Fic: Hold My Silence (Chapter 13)
Title: Hold My Silence
Author: casy_dee
Rating: T
Characters/Pairing: Connor/Abby
Spoiler: Series 3
Warning: Angst , mentions of abuse
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: Abby has secrets in her past, but is it right to keep them there? Can Connor accept it? Set in the Cretaceous...
Part: 13/?
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5 , Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8 , Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11 , Ch 11.5 (M), Ch 12
Chapter Thirteen
Abby sang to Connor until he drifted off to sleep again. She watched him, stroking his hair and drifting off herself, in the beginning. When he began shivering again, she awoke, and the rest of the night she was afraid to drop off again. He slept, but his slumber was fitful and more than a little bit frightening for Abby. Connor's breathing was horribly shallow, and after the shivering came the whimpering, and then the cold sweats that led to still more shivering. Connor might whinge a little about minor injuries to try to get a little sympathy, but he was fairly stoic about any legitimate ones. He must be hurting worse than he'd let on.
He'd go from sweating to freezing and from coherent to raving. When he'd had a clear-eyed lucid moment, he'd smiled weakly and told her she needed to get some sleep. He claimed that he was fine, and joked that he'd had food poisoning from eating her cooking that affected him worse than this did . Abby had forced a laugh, but she was finding it hard to hold together her façade. She was frightened, and she had no one to blame but herself.
When the delirium took him once more, he'd clutched at her as if she was his lifeline. Her heart broke as more little bits and pieces of his life spilled from him, ugly cold memories she'd not blame him for wanting to keep to himself. He'd called out for his father… he'd even called out for Cutter. He'd said her name again and again, and the pain behind it scared her. She reassured him that she was with him, and she'd never leave. She meant it.
One time in the night, he'd woken from his fitful dreams and begun to try to crawl outside on his own. She had to help him, because he was going, with her or without her. They'd barely managed three steps outside the cave when he'd dropped to his hands and knees. He'd heaved but he had nothing left in his stomach to give, not even bile. He tried to push her away but she wouldn't leave him… couldn't. She stroked his hair and again wished she had something she could do to help him. She hoped he wouldn't be at this all night.
When he'd stopped trying to vomit up his boots, he fell to his side and curled up on himself. Connor went very still and quiet and that frightened her worst of all. He'd withdrawn inside himself to deal with the pain, and she couldn't follow. She wrapped her arms around him, she was still sat outside, but the fire they kept burning outside the entrance of the cave gave off some light and warmth. She'd stay with him until he could move again.
Mindful of his earlier request, she sang to him softly as she stroked his brow. His forehead smoothed and the lines of tension lessened. He cracked open his eyes to look up at her what seemed like hours later, but time was tricky here, impossible to judge. He sat with her assistance; it seemed the worst had passed. She got him to eat some dried fish and drink water, and though he looked wrung through, his mind was clear and present. She sighed in relief, the weight lifting from her. It would be okay. He would be okay.
"It must have been hard," Abby offered awkwardly.
She wanted to ask about the things he'd said while he'd been delirious, but she didn't quite know how to start. At his perplexed look, she figured that she hadn't managed it very smoothly.
Flustered, she continued "With your mum. You said some things…"
"Don't remember exactly…" he shook his head, "Just bad dreams. It was dark and-" he shuddered.
"You said your mum had locked you in the closet," Abby related softly.
He gave a short laugh, "Oh, probably. I was a right pain in the arse when I was a kid. I was always in trouble, you know?"
Her eyes narrowed, "You sounded terrified. How bad could you have possibly been? What could you have done that made her lock you into a closet knowing that it scared you like that?"
Connor gave a false skittish laugh and shrugged, "I was always runnin' my mouth, she said. It wasn't that bad, really."
Abby shook her head. He didn't get it, she could tell.
"Did you have claustrophobia then, or did that come after?" she asked carefully.
His eyes clouded for a moment, a flash of pain crossing his features and then quickly buried.
"After," he answered softly.
