Fic: Grant Me Asylum (chapter 3)
Title: Grant Me Asylum Author: casy_dee
Rating: T (for now)
Characters/Pairing: Connor/Abby
Spoiler: minor s4
Warning: none, yet
Genre: action/adventure/romance
Chapter: 3/3
Summary: This is written as a Birthday fic for my good friend evenstar_estel. Connor finds himself in dire straits when he realizes his trust might have been misplaced. Can he survive what he's done to himself this time?
Chapter 1 is Here
Chapter 2 is Here
A/N: I know, I know! This has taken me ages to finish. Sorry, work says to go to away to school for six weeks, I go to school. Almost done, though. Headed home tomorrow and then I'll be back to ficcing like a madwoman. Thanks for reading! (And apologies to iEvenstar_Estel for making her wait so long for the end of her birthday fic.)
Chapter 3
Connor stared down at the Scrabble board, confusion twisting his features. His opponent had spelled out Abbey.
"She doesn't spell it that way," he objected, the words escaping before he could stop them.
The mousy boy across from him stuttered an apology, "S-s-sorry, Gordon, but I mean an abbey, not a g-g-girl."
Connor shook his head, "Yeah, mate. Wasn't thinking, was I?"
He stared down at the word on the board, unable to shake the feeling that he knew an Abby, and she was important. She'd not want her name spelled wrong.
"Gordon, it's y-y-your go."
Connor shook his head, "Later, yeah?" he said as he pushed himself out of his chair.
He stuck his hands inside his hoodie pockets and wandered back to his room. They'd not let him sleep, but he could sit in his room and have some time to himself. Time to think. Time to sort out who Abby was, and why he was so upset that he didn't remember her. His fingers ghosted over the lining inside the pocket, tracing the nubby edge of the seam. His brow furrowed as he realized that it was only one pocket that had the strange nubby texture. Was something sewn inside his pocket?
Connor settled on his bed and took a deep breath to counter the growing feeling of unease. He stripped off his hoodie, his hands shaking as he turned the pocket inside out. Right inside the seam was a line of embroidery in almost the same color of the shirt. He held it closer to his eyes so that he could make out the tiny awkwardly stitched letters. It said, "Will find you," and then a tiny heart and the letter A.
Connor's heart pounded so hard he thought it might come out of his chest. A. Abby. His Abby. Images of soft skin and soft white-blonde hair, the taste of her mouth… his dreams. He remembered. The tremors that had started at his hands now consumed his whole body. He'd been tricked into believing he was someone he wasn't. He'd been tricked into believing Philip was his uncle, and he'd been ready to go home and work with him in his special lab. He had been ready to trade one prison for another. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, overwhelmed at what had been taken from him, how horribly he'd been used.
He felt the scream of rage bubbling up in his throat, but he couldn't stop it in time. The orderlies would come running in seconds. He had to convince them that he was okay, and everything was the same. Had to.
Abby was frantic to get to Connor. Matt had an address, but he insisted that they put together a plan before simply rushing off to rescue him. In her mind it made sense, but her heart screamed for action. She just knew that the longer that she waited to go to him, the more likely that something horrible would have happened, or he'd be moved or… or what if Burton decided to kill him off to keep him quiet?
Abby paced the length of Matt's flat, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. It would be just her, Matt, Becker and a couple of his most trusted soldiers. Jess would run logistics and communications, and Lester was meant to stay at the ARC to take care of Burton. When Abby had asked him if he was certain he could handle it on his own, he'd rolled his eyes and assured her that it would be the highlight of his day.
Burton would never suspect Lester; he was the perfect person to spring the trap. He despised Burton and Burton likely knew it, but the man thought he would never dare actively oppose him. Abby knew James Lester better than that; he had a giant set of brass bullocks. She just hoped that he was careful; Burton was a slippery bastard. Lester was to hold Burton until they were able to free Connor, and then he insisted the man be turned over to the minister. Abby fancied tossing him into the nearest anomaly, or perhaps feeding him to the nearest hungry Theropod, but Lester quoted some rubbish about health and safety. She'd grudgingly agreed, but she warned that they'd better keep him out of her sight.
"Is everything okay in here, Gordon?" the orderly asked.
Connor nodded, "What? Yes! Yep, everything's fine. Perfect. I thought I saw a mouse, and I don't like them, do I? So I shouted. Sorry."
The orderly glanced to the nurse beside him and nodded, "Alright, Gordon. If you're certain you're okay?"
"One-hundred percent," Connor replied with false brightness.
