encased in a pair of toweling slippers to complete the ensemble. All of them bore the mark of a fancy hotel they'd stayed at for their honeymoon. Shuffling her way to the kitchen she flipped on the jug and hastily turned up the thermostat. With a steaming cup of coffee in her hand she investigated her reptile collection, thankful that the heat lamps kept the tanks nice and toasty for her scaly pets.
Sitting down on the battered leather couch, she propped her feet up on the coffee table and contemplated her plans for the day.
She had been partially truthful about having time off. She was in point of fact on permanent leave. Activity at the ARC had slowed in the past three months, and with the number of teams increased to cover the few anomalies that still popped up, Abby's time was spent more in the laboratory and less in the field these days. Not that she was complaining, exactly. After the incidents with Leek and Helen Cutter resulting in Stephen's death, things had radically changed. Lester was no longer prepared to risk his most knowledgeable people out in the field without considerable back up, and when multiple anomalies appeared, the remaining team members were sent to head up individual teams of operatives and specialists. It meant they never got to work together any more, but instead had to adapt to being sent out on a moments notice, but forced to take a back seat to avoid any risk.
It proved a frustrating and infuriating period of adjustment.
In a matter of days after Stephen's funeral Connor had proposed and Abby had accepted. In hindsight it was probably not the best time to be making life changing decisions, but everyone had seemed to be happy for them, so they acted on impulse and tied the knot. Shortly afterwards they were forced to find other accommodation as the flat Abby had been taking care of was needed by it's original owner who was finally returning from their trip overseas. They'd found a place not far from the ARC which seemed like a good idea at the time, but proved both a blessing and a curse.
Being so close to work, Connor started to spend more time there than at home. Six months after getting married, Abby saw more of her team mates than her husband. She missed him, missed the camaraderie, the teasing and flirting, the simple pleasures they'd enjoyed as flatmates. When an accident took Rex from her life, and Nick decided to follow up on reports that anomalies were finally appearing beyond England's shores, Abby started to feel more and more isolated.
A year after what was now being called The Event, she and Connor had started to argue over the most petty of reasons. They had no major financial burdens, but Connor seemed to lack the basic ability to keep himself out of debt for more than two minutes. Whether it was spending on a bigger and better computer system, bigger plasma television or just buying up a wealth of DVD's until they had cabinets full of them, enough to start their own rental company. Abby was the one to make sure the bills were covered and the fridge kept full. She also paid to have a housekeeper service keep the flat in some sort of tidy state, both Connor and herself not having the time for housework and chasing after anomalies.
Now they were about to celebrate their second wedding anniversary and Abby was seriously thinking of asking for a divorce. Connor had been acting strangely, secretively and she couldn't get him to open up to her any more. They were seeing less and less of each other until Abby asked for an extended leave, siting stress as her reason, in the hopes they could reconnect. Connor had refused to request time off, leaving her to kick around the flat for the first few days until she decided what she was going to do with her time alone.
After several days of prevarication she had wandered along to a talk being given at the local community hall, having seen it advertised in the local paper. The speaker was a man who had spent a great deal of his time with both Greenpeace and the World Wildlife fund as a volunteer, his travels around the world and helping in several conservation projects an abundant source of amusing anecdotes and fascinating travel diaries. Sitting in the back of the hall listening enthralled, it took her back to her time spent at University before she cut it short to go work for the Zoo. She'd so ardently wanted to study zoology and attended all the meetings of the campus conservation society, volunteering for protests and leaflet drops, fund-raising and anything going. In the end the lure of a hands on position in the reptile house had proved too attractive to pass up and she's left Uni to pursue her love of conservation through the endangered species breeding program.
That in turn had meant her becoming seconded to the anomaly project as a reptile expert only a short time after she'd completed her first paper towards a degree via correspondence while working at the zoo.
Now, after hearing this man speak, she wanted to get back into her first love – conservation and endangered species. Of course, to hear Connor talk, you'd think that the most endangered species on the planet was man.
Drinking the dregs of her now cold coffee, Abby sighed deeply and hoisted herself off the sofa, padding across the floor to the kitchen, then back to the bedroom. The flat was starting to warm up and she sloughed off the robe like a second skin. She stared at herself critically in the long mirror propped against the wall. She had lost weight, the muscles of her stomach and legs more heavily defined, as were her arms. Her hair hung about her pale face accusingly, the colour somewhere between black and brown, the ragged ends reflecting the home hair cut she'd performed when drunk out of her tree. She twisted from side to side, looking at herself from different angles. At twenty five she was starting to wonder what it would feel like to have a child, to see her belly grow large. Pulling on a baggy t-shirt, she snagged one of the pillows and shoved it under the shirt, positioning it so it stuck out as she'd expect a pregnant belly to look like. Catching herself staring, she sneered at her reflection and yank the pillow out, flinging it across the room to slid down the wall near the window.