"Did she do that when your dad was still alive?" she asked.
"No," he answered quickly. "Yes. But not when Dad was home," he corrected after a few moments.
"Why?" she asked, but she'd bet she already knew the answer, even if he didn't.
"Dad did the punishing when he was home, and he never needed to use the closet. I remember he could make me feel like the smallest thing just by saying he was disappointed in me," he related with a smile, and it was genuine, albeit watery.
Abby made a noise of acknowledgement. Like Cutter had. She got it.
"I'm sorry you went through that sort of abuse," she said, unsure if it was the right thing to say but needing to say something.
"No," he laughed shortly, "No, it was not abuse," he denied.
"Connor…" Abby began, but then hesitated.
"What you went through? That was abuse. What I went through was just discipline, alright? I wasn't hurt by anything she did. Not ever. She never laid a hand on me," he argued.
But he was. He was hurt by it and he was hurting still. And he still thought he'd earned such treatment… and no one, no one deserved that. Abby carried her own scars, but one thing she had come to terms with from surviving years of abuse was that she did not deserve it. She knew she'd done nothing to bring it upon herself, and that the fault of it fell squarely on those that had done it, those that had allowed it to happen, and those that saw the evidence of abuse and yet did nothing to stop it.
"It was abuse, Connor. Just because the wounds are all on the inside doesn't mean they're not there," Abby countered.
"No," he insisted, "She loves me. She just… she had a hard time of it after Dad died, alright? It was not abuse."
Abby nodded, willing to drop it for now. He was ill, she'd not push further tonight.
Connor blamed himself. He believed that what had been done to him with words, inattention, and preying on his fears had been warranted. He not only thought he deserved it, but he believed that it was perfectly normal behavior. At most, he'd thought his mother was 'protective.' He'd thought that her not letting him hang out with mates was just part of that protectiveness, and that the caustic words she used on him were born from a desire to keep him safe no matter the cost.
Connor, for all his brains and all the evidence he'd seen to the contrary, still generally believed the best of people. The idea that someone could have an ulterior motive for their actions was beyond his comprehension… the idea simply just didn't occur to him unless you beat him about the head with it. It should have been no revelation to see he applied that same naive innocence to how he was raised.
She loved that about him. She loved that he had such a good heart. She loved that he believed the best of people and had not a duplicitous bone in his body. She loved it, but his open heart had likely taken countless beatings because of it. Abby felt something fierce and protective rising up within her. She would defend that tender heart of his even more passionately than she had ever defended her own. If anyone was to try to hurt him again, they'd have to go through her first.
The next morning, Connor tried to act as if he was recovering without difficulty from his near miss with the poison fruit, but the fact that he still couldn't stand on his own for more than a few minutes gave him away. Still, he was insisting that he accompany Abby down to the waterfall to check the traps and to gather enough water for the day, and Abby's patience was stretching thin. There was only so many ways to say no.
She'd spent last night giving what comfort and care she could to him, and then the better part of this day trying to keep him from driving himself too hard. Connor hated being confined. He'd wanted to fish, but she'd vetoed that. He'd wanted to rinse out his clothes, but she didn't think he was steady enough to leave the cave. He'd huffed at that, but agreed… that is, until she'd said she was leaving the cave without him.
"Connor, no. I'll be fine," she said for what felt like the millionth time.
"Abby, I'm alright. It's too dangerous to go down there all alone. I'm coming with you," he argued, "I'll just sit and watch, yeah? I'll not try to do anything, I promise."
She huffed in frustration, "What for? What use are you going to be if something happens? You'll just slow me down if I have to run."
He nodded, dropping his head in defeat.
She sighed; she hadn't meant it to come out so harshly, but it was the truth.
"You are still too weak to be moving about, and unless you want to feel ill even longer, you need to rest," she added, trying to temper her previous words by showing the concern she felt for him.
He nodded again, "You're right. I'd likely just get you killed."
"Look… I'll hurry. Besides, you know exactly where I'll be," she continued.
