Captain Ryan volunteered to drive Connor and Abby back to the flat. Both were silent, staring out the windows, shell-shocked.

Poor kids, Captain Ryan thought silently. Nothing in either of their lives would have prepared them for any of this, but they were a part of it now. He did feel a reluctant admiration for the young man in the back seat. He had run, recklessly, between his friend and the guns, and had managed to talk his friend down. On the same note, Captain Ryan hoped that Connor would never do that again.

Connor stared at the window, silently. His pale reflection, barely visible against the scenery rushing by, looked haunted and empty. Shock was setting in. He could barely feel anything. Tom. Tom's dead. The thought continually replayed in his mind, over and over, becoming almost meaningless in its repetition.

He barely noticed that the truck had come to a stop, until his reflection jerked away from him as the door opened. Captain Ryan looked in at him, concern on his face. "You're home, Connor."

Connor barely nodded, and pulled himself out, shouldering his bag. Mutely, he followed Abby through the door of the flat, and pushed it closed behind him.

They both just stood there for a long time, not making eye contact, not really moving. Finally Abby made a small sound of discomfort and started rubbing her wrist.

That woke Connor up for a moment. He looked over at Abby's tear-streaked face, her sore wrists that would likely have bruises for days to come. She was still shaking slightly – she had nearly become another victim.

He took a step toward her and stopped, unsure of what to do next. "Abby, you alright?" he finally asked, weakly. He could see that she wasn't.

Abby looked away for a moment to regain herself. She couldn't handle the concern she saw in Connor's eyes, unmasked, even by his own pain. She forced a smile, a false bravado. "Fine!" Her voice came out a little too bright.

Connor nodded, falling back into silence, and turning away, walking further into the flat.

"You alright, Connor?" Abby took a few steps after him.

He stopped, and slowly turned around. He wanted to say "yeah" or "fine" but his voice caught in his throat, and instead a large tear slid from his eye, and then another one. He rubbed his fists against his face, but it didn't stop them.

Abby swallowed hard as her own eyes welled up. Part of her wanted to hug him. Part of her didn't know if she should. What if he took it the wrong way? So she just stood there, awkwardly, and Connor finally turned away. "I think I just need some time," he choked out.

"Yeah," Abby agreed. She walked back toward the door of the flat. "I'll go for a walk."

Connor sank down onto the couch, and leaned his head back, letting loose a deep, ragged breath. He heard the door shut softly behind him. His head was starting to pound. He wondered if Abby had any aspirin.

…

His phone buzzed and rang in his pocket, jolting Connor awake. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep. How long had he been out? His neck ached from the awkward position.

He fumbled in his pockets, finally pulling out the mobile. Cutter's name appeared on the call display. He flipped the phone open and reluctantly put it to his ear. "Yeah?" he croaked out.

"Sorry ta bother you, Connor. There's been another sighting."

No! Not now! Not yet! Connor's mind screamed at him. But out loud, he managed, "Mind if I sit this one out?" He hated how pathetic his voice was sounding, but he felt broken.

"Yeah, I mind." Cutter hated having to push, but he knew instinctively this was what Connor needed. "We need you. You're a part of this team."

"Tom just died today," Connor protested.

"I know," Cutter replied, an unwelcome swell of sympathy again rocking him. He paused for a long moment. "Will you come?"

There was such a long silence on the other end that Cutter wondered if Connor was still there. Then he heard a ragged sigh. "I'll need a ride."

…

AN: Bit of a short chapter, but it was as good a place to break as any. What do you think? Please review.