Anthem of the Angels


Chapter Three: Bittersweet Freedom


A sea of silent darkness surrounded him, threatening to drown him in emotion, leaving him asphyxiated by time itself. Fruitlessly, he tried to move, held in place by a fear he recognised and yet couldn't put a name to. All he could do was fight, refuse to let it overwhelm him, his entire self poured into a battle of wills which he couldn't win; all the mental strength in the world couldn't have prepared him for this.

And then, in a sudden rush of bittersweet freedom, it was gone.

Fraught voices came spinning through the medical bay, richocheting off the walls, as frantic men and women shouted desperate instructions at each other. Each cry sounded like a bird of prey, pitched at a volume that Evan's aching head interpreted as a series of small explosions. Everyone around him seemed to move at superhuman speeds, trapped in their own little bubbles of light from which his fear and pain was totally invisible. More than anything else, he wanted to be trapped in his own bubble, immune to everything going on around him.

The loneliness chewed on his heart. Even in the midst of so many people, he was alone, his soul resting a million miles from his body. It was enough to break a man, this crush of emptiness that wrapped itself around him. He was balanced right on the verge between crazy and insane, the bright line that Kanan had talked about, but a touch more pressure was all it would take from him to...crack.

"Hey, Evan," Ratchet appeared from seemingly nowhere, the usual cheery smile superglued firmly into place. The relief that the simple smile gave him, coupled with the genuine warmth in his expression, gave him a relief that neither of them would ever know, a reassurance that, in Evan's eyes, was priceless. All he could offer in return was a weak twitch of the lips, facial muscles twitching with the effort of holding it there. It seemed woefully inadequate, somehow, especially in the face of all the medic had done for him.

"Hey," he said quietly in return, unable to think of anything more interesting. Ever since the accident, his mind had been blanked out; he had been rendered utterly incapable of anything resembling conversation.

"It's okay, you know. To feel like this," the other man's eyes searched his face, and this time there was a depth in them that he'd never seen there before. How had he missed that? "It feels like you're the only one who knows what it's like to go through this, but you're not. If you ever need to talk, Evan..."

"I'll go find a therapist," was the first curt reply that came into his head. "Look, Ratchet, I appreciate it. But please, don't try and understand how I'm feeling right now. You don't know what's going on inside my head, and you're not going to. It's not helping me, not you, not anyone. And it's not helping Dylan, either, so maybe instead of focusing on me, you should be looking after her and doing your job,"

"My job? Evan, listen to me. You're not the only one who knows what it's like to suffer! Ten days ago, my wife was taking our daughter to school. Now she's dead, and my little Caitlin's barely alive in a hospital ten miles from here! So don't try to pretend I don't know how you feel right now, because I do!" Ratchet spat, his face contorting in barely-suppressed anger. "I heard about Brooke. I can't imagine what it would be like to go through this twice, but...you're not alone, okay? I just want to help you,"

Evan bit his lip, wrong-footed by all his original misconceptions that Ratchet had just thrown straight back in his face. "I-I'm sorry. Really. I didn't know,"

"It's fine," angrily, he swiped at his eyes, taking a deep, trembling breath before he reached into his pocket. "This is...it's a photo of them. It was taken two days before the accident,"

With a watery smile, he handed over a small, slightly faded photograph. A small girl grinned back at him widely, her green eyes sparkling behind her thick-rimmed glasses, brown hair brushed back and flowing in thick waves down her back. Wearing a look of motherly pride on her face, a woman knelt beside her with one arm flung across the girl's shoulder. "You must miss her,"

The medic's voice cracked. "More so every day,"

He handed the square of paper back, suddenly awkward in the ensuing silence. "How do you do it? How can you come into work each day, constantly smiling, telling people that it's going to be alright, when...you know,"