He heaved a sigh of relief when they turned and left and then snatched up his hoodie to look at it again. Yes, the words were still there. It had been so long, though. She said she'd find him. What if she couldn't find him? What if Philip had done something to Abby, as well? He had to find her. He had to get out. He'd always been rubbish at lying, but if he would have to make it work. They'd stopped watching him so closely since he'd become convinced he was Gordon Taylor. He'd have to sort something out before hypnotherapy tomorrow. He feared what he'd reveal under hypnosis.
Abby slid down the wall and rested her head on her knees and tried to hold back her tears. She'd thought she was going to find him. The hospital the call had been traced to did have a mental ward, but Connor wasn't in it. Becker was trying to locate the doctor Burton had spoken with, Dr. Horton, but Abby couldn't find it within her to hope. Jess was telling her that they'd make Philip tell them where Connor was, but it was all just unwelcome noise. She was suddenly terrified that Connor was dead. Burton had killed him, and she'd not even known it. She'd promised him she would come for him, but she'd been too late.
Becker rounded the corner and looked down at Abby, his expression grave, "The doctor works rounds here, but no one knows where he is now. Seems he doesn't belong to any one hospital. He just…" Becker waved his hand frustrated, "works everywhere."
Abby swallowed hard and nodded; she was never one to wallow in self-pity for long, "Fine, then. We'll have to get it out of Burton."
Becker's lips compressed to a thin line, "I can get it out of him."
Abby tried to put confidence in her face and nodded, "Of course you will. Let's go."
Abby stared out the window of the four by four as they rode back to the ARC in silence. Becker contacted Lester on the com unit to tell him about the failure of the mission and to let him know that they were going to need a bit more time with Burton before he was turned over to the minister.
"He what?" Becker snapped, his characteristic calm for once completely absent.
Abby felt the blood drain from her face, "No." He couldn't have escaped… "What's happened?" she demanded.
"Yes, sir. I see. We're on our way. "
"Tell me," Abby hissed.
Becker blinked, something like shock crossing his face. "Philip Burton is dead."
Connor would never be a master criminal, but he had managed to secure a mobile from one of the orderlies. New guy, very young, and still too new to realize he really shouldn't have been chatting up Samantha, their resident sociopath. She was pretty, though, and that's all the young man saw. Given a little more time working in the ward and he'd see that it was never a good idea to be interested in anyone housed there, no matter how pretty or charming. Samantha would smile as she tried to kill him, and never feel a thing. Despite all that, she was a great Scrabble opponent, he mused, and quite willing to help him out of sheer boredom.
Connor ducked into his room, opened the wardrobe and pretended to search for something in the back corner as he dialed Abby's number. As soon as he heard the heavy footfalls coming towards him, he knew they were coming for him. He'd been quick, and he'd done nothing to arouse anyone's suspicions. There should have been no reason for them to know what he was up to, but somehow they'd found out. He hadn't been fast enough, evidently. He begged for Abby to pick up, he had seconds left. He shoved the phone in his pocket, granting him a couple of more moments before they found it and hung up.
"Eastdale, I'm at Eastdale! Find me Abby! Please," he whispered as he waited for them, hoping against hope that it was loud enough for her to make it out if she was listening.
"Oy! What's this? I've done nothing," Connor argued as strong hands closed on his biceps and pulled him out of the wardrobe.
"Search him," came the cool voice of Dr. Horton.
"What the hell? I just came to me room, no need to-" Connor protested.
"Shut up. We have cameras. You'll be moved. No one is coming for you."
His doctor, the specialist that worked for Philip Burton, smiled as he collected the phone and shut it off. Connor's blood ran cold; he was suddenly convinced that this man knew exactly who he was. He had been determined to turn him into someone else, knowing full well that it was a lie. He'd believed the doctors had thought they were doing the right thing and Philip had just duped them, but he'd been wrong. They were doctors; how could they?
"You call yourself a doctor? How could you do this and still look at yourself in the mirror?" Connor spat out, disgusted.
Dr. Horton leaned in closely, his words for Connor alone, "I find this field of study fascinating… and very lucrative."
"Bastard!" Connor shouted as he tried to struggle free again.
"I'm afraid he is going to continue to be uncooperative and violent. Sedate him and put him in the isolation room," he smiled tightly, "The special one."
"My friends will find me!"
The doctor laughed, "They always say that in the beginning."
The hot bite of Thorazine in his veins stopped any further protests. Useless to try to fight it. His vision blurred and the world around him grew vague and indistinct.
