Connor waited with both impatience and panic for Lester and the soldiers to arrive. He paced relentlessly and bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to shake the feeling that the predators and creatures would escape. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach silently prepared him for the death of Cutter, which only added to his panic. Abby and Jenny had to stop him from going back in four times in the fifteen minutes it took for the soldiers to arrive.
We can’t lose him, he thought over and over.
When the soldiers finally arrived, everyone made sure to keep him at the back of the line into the warehouse where Leek kept his sick little zoo. Caroline stayed outside with the ambulance that had come with the soldiers, still in semi-shock over the entire ordeal. That was good, because even with a gun in his hand, Connor felt extremely vulnerable; he couldn’t imaging how she would cope with having to go back inside.
The corridors were eerily silent, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. There were no snarls, clicking noises from teeth, or howls of any kind. They were the only ones who made noise, boots on concrete and the rustle of fabric.
“We’re wasting time!” Connor snapped loudly, desperate to find Cutter. “We should go directly to the holding room!”
One of the soldiers glared at him and ordered, “Shut it or you can go back outside.”
Connor glared back, fully ready to argue, but Abby gripped his shoulder and pointed out quietly, “He wasn’t there, Connor, he could be anywhere.”
It took a full twenty minutes to reach the creature holding room and when they did, Connor was shocked to his core. Cutter sat curled into the corner by the door, staring vacantly into space. One of the soldiers tried to rouse him without success, which sparked Connor into action. He shoved forward through the crowd of them and knelt beside Cutter, taking the soldier’s place.
Gripping the other man’s shoulder with one hand, Connor hesitantly rubbed a hand over Cutter’s back as he asked urgently, “Where are you hurt? Cutter, please answer me! What’s wrong?”
There was no response from the usually animated man and Connor looked helplessly at Abby, who’d stepped forward to join them.
“Fuck me!” one of the soldiers exclaimed.
Another turned to wretch into the other side of the corridor.
Startled by seasoned soldiers reacting that way, Connor stood and looked through the porthole window. It was a charnel house. Blood and gore and bones splattered over every square inch of the cavernous room, including the ceiling. Connor’s stomach flip-flopped, but he looked away fast enough that he didn’t vomit. When Abby went to look, he shook his head and swiftly intercepted her, guiding her away from the sight with an arm around the waist.
Connor took a steadying breath and said, “It looks like he somehow lured all the creatures and predators into the one room where they, well, killed one another.”
Abby swallowed heavily, as though imagining the kind of damage that would result in. “Right. But, even if Cutter witnessed that, it wouldn’t be enough to traumatize him so. What happened here? Did Helen do something to him?”
“The door was closing,” Cutter rasped in answer. “Helen got caught. Stephen…we tried to pull her free, but the door was automatic.”
Fear slithered through Connor at Stephen’s name and he turned back to the other man. “Stephen was here? Where is he? Did he leave with Helen?”
Cutter slowly met his gaze and Connor’s breath caught at their bleakness. The other man said, “I had to disable the control to get her free of a creature. But the alarm was sounding, it brought them all back. Stephen…I was going to do it. I was going to pull the door shut from the inside, I was, but he, he punched me and next I knew, he was inside. With them. All of them. He wouldn’t come out, wouldn’t…wouldn’t risk them escaping.”
Oh Holy Jesus, Connor
thought. He watched Stephen die. No wonder he’s in shock.
Because it would have been a horrific death, torn apart limb from limb while still alive.
Abby made a noise that brought his attention back to the present. Connor looked to find her shaking her head, hands clutching her stomach in denial.
“He wasn’t, no Cutter, tell me he wasn’t in there,” she begged, tears falling.
But Cutter had seemingly spent whatever rationality he’d had and again simply stared into space. Thankfully, Jenny took control of Abby, pulling her into a gentle hug so she could have a good cry.
Something deep inside Connor settled into place. His best friends were in shock and grieving in ways he couldn’t imagine. He’d cared deeply for Stephen, had even started to love him like an older brother, but it wasn’t the same. Cutter had known Stephen for ten years, maybe more, and he had his suspicions that their relationship hadn’t always been platonic. And Abby, well, she’d been half in love with Stephen.
He would grieve for his lost friend, but could do it later. Just then, he had to take care of his friends that were still alive. Grabbing the nearest soldier, he said, “Get the medics in here to bring Cutter out. He’s in shock and needs to be seen to, make sure that knock on the head isn’t something worse.”
The soldier nodded and jogged away.
Jenny gave him a grateful look even as she led Abby down the corridor, out of the horror.