"Caitlin once told me that if everybody made a point of laughing once an hour, the world would be a far happier place. I do it all for her," Ratchet stopped and rubbed his temples, trying to mask the anguish that was flashing in his eyes. "You know what rankles? The reason I became a doctor in the first place was because I wanted to make a difference, save lives, and yet I wasn't there when Magda died. I couldn't hold her in my arms, say goodbye; I couldn't do anything,"

The irony of that wasn't lost on Evan. He had been through the exact same agony ever day for the past six years. "I know how that feels,"

"Yeah..." Ratchet let his voice tail off, and then in the blink of an eye, as though someone had just flicked a switch, the hurt was gone like it had never existed. "You're luckier than you think, Evan. She's pretty special,"

Evan knew exactly which 'she' the medic was talking about, and he wasn't happy. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't waste it. That's all I'm saying," there was a sudden pause as Ratchet's face took on an expression so terrified it was almost comical, transfixed on the double doors behind him. Evan took one look over his shoulder and wished he had the courage to do the same.

Ange rested one hand on her hip, leaning against the door frame, and raised her eyebrows, giving the pair a pointed look. "Good to see you, Doctor Holden. Don't you have something important to be doing? Preferably in some other part of the building?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." the medic's attempt at humour fell flat against Ange's withering stare. "I'll...just...go find some paperwork or something," he didn't bother to disguise his blatant relief at his easy escape, almost leaping towards the doors and full-on sprinting through them, barely stopping to throw Evan an apologetic glance.

They were alone. At this point in time, he wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing, although going by Ange's suspiciously bright eyes and slightly ragged nails, he guessed it was probably a bad thing. "What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you," she sighed, wringing her hands together. She was definitely holding something back, Evan decided. She was refusing to meet his eyes, and appeared uncharacteristically nervous, even embarrassed, without any good reason as far as he could see.

"Now's not really a good time, Ange. Can't it wait?"

"It's about Dylan,"

Evan flinched at the sharpness of her words. Ange moved to stand in front of him, her hand brushing against his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Sorry about that,"

He moved away from her, not wanting her that close to him. Sometimes it felt like she knew him too well; any closer and she would be staring straight into his thoughts. "Don't be. I'm not,"

One sceptical eyebrow raised, she took a few steps backwards, taking the not-so-subtle hints he was throwing her way. "Really? Or are you just saying that?"

She apparently took his frosty silence as an invitation to continue. "Trust me, I know what you think of me right now. I just...please, Evan. Give me five minutes, that's all I ask. Then I'll leave you alone, I promise, and you can go back to pretending I don't exist again,"

"That's not what I was trying to do!" he protested, although there was a certain ring of guilt to his tone. "I just thought it would be easier that way. Less messy, you know?"

"Oh, I know,"

With a sudden start, Evan realised he recognised those words, the very words that marked an anniversary of sorts for him. A rebirth of the day everything had started going wrong.


It wasn't all bad.


No. Not this. He screwed his eyes shut, trying his hardest to block out the sound.


Remember what happened afterwards? When Dylan promised she wasn't going to leave you?

"You're not in this alone,"

Look how you repaid her loyalty, Evan. With this.

You killed her.


"No, I didn't," he muttered, aware of Ange's curious eyes on his face. "She's still alive, she'll be fine,"


For now.


"Evan? Evan, are you okay?"

Even now, after all they'd been through, all the hurt they'd caused each other, the concern she was showing him was still as real as ever. That didn't mean he was ready to let her in, though. He couldn't let himself weaken, couldn't face having her betray him again. "Yeah. Fine. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I wasn't trying to criticise that. I think we're better off staying apart too, but I wanted to ask you something first,"

Her voice petered out, and Evan gave a sigh. "Just get on with it, Ange,"

"Is there anything going on between you and Dylan?" she stopped, shaking her head, hair spilling forwards, and gave a short, humorless laugh. "It's not important. You and me...well, that's better off forgotten. We would never have...but anyway. I just wanted to know,"

His entire body seemed to freeze up as the words left her mouth. This topic, her questioning, was far too close to his heart for comfort. He kept his voice guarded as he responded quietly, carefully, not giving anything away. "What made you think that?"

