Fic: Life, Interrupted (Part 1 of 2) (Primeval, Connor/Nick, Abby/Connor, Abby/Connor/Nick implied)
Title: Life, Interrupted
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: ::deep breath:: Nick/Connor (past), Abby/Stephen (past implied), Nick/Claudia (past), Abby/Connor (present), Abby/Connor/Nick implied and references to canon relationships
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Set post 2.7
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.
Word Count: ~17,000.
Status: Complete
Author's Notes: Written for the Primeval Ficathon for toestastegood, whose prompt was Claudia turning into Jenny wasn't the only change that took place when Nick altered the past at the end of S1. He comes back and finds that in this timeline he has been dating Abby, Stephen or Connor. Non-crack, preferably and who also wanted Abby/Nick, Connor/Nick, Abby/Connor (or a combination of all three!) ::looks at pairing list:: Yep. I might have managed that ::g::
Some of the dialogue in the flashbacks and from the scene from 2.7 is from the episodes concerned. I just kind of... twisted some of it a bit.
Many thanks to aithine for the beta services and cedara for being alpha ::g::
Summary: All biological life undergoes a process of evolution. The trick is surviving it.
-o-
Tick.
There was a clock on the far wall of the break room. Nick had known it was there in a vague way, picking up on the environment around him via osmosis rather than observation, but for some reason he'd never noticed how loud it was.
But then, there'd been no need for him to notice. He'd spent very little time in here, usually only stopping in on his way to or from somewhere else. He had his office at the far end of the ARC, away from the hustle and bustle of what counted as the daily grind of the place; the scientists and soldiers mingling in the break room, exchanging gossip and coffee on an interchangeable basis.
Nick tended to keep himself to himself, locked away in his small, crowded room, trying to puzzle out the mysteries of the anomalies. That meant that on most days the coffee came to him, dropped off by Abby on her way down to the animal pens in the basement or Connor on his way to the high-tech server room to tweak something or other.
Tock.
The clock was battered and there was a long scratch in the plastic dome, running between the two and the seven. Nick stared at it for long moments, trying to make out the faded logo that sat behind the constantly moving hands.
Stephen hadn't brought him coffee. Not in this reality. Oh, he'd been happy enough to pour another cup when Nick did his passing through but he'd never sought Nick out the way that the other two did.
Now he never would.
Tick.
Nick had never noticed the scratch before either, just like he hadn't noticed the slow, steady ticking of it, too loud in a space that was too quiet. The break room was empty and the ARC subdued. The Special Forces guys were still trying to mop up the mess Leek had left, and the scientists were huddled away somewhere, still reeling from the attack on the ARC that had taken out some of their own, and almost taken Lester out to boot.
There was a lot Nick hadn't noticed. He'd been too caught up in Helen, tangled in the strands of the webs that Helen wove with consummate ease.
There was too much he hadn't noticed until it was too late.
Tock.
It made a twisted kind of sense that he'd start to notice these things now, when it no longer mattered.
"Cutter?"
He hadn't heard Abby coming and he jumped when she touched him, even though it was just a brief press of her fingers against the back of his hand where it was resting on the arm of the chair.
No, not resting. His fingers were clenched in the fabric so tightly that it hurt to let go, the muscles of his hand locked into position.
He hadn't noticed that either.
"Cutter?" Abby said again, and he could hear the worry in her voice. When he finally looked up at her, blinking a little in the light that steamed in from the corridor, her eyes and nose were red.
He tore his gaze away guiltily, staring back at the clock like it held the answers to questions he didn't even know how to begin to ask. It was better than staring at Abby, better than seeing past the brittle shell she'd pulled into place around her. It felt almost obscene to look at her, to witness that raw pain. She deserved some privacy at least, and he was too much of a coward not to give it to her.
Abby swallowed and the sound drew his attention reluctantly back to her. Her eyes were damp but her voice was steady as she said, "Lester wants to see you."
Of course he did. It wouldn't matter to Lester that he was the last person Nick wanted to see right then. It wouldn't matter to anyone but Nick. Lester would want answers and Nick...
All Nick wanted was the bottom of a whisky bottle.
Tick.
Abby was still watching him, biting her lip, her face a terrible mix of sympathy and concern, all of it pulled together over the top of a bottomless, empty pit of grief. Nick had nothing that would fill that hole except a brief nod, acknowledging her presence and maybe even her pain. He didn't know any longer. He couldn't even meet her eyes as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing past her without a word.
Her fingers reached out to slide over the back of his hand as he moved away from her, but when he glanced back, still lost for anything to say, she was motionless, staring at the far wall where the clock still measured out the time in molasses-like increments.
He granted her the dignity of silence, and moved away.
Tock.
Connor was hovering in the corridor outside, just around the corner from the break room where he'd been out of Nick's line of sight. He was vibrating with misery, seemingly dithering between entering the small kitchen area or the room where Abby was still standing like a statue, caught up in her own grief. When he looked up and saw Nick, the expression on his pleasant face was stricken and his hands were fluttering nervously by his waist, like he didn't know what to do with them.
His eyes were even more bloodshot than Abby's had been and, when Nick paused, slowing his funereal tread for a moment, Connor's lips parted, quivering a little, like he was searching for something - anything - to say. Like there was anything that could be said.
He couldn't seem to find anything to say, and Nick turned on his heel, heading towards Lester's office, too much of a coward for this either.
-o-
"You believe me?"
Connor smiles, a quick quirk of the mouth that disappears almost as soon as it was there.
"All right," he says. "I'll buy it."
The relief that floods through Nick almost takes him out at the knees but he doesn't let it show on his face, not here where there are eyes watching, all of them belonging to strangers.
Connor's eyes are the same as they've always been - excited and a little awestruck - and the words that escape Nick are brief but heartfelt.
"I could kiss you, Connor."
Connor grins and the sheer familiarity of the expression is almost overwhelming. It grounds Nick, and he needs that right now.
It's good to know that at least something in this messed up world hasn't changed.
-o-
"I'm sorry."
They were the last words Nick expected to hear from Lester and for once they weren't accompanied by Lester's trademark sarcasm. It threw him even further off balance, reduced to searching Lester's face for the kind of brusque not-sympathy he expected.
It was missing. Lester's face was as sombre as his tone, and just as tired.
It made it all too real, silencing Nick. He'd been expecting a battle, had counted on it. Anything to fire him up and push the numbness back, if only for a little while. But now the energy that had been building since Abby had first told him of Lester's summons ebbed away, leaving nothing but the same pit of grief he'd not wanted to see in Abby.
Nick could only stand there, in front of Lester's desk, his arms slack and useless by his side as he tried to hold on to the edge, not topple over.
"Here."
Now Lester's tone had moved towards brusqueness, but the glass of whisky he thrust into Nick's hand was welcome. It burned as it went down, stinging his throat and his eyes, and he swallowed, barely tasting it.
Lester topped up his glass without saying anything and without stinting on the measure. It seemed his normal tight-fisted 'fiscal responsibility' didn't count for once. Maybe without Leek to count every penny...
The thought froze Nick's thoughts in their tracks for a second, a shuddering hiccupping space of a breath in which all he could hear was Leek's screams behind him as he ran, as he...
Stephen hadn't -
Lester put the bottle of single malt back on the desk with a loud clatter and Nick jumped, his heart pounding and his fingers, wrapped around the glass he held, tightening to the point of pain. The whisky sloshed around and Nick stared down into it, trying, through sheer willpower, to make it stop, settle down.
"How are you holding up?"
When Nick glanced up from his contemplation of his drink, Lester wasn't looking at him. Instead he was staring out of the big glass window that made up one wall of his office, his own glass hovering up by his mouth. It was typical of Lester that while his one window was huge and showy, it didn't look out onto the outside world, instead overseeing the floor of the control room.
"Sorry." Lester winced, or came as close to it as he seemed able, but the word was still on the brusque side of concern. "I suppose that was a bit of a stupid question."
"Yes." This time the swirl of amber liquid around Nick's glass was more controlled; his hands had almost stopped shaking. "It was."
Lester nodded, looking away again and, in spite of himself, Nick moved closer, coming to stand beside Lester just to see what had caught his attention.
Connor was down there now, standing in front of the Anomaly Detector with that bloody stupid hat on the back of his head. And the back of Connor's head was all that Nick could see. He had no idea what was going through the boy's mind. He didn't want to think about it.
He didn't want to think about anything.
As he watched, Abby appeared from the corridor, moving slowly across towards Connor, her golden head bowed and her steps leaden. From Nick's vantage point, it didn't look like she said anything to Connor - or him to her - but she came to a stop beside him, also staring up at the detector. A moment - a heartbeat - later, she leant into him.
Connor put his arm around her and Nick's throat tightened.
"It's going to take a lot of fixing."
Lester's voice once again startled Nick back into himself and, as he watched wordlessly, Lester finally brought his glass up to his mouth and took a long swallow. It was only after he'd savoured it for a moment that he met Nick's gaze.
