Title: Reason
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Sommerfield, Nightstalkers
Notes: Blade: Trinity was a pretty slashy movie, IMO, and especially between Abby and Sommerfield. I mean, it's finding Sommerfield's body that reduces Abby to tears, and she obviously adores Zoe. And her reaction to the tape from Sommerfield? Damn. My apologies if I messed up anything from the movie, I saw it about a week ago and don't remember exactly what happened.
Disclaimer: Abigail Whistler, Sommerfield, Blade, Drac, and any other members of the Nightstalkers are not mine, I am using them without permission, but no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't sue—I'm a poor college kid, with all the legal fees you'd probably lose money anyway.
------------------
Abby sat on the floor, shivering, feeling the warm water course over her back and sides. She had long since stopped crying, but her trembling continued. She stared sightlessly at the opposing wall.
She'd been foolish before. She'd always known, academically, that the risk was there. You'd have to be foolish to not know, in her line of work, that serious injury or death was a very real possibility every time you went out patrolling. But knowing in your head and knowing in your bones, feeling the gut-wrenching terror, the sickly anxiety that she somehow suspected would now be with her whenever she went out, were two very different sensations.
And knowing had made her more aware of what she had to lose, as well. Knowing that she could possibly be saying goodbye to her lover and her lover's child (who was almost her own by this point) was hard to bear, but harder to bear was the idea that something could possibly happen to her lover or Zoe, that they might leave someday and never come back….
"Abby."
Abby started, the sound of her own name bringing her back to reality. Sommerfield stood just outside the shower, well-dressed as usual, a look of warm concern spread across her usually smooth, restrained features. Wordlessly, she held out a towel, and Abby had to smile reluctantly despite herself. Her lover was always excellent at ferreting out her moods, letting Abby brood as she needed to, and then deciding when Abby had had enough and jolting her out of her funk. She heaved herself to her feet, turned off the shower, and walked across the cubicle to where her lover awaited her. Sure enough, as soon as Abby was within striking distance, Sommerfield stuck out her hand, plainly asking where Abby was. Abby took it and Sommerfield briskly toweled her down and then wrapped the towel around Abby's body. Abby felt a small laugh bubbling in her chest, and she let it come out, laughing a little harder as Sommerfield let a little smile tug at the corner of her lips and cocked her head inquiringly. They started walking to Abby's room, walking closely but not touching, Sommerfield's cane superfluous as she knew the route so well, and was confident that the younger woman would warn her of any irregularities in the surface.
"What?"
"Nothing," Abby said, still laughing a little. "Just…I was wondering how long it would take you to come in after me this time."
Sommerfield let her face crease into that grin that Abby so loved and that she oh-so-rarely showed.
"Well, I can't let you become a prune in there, Abs, nor can I let you drown," Sommerfield shot right back as she let them both into Abby's room, her lack of sight no hindrance as she worked the key and lock that she had worked hundreds of times before. She swung open the door and let them both in as she added, "The rest of the team would kill me, and I do have my own…reasons for wanting you hale and hearty."
Abby threw back her head and let out a few peals of laughter. Sommerfield smiled wistfully at the sound; Abby had such a wonderful laugh, and Sommerfield wished she would use it more. She loved this girl, loved the warm, many-faceted personality, and hated that the only aspect Abby showed of herself to anyone other than Sommerfield herself or Zoe with any regularity was the cold, ruthless, hardened personality of her vampire-killing persona. She wished Abby would show the other sides of herself more, both for Sommerfield's delight and Abby's own emotional well-being, but….
Suddenly, Abby sobered. Sommerfield couldn't see her, obviously, but felt the change in mood as Abby's laughter died away, to be replaced by a quiet, somewhat melancholy silence. Sommerfield cocked her head again as she heard Abby settle onto her bed, and closed and locked the door and walked across the room to sit beside the younger woman, again knowing the terrain so well that her blindness proved no hindrance. She put a hand on the younger woman's knee, didn't say anything, just sat there, providing a link to her lover, letting Abby settle her thoughts. She was patient, knowing Abby would open up in her own time.
Eventually, Abby spoke. "It's just…" she began, stopped, and started again. Sommerfield could feel the tension in the younger woman's body. "It's just that now it seems real," she tried to explain. "Like, now I know what can really happen."
