Conby - a drabble about one character mourning another character's death.
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A quiet knock and the door opened on Captain Becker. He gazed steadily at Abby Maitland, his face stony but his eyes pained.
Abby glanced at him for only a moment, otherwise she didn't react. It felt like she was in a fog, miles away from everything happening in the world. Everyone passed, muffled, far out of reach.
A hand settled on her shoulder. Against her will she looked up at its owner, knowing it wouldn't be Connor but that didn't prevent the sharp stab of pain that penetrated her silent shock.
Abby was choked by a short, ragged gasp as she sensed the weight of grief hidden behind that curtain of emotional mist. She almost crumpled into herself. Becker crouched in front of her, taking both of her hands in his. Gently chafing her icy fingers, he examined Abby's glazed eyes, seeing things he was only too familiar with from his own mirror. Shellshock.
If she ever recovered from losing Connor today, there would still be Post Traumatic Stress to deal with. How does anyone come to terms with seeing the person they love most in the world attacked by a voracious predator from the future? To holding their hand while the life drained out of them?
Becker removed his coat, draping it around Abby and coaxed her to stand. She moved when he prodded her gently, raising her arms mechanically so he could bundle her in and zip the warm garment. With one arm around her shoulder he guided her, slowly so she could react through the haze protecting her mind from the shattering grief to come.
With a painful swallow, Becker regarded her as they slowly made their way out of the ARC. He'd never met anyone more ill-equipped to handle the emotional storm ahead. Even himself. Becker had been to war after all. He may not be good at handling emotions, but he'd been through loss many times before. He knew it far too well.
He pressed his lips to the top of Abby's head as he blinked away tears for the friend he lost today. He failed, he couldn't save Connor. But the job wasn't done. He couldn't break down until he saved Abby too.
Abby was lifted into Becker's truck, her seatbelt buckled for her as if she were a fragile child, and he got behind the wheel. As they neared the part of London where she and Connor had shared a flat for years, he felt her begin to shake. Becker reached out and gripped her hand gently. When he turned the other direction, her tremors subsided.
But Abby didn't surface until Becker led her into his own flat. She didn't speak but her eyes finally met his and Becker could see confusion in them.
"You shouldn't be alone." he murmured. "Home will be there when you're ready."
Pain bloomed within Abby at the thought of the home she shares, no.. had shared with Connor. She couldn't let herself go any further with that train of thought. Becker saw the glaze return to her eyes as Abby shut herself down emotionally once more.
Becker swallowed a curse, knowing what he had to do, what he didn't want to do. Locating a bottle of whiskey he kept on hand for poker nights with Danny, he poured a large measure and maneuvered Abby into drinking it. He knew she wouldn't, couldn't, open herself up enough to handle this without help. Several glasses of help.
When the liquor finally burned its way through her fog, Abby didn't fight the wave of grief that swept her. She let herself sob brokenly, pouring out every bit of her heart's love for Connor. Lost to the world until the early morning, she lay curled on the couch, her head on Becker's lap and her tears soaking his knee. He brushed the hair from her face, and his own tears from his cheeks. When Abby quieted, neither spoke. Neither moved. And the first new dawn without Connor Temple came.