"The detector. Whatever Connor set up, it worked. That's how we found you. But the technical bods say it's going to take a lot to put it right again."
Yes. It would take a lot to make things right, if they could ever be fixed.
Nick watched as Abby's head came to rest on Connor's shoulder and, a beat later, his head dropped down to meet hers, the grief radiating off both their forms. He wondered bleakly if this was how he looked to others, whether he looked just as lost, just as empty, and if so, if that was why Lester was being so careful of him, handling him with kid gloves.
"Since we appear to be on the stupid question portion of the evening, do you know why Stephen was there?"
The question stung but in a strange way it was easier to bear than the awkward, sympathetic silence that had lain between them. The tact - or lack of it - was more like Lester, for all that the words had been delivered quietly rather than with his normal snide pomp and bluster. Nick turned away from what remained of his team - his friends - and turned his attention back to the bottom of his glass but there were no answers to be found there. He'd learnt that when Helen had died. When he thought Helen had died. And now Stephen...
"I can't imagine Leek managing to entice him to pay him a visit," Lester continued, persisting in the face of Nick's silence. "Not unless Stephen somehow figured out where Leek was before we did. Or you managed to contact him and for some reason forgot about contacting us." He gave Nick a searching look, but that wasn't what made Nick answer.
"Helen."
He had no reason to protect her now. And there were others who would need protecting from her, from what she'd become now that she was so divorced from humanity that they were nothing more than rats in a lab to her.
Lester paused, his glass halfway to his lips again as he watched Nick over the top of it, eyes sharp and hard. He didn't say anything, though, more than willing to watch Nick rip the words out of himself, hovering like some vulture, something with claws and teeth and...
Stephen hadn't screamed, not like Leek. Stephen hadn't had time to scream.
"Helen?" Lester prompted and now Nick wanted to scream, more because Lester's voice wasn't snide, wasn't accusing, but instead was even and controlled.
"She called him. Told him we were dead, the three of us. Connor, Abby and me. Told him..." Told Stephen so many lies and left Nick to live with the pain of that. The glass in his hand shook again until liquid sloshed up the sides, over the edge and onto his fingers. The scent of the whisky rose up, cold and burning in the back of his nose, tightening his throat. "I don't know what she told him. Not exactly."
"Ah." Lester's voice gave nothing away and Nick's fingers tightened on the glass until his hand ached.
"She told him you were the one responsible."
Lester snorted. "Of course she did. And Stephen believed her, I presume?"
Stephen had always believed her. And when he hadn't believed her, he'd still believed in her. That had been his downfall.
"And Helen?" Nick had no answer and, after a long moment, Lester nodded. "We'll find her, you know."
The burn of the whisky was easier to handle this time, and Nick drained the glass before slamming it back down on the desk.
"Good."
Lester was still watching him and Nick met his eyes straight on this time, not bothering to hide anything. Not even sure what Lester would see written in his face.
"Go home, Nick," Lester said, his face suddenly drawn and exhausted. "Go home and take those two with you."
Nick glanced back over to the window, down towards Connor and Abby were still huddled together, still lost. The sight of their grief did nothing but add to the yawning pit that was threatening to suck him down into it, and he staggered, suddenly exhausted, putting his hand out to steady himself on the desk.
The wood was firm under his fingers, the grain rough and warm to the touch.
"Don't worry about hurrying back," Lester said, as though he genuinely believed that that would be Nick's priority, be the priority of any of them. "I've asked Jenny to arrange... things." When Nick looked at him blankly, he continued, "We... managed to retrieve the body." Nick went ice cold as the horror of the day once again threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe Lester saw that. Maybe he didn't. Nick neither knew nor cared, but Lester's voice softened as he added, again, "Go home. We'll be in touch."
There was nothing else to say, not to Lester, and Nick settled on nodding, pushing himself away from the desk with shaking hands. His legs shook as well, his whole body wracked and exhausted as he made his way down the concrete ramp to where Abby and Connor were still standing, like statues, frozen and holding each other up.
Connor must have heard him coming; he glanced up, catching Nick's gaze for a second before he looked away again, his face blank, expressionless. It slowed Nick's steps for a moment, unsure of his welcome, unsure if he was up to this, to dealing with Abby's grief on top of his own. To dealing with Connor.
But Connor pre-empted him for once, gently squeezing Abby with the arm he still had around her shoulders until that she looked up and saw Nick, too. She gave him what might have passed as a smile under other circumstances. Connor didn't smile, but he got Abby moving, the pair of them still leaning on each other as they slowly made their way back to the double doors where Jenny was waiting for them.
It was something to be thankful for, Nick thought bleakly as he followed them, Abby looking back over her shoulder to make sure he was still there.
In spite of everything, there was enough of Stephen left to bury.
-o-
"You had me a bit worried, you know. When you came back through the anomaly and were being all weird."
Connor's aiming for nonchalant and missing it by a mile, but his feelings are the last thing that Nick's concerned about. There are too many other things fighting for his attention, too many thoughts flitting around in his head, all of them screaming, all of them wrong.
Connor's still talking, even though Nick's tuned him out, and Nick doesn't even realise it until Connor's stopped and is looking at him expectantly.
"What?"
Connor tries rolling his eyes but he doesn't quite pull it off, not the way that Abby would, and the casual affection he's seen between the two of them, with none of the puppy dog adoration on Connor's side that he's used to, is just another jarring note in this symphony of 'wrong'.
"Look, why don't I take you home, yeah?"
Connor doesn't have a car, and doesn't know where he lives if he did. Nick's so caught up in that - in the horror of that, of all the little things, the subtle little things that are just off-kilter enough to be terrifying - that it takes him a second to spot that the smile Connor's giving him is wrong, too. It's nervous and trying too hard to be cool but there's a warmth there that takes Nick by surprise. The look in Connor's eyes as he leans in, fingers in his fingerless gloves resting for a brief second on Nick's side, shouldn't be familiar, but it is.
It's the look Connor gives Abby when she's not paying attention.
Nick's paying attention. Nick's paying too damned much attention.
"There's no one around now." Nick doesn't get it and Connor rolls his eyes again, this time with something that looks like affection. "You can kiss me if you like."
And it hits Nick like a body blow just how wrong this world is.
-o-
"Are you going to be okay?"
Abby's brow was furrowed and her eyes were tired and still a little damp. In spite of that, she was managing to hold it together better than Connor, who - from the soft, shivering sounds that had reached Nick, sitting as still as stone in the front beside Jenny - had finally started crying in the back of the car. He'd started almost as soon as they'd left the ARC but Nick hadn't turned to look at him or spoken to him. He wasn't sure why except... no words would come. Not then. Maybe not ever.
Jenny had stayed just as silent as Nick but she, at least, had glanced briefly in her rear view mirror. And then Abby had shifted on the backseat, a soft shuffling sound as she presumably moved closer to Connor before a low murmur of comfort rose between, the easy give and take between them making Nick's heart ache.
There had been no such comfort for Nick. Jenny had turned her attention back to the road, her expression unreadable, and Nick had spent the journey staring out of the window, trying to shut everything out.
He was still trying, although it was more difficult now with Abby leaning into the window, her short, neat fingers wrapped over the edge of the door and her face as close to breaking as he'd ever seen it.
"Cutter...?"
"I'll be fine," he said, finally looking at her. Her eyes welled up but she nodded, sniffing it back and blinking rapidly before wiping the back of her hand over her nose and giving him a watery smile.
It disappeared as soon as it came. It wasn't like Abby to be this vulnerable and Nick looked away again, still unable to find the words to offer her any comfort.
Unlike Nick, Jenny had at least got out of the car and now, as he looked over to the driver's side, in search of anything that would distract him from the misery on Abby's face, all he could see of her was her waist and hips, the dark skirt tight around her thighs.
Connor was pressed close to her, his fingers twisted tightly in the back of her shirt. Again, the low murmur of comfort given and taken reached Nick and for the first time, the first time since, his eyes started to sting.
"Look after him, yeah?"
The words were out before he could pull himself together again, before he could pull everything back in behind the hasty façade he'd pasted over the cracks. Abby's lip quivered, her expression back to broken as she nodded. She didn't say anything, though, and Nick would always be grateful for that. It gave him a few, desperately needed seconds to lock everything down tightly again.
"We'll look after each other," Abby said quietly, her fingers finally loosening their grip on the doorframe and brushing briefly against Nick's arm. Her voice quivered, just like her lip had done, and his throat tightened, hard and fast until he thought he couldn't breathe with everything that was rising up to choke him.
And then she moved away, wiping at her face with her sleeve as she lost the control she'd been trying so hard to hold onto, the tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. Connor followed her, glancing briefly back towards the car, towards Nick, and then he did a quick two step to catch up with Abby, the pair of them coming together and heading towards their front door. Nick watched, still numb, as Connor reached out for her, their fingers wrapping. Connor leaned in, his dark hair spilling from under his hat a contrast to her bright head, but both of them bowed down, lost like Hansel and Gretel in the forest of their grief.
