Chapter 5: dependable

Set: Two days after Stephen's death, and despite wanting to mourn, the anomalies wait for no man or woman. Abby may not have loved Stephen, but losing a friend is never not painful, for anyone involved. So this one's I'm not sure about at all, really. It's one in the morning and it's kinda… I don't know how else to write this bit, because I need to include post Stephen's death but still technically s2 stuff, before I transition into their closeness in S3, but I'm not sure I achieved it at all. Excuse any spelling errors, mea culpa, all that. Sorry, very tired student here. Anyways, enjoy it :3 And I'd appreciate feedback on it since it's very different.

Connor glanced at Abby. The ARC was silent, as it had mostly been for the past few days but for a few anomaly calls. He watched her for a moment, seeing his best friend, the girl he loved, staring into outer space. Her eyes were still a little red-rimmed, and he wondered when she was crying, because he hadn't heard her at night. Though, he thought, his own moments, where some thing would surface in his mind and he'd be caught between fond laughter and sobbing, and would break down, he always managed to hold it in until he was alone. Maybe this wasn't a good thing. They were all so... cold, and empty. The ARC felt different, with Stephen gone. He sighed when she didn't even turn to look at him, and looked down at his laptop, running his fingers lightly over the keys.

'when you die, can I have your I pod?' He'd been joking, clearly, and there was nothing he could have done to save Stephen, but an uncomfortably guilty pang had settled in him and he didn't realize he was shaking until the gentle touch of Abby's hand on his cheek made him jump.

"Abby?" He asked, surprised, hastily wiping away a tear that had managed to escape his control. His eyes stung.

"Connor, what are you doing?" She said softly, meeting his gaze. Connor looked away.

"What does it look like? I'm... I'm adding the latest anomaly data into the ADDs' system and updating the creature database with that new species of pterosaur." His voice sounded hollow. Abby didn't chide him, simply pulled him close and hugged him. He'd learned not to take these moments for granted, and gratefully returned the soothing embrace.

"Connor..."

The anomaly sirens went off.

Connor trudged through the gate, Abby following wearily behind, and dully flashed his security clearance pass to the guard. Abby did the same and they entered the building. Connor was covered head-to-toe in mud, had gotten thoroughly lost on side-streets, and had grazed his cheek, hands, and left shoulder when he'd tripped and fell on the pavement. Outside the gate, Cutter slammed the boot of the car with unnecessary force, and Jenny was already bantering with him. Apparently her self-appointed task to distract Cutter. Abby wasn't quite as badly off as Connor was. She had mud up to her knees and smudges on her clothes and skin. She looked at her friend in sympathy, almost forgetting about Stephen's death for a moment as her flat mate grumbled about the mud and why he of all people was the one that these things always happened to. And then suddenly memories and thoughts of Stephen accosted her and Abby was crying. Connor whipped around at her quiet gasp to see her sitting on the ground, tears running clean tracks on her muddied skin. He immediately ran to her and gave her a hug this time, just holding her for a little while.

Back at the flat, Abby was watching Connor playing a video game."Do you wonder, what the people we lose think of us after they die? Like, they're watching us, I wonder, y'know, if they're happy, or sad, or maybe just neutral. If we're making the right choices... if they..." She trailed off, Connor looked at her in surprise.

"I dunno, Abbs. But..."

"I.. I worry that if we try and move on, we'll forget him. I can't just..." She sighed. " I fancied him, and even after I grew out of that, I counted him as a friend. It's hard... I keep thinking he'll walk into the ARC one day, that smug grin on his face and a thousand things to say..."

"Stephen would be happier if he knew we would continue on. He sacrificed himself to save people. Us not talking about him won't help anything at all. The ARC is vulnerable right now, Abbs. We're just..." He had put down the controller and was gesturing vaguely with his hands as he spoke, saying the words hesitantly, as if feeling for the right ones. "I feel like that sometimes too, I think I see his face, out of the corner of my eye, but when I look, he's not there. But we're crippled by this, Abbs. The ARC can't function like this..."

"It doesn't make it any easier to just pretend nothing's happened and just go on with our lives!" Abby snapped at him. Connor's wounded look made her sigh.

"Sorry."

"No, we need to talk this out, cry, or yell, or whatever. I don't mind, Abbs. But I... just think that if we leave things as they are... we'll forever be stuck at this point. We won't do anything, go anywhere. It'll always be about preserving his memory and only that, and we'll all be cold and hollow.""I know. It's hard though, Conn." She ignored his offer, the deeper meaning to his words. She was not going to use him as a scratching post for her angry, upset words.

"I'm afraid of the... edge." She didn't ask what he meant, she understood. They were all on a precipice, and unless they could let themselves fall correctly and land on a trampoline at the bottom, they'd just break, fall and go cold. Robotic.

"Things are getting a bit robotic around here. It's kinda creepy." She admitted. A shaky smile from Connor warmed her a little.

Three hours later and they had fallen asleep side-by-side on the couch, empty cans of beer lay around them and their eyes were red from crying. tissues lay scattered and as he slipped off to dreamland, for once completely free of haunting images of Stephen's last moments (he hadn't seen but his imagination could do spectacularly at providing its own images), Connor admitted to himself that the release of that emotional build-up had been the best thing he and Abby could have done. They'd talked for hours, about Stephen and work and each other and Stephen again. He'd been their friend. Connor mentioned Tom, and they talked about Stephen some more. They'd tried to out drink each other like it was a contest, hardly noticing as the beer began to loosen their tongues and the walls on their emotions fell, and the tears soon followed, and they turned to each other for comfort. It wasn't anything, really, but they felt safe and comfortable and peaceful near each other. They were best friends, so it would be odd not to feel that way, right? IT didn't matter at the moment. The plan had worked in a rather round-about way to fix things. Stephen had never been dependable, Connor was. Abby curled closer, sleepily, to Connor on the couch, and then they were out.

The next morning had included Connor being terribly sick from a hangover and Abby with a bit of a headache because she wasn't a lightweight but they'd drunk a lot of beer last night. Things seemed different the next day, and the days that followed, and perhaps that discussion and the mutual comforting had really allowed them to both remember Stephen and move on without remorse or guilt. Cutter was a different story. And Abby cast a fond eye at her flat mate, because he was a dependable, good and honest guy, and she appreciated that. It wasn't the moment, not the right time, to think about relationships and the like, though. It could wait.