"The way you looked at her," blinking fast, she began to rub at her eyes and ducked her head down. When she looked up again, mascara was smudged under them, and a single teardrop glistened amongst the shadows. "It reminded me of how you used to look at Brooke. Like you...like you love her,"

It wasn't a statement, it was a question. Her exact words may have been 'like you love her, but what she really meant was 'do you love her?'. It was a question he'd found himself half-expecting, but that didn't make it any less of a shock to his system, and it didn't make it any easier to answer.

"I-" he broke off, running his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. "No. She's my employee, Ange. Maybe even my closest friend at the moment. It would be...innapropriate, for one. Plus, I honestly don't see her that way,"

"Evan," it was the anger he heard there that surprised him the most. What right did she have to be angry with him, after everything she'd done? "Evan, don't lie to me,"

"Look who's talking," he shot back bitterly, distantly realising he was shaking badly. "If you're jealous, don't be. There was never anything between you and me, and there's nothing between me and her either. Brooke's the only one I've ever loved, you know that!"

"No! That's not true and you know it. I might be a liar. I can accept that, but it doesn't mean I want you to go the same way. I was doing what I thought was best. It may not be a justification, but it's the best I can give. I was trying to help. Who are you going to help by denying what you feel? You're lying to yourself, and to me, and it's not giving you anything but more heartbreak. Brooke broke your heart once when she died. Don't let her do it again by keeping you and Dylan apart, Evan. Please,"

There was silence, his heart still racing from the directness of her confrontation, the ring of truth in her tirade cutting uncomfortably deep into thoughts he wasn't ready to acknowledge yet. "Yes," he said eventually, not sure if she could even hear him. "I do. I love her. Are you happy now?"

Ange nodded, a faraway mist settling over her eyes. Her darkly passionate anger was gone, now he saw only distance in her face. "Okay. That's...thank you. For being honest with me. It means more than you'd think," she ducked her head, then looked up again. "I have one more question,"

"Good for you. I don't have any answers, and the door's over there,"

She raised an eyebrow at his bluntness, but didn't question it, seemingly understanding that she'd already pushed it too far, too soon. Still, her next question was enough to send him reeling. "How do you think Brooke would feel?"

"Fuck you," instantly, his head snapped up, breath catching like fire in his throat. "Fuck you, Ange. That was uncalled for,"

"It was an honest question, not a guilt trip. I'm curious,"

He was preparing to blow her off again, storm away and pretend that this conversation - no, this whole torrential nightmare of a day - had never happened. He couldn't. Despite the heels and the power clothes, the hardness of her face and the lines he hadn't noticed on her forehead before, the sad smile and the smudges around her eyes gave her a vulnerability that wouldn't let him leave yet.

One fist clenched, he bit down on his lip. "I'd like to think she'd be happy for me,"

"But?" Ange prompted with surprising gentleness.

"I don't think she would be. I don't think any of us would be. If it were me, I'd want to be the only one she ever loved, and I'd want her to feel that way forever; it would hurt too much to see her move on and leave me behind. If she could see me now, I guess she'd be jealous of Dylan, angry with me for finding love again, but I try not to dwell on that too much. Dylan's here. Brooke's not. It's easier to think of it like that,"

"That seems fair enough. And Evan...I'm glad you're happy again. I hope things work out between you and Dylan after this," she turned away with a slight shrug. "I guess this is goodbye, for a while, at least,"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't-" the doors slammed together, the sound echoing through the room before he could finish his sentence, and he sank back against a nearby chair, knees giving way under him. I wouldn't call this happy. It's closer to torture.

"Evan?"

Seconds, minutes, hours passed before he looked up to see Ratchet standing in front of him, sympathy written across his features. "You're taking this pretty badly, mate. Are you okay?"