The springs of the car settled as Jenny got back into the driver's seat and that gave Nick an excuse to look away, to not watch as they walked through the door. Instead he could stare out of the front window, where it was already growing dark.
The streetlights flickered on, a steady progression along the street, and his eyes stung.
Jenny kept quiet as she slipped the car into first gear and pulled away from the curb. She drove competently, as she did most things, but without flash, all neat, controlled movements, smooth and easy. He watched her mindlessly for a few moments until she stopped at the roundabout, waiting for the early evening traffic to clear, and looked over at him.
"Are you going to be okay?"
Nick grunted, too tired now to keep up much of a pretence, not in front of Jenny. Not when the look she shot him was too like Claudia to stay comfortably on the outside of his defences. "People keep asking me that."
"Yes," she said tartly, pulling back out into the gap between the cars that wove their way around the roundabout and sounding more like Jenny with each passing second. "How dreadful of them to actually be concerned about you."
He sighed, lacking the energy to fight. "I'll be fine," he said, ignoring the disbelieving look she gave him and closing his eyes, losing himself in the humming movement of the car.
He would be fine. Eventually.
There wasn't any other choice.
-o-
"This Claudia Brown. What was she like?"
It's the first time anyone's asked. It jars Nick a little when he realises that. Even Connor, who believed him from the first, hadn't asked but then Connor...
He doesn't want to think about Connor. Not at the moment. Connor Temple, his student, yes, but not Connor Temple... whatever he was, is to Nick in this nightmare of a world.
Abby's still waiting for an answer and he tries to give her one, but how do you sum up anyone's life in a few meaningless words? Especially someone like Claudia, who was so many different things.
He tries, and Abby's eyes stay kind. That, as much as the question, throws Nick. Abby has been a little distant with him since he came - not home, not really. For all he knows, this distance between them might be what passes for normal in this reality. He's no idea but he's not taking anything for granted, not any more.
But now Abby's opening up to him, listening - really listening - to him, and there's part of Nick that can't help hoping that maybe Abby will be the one concrete, unchanging thing that he's been hoping for, for all that that isn't fair on her.
"She meant a lot to you."
It's not a question but Nick answers it anyway.
"Yeah."
"Sorry."
"For what?"
"That I didn't know her, and... 'cause you lost her." Abby bites her lip, still watching him, and adds, after a long pause, "I want to believe you. I really do, but it's hard."
It's only when her eyes, still sad, track past him to where Connor is studying the raptors from a safe distance, his body language tense and not just from a healthy respect for something that could eat them, that it hits Nick. Maybe, just maybe Claudia isn't the only reason Abby wants to believe him. Maybe Abby's like the others - for her, it's not the world that's changed. It's Nick.
She gives him a quick smile as she moves away, one that's edging into sympathy. But the real sympathy, the real smile, is reserved for Connor. It's Connor she goes to stand beside, Connor's arm she touches with fingers that are gentle and kind.
If she doesn't believe him, if she thinks that it's Nick that's changed, not the world...
She must think he's become one heartless bastard.
-o-
For the next few days, Nick buried himself in his work, just as he'd done in the aftermath of Helen's disappearance. Then, of course, he'd had hope to cling to, something to keep him going during the dark days and the even darker nights. That hope had faded as time passed and Helen stayed gone, but at least it had slipped away from him slowly, day by day, rather than being ripped from his grasp.
Of the two, that had always been the easier option for Nick.
It was only now that it occurred to Nick that maybe, when it came to Helen, the slow death of hope had been the worst option for Stephen, dragging him down even while it kept Nick afloat. It wasn't an easy thought to live with, for a whole host of reasons. Not all of them were good and not all of them were kind.
He'd always been slow to forgive and even slower to forget, but he was beginning to realise that he'd forgive Stephen just about anything, up to and including sleeping with his wife, if the man would just walk back through the bloody door. But Stephen wasn't Helen. He wasn't going to turn up with a cocky smile as though nothing had changed and nothing had ever fallen apart between them.
There was no hope this time. Nick was just going to have to live with his regrets. All of them. And it was that realisation that made it easier to close his office door behind him and shut some of those regrets out.
But only some of them. There was no option of shutting Jenny out, for example. He'd tried but she wasn't a great respecter of closed doors, especially not when the closed door in question was Nick's. She simply strode into his office as if she owned the bloody place.
Somehow he'd always suspected that about Jenny.
There was no point in her actually breaching his defences but she couldn't seem to pick up on that, remaining either clueless about or indifferent to his irritation. That was another thing he'd always suspected about Jenny. Whatever her reasons, she'd 'just drop by' two or three times a day, eyeing him with her trademark mixture of sympathy and aggression. No matter how many times she 'just dropped by', he couldn't bring himself to care about the arrangements she insisted on 'discussing' with him, especially not when the discussion consisted of her suggestions and his stony-faced silence.
Stephen wouldn't have cared about them either. He'd been thirty-two, for God's sake. No one of that age should have had to think about their funeral, and even if the thought had crossed Stephen's mind, it was a thought that he hadn't shared with Nick. Not that that was a surprise, given how things had fallen apart between them.
So, after painful silences that she'd ploughed through or sat out, stiff backed with her brown eyes dark with something close to anger, he usually simply settled on a basic acknowledgement of her existence rather than agreeing or disagreeing with her. He had nothing more for her than that, not at the moment. Not when he was stretched thin, almost to breaking point.
Jenny, for all her faults and all her virtues, looked too much like Claudia to be anything but another regret to add to the pile.
And still she kept coming back.
"Look," he said, finally breaking his self-imposed silence on the issue and cutting through yet another session of her trying to get him to see reason. "Stephen wasn't, as far as I know, religious. He's got - he had - no family. And he honestly wouldn't care. Really. So whatever you think, I'm sure that would be fine."
Jenny huffed, her expression caught between irritation and sympathy, and Nick had to grit his teeth to stop himself from snapping at her, making this whole situation even worse than it already was.
"Nick -"
"I can't be doing with this at the moment." He rose to his feet with a surge that threatened to send the papers balanced precariously on the edge of his desk flying. He'd never managed to get the hang of paperwork, but then he'd had Stephen -
"Nick -"
""No. Really. Just... no. Okay?"
"Okay." She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and still watching him like he was fragile. It made him feel fragile and that, more than anything, got him moving, brushing past her as he headed for the door.
"It'll be fine, Claudia. Just..."
His fingers were wrapped around handle of the door - which Jenny, for once, had had the sense to shut behind her before she started pestering him - before it hit him what he'd said. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him and then Jenny, damn her, said, in a voice too steady, too kind for Jenny, "Of course. Just leave it to me. I won't... I'll see to it. And I won't bother you anymore."
Nick fled.
Down in the basement there was the option of coffee without company, courtesy of a small kitchenette area off one of the lesser-used labs. He made for there, hoping to have the place to himself, but it seemed that fate had never been less kind to him than it had these past few days.
Connor was already there, staring down into a cup of something, his expression morose and his body - for once - still.
It was weird to see Connor like that - still. It didn't suit him.
Connor didn't seem to see him at first, and if Nick had been sure that it would stay that way, that Connor wouldn't see him if he backed away slowly, he'd have kept on running because he was a fucking coward. But when Nick shifted position - to move forward or move back, he wasn't quite sure which - his foot scraped on the lino and Connor's head snapped up, his body tensing at the sound, almost fearfully. When he saw that it was Nick, he stared at him for long, quiet moments, but the tension didn't ease from his body
It would have been easier to bear, somehow, if it had. Maybe Connor still considered him a threat. He certainly hadn't been a friend to the lad recently.
Connor cleared his throat. "You okay?"
He let out a snort, wiping his hand over his face tiredly. "People keep asking me that."
Connor shrugged, staring back down into his coffee, or whatever it was he was drinking. Nick didn't think it was important, not when the tension finally - finally - ebbed away from Connor's frame. "Maybe they're just worried about you, Cutter. Maybe they just care whether you're okay or not."
"Jenny said something like that."
"You should listen to her." Connor's voice was listless, not even growing animated when he added, "You haven't seen what the woman can do to a Scutosaurus with a high heeled shoe."
As attempts of humour went, this one fell flat and not even Connor seemed to have the energy to try again.
"I'm fine," Nick said, more to break the awkward silence than anything. It rang hollow even to him but he was still surprised when Connor's snort of disbelief called him on it.
For once Connor didn't pursue it, not pushing at all. Not even looking at him and Nick wondered, not for the first time, if breaking for the exit would be too cowardly, even for him. This wasn't like Connor, not Connor who tried so hard, who was everyone's friend. Connor wasn't quiet and still and maybe even a little bitter.