"Yeah. I had a new idea for fixing the anomaly device anyway," he smiled weakly and waved her off.
She didn't like the idea of leaving him alone either, but she had little choice.
She'd returned from her trip down to the base of the waterfall loaded with a fresh kill that she'd already skinned and cleaned, more water, and she'd even collected some more ferns to pad their grass bedding with. Connor had been tinkering with the anomaly opening device when she left, and by the look of sick disappointment on his face, she gathered that he hadn't made any progress.
"No luck then?" Abby asked.
Connor shook his head, sharp and jerky, "No." The muscle in his jaw was ticking, frustration coming off of him in almost palatable waves.
She smiled conciliatorily, "You'll get it."
He gave a sarcastic snort, "No. I don't think so. I'm fucking useless."
"Don't do that!" Abby shouted, shoving Connor backwards, her fury immediate and explosive.
He fell back on his arse, easily unbalanced by her unexpected attack. He stared up at her in shock. He made no attempt to hide the hurt and puzzlement in his face, but he didn't riposte. Connor's mouth opened and closed as he tried to work out what he was trying to say. Abby certainly was no help to him for that. It infuriated her, frustrated her and drove her to pick at things that she had no business picking at, but she'd had enough of his self-loathing.
"I mean it! Stop it," she fumed.
"Stop what, Abby?" he asked, bewildered.
"That! Stop picking yourself apart! And stop taking it from me, for that matter," she seethed.
He stood up shakily, facing her down. Storms were brewing behind his dark gaze. His jaw clenched, his lips a thin tight line, his nostrils flaring… he was angry. No. he was furious. Good. About time. She met his eyes squarely; she wasn't about to back down either. She was in the right. She lifted an eyebrow in challenge, inviting the argument.
"I broke it. I just destroyed any chance we had of getting ourselves home," he grated, "Forgive me if I am just a little bit down on meself now, alright?" he added, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Abby swallowed hard, a wave of cold passing through her body and taking all her righteous indignation with it. Oh, hell. Yeah. She could see why.
"Okay. It's okay. We never really thought it could work again anyway right?" she replied, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to stay calm.
"I did," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I thought… I really thought I could fix it," he answered, the anger bled from him, leaving only shame and misery.
His hands fluttered helplessly as if he didn't know what to do with them before he crossed his arms across his body and tucked his hands in underneath. His mouth firmed again; he looked away from her and fixed his gaze on the ground.
Abby moved in and took his hands in hers; capturing them from under his arms "It's alright."
He met her gaze for a moment and nodded, "Yeah," he said, but his face told her the truth.
It wasn't alright. Not by far. Connor was holding on by a gossamer thread, and she could see it stretch and thin before her eyes. The device had been his symbol of hope, she realized. Connor could fix anything, if he put his mind to it. He worked on the device or studied it a little every day. He'd truly believed that it was just a matter of time until he was able to figure out how to charge the power supply. Ever the optimist, but he wasn't so optimistic now.
She didn't know what to do to get that hollow, beaten look off of his face, but she knew she had to. She moved in close to him, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist and pressing her face to his chest. After a few long moments, he wrapped his arms around her in return.
"It is okay, will be," she insisted, "You did your best, right?"
"Not good enough," he mumbled, but his arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her neck.
"Connor, if you can't fix it, it's because no one can. We'll get home. Becker and Sarah won't give up on us," she assured him.
He sighed, "I hope you are right."
Abby tipped her head back to look at him, "Come on, Connor. If you want to be my boyfriend, you need to learn something important straightaway…"
He tilted his head to the side and drew his brows together in puzzlement, "What?"
"I'm always right," she smirked.
It startled a laugh out of him and he squeezed Abby a little tighter, "Of course."
TBC
A/N: We got a little more of a peek into Connor… and Abby is finally showing some sense. She's got a protective streak a mile wide for those that she thinks of as 'hers,' and now Connor falls into that category. Small, but fierce, our Abby.