Crouching down again, he rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder and told him, “Don’t worry, Cutter, I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”
That brought a ghost of a smile to Nick’s face and those awful, empty eyes again met his as he said, “Thank you, Connor. I’m afraid I’m a bit…out of it, right now.”
Connor’s hand squeezed. “Just rest. You’ve a nasty cut on your head. The medics will give you a once over, make sure nothing else is wrong.”
“I’m fine,” Nick said. Then he added, almost thoughtfully, “Physically.”
He stayed right next to Cutter until the medics arrived and then hovered while they examined him. All the while the soldiers were trying to figure out how to open the door and continued their sweep of the warehouse for other creatures who might not have responded to the dinner bell.
Life goes on, Connor thought with a sigh.
When the medics tried to get Cutter onto the gurney, he roused enough to protest, “No, I’m fine. I’ll walk out of here.”
“Sir, you’re not,” one of them countered firmly. “You’ve at least a concussion and are in shock.”
Connor stepped in quickly, crouching down again and asked, “Let them help, Cutter, please.”
It looked like there would be more of a protest, but then Cutter seemed to fold in on himself and nodded. Connor wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the other man and hold him until things were better. The intensity of that urge startled him into stepping back so the medics could herd Cutter onto the gurney. Watching them strap him in efficiently gave Connor another sick feeling in his stomach and he couldn’t help stopping them. He put a hand on Cutter’s chest and leaned in a bit to say, “Everything’s going to be fine, Cutter, I promise.”
That ever-so-faint smile reappeared, but Cutter’s eyes closed without a verbal response.
Connor let them take him out then and turned back to the soldier in charge. “So. What’ve we got then? Any signs of life?”
The man shook his head and replied, “The sweep’s still going on, but it looks like the ruse worked. All the creatures came back to feed and killed each other.”
And Stephen, Connor added silently. Aloud, he said, “Have you told Lester yet about what’s happened?”
“I did,” he replied.
As if on cue, Connor’s phone rang and it was Lester on the ID. Nodding to the soldier, he answered it with, “Yeah?”
“Cutter’s in shock? What the bloody hell is going on down there?” Lester demanded without preamble.
Grimacing, Connor started his walk out of the warehouse as he explained, “He watched Stephen get ripped apart, is what happened. Stephen had to shut the door from the inside so the creatures and predators wouldn’t escape.”
“Oh. Well then,” Lester said, sounding almost human. Then he ruined it by continuing, “That little virus you uploaded has completely overtaken the systems here, so get back to the ARC immediately to fix it. We can’t do anything like this.”
“Cutter…”
“Is apparently a zombie right now and won’t notice you not being there. Get back to the ARC, Connor. Now.”
The line went dead and Connor cursed silently, seething at the man’s complete lack of feeling. Sunlight took him by surprise as he exited the warehouse and he blinked a few times to adjust. The ambulance was gone, no surprise, but so were Abby and Caroline.
Jenny strode over to him and said preemptively, “They’ve all gone to hospital for shock. And I had a hell of a time getting the medics to accept that Rex was necessary to Abby’s mental health, let me just tell you.”
Connor grinned in spite of the situation. “I’ll bet. Look, Lester’s ordered me back to fix the computers. I guess I went a little overkill with the virus.”
“Better than the alternative,” Jenny replied easily. “I’ll clean up here, you head back and then go see Cutter. He looked…as if he could use the company.”
Connor nodded understanding and walked to the truck to head back to the ARC. It struck something in him to see Cutter so diminished, so empty. The man had always been a rock, no matter what. When Connor had been sick with grief over Abby’s supposed death, even in his rage and loss, Cutter had been solid and just there for him, no matter that Connor hadn’t wanted him to be.
He barely noticed the drive back to the ARC, trying his best not to think of Stephen’s last few moments of life. The courage that act took just blew Connor’s mind. He honestly didn’t believe himself capable of that kind of sacrifice. Parking in the garage, Connor walked automatically to where the Detector stood in the center room and got to work detangling the mess he’d created.
The work allowed him to lose himself for a couple of hours, his mind occupied with code. Finishing with almost regret, Connor stood and cracked his back to loosen it from the strain of sitting in one place so long. His throat was parched and his bladder full, reminding him of his own needs and he set off for the nearest restroom.
After taking care of business, he washed his hands but wound up staring at his reflection and feeling angry. There he was, without a scratch, working away while Stephen was dead and his other friends were prostrate with grief and shock from the whole affair. What was wrong with him? His fist slammed into the mirror. Once. Twice. A third time with both fists and then a crack finally appeared in the reflection. He kept going, ignoring the pain in his knuckles and the blood that started flowing, flesh caught on glass.