And he didn't know how to deal with this Connor at the best of times.
But he was surprised to find that he wasn't that much of a coward. He might not care as much about this Connor as this Connor cared, had cared about... he still hadn't figured out a way to think of the way things had changed that made sense, that didn't leave him panicked and furious.
He still cared. Had always cared about his Connor, even if this Connor apparently cared more.
"And you?" The question came out hoarse and he cleared his throat, tried again. "How are you and Abby holding up?"
Connor shrugged. "Abby's... it's hard for her, you know?" He looked over at Nick, his face unreadable. "Or maybe you don't know." There was something buried in that comment that Nick didn't get, something that sounded like bitterness, or grief, or both, and it bothered Nick in a way he didn't want to think about too closely. Connor continued, oblivious, "It's just... it's hard for both of us, I suppose, with Stephen... It just... it hurts."
He trailed off, still not looking at Nick, still closed off and subdued and not Connor. Maybe it was the grief or his seesawing emotions, or maybe he and Helen had more in common than he'd thought, something that kept their marriage going for as long as it had - an unexpected streak of cruelty, the ability to lash out when hurt to hurt someone else worse.
"And what would you know about that?"
That got a reaction, Connor looking up, blinking at him, his face slack and shocked. Nick's hands were shaking and he was so... he was so...
It wasn't even Connor's fault. None of this was Connor's fault, all of it was Nick's but Connor just took it, had always taken it. And now Connor had the audacity to tell Nick that it hurt, that it hurt to lose someone who'd been as much a part of your life as Stephen had been of his, or as Claudia had held the promise of being. Connor, who had flitted from Nick to this girl Caroline and now, it seemed, to Abby going by the way they'd clung to each other these past few days, without ever seeming to do more than a little moping for things lost.
"You're... what? Twenty-two, twenty-three?" It wasn't fair. Nick knew it wasn't fair - any of it. He wasn't being fair and life sure as hell wasn't. And he didn't mean the words to come out so bitter, so full of rage especially when Connor wasn't even the focus, just a convenient outlet. But he couldn't seem to stop, even though Connor was shaking now, the cup jittering in his hand and his eyes wide, almost scared.
He took a deep breath, feeling his fingernails cutting into his palms, so tightly were his fingers curled. It helped, the little pain distracting from the bigger one, and he moderated his tone enough to add, less angrily this time. "You... you can't understand, Connor. I'm sorry, and I know you miss Stephen too, but you can't understand how I feel right now, you really can't, and I hope to God you never do."
The silence stretched out between them for long heartbeats and then it snapped, suddenly, hitting Nick straight between the eyes.
"You're right. What would I know about it?" The words were spat out furiously, Connor's voice climbing, stopping just short of shouting. "What would I know? I mean, it's not like I've ever had my best friend die in my arms, or anything, because of me, because of what we do here, right? Or had you conveniently forgotten my mate Tom?" He was panting, his face distressed, contorted with anger and grief as the words rushed out of him. "And wasn't like I woke up one morning and all of a sudden someone I lo-, someone I cared about, someone I thought cared about me, disappeared to be replaced by someone who is a fucking stranger and doesn't feel anything. I mean, that never happened, right? Right?
"Damn it, Cutter!"
His cup hit the wall with a crash, shattering on impact, shards flying in all directions. Nick could only stare, shocked, at the place it had struck, a pool of brown liquid seeping over the counter and beginning to drip off the edge.
It was instinct to turn and move towards Connor and apologise, instinct to try and offer some comfort the way he had when Tom had died, several lifetimes and a whole world away, but Connor's outstretched hand, palm facing him and fingers shaking, stopped him.
"Don't." Connor's voice was shaking, close to shattering as well. "Just... don't, Cutter. Don't."
The sound of rapid footsteps in the corridor echoed towards them, and it was easier to move in their direction instead, putting some distance between himself and Connor by putting himself between Connor and the entrance to the alcove. If he'd been a weaker man, he'd have convinced himself that it was to shield Connor from prying eyes while the man fell apart, but Nick wasn't that weak. Not weak enough to lie to himself. Just weak enough to protect himself at Connor's expense.
The face that appeared around the corner was Abby's, scared and determined both at once and his heart went out to her, the fierceness in her when she realised that it was Connor she'd heard. Even if that fierceness was at least partly aimed at him. She skirted around him, giving him a look that had him taking a step backwards, clearing out of her way as she edged towards Connor.
"Conn?"
Connor's hand came up again, warding off Abby and her concern, and she slowed, giving him the space he needed, treating him as cautiously as she did any skittish animal. Unlike Nick, she wasn't stupid enough to try and touch him. Not yet.
"Conn?" she repeated, keeping her voice low and steady. "Is everything okay?"
He laughed, the sound harsh and fractured, and she flinched. The sorrow flickered momentarily on her face, but she stuck to her reassuring, non-threatening stance, the thing that made her so damned good with animals.
Nick took another step away from them, his back hitting the counter with a thump. The wetness started to seep into his shirt but he didn't flinch, frozen into place by Connor's words, Connor's pain.
"I can't," Connor said brokenly, and she nodded as though she understood, reaching out to him slowly, her fingers touching his trembling ones, which just started to shake harder. "I can't... I need..."
"Okay." And she moved back away from him, letting him past. Their eyes met for a moment and Nick couldn't tell what passed between them, just that something did. Then Connor was gone. This time it was his frantic footsteps echoing back to Nick, and growing fainter by the second.
That left Nick alone with Abby, who stood, tense and silent, for long moments staring in the direction in which Connor had fled.
"Are you okay?"
Abby asked the question without looking at him but there was genuine concern in her voice. It was only when he didn't answer immediately that she turned to look at him, her face drawn.
He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm..."
The words caught in his throat, surprising him, and he had to take several more, unsteady breaths to catch hold of his control again, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn't see the wetness in his eyes.
She waited for long moments until he was feeling steadier, saying nothing until he finally looked at her, blinking away the moisture.
"I'm fine," he managed to get out and her smile was both bitter and sweet.
"No," she corrected, the same gentleness in her voice talking to him as there had been when she'd been talking to Connor. "No, you're not. None of us are fine, Cutter. But, you know, that's kind of okay anyway."
Her smile deepened fractionally, still staying just on the bitter side of sweet, matching the sadness in her eyes, and she was too young to look that old. He managed to dredge a smile up for her from somewhere, and it probably mirrored hers for the bitterness, and the sweet that went with it. She was good people - she and Connor both.
"I hurt Connor," he said, and it struck him, hard, how wrong it was - how wrong he'd been, that it had taken so long for such a simple realisation to sink into his thick head, for him to know it in his heart instead of just viewing it as another intellectual conundrum.
"Yes," she agreed, nodding slightly. "You did." She watched him for a long moment and then said, "I'm glad you realise it. I was beginning to think you'd never manage to get your head out of your backside."
It felt good - so damned good - to laugh, even one that was as short and sour as the one he let out now.
"I'm surprised you didn't just beat it into my thick skull."
This time her smile was deep enough to dimple her cheek. "I thought about it." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her smile fading away again, and then she added, softly, "He's gotten over it. He has." Like that was what Nick was worried about. "It's just... it's hard for him at the moment. Especially finding out about Caroline..." She trailed off, shrugging a little helplessly. She looked tired again, her eyeliner smudged around the edges so that he wondered whether she'd been crying somewhere where no one could see her.
"What about you?" he asked, cursing himself for not asking sooner when she looked surprised at the question. "How are you holding up?"
She gave another one of those lost little shrugs, and a faint smile that had nothing to do with amusement. "I'm okay," she said. "Surviving. It's you we've been worried about."
There was no mistaking the surge of bitterness that welled up in him at that but it wasn't aimed at Abby. It wasn't aimed at anyone but himself, and maybe a little at fate and her cruel vagaries.
"I'm... going to be okay."
"I know." There it was again, that gentleness; he'd never needed to be on the receiving end of it before now. "It's just..."
"Hard," he completed and she gave him another smile, this one tinged around the edges with sadness.
"Yeah," she agreed, and then she seemed to give herself a mental shake, looking around the kitchen. "We'd better clear up this mess. Don't want the domestic staff complaining again." When Nick didn't say anything, she clarified, with a slightly sheepish look, "There might have been a late night incident with the microwave and marshmallows. It wasn't my fault. I told Connor to put them into the hot chocolate after he'd heated it up, and Stephen agreed -"
She broke off suddenly, biting at her lip, and this time he could have sworn that there were tears welling up in her eyes as she looked away hurriedly, her fingers clenching into fists. But when she looked back, her eye makeup was no more smudged than it had been, and her mouth was set and steady, and she moved briskly towards the counter.
"No," he said, for once reaching out to her, his fingers gently wrapping around her wrist and stopping her as she reached for the cloth in the sink. "I'll clean up this mess."
"Yes," she said, stepping back to give him room giving him a long and steady look at the same time. "I know you will."