Connor blinked blearily as he came to, trying to force his thoughts into linear motion. If this isolation room was any different from the ones he'd been held in before, he wasn't sure how he'd know it. They'd shut off the lights. He was strapped down to the narrow cot by one of those belt contraptions they used to keep patients immobile. They'd not used it on him since the first time, and they'd never kept him in the dark. Connor cursed softly, his words coming out slurred and distorted. Of course they kept him in the dark; he'd given them all they needed to know to torture him. He'd freely admitted how much he disliked pure darkness… too much like a closed in space. He could be in a tiny box for all he knew, and that's what he hated. Thick velvet darkness, choking him, clogging his nose and mouth. Connor closed his eyes tightly and tried to pretend the light was on and he was just sleeping. His mouth tasted like cotton batting that had been dipped in shit, and his head throbbed. He focused on the discomfort and tried to shut out the growing panic attack. If he gave in, he'd be giving them exactly what they wanted. He had to hold on.
She could be dead, he told himself. He wondered if he'd thrown away his one chance at rescue by calling Abby instead of Becker or Lester or Matt. His breath came faster and he couldn't stop it, fear closing in on him. If they had merely wanted to drive him mad, he was well on his way. He hated the Thorazine. It always left him feeling like he was working at about an eighth of his mental capacity, and from the sluggish way this thoughts were moving it seemed they upped the dose this time. His brain was the best thing he had going for him, and without that advantage he felt truly helpless. His muscles began to twitch as his skin crawled… another unfortunate after-effect. Please… please? Someone find me.
He'd never felt after-effects this strongly before. If he didn't know that Philip believed he was much more useful to him alive, he might have thought that'd they'd given him an overdose. No… that's just the panic attack, he told himself resolutely, trying to convince himself he was overreacting.
Becker listened as Lester dryly intoned that apparently their mission hadn't been as secret as they'd thought. Philip Burton had been making his escape when the security team moved to apprehend him, but something had gone wrong. He'd opened an anomaly to the recent past with Connor's prototype device, and when a member of the security team shot him with the EMD, it reacted with the anomaly field and caused it to lock momentarily… with part of Burton inside of it. He'd been cut in half.
The small satisfied smile he'd allowed himself at the news of how Burton had met his demise vanished when he heard the next part. Apparently, prior to making his failed escape, Burton had gloated that Lester had just effectively murdered Connor by detaining him; he'd left orders to kill Connor if he disappeared, and he'd already missed the meeting. Becker glanced over at Abby and made the quick decision not to tell her the last bit. He could find Connor before that happened. He would.
Abby sat in numb silence for the remainder of the journey back to the ARC whilst Becker relayed that Lester would explain what had gone wrong when they made it back to the ARC. She'd wanted him dead, but she'd wanted Connor back safe with her first. Becker promised her that they could find Connor, even without Burton. They had the name of the doctor that Burton paid off to treat him, and without Burton around to pay him any longer, he would probably even cooperate. She managed a stiff nod of acceptance but his words were cold comfort. She'd allowed herself to think that they'd found him, and now she was paying the price for it. Hope was a worthless, useless thing. All it did was set you up for pain and heartache. Why she'd ever forgotten that, she'd never know.
Abby took her mobile out of her pocket and turned it back on. The mission was over; no need to have it shut off any longer. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a message icon on the screen. No one ever called her, save for Connor or the ARC… or even more rarely, her brother. Her brow furrowed as she dialed her voice mail, hoping it wasn't Jack. She was not in the mood to deal with him today. At first she only heard static, and she began to think that perhaps it had been a wrong number, but then she heard the unmistakable sound of Connor's voice even though it was muffled and hushed. The Northern in his voice was thick, a sure sign he was distressed. Abby swallowed hard at the pleading and panic in his voice, but he was alive. Connor was alive! They had to save him!
"Eastdale! Connor left me a message on my mobile. He's alive, and he's at Eastdale."
Connor had long since given up on any thought of managing his own escape and the bare glimmer of hope that someone else would was fading rapidly. He'd gone from feeling bad to worse, and from thinking he might be dying to knowing he was. Sweat drenched his body; he alternated from burning to freezing as the drug attacked his system. No matter how he cried out and begged for help, no one came. He'd lost his voice, he'd lost his dignity, and he knew he was well on his way to losing his mind for good this time. He panted hard as he tried to calm himself, his stomach twisted; he felt so odd. Time slowed. His arms jerked hard against the restraints of their own accord; he tasted blood and saw white.