“Connor! Connor, stop it!”
It was Lester, of all people, to pull him away as he kept trying to cause some kind of damage to himself. Something to show that he wasn’t a coward for leaving Cutter when he’d needed help the most. A coward for letting Stephen save them all, yet again. He was vaguely aware of shouting and the surprisingly strong arms bearing him to the floor as he fought to punish himself the way he deserved.
When exhaustion hit at last, he collapsed against Lester, sobbing with the grief he’d managed to lock down until then. It seemed an eternity that he lay there, insensate with grief and self-loathing. Finally, he pushed away from Lester with a rough, “I’m fine, you can let go.”
Lester sounded exasperated as he retorted, “You’re not fine, Connor, you’re bleeding all over my suit. Get yourself to the infirmary and do everyone a favor by seeing Cutter so he can absolve you.”
Connor looked at the man and suddenly started laughing at the irony. No matter what, Lester would never change. There was his Rock of Gibraltar. Who knew?
Rolling his eyes, Lester asked, “Do I need a medic to sedate you?”
Connor shook his head, still giggling, and waved him off, gasping, “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Lester.”
Lester helped him stand and told him, “It’ll be thanks enough if you never mention this to anyone,” before leaving the men’s room.
Connor rinsed his hands, hissing at the sting and watching the blood swirl down the drain with the bits of glass. He hadn’t done too much damage and wasn’t sure whether he was relieved about that or not. Shaking it off, he went to the infirmary and let the medic on duty tsk over the cuts and clean him up. There weren’t that many cuts really, mostly bruises from the impact.
Since he didn’t have his own car, Connor took one of the trucks and drove to the hospital. The ARC had an agreement with the administration of a particular one, which made it easier to keep things mum when a number of people reported seeing dinosaurs to medical staff. He parked and walked slowly inside, not sure if he would be welcome after everything that had happened. Stopping at the desk, he asked, “Nick Cutter and Abby Maitland?”
The woman didn’t even ask for ID as she answered, “Room 327 for Mr. Cutter. Ms. Maitland was released.”
Connor made his way to room 327 and found Jenny sitting in the chair by Cutter’s bed. She looked tired, but composed, working on a laptop with her hair down. It was strange how sometimes, when he looked at her without the makeup and fancy outfits, he almost seemed to see a different person entirely. Maybe the Claudia Brown that Nick had been on about so insistently.
She looked up at his entrance and closed her laptop, saying softly, “He’s been sedated, but is otherwise fine. Took a nasty knock to the head, but no concussion that they found. No internal injuries.”
Something Connor hadn’t even thought of and was glad that he hadn’t, or he’d’ve never been able to debug the ARC’s computers.
“Everything all right back at the ARC?” Jenny questioned, standing.
He reported, “System’s up and running.”
She smiled briefly and told him awkwardly, “He occasionally calls out for Stephen, but I found that a simple shoulder rub generally puts him back under. I’ll leave you to your visit.”
Connor stopped her with, “Wait, did Abby go home?”
Jenny nodded and confirmed, “I had her and Caroline each take a taxi to their respective residences. They were fine, Connor, honest. And so is Rex. Abby took over her own area in the ER to patch him up once they pronounced her okay.”
Smiling, not in the least surprised by that, Connor said, “She would, yeah.”
With a light touch to his shoulder, Jenny left the room.
Connor walked over to the bed and looked down at the man in it. Even sedated, Cutter’s face pinched with grief, the frown engraved into his normally sunny features. Although really, he hadn’t seen the other truly relaxed in months. Not since just before Jenny’s arrival when he’d been on about that Claudia woman. He believed Cutter about the altered timeline, he couldn’t not believe what the man told him, but his own personal experience told him that she didn’t exist. Still, he believed Cutter over his own experience, knowing that time was a more fragile thing than most thought.
He stood there for a long time, wishing he could reach out and sooth away the furrowed lines, that he had the ability to give some kind of solace. He didn’t though, and Connor knew it. So he simply stayed where he was, watching over his fallen leader until Cutter could do it for himself again. None of them would be the same after this, he knew. They’d all come out of it the worse for wear, though most of the hurts were invisible.
Cutter blinked awake an indefinite time later. For a few seconds, he looked bewildered at his surroundings and at Connor. And then the knowledge visibly returned, grief and loss deepening the frown already present into a mask of pain. Clearing his throat, he rasped, “Helen?”
“Nowhere to be found,” Connor answered truthfully. If she had been found, he’d’ve heard about it from Lester.