"What does it look like?" he replied dully. Now that the pain had faded, he was left with nothing but a dull monotone numbness that he wished he could lift. Even his earlier convulsive shock would be better than this.

"I came in to tell you that we've finished the first lot of tests - I can't tell you anything yet, but you can go in to see her now if you want to," as he started to push himself up, the medic put one hand on his shoulder, stopping him from moving any further. "Hang on. Just a warning, but we've got her on some pretty strong painkillers, so she's pretty out of it at the moment. She might not even recognise you,"

"I don't care," was his instantaneous reaction, but under Ratchet's reproachful gaze he found himself unwillingly relenting. "Sorry. I just need to see her,"

"I know," Ratchet's touch dropped from his shoulder to his wrist, pulling him out of the seat. "Come on. Follow me,"


Dylan stirred and blinked sleepily as he entered the room, lifting her head slightly to look at him . A tousled lock of hair fell into her face as she moved, leaving him with a sudden urge to brush it away. "Evan? S'that you?"

"Hey," he smiled indulgently, his first properly genuine smile since the accident, and walked over to sit by her bed.

"Why're you here?" she mumbled drowsily, falling back against the pillow. Already he could see what Ratchet had meant when he'd said that she'd be pretty out of it; she was confused and disoriented, and her speech was slightly slurred in a way that Evan probably found far cuter than he should.

He reached out to touch the side of her face gently, almost a caress. "I wanted to see you, make sure you're alright,"

"Not really. Back still hurts. Feel awful,"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "At least you're complaining about it. That means you're getting better,"

"Go 'way,"

"Sorry," he realised that his palm was still resting against her cheek and snatched it away quickly. She didn't comment on it, but he could definitely see a faint blush beginning to stain her pale skin.

"Didn't mean it," she turned her head to look at him with wide, panicked eyes, enough to give his heart a physical, painful twinge. "Don't go, Evan!"

"It's okay," he whispered in return, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles, trying his best to comfort her. "I'll stay with you, Dylan. I'm not going anywhere,"

"Good,"

In the silence that followed, he saw her eyes drifting shut again.

"Dylan? Are you asleep?"

She mumbled a muffled "Yes," into her pillow. Evan just raised his eyebrows and tried to contain his smirk.

"Okay. Fair enough,"

Gradually, her breathing began to even out, and she shifted onto her side so he could just about see her face, shrouded in shadow. For a while he just sat there, transfixed by her serenity despite the small, worried line between her brows. It was only a knock at the door from Toby, just arrived and brimming with questions about the accident, that told him it was time to go.

He turned and glanced one last time at the figure in the bed, and stopped. Ignoring Toby's sudden grin, her eyes lighting up with the prospect of potential blackmail material, he bent over Dylan and tucked some of her hair behind her ears, leaning in to press an impulsive kiss to her lips before he could let his nerves get the better of him.

"I'll stay with you, Dylan. Whatever happens," he murmured, half to himself, as he straightened up and turned away. Electric tingles zipped through his spine as he began to realise exactly what it was he'd just done. He moved towards the doors, leaving her alone to sleep, and unexplained tears began to prick at his eyes. The space between Dylan's bed and the door was short, but it seemed to take an eternity to reach Toby; he was wading through thick silence laced with his own guilt, and against his skin, it felt like treacle.


I'm back! Sorry for the time it's taken me to update, but I've recently been going through my stuff and I found a whole load of old fanfics I started writing and never finished, so I've been busy typing those up and working on them - they should be up soon, so on the plus side there's going to be (hopefully) quite a few new Primeval: New World fics from me across the next month or so. Plus, I've started working on an original novel, which is taking up a lot of my time, and I have a lot of other commitments. I promise you that I'm going to finish this story, and the sequel, but you might have to bear with me for a while.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the third chapter! I'm working on the fourth one at the moment, and it shouldn't take too long until it's up. Well, hopefully, anyway. Thanks as always to my beta-reader, DrGiggles - you're amazing!