Life, Interrupted - Part 2 of 2
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: ::deep breath:: Nick/Connor (past), Abby/Stephen (past implied), Nick/Claudia (past), Abby/Connor (present), Abby/Connor/Nick implied and references to canon relationships
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Set post 2.7
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.
Word Count: ~17,000.
Status: Complete
Author's Notes: Written for the Primeval Ficathon for toestastegood, whose prompt was Claudia turning into Jenny wasn't the only change that took place when Nick altered the past at the end of S1. He comes back and finds that in this timeline he has been dating Abby, Stephen or Connor. Non-crack, preferably and who also wanted Abby/Nick, Connor/Nick, Abby/Connor (or a combination of all three!) ::looks at pairing list:: Yep. I might have managed that ::g::
Some of the dialogue in the flashbacks and from the scene from 2.7 is from the episodes concerned. I just kind of... twisted some of it a bit.
Many thanks to aithine for the beta services and cedara for being alpha ::g::
Summary: All biological life undergoes a process of evolution. The trick is surviving it.
-o-
Tick.
There was a clock on the far wall of the break room. Nick had known it was there in a vague way, picking up on the environment around him via osmosis rather than observation, but for some reason he'd never noticed how loud it was.
But then, there'd been no need for him to notice. He'd spent very little time in here, usually only stopping in on his way to or from somewhere else. He had his office at the far end of the ARC, away from the hustle and bustle of what counted as the daily grind of the place; the scientists and soldiers mingling in the break room, exchanging gossip and coffee on an interchangeable basis.
Nick tended to keep himself to himself, locked away in his small, crowded room, trying to puzzle out the mysteries of the anomalies. That meant that on most days the coffee came to him, dropped off by Abby on her way down to the animal pens in the basement or Connor on his way to the high-tech server room to tweak something or other.
Tock.
The clock was battered and there was a long scratch in the plastic dome, running between the two and the seven. Nick stared at it for long moments, trying to make out the faded logo that sat behind the constantly moving hands.
Stephen hadn't brought him coffee. Not in this reality. Oh, he'd been happy enough to pour another cup when Nick did his passing through but he'd never sought Nick out the way that the other two did.
Now he never would.
Tick.
Nick had never noticed the scratch before either, just like he hadn't noticed the slow, steady ticking of it, too loud in a space that was too quiet. The break room was empty and the ARC subdued. The Special Forces guys were still trying to mop up the mess Leek had left, and the scientists were huddled away somewhere, still reeling from the attack on the ARC that had taken out some of their own, and almost taken Lester out to boot.
There was a lot Nick hadn't noticed. He'd been too caught up in Helen, tangled in the strands of the webs that Helen wove with consummate ease.
There was too much he hadn't noticed until it was too late.
Tock.
It made a twisted kind of sense that he'd start to notice these things now, when it no longer mattered.
"Cutter?"
He hadn't heard Abby coming and he jumped when she touched him, even though it was just a brief press of her fingers against the back of his hand where it was resting on the arm of the chair.
No, not resting. His fingers were clenched in the fabric so tightly that it hurt to let go, the muscles of his hand locked into position.
He hadn't noticed that either.
"Cutter?" Abby said again, and he could hear the worry in her voice. When he finally looked up at her, blinking a little in the light that steamed in from the corridor, her eyes and nose were red.
He tore his gaze away guiltily, staring back at the clock like it held the answers to questions he didn't even know how to begin to ask. It was better than staring at Abby, better than seeing past the brittle shell she'd pulled into place around her. It felt almost obscene to look at her, to witness that raw pain. She deserved some privacy at least, and he was too much of a coward not to give it to her.
Abby swallowed and the sound drew his attention reluctantly back to her. Her eyes were damp but her voice was steady as she said, "Lester wants to see you."
Of course he did. It wouldn't matter to Lester that he was the last person Nick wanted to see right then. It wouldn't matter to anyone but Nick. Lester would want answers and Nick...
All Nick wanted was the bottom of a whisky bottle.
Tick.
Abby was still watching him, biting her lip, her face a terrible mix of sympathy and concern, all of it pulled together over the top of a bottomless, empty pit of grief. Nick had nothing that would fill that hole except a brief nod, acknowledging her presence and maybe even her pain. He didn't know any longer. He couldn't even meet her eyes as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing past her without a word.
Her fingers reached out to slide over the back of his hand as he moved away from her, but when he glanced back, still lost for anything to say, she was motionless, staring at the far wall where the clock still measured out the time in molasses-like increments.
He granted her the dignity of silence, and moved away.
Tock.
Connor was hovering in the corridor outside, just around the corner from the break room where he'd been out of Nick's line of sight. He was vibrating with misery, seemingly dithering between entering the small kitchen area or the room where Abby was still standing like a statue, caught up in her own grief. When he looked up and saw Nick, the expression on his pleasant face was stricken and his hands were fluttering nervously by his waist, like he didn't know what to do with them.
His eyes were even more bloodshot than Abby's had been and, when Nick paused, slowing his funereal tread for a moment, Connor's lips parted, quivering a little, like he was searching for something - anything - to say. Like there was anything that could be said.
He couldn't seem to find anything to say, and Nick turned on his heel, heading towards Lester's office, too much of a coward for this either.
-o-
"You believe me?"
Connor smiles, a quick quirk of the mouth that disappears almost as soon as it was there.
"All right," he says. "I'll buy it."
The relief that floods through Nick almost takes him out at the knees but he doesn't let it show on his face, not here where there are eyes watching, all of them belonging to strangers.
Connor's eyes are the same as they've always been - excited and a little awestruck - and the words that escape Nick are brief but heartfelt.
"I could kiss you, Connor."
Connor grins and the sheer familiarity of the expression is almost overwhelming. It grounds Nick, and he needs that right now.
It's good to know that at least something in this messed up world hasn't changed.
-o-
"I'm sorry."
They were the last words Nick expected to hear from Lester and for once they weren't accompanied by Lester's trademark sarcasm. It threw him even further off balance, reduced to searching Lester's face for the kind of brusque not-sympathy he expected.
It was missing. Lester's face was as sombre as his tone, and just as tired.
It made it all too real, silencing Nick. He'd been expecting a battle, had counted on it. Anything to fire him up and push the numbness back, if only for a little while. But now the energy that had been building since Abby had first told him of Lester's summons ebbed away, leaving nothing but the same pit of grief he'd not wanted to see in Abby.
Nick could only stand there, in front of Lester's desk, his arms slack and useless by his side as he tried to hold on to the edge, not topple over.
"Here."
Now Lester's tone had moved towards brusqueness, but the glass of whisky he thrust into Nick's hand was welcome. It burned as it went down, stinging his throat and his eyes, and he swallowed, barely tasting it.
Lester topped up his glass without saying anything and without stinting on the measure. It seemed his normal tight-fisted 'fiscal responsibility' didn't count for once. Maybe without Leek to count every penny...
The thought froze Nick's thoughts in their tracks for a second, a shuddering hiccupping space of a breath in which all he could hear was Leek's screams behind him as he ran, as he...
Stephen hadn't -
Lester put the bottle of single malt back on the desk with a loud clatter and Nick jumped, his heart pounding and his fingers, wrapped around the glass he held, tightening to the point of pain. The whisky sloshed around and Nick stared down into it, trying, through sheer willpower, to make it stop, settle down.
"How are you holding up?"
When Nick glanced up from his contemplation of his drink, Lester wasn't looking at him. Instead he was staring out of the big glass window that made up one wall of his office, his own glass hovering up by his mouth. It was typical of Lester that while his one window was huge and showy, it didn't look out onto the outside world, instead overseeing the floor of the control room.
"Sorry." Lester winced, or came as close to it as he seemed able, but the word was still on the brusque side of concern. "I suppose that was a bit of a stupid question."
"Yes." This time the swirl of amber liquid around Nick's glass was more controlled; his hands had almost stopped shaking. "It was."
Lester nodded, looking away again and, in spite of himself, Nick moved closer, coming to stand beside Lester just to see what had caught his attention.
Connor was down there now, standing in front of the Anomaly Detector with that bloody stupid hat on the back of his head. And the back of Connor's head was all that Nick could see. He had no idea what was going through the boy's mind. He didn't want to think about it.
He didn't want to think about anything.
As he watched, Abby appeared from the corridor, moving slowly across towards Connor, her golden head bowed and her steps leaden. From Nick's vantage point, it didn't look like she said anything to Connor - or him to her - but she came to a stop beside him, also staring up at the detector. A moment - a heartbeat - later, she leant into him.
Connor put his arm around her and Nick's throat tightened.
"It's going to take a lot of fixing."
Lester's voice once again startled Nick back into himself and, as he watched wordlessly, Lester finally brought his glass up to his mouth and took a long swallow. It was only after he'd savoured it for a moment that he met Nick's gaze.