Cutter’s eyes closed and he took several deep breaths. When they opened again, the emptiness had lessened, though it didn’t leave and the grief remained present. He slowly pushed upright and Connor stepped close to help him, building the pillows up behind him. Giving him a slight smile, Cutter said, “Thank you, Connor. For everything. How’s Abby?”
Feeling nauseas at the thanks, Connor managed a cheerful smile and answered, “Home with Rex. You’re the one we’re worried about.”
“I’ll be fine,” Cutter replied. “Just need a minute to gather myself, here.”
Alarmed, Connor countered, “You’re not leaving just yet! They want you overnight.”
“I want to go home.”
There was such an undertone of ache and loneliness in that bleak statement that Connor’s throat closed up and his eyes got hot. Clearing his throat, Connor said simply, “I’ll drive you.”
And he did. He found Nick’s clothes and assisted him to the loo, standing directly outside to listen, in case the other man fell over from the drugs still in his system. Once Nick was slowly dressing himself, Connor went out to deal with the paperwork and grab a wheelchair. The doctor protested, but had no real authority to keep Nick, giving in with ill grace. Then he wheeled Cutter out of the hospital and drove him home.
Once there, he stared at the steering wheel and asked softly, “Do you need help in?”
Cutter’s hand reached across to grip his shoulder, squeezing tight. “No, Connor, thanks. I’ll…I just need to be alone for a bit.”
Connor knew that he wouldn’t be able to look at the other man without losing control of himself again and that was unacceptable. So he just nodded and kept looking at the steering wheel as he offered, “Call me, if you need anything.”
“I will,” Nick agreed, though they both knew it to be a lie.
It wasn’t until after Cutter had left the truck that Connor allowed himself to watch him walk over to his house. His shoulders were rounded, defeated, and he walked as slow as an old man. But he moved under his own steam and Connor knew that the other man would never hurt himself in his grief; he was far too duty-bound to leave them without his knowledge and leadership.
Taking a deep breath, Connor
drove home. There was someone else who needed comforting, even though he’d done
a piss poor enough job of it with Cutter. Finding a parking spot on the street
wore at his last nerve and it was after
“How is he?” she asked.
Connor sighed. “Hurting, but home. Didn’t want to stay at hospital.”
Abby nodded and agreed, “He wouldn’t.”
Walking over to her, Connor sat on the small sofa with her and said, “You should go to bed, Abby. Get some sleep.”
But she shook her head vehemently and whispered, “Every time I close my eyes, I imagine what happened to him.”
Connor didn’t have to imagine. Swallowing thickly, he replied, “Don’t think about it. Think about…think about how he was while alive. He was…a right prat, often enough.”
That startled a laugh out of her, though it didn’t last long. Shaking her head, Abby countered, “Just to you and you deserved it, most of the time.”
She leaned on him and Connor froze, but then awkwardly put his arm around her shoulder.
Sighing deeply, Abby rested her head on his shoulder and continued, “Do you believe in Heaven, Connor?”
Connor wasn’t really up for a deep, religious or philosophical discussion. He squirmed a little sideways so she rested easier on him while answering, “I dunno. I guess.”
“Stephen didn’t,” she told him. “He liked the idea of reincarnation, though. Said it made sense that souls would be recycled, as it were. Energy returned to the earth in a different form.”
“Sounds like him,” Connor agreed.
She sighed deeply and murmured, “It’s a nice thought, right? Him already a baby to some loving set of parents?”
They were silent a few minutes before he realized that she’d fallen asleep on him. Connor experimentally closed his eyes and then instantly opened them again at the image of the holding room covered in blood and gore.
It was going to be a long night.
* * * *
Nick felt old. For the first time in his life, there was no defense to any of the aches and pains that he’d previously and blithely ignored. The creak of his knees. The popping of knuckles. The ache from the broken leg when he was young. They each battered at an already battered body and made walking a real challenge. Really, they made just existing a challenge. Making his way to the bed, he sat slowly, knowing that once he was down, he wouldn’t be up again for a good, long time.
Slipping off his shoes, Nick slowly sank down on his bed without bothering to undress. He stared at the ceiling, but really, his mind replayed that minute over and over again. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to see the raptor tear at Stephen’s leg while a predator had seized and ripped off an arm. The agonized screams echoed through his mind until he wanted to scream to try and drown them out. It had taken almost a full minute for Stephen to die as the creatures had fought over him while his blood pumped out, onto the concrete.
Not fast enough, not nearly fast enough to escape the horror of being eaten alive.
Nick sobbed, but stifled it before it could take hold of him fully. He remembered sitting on those stairs and hearing Stephen and Helen walking towards the exit. What stood most starkly in his mind was the betrayal that had surged, not at how they were together, but at Stephen’s accusation to Helen, “You said he was dead.”