The doctor on duty had very quickly pointed them in the right direction thanks to the motivation of guns and government identification. There were only two men in the facility that matched Connor's description and one of them was in an isolation room just down the hall. Abby sprinted down the hallway, ignoring Matt's warning to stay behind him. She tore open the door and turned on the light. She'd found him! She had, but something was wrong with him. Connor was in the grip of a violent seizure, his muscles locked rigid against the restraints as he thrashed about.
"Get a doctor!" Abby shouted as she rushed to his side.
She rode with him in the ambulance; he was to be taken to the ARC medical department. The doctors they now kept on staff were often better than the ones the hospitals had. It was safe and confidential and better yet, Abby could stay with him. She kept watch by his bedside for hours, waiting for him to wake.
Connor's brow creased as he registered unfamiliar sounds. Confused, he tried to open his eyes. He groaned as the light set off a thousand tiny hammers in his head.
"I'm sorry. What happened? Where am I?" he rasped, his throat raw and painful. He blinked at the pretty blonde sat next to him holding his hand and tried vainly to piece together what had happened to him. He couldn't remember how he got there. He'd been… somewhere.
"Connor," she gave a tiny smile and then hugged him tightly.
It was warm and familiar. He knew her. He was sure of it. Memories began filtering through his seizure-fogged brain slowly, then more rapidly as the seconds ticked by.
"Abby?" he asked, his voice small.
"Yeah, Connor. I'm here."
"You were gone, Abby. He took you away. I'm sorry."
She squeezed him tighter, "Don't be sorry."
He just shook his head, unable to explain what Philip Burton had done to him. He'd stolen his very identity, his sense of self. Abby had been right about him all along. He should have trusted her. He'd been such a fool.
"I am," he replied as a tear escaped to trail down his cheek.
"Doesn't matter. It's okay," Abby comforted. "Burton's dead, and he'll not have a chance to hurt anyone else again."
"Dead?"
"Very. Cut in half by an anomaly as he tried to escape."
Connor looked sickened for a moment, but then his jaw firmed and his lips compressed into a thin line, "Good." He looked down at the bed sheets so she wouldn't see the guilt and pain behind his eyes, "Can we go home?"
Abby pressed a kiss to his temple, "Yeah."
Abby had been true to her word and had managed to get him released in short order. She'd handed him his necklace and helped him change into a clean shirt and then wheeled him out to the car in a wheelchair. He could walk, but he was still unsteady and the medics insisted. The medics said it would be a few days before he truly felt physically normal again, and he knew it would be much longer still until he was able to get his head straightened out. The doctors had done a number on him, and he was reluctant to accept the offer of counseling with the ARC psychologist because of it. Abby figured it was a battle best waged later on. For now, she'd just get him home.
Connor seemed a little lost as they entered the flat, but he tried to cover it with a joke and a smile. Abby offered to put on the kettle, more to give him a moment alone than for anything else, and Connor gave her another skittish smile and a nod. He looked around the main room, feeling like a stranger in his own home. It didn't help that they'd just moved house before he disappeared. His body ached and his throat still burned, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, but he was terrified he'd close his eyes and he'd wake up as Gordon again. He chewed his bottom lip as he waited on Abby to return from the kitchen, suddenly afraid that she'd disappear too.
"I put some honey in it," Abby said as she came out of the kitchen.
She paused as she took in the haunted look behind Connor's dark chocolate eyes, "Alright?" she asked softly.
He looked up at her, his bottom lip trembled and he shook his head, "No," he admitted.
She placed the tea on the table in front of him and enfolded him in her arms, "S' okay. You're safe."
It undid him, then and there. The tears came freely as he told her what Philip Burton had done.
"Abby, I… I didn't want to forget you. I'm sorry… I was such an idiot."
"Connor, It'll be okay."
He apologized again and again until she kissed him just to get him to stop. The sweet, reassuring kiss grew deeper and more demanding. Abby knew what they both desperately needed. She needed the reassurance of his touch as much as he needed her… to prove that she'd found him and then gotten him out and back safe with her. They made love... slow but intense, and if her cheeks were wet after, then she could just blame it on Connor because his were, as well. She knew it and he knew it, but he'd never call her on it. He loved her as she was, and to her, that was most remarkable of all. She loved him so much, and when they were in each other's arms that night she found the courage to say it back to him. She promised herself she'd say it every day, if it meant she'd never lose him again.
That night she slept with her arms around him and the hall light on. It would take time, but he would recover. Until he did, she'd hold him every night as long as he wished it… and then every night after that. She was never letting him go.
END
A/N: Plan to do a M-rated Missing Reel for the end bit there. Interested?
Sorry it took so long, and I hope ya'll enjoyed it. Please tell me if you did (or didn't?) Reviews make for a happy, prolific muse… just sayin'.