I do hope you liked this! Please tell me what you think? Feed my muse? And thanks for reading. : )
Reviews are love :)
Author: casy_dee
Rating: T
Characters/Pairing: Connor/Abby
Spoiler: Series 3
Warning: Angst , mentions of abuse
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: Abby has secrets in her past, but is it right to keep them there? Can Connor accept it? Set in the Cretaceous...
Part: 13/?
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5 , Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8 , Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11 , Ch 11.5 (M), Ch 12
Chapter Thirteen
Abby sang to Connor until he drifted off to sleep again. She watched him, stroking his hair and drifting off herself, in the beginning. When he began shivering again, she awoke, and the rest of the night she was afraid to drop off again. He slept, but his slumber was fitful and more than a little bit frightening for Abby. Connor's breathing was horribly shallow, and after the shivering came the whimpering, and then the cold sweats that led to still more shivering. Connor might whinge a little about minor injuries to try to get a little sympathy, but he was fairly stoic about any legitimate ones. He must be hurting worse than he'd let on.
He'd go from sweating to freezing and from coherent to raving. When he'd had a clear-eyed lucid moment, he'd smiled weakly and told her she needed to get some sleep. He claimed that he was fine, and joked that he'd had food poisoning from eating her cooking that affected him worse than this did . Abby had forced a laugh, but she was finding it hard to hold together her façade. She was frightened, and she had no one to blame but herself.
When the delirium took him once more, he'd clutched at her as if she was his lifeline. Her heart broke as more little bits and pieces of his life spilled from him, ugly cold memories she'd not blame him for wanting to keep to himself. He'd called out for his father… he'd even called out for Cutter. He'd said her name again and again, and the pain behind it scared her. She reassured him that she was with him, and she'd never leave. She meant it.
One time in the night, he'd woken from his fitful dreams and begun to try to crawl outside on his own. She had to help him, because he was going, with her or without her. They'd barely managed three steps outside the cave when he'd dropped to his hands and knees. He'd heaved but he had nothing left in his stomach to give, not even bile. He tried to push her away but she wouldn't leave him… couldn't. She stroked his hair and again wished she had something she could do to help him. She hoped he wouldn't be at this all night.
When he'd stopped trying to vomit up his boots, he fell to his side and curled up on himself. Connor went very still and quiet and that frightened her worst of all. He'd withdrawn inside himself to deal with the pain, and she couldn't follow. She wrapped her arms around him, she was still sat outside, but the fire they kept burning outside the entrance of the cave gave off some light and warmth. She'd stay with him until he could move again.
Mindful of his earlier request, she sang to him softly as she stroked his brow. His forehead smoothed and the lines of tension lessened. He cracked open his eyes to look up at her what seemed like hours later, but time was tricky here, impossible to judge. He sat with her assistance; it seemed the worst had passed. She got him to eat some dried fish and drink water, and though he looked wrung through, his mind was clear and present. She sighed in relief, the weight lifting from her. It would be okay. He would be okay.
"It must have been hard," Abby offered awkwardly.
She wanted to ask about the things he'd said while he'd been delirious, but she didn't quite know how to start. At his perplexed look, she figured that she hadn't managed it very smoothly.
Flustered, she continued "With your mum. You said some things…"
"Don't remember exactly…" he shook his head, "Just bad dreams. It was dark and-" he shuddered.
"You said your mum had locked you in the closet," Abby related softly.
He gave a short laugh, "Oh, probably. I was a right pain in the arse when I was a kid. I was always in trouble, you know?"
Her eyes narrowed, "You sounded terrified. How bad could you have possibly been? What could you have done that made her lock you into a closet knowing that it scared you like that?"
Connor gave a false skittish laugh and shrugged, "I was always runnin' my mouth, she said. It wasn't that bad, really."
Abby shook her head. He didn't get it, she could tell.
"Did you have claustrophobia then, or did that come after?" she asked carefully.
His eyes clouded for a moment, a flash of pain crossing his features and then quickly buried.
"After," he answered softly.
"Did she do that when your dad was still alive?" she asked.