"The detector. Whatever Connor set up, it worked. That's how we found you. But the technical bods say it's going to take a lot to put it right again."
Yes. It would take a lot to make things right, if they could ever be fixed.
Nick watched as Abby's head came to rest on Connor's shoulder and, a beat later, his head dropped down to meet hers, the grief radiating off both their forms. He wondered bleakly if this was how he looked to others, whether he looked just as lost, just as empty, and if so, if that was why Lester was being so careful of him, handling him with kid gloves.
"Since we appear to be on the stupid question portion of the evening, do you know why Stephen was there?"
The question stung but in a strange way it was easier to bear than the awkward, sympathetic silence that had lain between them. The tact - or lack of it - was more like Lester, for all that the words had been delivered quietly rather than with his normal snide pomp and bluster. Nick turned away from what remained of his team - his friends - and turned his attention back to the bottom of his glass but there were no answers to be found there. He'd learnt that when Helen had died. When he thought Helen had died. And now Stephen...
"I can't imagine Leek managing to entice him to pay him a visit," Lester continued, persisting in the face of Nick's silence. "Not unless Stephen somehow figured out where Leek was before we did. Or you managed to contact him and for some reason forgot about contacting us." He gave Nick a searching look, but that wasn't what made Nick answer.
"Helen."
He had no reason to protect her now. And there were others who would need protecting from her, from what she'd become now that she was so divorced from humanity that they were nothing more than rats in a lab to her.
Lester paused, his glass halfway to his lips again as he watched Nick over the top of it, eyes sharp and hard. He didn't say anything, though, more than willing to watch Nick rip the words out of himself, hovering like some vulture, something with claws and teeth and...
Stephen hadn't screamed, not like Leek. Stephen hadn't had time to scream.
"Helen?" Lester prompted and now Nick wanted to scream, more because Lester's voice wasn't snide, wasn't accusing, but instead was even and controlled.
"She called him. Told him we were dead, the three of us. Connor, Abby and me. Told him..." Told Stephen so many lies and left Nick to live with the pain of that. The glass in his hand shook again until liquid sloshed up the sides, over the edge and onto his fingers. The scent of the whisky rose up, cold and burning in the back of his nose, tightening his throat. "I don't know what she told him. Not exactly."
"Ah." Lester's voice gave nothing away and Nick's fingers tightened on the glass until his hand ached.
"She told him you were the one responsible."
Lester snorted. "Of course she did. And Stephen believed her, I presume?"
Stephen had always believed her. And when he hadn't believed her, he'd still believed in her. That had been his downfall.
"And Helen?" Nick had no answer and, after a long moment, Lester nodded. "We'll find her, you know."
The burn of the whisky was easier to handle this time, and Nick drained the glass before slamming it back down on the desk.
"Good."
Lester was still watching him and Nick met his eyes straight on this time, not bothering to hide anything. Not even sure what Lester would see written in his face.
"Go home, Nick," Lester said, his face suddenly drawn and exhausted. "Go home and take those two with you."
Nick glanced back over to the window, down towards Connor and Abby were still huddled together, still lost. The sight of their grief did nothing but add to the yawning pit that was threatening to suck him down into it, and he staggered, suddenly exhausted, putting his hand out to steady himself on the desk.
The wood was firm under his fingers, the grain rough and warm to the touch.
"Don't worry about hurrying back," Lester said, as though he genuinely believed that that would be Nick's priority, be the priority of any of them. "I've asked Jenny to arrange... things." When Nick looked at him blankly, he continued, "We... managed to retrieve the body." Nick went ice cold as the horror of the day once again threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe Lester saw that. Maybe he didn't. Nick neither knew nor cared, but Lester's voice softened as he added, again, "Go home. We'll be in touch."
There was nothing else to say, not to Lester, and Nick settled on nodding, pushing himself away from the desk with shaking hands. His legs shook as well, his whole body wracked and exhausted as he made his way down the concrete ramp to where Abby and Connor were still standing, like statues, frozen and holding each other up.
Connor must have heard him coming; he glanced up, catching Nick's gaze for a second before he looked away again, his face blank, expressionless. It slowed Nick's steps for a moment, unsure of his welcome, unsure if he was up to this, to dealing with Abby's grief on top of his own. To dealing with Connor.
But Connor pre-empted him for once, gently squeezing Abby with the arm he still had around her shoulders until that she looked up and saw Nick, too. She gave him what might have passed as a smile under other circumstances. Connor didn't smile, but he got Abby moving, the pair of them still leaning on each other as they slowly made their way back to the double doors where Jenny was waiting for them.
It was something to be thankful for, Nick thought bleakly as he followed them, Abby looking back over her shoulder to make sure he was still there.
In spite of everything, there was enough of Stephen left to bury.
-o-
"You had me a bit worried, you know. When you came back through the anomaly and were being all weird."
Connor's aiming for nonchalant and missing it by a mile, but his feelings are the last thing that Nick's concerned about. There are too many other things fighting for his attention, too many thoughts flitting around in his head, all of them screaming, all of them wrong.
Connor's still talking, even though Nick's tuned him out, and Nick doesn't even realise it until Connor's stopped and is looking at him expectantly.
"What?"
Connor tries rolling his eyes but he doesn't quite pull it off, not the way that Abby would, and the casual affection he's seen between the two of them, with none of the puppy dog adoration on Connor's side that he's used to, is just another jarring note in this symphony of 'wrong'.
"Look, why don't I take you home, yeah?"
Connor doesn't have a car, and doesn't know where he lives if he did. Nick's so caught up in that - in the horror of that, of all the little things, the subtle little things that are just off-kilter enough to be terrifying - that it takes him a second to spot that the smile Connor's giving him is wrong, too. It's nervous and trying too hard to be cool but there's a warmth there that takes Nick by surprise. The look in Connor's eyes as he leans in, fingers in his fingerless gloves resting for a brief second on Nick's side, shouldn't be familiar, but it is.
It's the look Connor gives Abby when she's not paying attention.
Nick's paying attention. Nick's paying too damned much attention.
"There's no one around now." Nick doesn't get it and Connor rolls his eyes again, this time with something that looks like affection. "You can kiss me if you like."
And it hits Nick like a body blow just how wrong this world is.
-o-
"Are you going to be okay?"
Abby's brow was furrowed and her eyes were tired and still a little damp. In spite of that, she was managing to hold it together better than Connor, who - from the soft, shivering sounds that had reached Nick, sitting as still as stone in the front beside Jenny - had finally started crying in the back of the car. He'd started almost as soon as they'd left the ARC but Nick hadn't turned to look at him or spoken to him. He wasn't sure why except... no words would come. Not then. Maybe not ever.
Jenny had stayed just as silent as Nick but she, at least, had glanced briefly in her rear view mirror. And then Abby had shifted on the backseat, a soft shuffling sound as she presumably moved closer to Connor before a low murmur of comfort rose between, the easy give and take between them making Nick's heart ache.
There had been no such comfort for Nick. Jenny had turned her attention back to the road, her expression unreadable, and Nick had spent the journey staring out of the window, trying to shut everything out.
He was still trying, although it was more difficult now with Abby leaning into the window, her short, neat fingers wrapped over the edge of the door and her face as close to breaking as he'd ever seen it.
"Cutter...?"
"I'll be fine," he said, finally looking at her. Her eyes welled up but she nodded, sniffing it back and blinking rapidly before wiping the back of her hand over her nose and giving him a watery smile.
It disappeared as soon as it came. It wasn't like Abby to be this vulnerable and Nick looked away again, still unable to find the words to offer her any comfort.
Unlike Nick, Jenny had at least got out of the car and now, as he looked over to the driver's side, in search of anything that would distract him from the misery on Abby's face, all he could see of her was her waist and hips, the dark skirt tight around her thighs.
Connor was pressed close to her, his fingers twisted tightly in the back of her shirt. Again, the low murmur of comfort given and taken reached Nick and for the first time, the first time since, his eyes started to sting.
"Look after him, yeah?"
The words were out before he could pull himself together again, before he could pull everything back in behind the hasty façade he'd pasted over the cracks. Abby's lip quivered, her expression back to broken as she nodded. She didn't say anything, though, and Nick would always be grateful for that. It gave him a few, desperately needed seconds to lock everything down tightly again.
"We'll look after each other," Abby said quietly, her fingers finally loosening their grip on the doorframe and brushing briefly against Nick's arm. Her voice quivered, just like her lip had done, and his throat tightened, hard and fast until he thought he couldn't breathe with everything that was rising up to choke him.
And then she moved away, wiping at her face with her sleeve as she lost the control she'd been trying so hard to hold onto, the tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. Connor followed her, glancing briefly back towards the car, towards Nick, and then he did a quick two step to catch up with Abby, the pair of them coming together and heading towards their front door. Nick watched, still numb, as Connor reached out for her, their fingers wrapping. Connor leaned in, his dark hair spilling from under his hat a contrast to her bright head, but both of them bowed down, lost like Hansel and Gretel in the forest of their grief.