Rating: T (for now)
Characters/Pairing: Connor/Abby
Spoiler: minor s4
Warning: none, yet
Genre: action/adventure/romance
Chapter: 3/3
Summary: This is written as a Birthday fic for my good friend evenstar_estel. Connor finds himself in dire straits when he realizes his trust might have been misplaced. Can he survive what he's done to himself this time?
Chapter 1 is Here
Chapter 2 is Here
A/N: I know, I know! This has taken me ages to finish. Sorry, work says to go to away to school for six weeks, I go to school. Almost done, though. Headed home tomorrow and then I'll be back to ficcing like a madwoman. Thanks for reading! (And apologies to iEvenstar_Estel for making her wait so long for the end of her birthday fic.)
Chapter 3
Connor stared down at the Scrabble board, confusion twisting his features. His opponent had spelled out Abbey.
"She doesn't spell it that way," he objected, the words escaping before he could stop them.
The mousy boy across from him stuttered an apology, "S-s-sorry, Gordon, but I mean an abbey, not a g-g-girl."
Connor shook his head, "Yeah, mate. Wasn't thinking, was I?"
He stared down at the word on the board, unable to shake the feeling that he knew an Abby, and she was important. She'd not want her name spelled wrong.
"Gordon, it's y-y-your go."
Connor shook his head, "Later, yeah?" he said as he pushed himself out of his chair.
He stuck his hands inside his hoodie pockets and wandered back to his room. They'd not let him sleep, but he could sit in his room and have some time to himself. Time to think. Time to sort out who Abby was, and why he was so upset that he didn't remember her. His fingers ghosted over the lining inside the pocket, tracing the nubby edge of the seam. His brow furrowed as he realized that it was only one pocket that had the strange nubby texture. Was something sewn inside his pocket?
Connor settled on his bed and took a deep breath to counter the growing feeling of unease. He stripped off his hoodie, his hands shaking as he turned the pocket inside out. Right inside the seam was a line of embroidery in almost the same color of the shirt. He held it closer to his eyes so that he could make out the tiny awkwardly stitched letters. It said, "Will find you," and then a tiny heart and the letter A.
Connor's heart pounded so hard he thought it might come out of his chest. A. Abby. His Abby. Images of soft skin and soft white-blonde hair, the taste of her mouth… his dreams. He remembered. The tremors that had started at his hands now consumed his whole body. He'd been tricked into believing he was someone he wasn't. He'd been tricked into believing Philip was his uncle, and he'd been ready to go home and work with him in his special lab. He had been ready to trade one prison for another. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, overwhelmed at what had been taken from him, how horribly he'd been used.
He felt the scream of rage bubbling up in his throat, but he couldn't stop it in time. The orderlies would come running in seconds. He had to convince them that he was okay, and everything was the same. Had to.
Abby was frantic to get to Connor. Matt had an address, but he insisted that they put together a plan before simply rushing off to rescue him. In her mind it made sense, but her heart screamed for action. She just knew that the longer that she waited to go to him, the more likely that something horrible would have happened, or he'd be moved or… or what if Burton decided to kill him off to keep him quiet?
Abby paced the length of Matt's flat, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. It would be just her, Matt, Becker and a couple of his most trusted soldiers. Jess would run logistics and communications, and Lester was meant to stay at the ARC to take care of Burton. When Abby had asked him if he was certain he could handle it on his own, he'd rolled his eyes and assured her that it would be the highlight of his day.
Burton would never suspect Lester; he was the perfect person to spring the trap. He despised Burton and Burton likely knew it, but the man thought he would never dare actively oppose him. Abby knew James Lester better than that; he had a giant set of brass bullocks. She just hoped that he was careful; Burton was a slippery bastard. Lester was to hold Burton until they were able to free Connor, and then he insisted the man be turned over to the minister. Abby fancied tossing him into the nearest anomaly, or perhaps feeding him to the nearest hungry Theropod, but Lester quoted some rubbish about health and safety. She'd grudgingly agreed, but she warned that they'd better keep him out of her sight.
"Is everything okay in here, Gordon?" the orderly asked.
Connor nodded, "What? Yes! Yep, everything's fine. Perfect. I thought I saw a mouse, and I don't like them, do I? So I shouted. Sorry."
The orderly glanced to the nurse beside him and nodded, "Alright, Gordon. If you're certain you're okay?"
"One-hundred percent," Connor replied with false brightness.