"You're pathetic...been on a bender for three days and here you are pretending to be pregnant?"
Connor voice lashed across her still tender nerves and made her cry out. Spinning around, she tugged the hem of the t-shirt down. Connor stood in the doorway, arms braced on the frame around the door. He was scowling at her, his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer.
"What the hell do you think you're doing Abs...after your performance last night I doubt anyone would take you for mother of the year," his laugh flayed her and she cringed.
"Fuck off Connor. You weren't even there last night."
"No. But my phone has been running hot all day with text from your precious friends telling me what a performance you gave. What time did you roll in this morning?"
"What's that got to do with anything?...You don't care if I'm out all night. More often than not it's me who's waiting up for you. Nice to have things turned around for a change." She turned her back on him and rummaged for some knickers, feeling vulnerable despite the enveloping t-shirt.
"I care when my wife makes out with another man!"
Abby pulled up her underwear and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. "For God's sake Con, it was Bruce...he's gay."
Con checked what he was going to say next, then launched into another topic. "So what's all this I hear about you joining Greenpeace? How's that going to work with what we do?"
Abby rubbed at her forehead, her scalp so tight with her hangover she wanted to scream – quietly.
"Look, what's the problem here. I have three months leave...you could have had the same. I don't bug you about how you spend your down time, so why are you coming the heavy with me?"
"Because...urh!" Connor smacked his fist against the door frame and spun around, stomping off out of sight towards the kitchen. Abby stared after him and flopped back on the bed. She really wanted to do nothing more than crawl back into bed, but it was unlikely Connor would let her escape so easily. She rummaged in a drawer and found a pair of her old yoga pants, the fabric soft against her skin. Pushing her feet back into her slippers she padded out into the lounge, the temperature now warm enough to negate the need for a jumper. She went to the door of the kitchen and watched Connor bang about for a few seconds.
"What is up with you Con?" She folded her arms across her chest and leant against the door jamb. "We've hardly spoken in a week. I have wanted to ask you what you wanted to do about our anniversary coming up at the end of the week..."
"Do about it? You're off down the pub three nights in a row and you want to talk about wedding anniversaries?"
"Yes, yes, yes...I was down the pub, so what. You were invited too, you could have come along with me!"
"And talked about nothing but elephant crap, lion crap and lizard crap...sorry, I'll pass." He held up his hand dismissively. "Your friends are boring."
"Fine. Then you can't really complain when they want to take me out, can you."
"It wouldn't matter so much if you could hold your drink!"
"Look..." Abby passed a hand over her face and told herself to count to ten. "Look...I'm not going out tonight, or any other night. Jon is flying out this afternoon, and everyone else is back at work. I can only assume you're madder than a Scutosaurus because you have something planned."
"Yeah...about Jon," Connor gave her a hard stare, his arms mirroring hers, clamped across his chest.
"For heaven's sake...anyone would think you were..."
"Jealous? Do I have reason to be?"
"No...no reason."
Connor pushed himself away from the sink, as if to leave the room. At the last moment he saw a piece of paper on the kitchen table and reached for it, Abby saw it at the same time and made a grab for it. Connor got there first.
"Why does this have a police station listed on it?" He waved the slip in the air.
"I got a call this morning...there's a man at the station, but they can't identify him for some reason. He had my number in his pocket or something."
For a heartbeat Connor stood as still as a statue, then he slapped the paper back on the table with the flat of his hand. The crack of flesh on wood made Abby jump.
"Then you'd better scurry along and see who he is...maybe he's the one you were climbing all over on Saturday night and he wants to see you again. You must have made quite an impression for him to use the police to track you down!"
"Con that's stupid...where are you going?" He brushed past her, picking up his jacket and flinging it on before heading for the front door.
"Back to work. I had thought to have lunch at home...but I don't think I'll bother. I won't expect to find you home when I get back tonight."
The door slammed shut behind him and she winced. "Shit."
It was true she had been out for the past three nights. It had been just a case of all the buses coming at once. One of her friends from her days at the Zoo was going overseas so there was a farewell party planned and she was invited. Then there was the member of her team who was celebrating his recent Civil Union that weekend, so she was naturally invited to that, but there wasn't really an excuse for the last night. That had been entirely her choice to call up two of her girlfriends, who she hadn't gone out with in ages, and drag them all along to the nightclub just opened on the High Street. She had got blitzed, her headache was proof of that, and she had rolled in at some ungodly hour, so she guessed he had some grounds for being pissed off, but in her heart of hearts she knew it was more than that.