"No," he answered quickly. "Yes. But not when Dad was home," he corrected after a few moments.
"Why?" she asked, but she'd bet she already knew the answer, even if he didn't.
"Dad did the punishing when he was home, and he never needed to use the closet. I remember he could make me feel like the smallest thing just by saying he was disappointed in me," he related with a smile, and it was genuine, albeit watery.
Abby made a noise of acknowledgement. Like Cutter had. She got it.
"I'm sorry you went through that sort of abuse," she said, unsure if it was the right thing to say but needing to say something.
"No," he laughed shortly, "No, it was not abuse," he denied.
"Connor…" Abby began, but then hesitated.
"What you went through? That was abuse. What I went through was just discipline, alright? I wasn't hurt by anything she did. Not ever. She never laid a hand on me," he argued.
But he was. He was hurt by it and he was hurting still. And he still thought he'd earned such treatment… and no one, no one deserved that. Abby carried her own scars, but one thing she had come to terms with from surviving years of abuse was that she did not deserve it. She knew she'd done nothing to bring it upon herself, and that the fault of it fell squarely on those that had done it, those that had allowed it to happen, and those that saw the evidence of abuse and yet did nothing to stop it.
"It was abuse, Connor. Just because the wounds are all on the inside doesn't mean they're not there," Abby countered.
"No," he insisted, "She loves me. She just… she had a hard time of it after Dad died, alright? It was not abuse."
Abby nodded, willing to drop it for now. He was ill, she'd not push further tonight.
Connor blamed himself. He believed that what had been done to him with words, inattention, and preying on his fears had been warranted. He not only thought he deserved it, but he believed that it was perfectly normal behavior. At most, he'd thought his mother was 'protective.' He'd thought that her not letting him hang out with mates was just part of that protectiveness, and that the caustic words she used on him were born from a desire to keep him safe no matter the cost.
Connor, for all his brains and all the evidence he'd seen to the contrary, still generally believed the best of people. The idea that someone could have an ulterior motive for their actions was beyond his comprehension… the idea simply just didn't occur to him unless you beat him about the head with it. It should have been no revelation to see he applied that same naive innocence to how he was raised.
She loved that about him. She loved that he had such a good heart. She loved that he believed the best of people and had not a duplicitous bone in his body. She loved it, but his open heart had likely taken countless beatings because of it. Abby felt something fierce and protective rising up within her. She would defend that tender heart of his even more passionately than she had ever defended her own. If anyone was to try to hurt him again, they'd have to go through her first.
The next morning, Connor tried to act as if he was recovering without difficulty from his near miss with the poison fruit, but the fact that he still couldn't stand on his own for more than a few minutes gave him away. Still, he was insisting that he accompany Abby down to the waterfall to check the traps and to gather enough water for the day, and Abby's patience was stretching thin. There was only so many ways to say no.
She'd spent last night giving what comfort and care she could to him, and then the better part of this day trying to keep him from driving himself too hard. Connor hated being confined. He'd wanted to fish, but she'd vetoed that. He'd wanted to rinse out his clothes, but she didn't think he was steady enough to leave the cave. He'd huffed at that, but agreed… that is, until she'd said she was leaving the cave without him.
"Connor, no. I'll be fine," she said for what felt like the millionth time.
"Abby, I'm alright. It's too dangerous to go down there all alone. I'm coming with you," he argued, "I'll just sit and watch, yeah? I'll not try to do anything, I promise."
She huffed in frustration, "What for? What use are you going to be if something happens? You'll just slow me down if I have to run."
He nodded, dropping his head in defeat.
She sighed; she hadn't meant it to come out so harshly, but it was the truth.
"You are still too weak to be moving about, and unless you want to feel ill even longer, you need to rest," she added, trying to temper her previous words by showing the concern she felt for him.
He nodded again, "You're right. I'd likely just get you killed."
"Look… I'll hurry. Besides, you know exactly where I'll be," she continued.
"Yeah. I had a new idea for fixing the anomaly device anyway," he smiled weakly and waved her off.