He heaved a sigh of relief when they turned and left and then snatched up his hoodie to look at it again. Yes, the words were still there. It had been so long, though. She said she'd find him. What if she couldn't find him? What if Philip had done something to Abby, as well? He had to find her. He had to get out. He'd always been rubbish at lying, but if he would have to make it work. They'd stopped watching him so closely since he'd become convinced he was Gordon Taylor. He'd have to sort something out before hypnotherapy tomorrow. He feared what he'd reveal under hypnosis.
Abby slid down the wall and rested her head on her knees and tried to hold back her tears. She'd thought she was going to find him. The hospital the call had been traced to did have a mental ward, but Connor wasn't in it. Becker was trying to locate the doctor Burton had spoken with, Dr. Horton, but Abby couldn't find it within her to hope. Jess was telling her that they'd make Philip tell them where Connor was, but it was all just unwelcome noise. She was suddenly terrified that Connor was dead. Burton had killed him, and she'd not even known it. She'd promised him she would come for him, but she'd been too late.
Becker rounded the corner and looked down at Abby, his expression grave, "The doctor works rounds here, but no one knows where he is now. Seems he doesn't belong to any one hospital. He just…" Becker waved his hand frustrated, "works everywhere."
Abby swallowed hard and nodded; she was never one to wallow in self-pity for long, "Fine, then. We'll have to get it out of Burton."
Becker's lips compressed to a thin line, "I can get it out of him."
Abby tried to put confidence in her face and nodded, "Of course you will. Let's go."
Abby stared out the window of the four by four as they rode back to the ARC in silence. Becker contacted Lester on the com unit to tell him about the failure of the mission and to let him know that they were going to need a bit more time with Burton before he was turned over to the minister.
"He what?" Becker snapped, his characteristic calm for once completely absent.
Abby felt the blood drain from her face, "No." He couldn't have escaped… "What's happened?" she demanded.
"Yes, sir. I see. We're on our way. "
"Tell me," Abby hissed.
Becker blinked, something like shock crossing his face. "Philip Burton is dead."
Connor would never be a master criminal, but he had managed to secure a mobile from one of the orderlies. New guy, very young, and still too new to realize he really shouldn't have been chatting up Samantha, their resident sociopath. She was pretty, though, and that's all the young man saw. Given a little more time working in the ward and he'd see that it was never a good idea to be interested in anyone housed there, no matter how pretty or charming. Samantha would smile as she tried to kill him, and never feel a thing. Despite all that, she was a great Scrabble opponent, he mused, and quite willing to help him out of sheer boredom.
Connor ducked into his room, opened the wardrobe and pretended to search for something in the back corner as he dialed Abby's number. As soon as he heard the heavy footfalls coming towards him, he knew they were coming for him. He'd been quick, and he'd done nothing to arouse anyone's suspicions. There should have been no reason for them to know what he was up to, but somehow they'd found out. He hadn't been fast enough, evidently. He begged for Abby to pick up, he had seconds left. He shoved the phone in his pocket, granting him a couple of more moments before they found it and hung up.
"Eastdale, I'm at Eastdale! Find me Abby! Please," he whispered as he waited for them, hoping against hope that it was loud enough for her to make it out if she was listening.
"Oy! What's this? I've done nothing," Connor argued as strong hands closed on his biceps and pulled him out of the wardrobe.
"Search him," came the cool voice of Dr. Horton.
"What the hell? I just came to me room, no need to-" Connor protested.
"Shut up. We have cameras. You'll be moved. No one is coming for you."
His doctor, the specialist that worked for Philip Burton, smiled as he collected the phone and shut it off. Connor's blood ran cold; he was suddenly convinced that this man knew exactly who he was. He had been determined to turn him into someone else, knowing full well that it was a lie. He'd believed the doctors had thought they were doing the right thing and Philip had just duped them, but he'd been wrong. They were doctors; how could they?
"You call yourself a doctor? How could you do this and still look at yourself in the mirror?" Connor spat out, disgusted.
Dr. Horton leaned in closely, his words for Connor alone, "I find this field of study fascinating… and very lucrative."
"Bastard!" Connor shouted as he tried to struggle free again.
"I'm afraid he is going to continue to be uncooperative and violent. Sedate him and put him in the isolation room," he smiled tightly, "The special one."
"My friends will find me!"
The doctor laughed, "They always say that in the beginning."
The hot bite of Thorazine in his veins stopped any further protests. Useless to try to fight it. His vision blurred and the world around him grew vague and indistinct.