Sommerfield stifled a sigh. She thought it might be this, the plateau everyone in their line of work eventually faced. Abby had been lucky; in fact, the Nightstalkers had been incredibly lucky in the—Lord, it was five or six now—years since she had joined the unit. Yes, there had been injuries (she winced as she traced the evidence of one of those on Abby's knee, remembering how scared she'd been for Abby), but there had been no deaths, no missions gone horribly awry. She wondered how long that string of luck could go on, especially now that Blade was taking sanctuary with them, and quickly squelched that train of thought; inviting bad luck was not the smartest thing to do. Quickly, she returned her focus to Abby.
"It's just…we've never had any really catastrophic things happen here," Abby began again, unconsciously echoing Sommerfield's thoughts, making the older woman grin with irony, "but this time…if you hadn't invented that coagulant," and she took Sommerfield's hand (still resting on her knee) and twined their fingers together, squeezing Sommerfield's hand, "he probably would have died. And it just…I had never thought about things like that. And I knew, before, obviously, that I or someone else could die, but…Drac's incredible. Incredible. I've never seen any vampire like him. And I don't know if we can beat him. And I thought, for a moment…what if that had been me? Or what if I died, never being able so say goodbye to you or Zoe?"
Sommerfield shivered. She hated that train of thought; it featured prominently in her nightmares and then in the darkest moments of the night, when she awoke alone and was unable to get back to sleep. She squeezed Abby's hand harder, raising it and pressing a kiss to the back of Abby's hand, and put their entwined hands back on Abby's knee.
"And, it may be selfish of me, but I'd rather it be that way than the alternative," Abby continued. Now her voice began to shake. "If something ever happened to you, or Zoe—if you had to go out in the field, and something happened…I don't know what I'd do," Abby finished in a whisper. "I just…I'd rather die than have to live with anything happening to the two of you, and I know it's so selfish, but it's how I feel. And right now, I'm so terrified of something happening to you or Zoe…I can barely stand it. I don't ever want to leave the ship again, to make sure that you two stay safe, that's how bad it is."
Sommerfield was silent for a moment, digesting this new look into her lover's mind, before she started to speak. "I know, Abby. I…I feel the same terror every time you go out on patrol and you don't come back for hours, or if you're late…." Despite her best efforts, a note of accusation had entered her voice. She lived with this fear had for all the years that they had been together, and while Abby hadn't laughed at her fears before, she had seemed somewhat…humoring of what she perceived as Sommerfield's excessive worrying. Sommerfield bore no grudge against her lover for this, understanding that Abby was young and strong and, in her own mind, invincible, but now she saw that Abby understood what it was to be terrified for someone she loved. It was a double-edged sword. Now that Abby understood more Sommerfield's fears, she knew her lover would be more careful (well, as careful as she could be) on patrol, but she mourned the loss of her lover's—not innocence, but youthful sense of almost derring-do, her careless ability to take risks and shrug them off. She knew fully the stakes now. She hoped this new maturity-slash-responsibility wouldn't paralyze her lover in moments of danger, but then she smiled inwardly and shrugged that particular fear off; Abby was too much a professional to do so.
Abby, for her part, winced, understanding what Sommerfield was and wasn't saying, and lifted their entwined fingers and pressed a kiss of her own against Sommerfield's hand. "Does it ever go away?" Abby rasped, and Sommerfield heard the threat of tears in her normally composed lover's features. Part of Sommerfield was shocked. Outside of the shower, Abby's private sanctuary, she almost never cried….
Sommerfield turned her body more fully toward Abby, catching Abby's other hand and holding it tight. "No," she admitted, voice catching, "it doesn't. You just…you live with it, you deal with it. You…you have trust that the other person won't take irresponsible risks, or put themselves into danger unnecessarily, or….And you have to trust that the other person knows what they're doing, knows their limits….And you just don't think about it. I…there are times that I can't sleep when you're out, or I can't eat…." She trailed off, and Abby shifted uncomfortably, mind flashing back to dozens of times she might have taken a dangerous risk here, engaged an enemy she probably should not have there, and felt a little worm of guilt and shame worm through her insides. She swallowed hard.
"God, how do you live with it?" she whispered, taking her right hand out of the grip of Sommerfield's left and bringing it up to trace the lines of the older woman's beloved face. Sommerfield nuzzled into Abby's hand. "I love you too much," the older woman whispered gently disengaging her other hand and tracing Abby's face, neck, shoulders. "The idea of not being with you is worse…And you'll learn," she added as Abby took off her glasses and gently unbuttoned her dress shirt, shedding her own towel, and then lost her train of thought as Abby gently eased her backward onto the bed.