He’d thought, irrationally and wildly, that Stephan had been complaining that Nick wasn’t dead. It wasn’t until after that he’d realized Helen had lured Stephen to the underground lab with the lie that Lester had killed him, maybe the others too, he still didn’t know the details.
“I so badly wanted to believe in you,” Stephan had said to her, which had cut through Nick sharper than a knife. Once upon a time, Stephen had wanted to believe in him more than anything else. And then the following shout to him, “But that doesn’t put you in the right!”
And he’d been right, too. Was still right. Stephen’s point of view about the public being able to defend themselves was perfectly valid. If they knew what the anomalies were, they could avoid the temporal distortions and call for help. Less cynical than Nick, Stephen had believed in others right until the end. Or, he’d wanted to at least. Nick didn’t know if Helen had cured the younger man of that particular fantasy with her lies.
If he had it to do over again, God help him, Nick would let the raptor take Helen.
But you don’t, he
thought wearily. He’s gone because you didn’t give him what he needed, just
like with Helen. Different cause, same result.
No, not the same. Helen still lived to cause damage down the line while Stephen was dead, not even enough of him left to fill a coffin.
Moaning at the rising tide of grief, Nick rolled slowly onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow as he panted harshly. He would give his life in a heartbeat to have Stephen back, but it wouldn’t happen. Fighting the darkness that rose inside, the black grief ready to consume him, Nick fumbled for his cell phone. He pulled it out and blindly hit Connor’s number, tears burning his eyes so as to make them useless.
“Cutter? Are you all right?” Connor answered softly.
Nick couldn’t answer, struggling to control the loss, his free hand fisting into the blanket.
“Cutter? Nick?” a pause and then Connor continued, “That’s okay, you don’t have to talk. I’m having a hard time sleeping myself, though Abby’s out like a light. My leg’s gone asleep with her on it. Couldn’t actually be lying in bed now, could we? No, we’re settled on the tiniest piece of furniture in the place. Where else would we be, right?”
Nick let the young man’s voice wash over him in a soothing, nonsensical pattern, the connection easing just a little of his pain. With how quiet Connor spoke, his voice dropped a bit in pitch, something that vaguely surprised him, though he wasn’t sure why. His breathing calmed as he listened to the chatter, his body slowly relaxing while his mind focused on words about Rex and Abby and Jenny and even Lester.
The first yawn caught him by surprise, but he managed to not be noisy about it. They came more frequently as time passed and his eyelids became hard to keep open. His limbs grew heavy and the mattress less firm beneath him, slipping in and out of the ether. Connor’s words faded in much the same way, though he was always aware of a quiet, comforting background of noise in his ear.
The next time his eyes opened, sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows. Squinting and rubbing his eyes, Nick saw that it was nearly one in the afternoon, the phone still against his ear, though it was out of power. He sat up, abused muscles protesting violently and he groaned as he slowly climbed out of bed.
A long, hot shower settled most of the aches and he took a couple of pain relievers for the rest. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Nick decided against shaving, not certain his hands were yet steady enough. Lunch was next; a plain fare of chips and egg with a glass of milk and cup of tea. Comfort food.
Nick decided to head into the ARC. Not only would he be able to check on funeral arrangements for Stephen, but also see if any there were any leads on Helen. The dull, heavy ache in his heart wouldn’t be going anywhere soon, that Nick knew with great certainty. Stephen had been his best friend for too many years to get over the loss quickly. Best friend and more, really. The son he’d never had. His best student and protégé. Someone who’d believed in him no matter what, at least until yesterday. Stephen had been there for him during his darkest days, right after Helen’s initial disappearance.
Sighing, Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair and shook off the thoughts. Picking up his secondary cell phone and keys, he left the house and got in his car. The drive in was blessedly normal and he parked in his usual spot. It still struck him as odd, sometimes, that he’d fallen into this timeline’s habits as though he’d lived it all along. It also made him wonder why and how he knew that it was a different timeline. Would he know if Helen managed to change it again?
People nodded to him just like it was any other day. To them, he supposed, it was. He found Lester alone in his office and walked in without knocking.
The other man looked up at him, pursed his lips, and then waved him at the seat as he greeted, “Well, you look better than Connor, although that’s not saying much.”
“What’s wrong with Connor?” Nick demanded. “Why is he even in today? He should be home, resting.”
Eyebrows lifting, Lester observed, “One could say the same for you. As a matter of fact…”
Nick shook his head and interrupted, “Forget it. I have work to do and I intend to do it.”
“Far be it from me to impede a work ethic,” Lester replied mildly.