The springs of the car settled as Jenny got back into the driver's seat and that gave Nick an excuse to look away, to not watch as they walked through the door. Instead he could stare out of the front window, where it was already growing dark.
The streetlights flickered on, a steady progression along the street, and his eyes stung.
Jenny kept quiet as she slipped the car into first gear and pulled away from the curb. She drove competently, as she did most things, but without flash, all neat, controlled movements, smooth and easy. He watched her mindlessly for a few moments until she stopped at the roundabout, waiting for the early evening traffic to clear, and looked over at him.
"Are you going to be okay?"
Nick grunted, too tired now to keep up much of a pretence, not in front of Jenny. Not when the look she shot him was too like Claudia to stay comfortably on the outside of his defences. "People keep asking me that."
"Yes," she said tartly, pulling back out into the gap between the cars that wove their way around the roundabout and sounding more like Jenny with each passing second. "How dreadful of them to actually be concerned about you."
He sighed, lacking the energy to fight. "I'll be fine," he said, ignoring the disbelieving look she gave him and closing his eyes, losing himself in the humming movement of the car.
He would be fine. Eventually.
There wasn't any other choice.
-o-
"This Claudia Brown. What was she like?"
It's the first time anyone's asked. It jars Nick a little when he realises that. Even Connor, who believed him from the first, hadn't asked but then Connor...
He doesn't want to think about Connor. Not at the moment. Connor Temple, his student, yes, but not Connor Temple... whatever he was, is to Nick in this nightmare of a world.
Abby's still waiting for an answer and he tries to give her one, but how do you sum up anyone's life in a few meaningless words? Especially someone like Claudia, who was so many different things.
He tries, and Abby's eyes stay kind. That, as much as the question, throws Nick. Abby has been a little distant with him since he came - not home, not really. For all he knows, this distance between them might be what passes for normal in this reality. He's no idea but he's not taking anything for granted, not any more.
But now Abby's opening up to him, listening - really listening - to him, and there's part of Nick that can't help hoping that maybe Abby will be the one concrete, unchanging thing that he's been hoping for, for all that that isn't fair on her.
"She meant a lot to you."
It's not a question but Nick answers it anyway.
"Yeah."
"Sorry."
"For what?"
"That I didn't know her, and... 'cause you lost her." Abby bites her lip, still watching him, and adds, after a long pause, "I want to believe you. I really do, but it's hard."
It's only when her eyes, still sad, track past him to where Connor is studying the raptors from a safe distance, his body language tense and not just from a healthy respect for something that could eat them, that it hits Nick. Maybe, just maybe Claudia isn't the only reason Abby wants to believe him. Maybe Abby's like the others - for her, it's not the world that's changed. It's Nick.
She gives him a quick smile as she moves away, one that's edging into sympathy. But the real sympathy, the real smile, is reserved for Connor. It's Connor she goes to stand beside, Connor's arm she touches with fingers that are gentle and kind.
If she doesn't believe him, if she thinks that it's Nick that's changed, not the world...
She must think he's become one heartless bastard.
-o-
For the next few days, Nick buried himself in his work, just as he'd done in the aftermath of Helen's disappearance. Then, of course, he'd had hope to cling to, something to keep him going during the dark days and the even darker nights. That hope had faded as time passed and Helen stayed gone, but at least it had slipped away from him slowly, day by day, rather than being ripped from his grasp.
Of the two, that had always been the easier option for Nick.
It was only now that it occurred to Nick that maybe, when it came to Helen, the slow death of hope had been the worst option for Stephen, dragging him down even while it kept Nick afloat. It wasn't an easy thought to live with, for a whole host of reasons. Not all of them were good and not all of them were kind.
He'd always been slow to forgive and even slower to forget, but he was beginning to realise that he'd forgive Stephen just about anything, up to and including sleeping with his wife, if the man would just walk back through the bloody door. But Stephen wasn't Helen. He wasn't going to turn up with a cocky smile as though nothing had changed and nothing had ever fallen apart between them.
There was no hope this time. Nick was just going to have to live with his regrets. All of them. And it was that realisation that made it easier to close his office door behind him and shut some of those regrets out.
But only some of them. There was no option of shutting Jenny out, for example. He'd tried but she wasn't a great respecter of closed doors, especially not when the closed door in question was Nick's. She simply strode into his office as if she owned the bloody place.
Somehow he'd always suspected that about Jenny.
There was no point in her actually breaching his defences but she couldn't seem to pick up on that, remaining either clueless about or indifferent to his irritation. That was another thing he'd always suspected about Jenny. Whatever her reasons, she'd 'just drop by' two or three times a day, eyeing him with her trademark mixture of sympathy and aggression. No matter how many times she 'just dropped by', he couldn't bring himself to care about the arrangements she insisted on 'discussing' with him, especially not when the discussion consisted of her suggestions and his stony-faced silence.
Stephen wouldn't have cared about them either. He'd been thirty-two, for God's sake. No one of that age should have had to think about their funeral, and even if the thought had crossed Stephen's mind, it was a thought that he hadn't shared with Nick. Not that that was a surprise, given how things had fallen apart between them.
So, after painful silences that she'd ploughed through or sat out, stiff backed with her brown eyes dark with something close to anger, he usually simply settled on a basic acknowledgement of her existence rather than agreeing or disagreeing with her. He had nothing more for her than that, not at the moment. Not when he was stretched thin, almost to breaking point.
Jenny, for all her faults and all her virtues, looked too much like Claudia to be anything but another regret to add to the pile.
And still she kept coming back.
"Look," he said, finally breaking his self-imposed silence on the issue and cutting through yet another session of her trying to get him to see reason. "Stephen wasn't, as far as I know, religious. He's got - he had - no family. And he honestly wouldn't care. Really. So whatever you think, I'm sure that would be fine."
Jenny huffed, her expression caught between irritation and sympathy, and Nick had to grit his teeth to stop himself from snapping at her, making this whole situation even worse than it already was.
"Nick -"
"I can't be doing with this at the moment." He rose to his feet with a surge that threatened to send the papers balanced precariously on the edge of his desk flying. He'd never managed to get the hang of paperwork, but then he'd had Stephen -
"Nick -"
""No. Really. Just... no. Okay?"
"Okay." She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and still watching him like he was fragile. It made him feel fragile and that, more than anything, got him moving, brushing past her as he headed for the door.
"It'll be fine, Claudia. Just..."
His fingers were wrapped around handle of the door - which Jenny, for once, had had the sense to shut behind her before she started pestering him - before it hit him what he'd said. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him and then Jenny, damn her, said, in a voice too steady, too kind for Jenny, "Of course. Just leave it to me. I won't... I'll see to it. And I won't bother you anymore."
Nick fled.
Down in the basement there was the option of coffee without company, courtesy of a small kitchenette area off one of the lesser-used labs. He made for there, hoping to have the place to himself, but it seemed that fate had never been less kind to him than it had these past few days.
Connor was already there, staring down into a cup of something, his expression morose and his body - for once - still.
It was weird to see Connor like that - still. It didn't suit him.
Connor didn't seem to see him at first, and if Nick had been sure that it would stay that way, that Connor wouldn't see him if he backed away slowly, he'd have kept on running because he was a fucking coward. But when Nick shifted position - to move forward or move back, he wasn't quite sure which - his foot scraped on the lino and Connor's head snapped up, his body tensing at the sound, almost fearfully. When he saw that it was Nick, he stared at him for long, quiet moments, but the tension didn't ease from his body
It would have been easier to bear, somehow, if it had. Maybe Connor still considered him a threat. He certainly hadn't been a friend to the lad recently.
Connor cleared his throat. "You okay?"
He let out a snort, wiping his hand over his face tiredly. "People keep asking me that."
Connor shrugged, staring back down into his coffee, or whatever it was he was drinking. Nick didn't think it was important, not when the tension finally - finally - ebbed away from Connor's frame. "Maybe they're just worried about you, Cutter. Maybe they just care whether you're okay or not."
"Jenny said something like that."
"You should listen to her." Connor's voice was listless, not even growing animated when he added, "You haven't seen what the woman can do to a Scutosaurus with a high heeled shoe."
As attempts of humour went, this one fell flat and not even Connor seemed to have the energy to try again.
"I'm fine," Nick said, more to break the awkward silence than anything. It rang hollow even to him but he was still surprised when Connor's snort of disbelief called him on it.
For once Connor didn't pursue it, not pushing at all. Not even looking at him and Nick wondered, not for the first time, if breaking for the exit would be too cowardly, even for him. This wasn't like Connor, not Connor who tried so hard, who was everyone's friend. Connor wasn't quiet and still and maybe even a little bitter.
And he didn't know how to deal with this Connor at the best of times.