"Learn what?" Abby rasped just above her, and Sommerfield shivered as she felt the cool air on her belly and Abby's warm fingers tracing the striations of her ribs.
"Learn that the moments of heaven," she continued after a second of not recalling what Abby was talking about, voice cracking as Abby's lips traced her jaw and her own hands sought blindly upwards for a moment before coming to rest on Abby's hips, "make the moments of hell worth it."
Abby smiled at that. "I love you," she whispered roughly, and then neither of them were talking—or thinking—much at all.
------------------
Sommerfield felt the tears leaking out the sides of her eyes. Oh, Abby, she thought despairingly as she picked her way through the ship, Oh, lover…
She was praying, though she had almost never before prayed in her life. Prayed that Zoe was fine, that she'd remember her mother's instructions and escape Drac's notice, prayed that she'd stay hidden until Blade and Abby got back….
And then she had to stifle a gasp of horror. She felt sick. Blood was under her cane and her shoes, and she felt the predatory eyes of something inhuman on her back, but that wasn't what made her sick, she was blocking that out. A worse idea had occurred to her. What if Abby and Blade come back and he's still here?
That thought just steeled her resolve to at least try and do something to disrupt Drac—for that's who it had to be, she knew, deep in her guts, she just knew. She was smart enough to know that she couldn't kill him, but maybe she could wound him? Keep him occupied until Abby and Blade returned? Yeah, right, her mind snarked at her, they're not due back for hours… But she wouldn't just lie down and die, she'd do something to try and protect Abby. Oh, lover, goodbye…and Zoe, my darling…goodbye, she bid her beloved and her child one last time, and stopped walking.
Suddenly, she spun one way, bringing the gun up to bear, and then spun the other way. And then—
Then long arms were holding her crushingly tight against a hard-muscled body, and she screamed. She felt fangs puncture the side of her neck, and though she felt her life trickle away, he stopped right before she blacked out. She wished she could at least bring up her arms or feet and try and hit him but she was so…weak…it was an effort to try to cling to consciousness….
"Oh, keep screaming, it's music to my ears," a low voice purred in her ears, "and maybe…"
Maybe what? she thought hazily, trying to follow his words.
But Drac's voice had trailed off as he sniffed at her intently. He smelled—
He smelled the scent of the dying woman in front of him, but he smelled two other scents on her as well. He smelled something... young, a child's smell, similar enough to the woman that he suspected the child was, if not the woman's daughter, at least a relation, and the woman was the child's caretaker. And….
And another smell? Eyebrows contracting he leaned even closer and sniffed more intently at the woman. The subtle perfume of another woman, faint but spicy and undeniably female, warm and young and…familiar? Drac took another deep breath, inhaling the scent, and felt the recognition click in his brain. The girl that had been with Blade and the human he had stabbed. He considered what it meant that her scent was on this woman, and he sneered as he considered it. His opinion of the girl lowered a few notches—he had deduced that this woman possessed no sight, and he had no idea what the girl, who had seemed strong as humans go, would be doing with someone so flawed.
An idea occurred to him. His eyebrows lifted as a wicked grin crossed his face, and he swept the semiconscious woman up in his arms, walking through the hallways, trying to locate a suitable place. His eyes lit up as he found the perfect place.
"I'm going to find the child…you can't stop me," he couldn't keep from whispering to the woman, who, he had to admit, was showing flashes of unexpected strength in clinging to consciousness. "And as for you…" a grin curled his features "…I'm going to leave the girl a little…present." His voice twisted sensuously, obscenely, on the last word.
Sommerfield's eyes snapped more fully open at his words, and she felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through her body. I'll be damned, she raged wordlessly, and summoning strength from she didn't even know where, she lifted her left arm, brought it across her body, and beat weakly once, twice, three times against Drac's chest before it fell limply to her side once more. She felt the strength granted to her by the adrenaline recede fast, but she still gritted her teeth and retained consciousness as best she could.
Drac stopped short for a moment, taken a bit aback by the woman's actions, and then continued walking after only a beat. Her weak taps against his chest hadn't hurt, of course, but instead of finding them laughable he was grudgingly impressed, despite himself. Perhaps not as weak as I thought.