She didn't like the idea of leaving him alone either, but she had little choice.
She'd returned from her trip down to the base of the waterfall loaded with a fresh kill that she'd already skinned and cleaned, more water, and she'd even collected some more ferns to pad their grass bedding with. Connor had been tinkering with the anomaly opening device when she left, and by the look of sick disappointment on his face, she gathered that he hadn't made any progress.
"No luck then?" Abby asked.
Connor shook his head, sharp and jerky, "No." The muscle in his jaw was ticking, frustration coming off of him in almost palatable waves.
She smiled conciliatorily, "You'll get it."
He gave a sarcastic snort, "No. I don't think so. I'm fucking useless."
"Don't do that!" Abby shouted, shoving Connor backwards, her fury immediate and explosive.
He fell back on his arse, easily unbalanced by her unexpected attack. He stared up at her in shock. He made no attempt to hide the hurt and puzzlement in his face, but he didn't riposte. Connor's mouth opened and closed as he tried to work out what he was trying to say. Abby certainly was no help to him for that. It infuriated her, frustrated her and drove her to pick at things that she had no business picking at, but she'd had enough of his self-loathing.
"I mean it! Stop it," she fumed.
"Stop what, Abby?" he asked, bewildered.
"That! Stop picking yourself apart! And stop taking it from me, for that matter," she seethed.
He stood up shakily, facing her down. Storms were brewing behind his dark gaze. His jaw clenched, his lips a thin tight line, his nostrils flaring… he was angry. No. he was furious. Good. About time. She met his eyes squarely; she wasn't about to back down either. She was in the right. She lifted an eyebrow in challenge, inviting the argument.
"I broke it. I just destroyed any chance we had of getting ourselves home," he grated, "Forgive me if I am just a little bit down on meself now, alright?" he added, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Abby swallowed hard, a wave of cold passing through her body and taking all her righteous indignation with it. Oh, hell. Yeah. She could see why.
"Okay. It's okay. We never really thought it could work again anyway right?" she replied, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to stay calm.
"I did," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I thought… I really thought I could fix it," he answered, the anger bled from him, leaving only shame and misery.
His hands fluttered helplessly as if he didn't know what to do with them before he crossed his arms across his body and tucked his hands in underneath. His mouth firmed again; he looked away from her and fixed his gaze on the ground.
Abby moved in and took his hands in hers; capturing them from under his arms "It's alright."
He met her gaze for a moment and nodded, "Yeah," he said, but his face told her the truth.
It wasn't alright. Not by far. Connor was holding on by a gossamer thread, and she could see it stretch and thin before her eyes. The device had been his symbol of hope, she realized. Connor could fix anything, if he put his mind to it. He worked on the device or studied it a little every day. He'd truly believed that it was just a matter of time until he was able to figure out how to charge the power supply. Ever the optimist, but he wasn't so optimistic now.
She didn't know what to do to get that hollow, beaten look off of his face, but she knew she had to. She moved in close to him, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist and pressing her face to his chest. After a few long moments, he wrapped his arms around her in return.
"It is okay, will be," she insisted, "You did your best, right?"
"Not good enough," he mumbled, but his arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her neck.
"Connor, if you can't fix it, it's because no one can. We'll get home. Becker and Sarah won't give up on us," she assured him.
He sighed, "I hope you are right."
Abby tipped her head back to look at him, "Come on, Connor. If you want to be my boyfriend, you need to learn something important straightaway…"
He tilted his head to the side and drew his brows together in puzzlement, "What?"
"I'm always right," she smirked.
It startled a laugh out of him and he squeezed Abby a little tighter, "Of course."
TBC
A/N: We got a little more of a peek into Connor… and Abby is finally showing some sense. She's got a protective streak a mile wide for those that she thinks of as 'hers,' and now Connor falls into that category. Small, but fierce, our Abby.
I do hope you liked this! Please tell me what you think? Feed my muse? And thanks for reading. : )
Reviews are love :)