But he was surprised to find that he wasn't that much of a coward. He might not care as much about this Connor as this Connor cared, had cared about... he still hadn't figured out a way to think of the way things had changed that made sense, that didn't leave him panicked and furious.
He still cared. Had always cared about his Connor, even if this Connor apparently cared more.
"And you?" The question came out hoarse and he cleared his throat, tried again. "How are you and Abby holding up?"
Connor shrugged. "Abby's... it's hard for her, you know?" He looked over at Nick, his face unreadable. "Or maybe you don't know." There was something buried in that comment that Nick didn't get, something that sounded like bitterness, or grief, or both, and it bothered Nick in a way he didn't want to think about too closely. Connor continued, oblivious, "It's just... it's hard for both of us, I suppose, with Stephen... It just... it hurts."
He trailed off, still not looking at Nick, still closed off and subdued and not Connor. Maybe it was the grief or his seesawing emotions, or maybe he and Helen had more in common than he'd thought, something that kept their marriage going for as long as it had - an unexpected streak of cruelty, the ability to lash out when hurt to hurt someone else worse.
"And what would you know about that?"
That got a reaction, Connor looking up, blinking at him, his face slack and shocked. Nick's hands were shaking and he was so... he was so...
It wasn't even Connor's fault. None of this was Connor's fault, all of it was Nick's but Connor just took it, had always taken it. And now Connor had the audacity to tell Nick that it hurt, that it hurt to lose someone who'd been as much a part of your life as Stephen had been of his, or as Claudia had held the promise of being. Connor, who had flitted from Nick to this girl Caroline and now, it seemed, to Abby going by the way they'd clung to each other these past few days, without ever seeming to do more than a little moping for things lost.
"You're... what? Twenty-two, twenty-three?" It wasn't fair. Nick knew it wasn't fair - any of it. He wasn't being fair and life sure as hell wasn't. And he didn't mean the words to come out so bitter, so full of rage especially when Connor wasn't even the focus, just a convenient outlet. But he couldn't seem to stop, even though Connor was shaking now, the cup jittering in his hand and his eyes wide, almost scared.
He took a deep breath, feeling his fingernails cutting into his palms, so tightly were his fingers curled. It helped, the little pain distracting from the bigger one, and he moderated his tone enough to add, less angrily this time. "You... you can't understand, Connor. I'm sorry, and I know you miss Stephen too, but you can't understand how I feel right now, you really can't, and I hope to God you never do."
The silence stretched out between them for long heartbeats and then it snapped, suddenly, hitting Nick straight between the eyes.
"You're right. What would I know about it?" The words were spat out furiously, Connor's voice climbing, stopping just short of shouting. "What would I know? I mean, it's not like I've ever had my best friend die in my arms, or anything, because of me, because of what we do here, right? Or had you conveniently forgotten my mate Tom?" He was panting, his face distressed, contorted with anger and grief as the words rushed out of him. "And wasn't like I woke up one morning and all of a sudden someone I lo-, someone I cared about, someone I thought cared about me, disappeared to be replaced by someone who is a fucking stranger and doesn't feel anything. I mean, that never happened, right? Right?
"Damn it, Cutter!"
His cup hit the wall with a crash, shattering on impact, shards flying in all directions. Nick could only stare, shocked, at the place it had struck, a pool of brown liquid seeping over the counter and beginning to drip off the edge.
It was instinct to turn and move towards Connor and apologise, instinct to try and offer some comfort the way he had when Tom had died, several lifetimes and a whole world away, but Connor's outstretched hand, palm facing him and fingers shaking, stopped him.
"Don't." Connor's voice was shaking, close to shattering as well. "Just... don't, Cutter. Don't."
The sound of rapid footsteps in the corridor echoed towards them, and it was easier to move in their direction instead, putting some distance between himself and Connor by putting himself between Connor and the entrance to the alcove. If he'd been a weaker man, he'd have convinced himself that it was to shield Connor from prying eyes while the man fell apart, but Nick wasn't that weak. Not weak enough to lie to himself. Just weak enough to protect himself at Connor's expense.
The face that appeared around the corner was Abby's, scared and determined both at once and his heart went out to her, the fierceness in her when she realised that it was Connor she'd heard. Even if that fierceness was at least partly aimed at him. She skirted around him, giving him a look that had him taking a step backwards, clearing out of her way as she edged towards Connor.
"Conn?"
Connor's hand came up again, warding off Abby and her concern, and she slowed, giving him the space he needed, treating him as cautiously as she did any skittish animal. Unlike Nick, she wasn't stupid enough to try and touch him. Not yet.
"Conn?" she repeated, keeping her voice low and steady. "Is everything okay?"
He laughed, the sound harsh and fractured, and she flinched. The sorrow flickered momentarily on her face, but she stuck to her reassuring, non-threatening stance, the thing that made her so damned good with animals.
Nick took another step away from them, his back hitting the counter with a thump. The wetness started to seep into his shirt but he didn't flinch, frozen into place by Connor's words, Connor's pain.
"I can't," Connor said brokenly, and she nodded as though she understood, reaching out to him slowly, her fingers touching his trembling ones, which just started to shake harder. "I can't... I need..."
"Okay." And she moved back away from him, letting him past. Their eyes met for a moment and Nick couldn't tell what passed between them, just that something did. Then Connor was gone. This time it was his frantic footsteps echoing back to Nick, and growing fainter by the second.
That left Nick alone with Abby, who stood, tense and silent, for long moments staring in the direction in which Connor had fled.
"Are you okay?"
Abby asked the question without looking at him but there was genuine concern in her voice. It was only when he didn't answer immediately that she turned to look at him, her face drawn.
He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm..."
The words caught in his throat, surprising him, and he had to take several more, unsteady breaths to catch hold of his control again, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn't see the wetness in his eyes.
She waited for long moments until he was feeling steadier, saying nothing until he finally looked at her, blinking away the moisture.
"I'm fine," he managed to get out and her smile was both bitter and sweet.
"No," she corrected, the same gentleness in her voice talking to him as there had been when she'd been talking to Connor. "No, you're not. None of us are fine, Cutter. But, you know, that's kind of okay anyway."
Her smile deepened fractionally, still staying just on the bitter side of sweet, matching the sadness in her eyes, and she was too young to look that old. He managed to dredge a smile up for her from somewhere, and it probably mirrored hers for the bitterness, and the sweet that went with it. She was good people - she and Connor both.
"I hurt Connor," he said, and it struck him, hard, how wrong it was - how wrong he'd been, that it had taken so long for such a simple realisation to sink into his thick head, for him to know it in his heart instead of just viewing it as another intellectual conundrum.
"Yes," she agreed, nodding slightly. "You did." She watched him for a long moment and then said, "I'm glad you realise it. I was beginning to think you'd never manage to get your head out of your backside."
It felt good - so damned good - to laugh, even one that was as short and sour as the one he let out now.
"I'm surprised you didn't just beat it into my thick skull."
This time her smile was deep enough to dimple her cheek. "I thought about it." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her smile fading away again, and then she added, softly, "He's gotten over it. He has." Like that was what Nick was worried about. "It's just... it's hard for him at the moment. Especially finding out about Caroline..." She trailed off, shrugging a little helplessly. She looked tired again, her eyeliner smudged around the edges so that he wondered whether she'd been crying somewhere where no one could see her.
"What about you?" he asked, cursing himself for not asking sooner when she looked surprised at the question. "How are you holding up?"
She gave another one of those lost little shrugs, and a faint smile that had nothing to do with amusement. "I'm okay," she said. "Surviving. It's you we've been worried about."
There was no mistaking the surge of bitterness that welled up in him at that but it wasn't aimed at Abby. It wasn't aimed at anyone but himself, and maybe a little at fate and her cruel vagaries.
"I'm... going to be okay."
"I know." There it was again, that gentleness; he'd never needed to be on the receiving end of it before now. "It's just..."
"Hard," he completed and she gave him another smile, this one tinged around the edges with sadness.
"Yeah," she agreed, and then she seemed to give herself a mental shake, looking around the kitchen. "We'd better clear up this mess. Don't want the domestic staff complaining again." When Nick didn't say anything, she clarified, with a slightly sheepish look, "There might have been a late night incident with the microwave and marshmallows. It wasn't my fault. I told Connor to put them into the hot chocolate after he'd heated it up, and Stephen agreed -"
She broke off suddenly, biting at her lip, and this time he could have sworn that there were tears welling up in her eyes as she looked away hurriedly, her fingers clenching into fists. But when she looked back, her eye makeup was no more smudged than it had been, and her mouth was set and steady, and she moved briskly towards the counter.
"No," he said, for once reaching out to her, his fingers gently wrapping around her wrist and stopping her as she reached for the cloth in the sink. "I'll clean up this mess."
"Yes," she said, stepping back to give him room giving him a long and steady look at the same time. "I know you will."
Life, Interrupted - Part 2 of 2