She finally felt him stop, and cracking her eyelids once more, blearily recognized the shower that she had coaxed Abby out of so many times, the last coming just a few days earlier, Abby's private space. Abby… another bolt of pain stabbed her heart.
"You showed strength, human," he was addressing her now, "strength that few humans would show, least of all a—flawed—human." She recognized the dig at her blindness, but had endured such taunts for so many years that she let it flow off her. She was more concerned with identifying the tone of his voice; was she imagining it or did she hear reluctant respect in his voice? She wasn't mentally alert enough anymore, however, to know. She felt herself fading into darkness, and just managed to hold onto images of Zoe and Abby in her mental eye, giving her one last moment of peace, a last happy memory to cling to.
"Such a show of strength has earned you a quick, clean death, human," continued the vampire, and as he contemplated his upcoming task it was with slightly less gusto than before. But nothing could sate his love of blood, so he concluded his mental wanderings by once again biting the woman, and this time not leaving any life in her body at all.
------------------
Abby moved through the ship with a rising sense of panic. She had already checked Zoe's "special hiding place," as they had christened it when Abby and Sommerfield had devised a game out of searching for a safe place for Zoe to hide, and Zoe was gone. It was a relief that they hadn't found her body, but Abby didn't want to think about what the vampires were doing with her—
She didn't want to think about anything much at the moment, though, instead she was frantically racing through the ship looking for her lover. She was reminded, horribly, of the conversation they had had a few days ago, and she resolutely put it out of her mind, clinging to hope, refusing to acknowledge what she felt in her gut. She hadn't prayed in years, not since she could remember, but right now she was praying to any and every deity that would listen, praying that somehow, in some way, she would find her lover alive—
She walked into the showers and fell to her knees, mouth opening in a silent scream.
Blade found her there, sobbing, staring up at her lover's dead, defiled body. Fury filled his own body as he observed the sarcastic, cruel message Drac had left.
Still sobbing, but with rage burning brightly in her eyes, Abby climbed to her knees. Her fingers clenched as she observed the message, and she closed her eyes, tears leaking out of them, as she contemplated her lover's body. She had a dim sense that this was a life-changing event, that there was incredible, gut-wrenching, soul-stealing pain waiting for her, but all she felt now was…numb. Like nothing could touch her. Like she'd never feel again.
She took a few steps towards her lover, intending to take her down, but as she touched the cold, dead flesh the sobs overtook her again and she surrendered herself to the agony.
------------------
Use it.
His words echoed in her mind, beating a steady tattoo on her head and heart.
Use it.
She put the songs on her iPod, remembering with a pang—or more accurately something that more resembled a brick wall hitting her body—how her lover had used to tease her gently about listening to her iPod while on patrol, but Abby had always retorted that it "revved her engine" and every time after the teasing they had always—always—
She felt the tears threaten for a moment, but with an iron will forced them back down, clenching her fingers so hard she was afraid her fingernails might draw blood from her palms.
Use it.
------------------
Abby bit back a stunned gasp as her lover's image abruptly appeared on the screen in front of her. She swayed for a moment, tears pricking her eyes, before she took a deep breath and fought back the pain she felt at seeing her lover—terrified yet strong, and breathing, and alive—addressing them from "beyond the grave." It was like seeing a ghost.
When Sommerfield acknowledged that she was probably dead, Abby's heart broke. Her lover was so terrified, she could tell, yet being so incredibly brave and strong….
And when Sommerfield asked them to look after Zoe—reminded Abby that she was reading Zoe The Wizard of Oz—she had to suppress a snort, and felt a brief flash of annoyance with her lover. Of course she would take care of Zoe and duh, she knew where they were in the book—hadn't she read to Zoe, the night before they had left (the last night that she had seen her lover alive—) from that very book?
Then she felt a sick sense of shame at being snippy with her lover, though a distant part of her mind noted that it was probably healthy. She was just trying to be strong, Abby raged at herself, giving herself something small to hold onto to make herself strong.
She studied Sommerfield's image desperately, trying to deduce anything she could from her appearance, barely hearing Sommerfield's apology to Blade, or considering the enormity of her task. What had she been feeling, in her last moments? Blade had examined her—the body (she had vomited every time she thought of doing it herself, felt bile rising now too) and he had said that he thought she didn't feel any pain, and she didn't think he'd lie to her, but…. Had she been angry with Abby, for not being there? Abby had already castigated herself over not being there countless times in the hours since she had cut her lover down from the showers, but she was suddenly anxious, wondering if her lover had died angry with her for not being there, studying Sommerfield's figure intently, trying to pick out with her eyes if there was any accusation in her stance, words or tone. There was none. Abby exhaled a silent breath of relief—intellectually, she had known that it would not be the case, but emotionally….