Connor blinked blearily as he came to, trying to force his thoughts into linear motion. If this isolation room was any different from the ones he'd been held in before, he wasn't sure how he'd know it. They'd shut off the lights. He was strapped down to the narrow cot by one of those belt contraptions they used to keep patients immobile. They'd not used it on him since the first time, and they'd never kept him in the dark. Connor cursed softly, his words coming out slurred and distorted. Of course they kept him in the dark; he'd given them all they needed to know to torture him. He'd freely admitted how much he disliked pure darkness… too much like a closed in space. He could be in a tiny box for all he knew, and that's what he hated. Thick velvet darkness, choking him, clogging his nose and mouth. Connor closed his eyes tightly and tried to pretend the light was on and he was just sleeping. His mouth tasted like cotton batting that had been dipped in shit, and his head throbbed. He focused on the discomfort and tried to shut out the growing panic attack. If he gave in, he'd be giving them exactly what they wanted. He had to hold on.
She could be dead, he told himself. He wondered if he'd thrown away his one chance at rescue by calling Abby instead of Becker or Lester or Matt. His breath came faster and he couldn't stop it, fear closing in on him. If they had merely wanted to drive him mad, he was well on his way. He hated the Thorazine. It always left him feeling like he was working at about an eighth of his mental capacity, and from the sluggish way this thoughts were moving it seemed they upped the dose this time. His brain was the best thing he had going for him, and without that advantage he felt truly helpless. His muscles began to twitch as his skin crawled… another unfortunate after-effect. Please… please? Someone find me.
He'd never felt after-effects this strongly before. If he didn't know that Philip believed he was much more useful to him alive, he might have thought that'd they'd given him an overdose. No… that's just the panic attack, he told himself resolutely, trying to convince himself he was overreacting.
Becker listened as Lester dryly intoned that apparently their mission hadn't been as secret as they'd thought. Philip Burton had been making his escape when the security team moved to apprehend him, but something had gone wrong. He'd opened an anomaly to the recent past with Connor's prototype device, and when a member of the security team shot him with the EMD, it reacted with the anomaly field and caused it to lock momentarily… with part of Burton inside of it. He'd been cut in half.
The small satisfied smile he'd allowed himself at the news of how Burton had met his demise vanished when he heard the next part. Apparently, prior to making his failed escape, Burton had gloated that Lester had just effectively murdered Connor by detaining him; he'd left orders to kill Connor if he disappeared, and he'd already missed the meeting. Becker glanced over at Abby and made the quick decision not to tell her the last bit. He could find Connor before that happened. He would.
Abby sat in numb silence for the remainder of the journey back to the ARC whilst Becker relayed that Lester would explain what had gone wrong when they made it back to the ARC. She'd wanted him dead, but she'd wanted Connor back safe with her first. Becker promised her that they could find Connor, even without Burton. They had the name of the doctor that Burton paid off to treat him, and without Burton around to pay him any longer, he would probably even cooperate. She managed a stiff nod of acceptance but his words were cold comfort. She'd allowed herself to think that they'd found him, and now she was paying the price for it. Hope was a worthless, useless thing. All it did was set you up for pain and heartache. Why she'd ever forgotten that, she'd never know.
Abby took her mobile out of her pocket and turned it back on. The mission was over; no need to have it shut off any longer. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a message icon on the screen. No one ever called her, save for Connor or the ARC… or even more rarely, her brother. Her brow furrowed as she dialed her voice mail, hoping it wasn't Jack. She was not in the mood to deal with him today. At first she only heard static, and she began to think that perhaps it had been a wrong number, but then she heard the unmistakable sound of Connor's voice even though it was muffled and hushed. The Northern in his voice was thick, a sure sign he was distressed. Abby swallowed hard at the pleading and panic in his voice, but he was alive. Connor was alive! They had to save him!
"Eastdale! Connor left me a message on my mobile. He's alive, and he's at Eastdale."
Connor had long since given up on any thought of managing his own escape and the bare glimmer of hope that someone else would was fading rapidly. He'd gone from feeling bad to worse, and from thinking he might be dying to knowing he was. Sweat drenched his body; he alternated from burning to freezing as the drug attacked his system. No matter how he cried out and begged for help, no one came. He'd lost his voice, he'd lost his dignity, and he knew he was well on his way to losing his mind for good this time. He panted hard as he tried to calm himself, his stomach twisted; he felt so odd. Time slowed. His arms jerked hard against the restraints of their own accord; he tasted blood and saw white.
The doctor on duty had very quickly pointed them in the right direction thanks to the motivation of guns and government identification. There were only two men in the facility that matched Connor's description and one of them was in an isolation room just down the hall. Abby sprinted down the hallway, ignoring Matt's warning to stay behind him. She tore open the door and turned on the light. She'd found him! She had, but something was wrong with him. Connor was in the grip of a violent seizure, his muscles locked rigid against the restraints as he thrashed about.