A smile quirked Nick’s lips before he asked, “Any news on Helen?”
Lester’s semi-amused expression vanished and he stated flatly, “None. I expect she’s gone through another anomaly by now. Are you up for being debriefed? We need to know what she knows, what her plans are.”
Nick nodded firmly. “I’m ready.”
Three hours later, Nick wished that he’d stayed home. Lester personally debriefed him and Nick discovered what an able interrogator the man was, to his misfortune. The good thing about Lester doing it was that he wouldn’t have to repeat it again for the man later.
“I think that should do it for now,” Lester said at last. “You look as if you could do with a break. If I have any questions, I’ll let you know.”
Nick snorted. “I’m sure you will.”
Stopping by the door, Lester told him, “Take young Mr. Temple home, if you would? He’s a bit of a menace right now, both to himself and the ARC. He’s caused two shortages since we started. I dare say a third might cause a serious problem.”
Nick wasn’t surprised by the fact that the other man had known what was going on even while he’d been seemingly intent on the debriefing. Nodding, he stretched as he stood and promised, “I’ll drive him there myself.”
“Good.”
Bemused by the strangely charitable behavior, Nick shook his head and went in search of Connor. He found him at the Detector Device, typing slowly on the keyboard. Walking up, he greeted, “Connor?”
Connor jumped, one hand skittering across the keyboard in such a way that made the lights dim alarmingly. Apparently jolted by that, his hands returned to the keyboard and the lights returned. He called out, “Sorry! Sorry about that! We’re good!”
Nick hid a smile as he gripped Connor’s shoulder. The smile faded on seeing the bloodshot eyes and feeling the tension under his hand. Frowning, Nick asked, “Connor? You all right?”
“I’m fine,” Connor replied, flashing a smile. “Right as rain. You startled me is all.”
Sensing he needed to tread carefully, Nick suggested, “How about a break? I could use some company.”
Brightening at that, Connor nodded and stood. “Sure, yeah.”
Nick did smile at that. It took
so little to make Connor happy. Sometimes, it was such a relief to be around
him. There was nothing of subterfuge and he was so uncomplicated. Most of that
came from being so young, Nick knew; there weren’t many bad experiences to
twist Connor’s naturally sunny and open disposition. His thoughts momentarily
darkened with, Or there hadn’t been, before he’d fallen in with me.
“Cutter?”
Focusing with a little effort, Nick offered another smile and said, “Sorry. Seem to get lost in my thoughts a bit too easy these days. C’mon. I could use a bite.”
They ended up at a Thai restaurant that Abby had recommended to him once; the address had just floated in his mind as he drove from the ARC. It was small and quiet, gentle music drifting from hidden speakers somewhere outside the giant, private booths. He ordered a pot of tea and, as they waited for it to come, looked over the menu and asked, “How are you?”
Connor shrugged, not even glancing up from the menu. “Fine.”
“There’s a lot of that goin’ on these days,” Nick commented
At that, Connor did look up, eyebrows quirking up curiously.
Nick clarified, “Fine. Everybody’s fine. We’re not fine, Connor, none of us. It’s okay to not be fine.”
Swallowing visibly, Connor looked back down at the plastic sheet in his hand and mumbled, “I can’t talk about it.”
The tea arrived jus then, forestalling conversation anyhow. They ordered and then Nick poured the tea for them both. Thinking about how to get Connor talking, he ultimately just let dinner go by without bringing up the subject again. It was probably being in public that made the younger man keep it bottled up. Instead, he talked about Lester and the debriefing, making amusing observations about their de facto boss. Not that Nick truly considered him such. He could go back to teaching at any time and everyone knew it. The university would welcome him back with open arms, as would a number of other facilities around the world.
Still, it got Connor to relax and smile, which was the goal.
In the car after, Nick headed for the apartment Connor shared with Abby instead of the ARC. It didn’t take long for the younger man to notice.
“Cutter? What’s going on?”
Glancing over at him, Nick answered, “I’m bringing you home, Connor. It’s too soon for you to be at work. You need to sleep and come to terms with Stephen’s death, at least a little.”
Connor’s arms folded over his chest and he said tightly, “That’s for me to decide, don’t you think?”
Nick shook his head. “Lester wants you out of the office and, for once, I agree with him. You’re a wreck waiting to happen and I want you to be home when it does.”
“And what I want doesn’t matter, is that it?” Connor demanded.
Sighing a bit as he turned a corner into the neighborhood, Nick answered, “Of course it does, but Connor, you’re about ready to jump out your skin, even Lester can see that. Just…stay home another day or so. Get some sleep. My fault, I know, keeping you up so long talking.”