There was no flowery declaration of love, no last words for Abby's ears alone, but she had known that there wouldn't be. They said their goodbyes, and their avowals of love, every single time one or the other left the ship. They—well, at least Sommerfield—had always known how it was, known the stakes, known that every time Abby left for patrol or Sommerfield left for a rendezvous with a fellow scientist that it could be the last time they saw each other, and they always made sure to—well, the saying was that one never goes to bed mad at one's spouse, so they never left mad at each other, and they always made sure to tell the other how much they were loved. It hadn't been any different this time, and Abby felt something like a lightening of her soul as she remembered Sommerfield's final whispered "I love you," felt the ghostly pressure of Sommerfield's fingers on her jaw as she pressed a final lingering kiss to Abby's lips—
And suddenly the video screen went blank, the video done. She felt the end of the video and the disappearance of her lover like a punch to the gut, like now Sommerfield was really gone.
And when she was holding the serum, the vampire-killing plague, in her hand, she swore a silent oath that she would see it all done, just as her lover would have wanted.
------------------
Later, the next day, Zoe clutched Abby's hand as Abby had finished smoothing the last Band-Aid over Zoe's various cuts and bruises.
"What are we gonna do now, Abby?" she asked, all innocence and a child's curiosity.
Abby sighed, sat down, and couldn't suppress a weary smile as the child immediately clambered trustingly into her lap. "I don't know, baby," she sighed, breath ruffling the girl's head tucked under her chin. "I just don't know."
"Mommy…" the young girl began, and then couldn't go on. Abby felt the small girl fighting to maintain her composure, and her heart went out to the girl. She hugged Zoe close as the girl buried her face in Abby's shoulder for a few moments, desperately trying not to cry.
"Mommy said you'd take care of me if something ever happened to her," Zoe said, sounding for a moment far older than her few years, and twisting around to face Abby. "Are you going to be my new mommy?"
Abby couldn't speak for a moment, her throat was so constricted. Finally she managed to get out, "Yes, Zoe. I'm going to take care of you from now on. And I'll be your new mommy, but only if you want me to."
"I want you to be," replied Zoe trustingly. "You promise?" And even as she spoke, she was snuggling into bed.
Abby smiled a little again. "I promise, sweetheart." And, snagging the book that lay on the table, she continued, "Why don't I tuck you into bed, and I can read a bit to you from The Wizard of Oz, how's that sound?"
Zoe smiled a little. "Good. But…"
"Yes, Zoe?"
"Do you mind…staying in here while I sleep?" she sounded so childish, so scared, that Abby would have done anything she asked.
"Sure, Zoe. Sure I will," she said, and grabbed a chair and dragged it over to Zoe's bedside even as the little girl beamed.
She got into bed, and Abby carefully tucked her in, smoothed her hair down, opened the book, and began to read quietly, softly, and after Zoe had fallen asleep she put the book down and walked over to the window, and leaned her forearms against it.
Oh God, lover, how am I supposed to do this without you? Living and coping with her own pain was one thing, but dealing with an emotionally scarred little child that she was nor completely responsible for….
"Hey."
She whirled around, saw Blade standing in the doorway.
"Hey," she responded, hating the tinge of anxiety that stained her words; he had startled her.
"The perimeter is secure. I'm going meditate. Call if you need me." Then, inexplicably, he hesitated. His eyes went to Zoe and, bereft of his customary sunglasses, she could see the sudden sympathy and—was it empathy?—in his eyes. "You're good with her, and good for her," he said unexpectedly, and then slipped from the room.
She blinked, digesting his unexpected comment, and then turned back around, looking out the window, not thinking, just being, and although she did feel a little better because of his words, they couldn't begin to fill the gaping hole left in her soul.
Suddenly, she could have sworn she felt a pair of ghostly arms envelop her, and a pair of insubstantial lips brush the back of her neck. The sensation was gone as soon as she felt it, but combined with Blade's words, it combined to make her feel truly optimistic for the first time in days.
Maybe…maybe I can do this.