"Get a doctor!" Abby shouted as she rushed to his side.
She rode with him in the ambulance; he was to be taken to the ARC medical department. The doctors they now kept on staff were often better than the ones the hospitals had. It was safe and confidential and better yet, Abby could stay with him. She kept watch by his bedside for hours, waiting for him to wake.
Connor's brow creased as he registered unfamiliar sounds. Confused, he tried to open his eyes. He groaned as the light set off a thousand tiny hammers in his head.
"I'm sorry. What happened? Where am I?" he rasped, his throat raw and painful. He blinked at the pretty blonde sat next to him holding his hand and tried vainly to piece together what had happened to him. He couldn't remember how he got there. He'd been… somewhere.
"Connor," she gave a tiny smile and then hugged him tightly.
It was warm and familiar. He knew her. He was sure of it. Memories began filtering through his seizure-fogged brain slowly, then more rapidly as the seconds ticked by.
"Abby?" he asked, his voice small.
"Yeah, Connor. I'm here."
"You were gone, Abby. He took you away. I'm sorry."
She squeezed him tighter, "Don't be sorry."
He just shook his head, unable to explain what Philip Burton had done to him. He'd stolen his very identity, his sense of self. Abby had been right about him all along. He should have trusted her. He'd been such a fool.
"I am," he replied as a tear escaped to trail down his cheek.
"Doesn't matter. It's okay," Abby comforted. "Burton's dead, and he'll not have a chance to hurt anyone else again."
"Dead?"
"Very. Cut in half by an anomaly as he tried to escape."
Connor looked sickened for a moment, but then his jaw firmed and his lips compressed into a thin line, "Good." He looked down at the bed sheets so she wouldn't see the guilt and pain behind his eyes, "Can we go home?"
Abby pressed a kiss to his temple, "Yeah."
Abby had been true to her word and had managed to get him released in short order. She'd handed him his necklace and helped him change into a clean shirt and then wheeled him out to the car in a wheelchair. He could walk, but he was still unsteady and the medics insisted. The medics said it would be a few days before he truly felt physically normal again, and he knew it would be much longer still until he was able to get his head straightened out. The doctors had done a number on him, and he was reluctant to accept the offer of counseling with the ARC psychologist because of it. Abby figured it was a battle best waged later on. For now, she'd just get him home.
Connor seemed a little lost as they entered the flat, but he tried to cover it with a joke and a smile. Abby offered to put on the kettle, more to give him a moment alone than for anything else, and Connor gave her another skittish smile and a nod. He looked around the main room, feeling like a stranger in his own home. It didn't help that they'd just moved house before he disappeared. His body ached and his throat still burned, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, but he was terrified he'd close his eyes and he'd wake up as Gordon again. He chewed his bottom lip as he waited on Abby to return from the kitchen, suddenly afraid that she'd disappear too.
"I put some honey in it," Abby said as she came out of the kitchen.
She paused as she took in the haunted look behind Connor's dark chocolate eyes, "Alright?" she asked softly.
He looked up at her, his bottom lip trembled and he shook his head, "No," he admitted.
She placed the tea on the table in front of him and enfolded him in her arms, "S' okay. You're safe."
It undid him, then and there. The tears came freely as he told her what Philip Burton had done.
"Abby, I… I didn't want to forget you. I'm sorry… I was such an idiot."
"Connor, It'll be okay."
He apologized again and again until she kissed him just to get him to stop. The sweet, reassuring kiss grew deeper and more demanding. Abby knew what they both desperately needed. She needed the reassurance of his touch as much as he needed her… to prove that she'd found him and then gotten him out and back safe with her. They made love... slow but intense, and if her cheeks were wet after, then she could just blame it on Connor because his were, as well. She knew it and he knew it, but he'd never call her on it. He loved her as she was, and to her, that was most remarkable of all. She loved him so much, and when they were in each other's arms that night she found the courage to say it back to him. She promised herself she'd say it every day, if it meant she'd never lose him again.
That night she slept with her arms around him and the hall light on. It would take time, but he would recover. Until he did, she'd hold him every night as long as he wished it… and then every night after that. She was never letting him go.
END
A/N: Plan to do a M-rated Missing Reel for the end bit there. Interested?
Sorry it took so long, and I hope ya'll enjoyed it. Please tell me if you did (or didn't?) Reviews make for a happy, prolific muse… just sayin'.