“I didn’t mind,” Connor muttered. “It was the least I could do.”
Something about that statement set off warning bells. Nick glanced at the other man and suddenly saw beyond the cheerful façade that kept everyone from seeing the pain. He silently cursed himself for an unthinking idiot for not realizing it sooner. Connor blamed himself for Stephen’s death. It was sheer lunacy, given he hadn’t even been present, but then, that was Connor; generous to a fault and equally as hard on himself.
Nick waited until he’d parked to continue the conversation. Unbuckling, he faced Connor and stated firmly, “This was not your fault, Connor. Stephen did not die because you weren’t there.”
Connor flinched and wouldn’t meet his gaze, telling him that he was right on the money.
Reaching over, Nick gripped his shoulder and squeezed briefly, saying, “Stephen sacrificed himself so those creatures wouldn’t get loose. I…it’s not something I’ve yet accepted, not fully, but that’s the way of it. To think otherwise…diminishes that sacrifice and his courage. If you’d been there…I don’t see him acting any other way, Connor. That was just how Stephen was, the braw, stubborn idiot.”
A tear slipped down Connor’s cheek and he whispered, “I just left you there. It was, I was a coward, Cutter, such a coward for not going to find you.”
Nick’s heart tightened at the loathing in the tone. “You got the girls out, Connor, and that’s exactly what I would have ordered you to do.”
Connor laughed, a short, bitter sound and he looked at Nick for the first time as he replied, “They got themselves out with more help from Rex than me.”
Hating one’s self led to nothing but ruin, Nick had seen it too many times not to know. The pain in those dark eyes sent an echo of the same through Nick, his own wound too raw not to cut open once more and start bleeding again. He swallowed against a tight throat and pulled Connor into a tight, awkward hug. Fingers digging into Connor’s back, he said roughly, “You are one of the bravest men I know, Connor. I would not lie to you about this. You were willing to die with Abby rather than let her fall. And you’ve thrown yourself into the line of fire more times than I like to think about. You have nothing to be ashamed of here, Connor, absolutely nothing, and I want you to believe me when I say that.”
Connor shook faintly in his arms, hands gripping into Nick’s shoulders. He drew in a deep, shuddery breath and admitted, “I don’t know if I can.”
Pulling back, Nick shifted a hand to cup Connor’s face and demanded, “You’ve believed everything I’ve said until now, right?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then just believe this. You are not a coward, Connor. You are a brave, far too intelligent for your own good, young man,” Nick interrupted firmly.
A watery smile surfaced as Connor offered, “Because Nick Cutter says so?”
Nick grinned in response, relieved at the attempt at levity. “Yes, exactly so.”
They sat there for several long moments, Nick’s hand on Connor’s face with Connor’s hands on his shoulders. To an outsider, it might have looked like a lover’s clench; an observation not too far off the mark, with how much he felt for Connor. Under other circumstances, Nick might have welcomed this contact, but not now. This would be taking advantage and if something ever were to develop between them, it couldn’t be now, like this. He pulled back entirely with a final squeeze to the back of Connor’s neck.
Wiping at his eyes, Connor told him, “I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the holding room.”
“Maybe you just need a change of scenery,” Nick mused slowly. “Give Abby a call so she doesn’t worry. Tell her you’ll be back tomorrow.”
Connor blinked at him in surprise, but obediently pulled out his cell phone.
Nick pulled back into traffic and headed home. Connor chatted with Abby for a bit and then Nick’s cell rang. Pulling it out, he saw Jenny’s name on the ID and felt another twist inside. Taking a breath, he answered, “Has there been an anomaly?”
“No, no, thankfully not,” she replied. “I was just calling to check on you.”
Lips quirking, he said, “I’m fine, Jenny, thanks. Connor’s with me.”
“Still?”
She sounded surprised. Nick told her, “We met up at work and Lester thought it a good idea to bring him home.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed.
There was an awkward pause and then Nick told her, “I’m just about home now. See you tomorrow?”
“Yes, yes of course,” she repeated. “Good night, Cutter.”
“Night, Jenny.”
Disconnecting, Nick tucked the phone back into his pocket and glanced at Connor. “Abby doing okay?”
Connor nodded and explained, “She’s gone round to a friend’s and is spending the night there.”
“Good, good,” Nick murmured, glad that she wouldn’t be alone.
He’d known, of course, about her interest in Stephen. Abby was many things, but unreadable was nowhere on the list. He couldn’t say whether anything might have materialized between them or not, she was certainly feisty enough to garner Stephen’s attention, but wouldn’t have been opposed to it.