Maybe if she cooked his favourite meal and they had a chance to talk calmly about things they could get over this mountain obstructing their path. It was a faint hope, but she was in the mood to clutch at straws right now. Padding into the bathroom she popped a couple of panadol to dull the hangover and then returned to the kitchen to plan the meal.
In the middle of the kitchen table the small slip of paper sat forgotten for the moment.
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Abby slammed her hand against the steering wheel again, the sharp pain in her hand making her focus. She was driving on the M56 through Stockport on her way to Hollingsworth and she still felt angry, her blood fizzing and her knuckles turning white.
"How dare he? How bloody dare he?" She growled, resisting the urge to stomp on the accelerator and work out her anger on the car with excessive speed. As it was she was on the limit, blitzing past the lorries and vans traveling in the inner lanes. Her car was the one luxury she'd brought for herself, irrespective of Connor's wishes or personal choice. It was bright yellow and zippy, a Toyota MR2 Roadster convertible. It would have been nice if her budget had stretched to a Lotus, but she already had plans to trade up. In the meantime the MR2 would suffice.
She thumped the black leather steering wheel again and ground her teeth. So much for her plan for the previous evening. She had pulled out all the stops, doing her girl thing for Connor. There'd been candles and wine, garlic bread and croûtons. Even dessert. She'd sent him a text to make sure he wasn't late home, but apparently he was still in a snit over her nights out because he didn't appear until nearly midnight. When she taxed him about it, he merely snarled something about a rogue anomaly and stomped off to the shower.
After that is was all downhill. She was hurt, he was tired, they both were smoldering over past hurts and rejections. In all a volatile mixture that inevitably erupted. The next morning she was out the door and on the M6 before the birds were out of bed. Now the sun was well up and she was pulling into the outskirts of Hollingsworth looking for the local bobby shop.
Parking the car, she sat in it and just stared sightlessly out of the windscreen. Her stomach growled and she wondered if she should grab something to eat first, but chose instead to climb out the car and run up the few steps to the door of the Police station.
Inside she was greeted by the constable on the desk who asked her to take a seat while he notified the officer who had contacted her. Abby sat and looked about, the lobby plastered with posters and notices and a huge wall map of the local area. Butting as it did against the hills of the Peak District, she let her eyes wander over the geographical contours, the area largely unknown to her.
A door opened and she heard her name called.
"Abby Temple?"
The officer was tall and looked to be in his late thirties. Abby pinned a smile on her face and stood up.
"Sergent Hollis?"
"If you'd like to come this way?" He guided her to an office situated somewhere in the depth of the building. Once she was seated, he sat down and shuffled a few papers on his desk. Abby waited patiently for a second or two then opened her mouth.
"About this man you called me about?"
"Yes. I'm sorry you had the long drive from Birmingham, but we're in a bit of a bind."
Abby waited for him to continue. Hollis cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eye.
"We have been given a name by the man but we need you to reliably identify him."
"You said you found my name on a piece of paper?"
"Yes," he rummaged for a few seconds then produced a plastic bag, handing it over for Abby to see. The bag was marked with a big sticker saying 'evidence' with a date in black pen beside it. Abby peered at the writing on the lined note paper obviously torn from a spiral binder.
"I don't recognize the handwriting."
"Well you wouldn't, if this man's story is to be believed. But first things first, would you be so kind as to sign this form and then I'll take you to see him. We're use a two way mirror interview room so you can see him without him seeing you."
Abby paused in her reading of the form and looked up in some alarm. "Is he dangerous?"
"We don't think so, but you might be glad of having some distance when you see him."
Thoroughly intrigued, and not a little alarmed, Abby pushed over the signed form and got to her feet. Hollis led her out of his office and down the corridor to another room. It was darkened and had a window looking into a interview room set up with a table and chairs on the other side of the wall. Abby waited nervously while Hollis spoke quietly on a phone in the corner.
"They're just bringing him in now Mrs. Temple. Don't be afraid that he can see you, because he can't and this is very thick glass."
His reassurances only made her more nervous, Abby rubbing her hands against her jeans to wipe off the dampness. A second or two later the door to the room she was watching opened and a policeman entered, closely followed by a tall man, his wrists cuffed in front of him, another officer behind him.
Abby gripped the sill of the window, her eyes wide as she watched the man sit down at the table and look around the room.
"Mrs. Temple...do you recognize him?" Officer Hollis's voice seemed to come from a long way off, Abby's vision greying around the edges as she stared fixedly at the man sitting apparently relaxed and untroubled in the other room.
"It's...it's not possible..." Abby swallowed on a dry throat and turned to look at Officer Hollis. "This is some kind of...of...sick joke." She felt hot and cold at the same time, her hands tingling.
"Mrs. Temple? Are you alright?"
"I think...I think..." but her thoughts got no further than that, Hollis catching her as she slumped against the glass window, out cold.
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to be continued...