Nick finally pulled into his own driveway and parked. He climbed out and preceded Connor inside, stepping aside to lock the door once the younger man was inside. Hiding a grin at Connor’s curious inspection, Nick clapped him on the back and asked, “Tea?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Connor replied, looking abashed.
Grinning outright at that, Nick walked to the kitchen. Connor trailed right behind him, settling at the table while Nick put the kettle on. It didn’t take long to get some biscuits out and by then the tea was done. He poured out two mugs, setting one in front of Connor, and sitting opposite him with the other.
Connor ventured, “You’ve a nice place here.”
Nick smiled. “Thank you. I’m afraid I haven’t spent much time here lately, so things are probably a bit dusty. You know, Stephen was a much better housekeeper than anyone gave him credit for. No matter what, his apartment was always spotless.”
Connor’s eyes widened, probably taken aback by such a blatant opening. He stammered, “W-was he? I, I guess that doesn’t really surprise me.”
Blowing on his tea to cool it, Nick agreed, “A little OCD, our Stephen was, but then, we never had to wonder where the ammunition was, either, which was right handy.”
Lips twitching into a grin, Connor said, “I caught him organizing the cupboards at the ARC once.”
Nick laughed, easily picture that. “He did like everything in its place. I think I drove him a bit batty that way, even back at uni.”
“Your office wasn’t that bad,” Connor protested.
Nick’s eyebrows went up.
“Well okay, it was,” Connor amended, grinning in earnest then. “But really, you had more important things to think about than filing.”
Standing, Nick observed, “You know, this needs proper refreshments,” and walked over to the cupboard where he kept the alcohol. Grabbing a couple of different bottles and glasses, he returned to the table and set everything down. “What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey, thanks,” Connor replied.
Nick poured a generous amount and slid the glass over. Taking more of the same for himself, he sat back down and lifted his glass. “To Stephen James Hart. One of the bravest, most loyal, smartest, self-sacrificing, anal-retentive, idiots of our time.”
Connor clinked his glass to Nick’s and said, “Cheers.”
They both downed the drink and Nick poured another, grinning at the way Connor coughed and wheezed on the fumes. “That’s it, good lad. Your turn.”
Looking startled, Connor nonetheless raised his glass and thought a moment before saying, “To Stephen James Hart. The older brother I’d never known I’d wanted, a great friend, and occasional prick about pretty much everything. At least with me.”
Nick laughed and touched his glass to Connor’s with, “Cheers.”
They went back and forth like that well into the morning. The alcohol hit Connor first, of course, since Nick had years of drinking liquor under his belt. Nick was a little surprised that there weren’t any tears at the end of it all, but maybe Connor had shed his back in the car outside the apartment. When they killed the bottle, Nick smiled at the younger man and said softly, “Close your eyes.”
Connor blinked owlishly at him, but did so.
“Tell me what you see,” Nick ordered.
Connor’s lips curved into a smile and he answered, “Stephen. That time we were going after the Masosaur. Thought I was coming onto him when I was trying to find out more about his girlfriend for Abby.”
Nick laughed and observed, “Stephen had a healthy sense of himself, no doubt about it.”
Unexpectedly, Connor’s eyes opened and he reached out to grasp Nick’s hand across the table. “Thank you, Cutter. Thank you for this.”
“It wasn’t just for you, my lad,” Nick replied softly, smiling. “Now come on. We’ve finished off the bottle and it’s time you were in bed.”
Connor told him earnestly, “I can’t really feel my legs.”
Nick chuckled and stood, taking a moment to steady himself. Once sure of his own legs, he crossed to help Connor to his feet, putting an arm around the other’s waist and hauling him up. Connor grunted at the effort, but did his best to help on the walk to the bedroom. There was a guest bedroom, but Nick honestly couldn’t remember if there were any sheets on the bed, let alone if they were clean.
He set Connor down on the bed and pulled off the shoes and socks before lifting unresponsive legs onto the mattress. Smiling at the sight of Connor passed out in his bed, he looked very young and peaceful, Nick kicked off his own shoes and climbed onto the other side. He pulled the blankets over them and listened to the other’s quiet breathing. A sense of comfort washed over him and, while the loss of Stephen still cut deep into his heart, the pain wasn’t quite so sharp.
Rolling onto his side, Nick stared at Connor’s profile for a long time before gently petting his chest and then settling in to sleep. There was still the funeral and wake to get through and who knew when the next anomaly would appear.
As he drifted, Nick prayed for
the first time in many years… Watch over him, Stephen. Help me keep him out
of trouble.
It was more than likely the
alcohol, but Nick heard the warm sound of Stephen’s laughter as he fell asleep
and couldn’t help smiling in return.