A/N: Yeah. Okay. I said it would be a one-shot, but then I had a request for a second part from the lovely @love231999your and… I’m really bad at saying no. I think they both still stand on their own quite well, so please feel free to interpret these as you choose! This one got a little bigger and… sexier… than I’d originally intended. Oh well.
This is another “what-if” gap-filler, this time set after 2x13. Abby and Kane have stared down their deaths and come out of the wreckage alive. So now what?
Marcus’ voice rose softly through the air in his bedroom, cracked and thick
with sleep. Abby pressed herself back against the door, one hand trembling over
the handle as she watched Marcus sit up from his mattress. The blankets fell to
his lap, uncovering a broad, masculine, bare
torso; the moonlight working in tandem with his ever-present sheen of sweat to
highlight the dip of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulders, and - most
enticingly - the shallow valley at the centre of his chest, dotted with fine,
She shouldn’t be here.
Abby wasn’t really sure where she was
supposed to be, lately. Since they’d been rescued from the wreckage at TonDC,
Jackson had been infuriatingly insistent that she rest, despite the sudden influx
of the wounded in Medical. He’d allowed her to help out while they were in the
village; there were simply too many places to be at one time. She’d eased her
efforts once they were on the move, but once they’d arrived at the camp, she’d
barely given Jackson time to check and clean her wounds before she set herself
to work. Her assistant wouldn’t have it – there was some compression to her
spinal cord, he said. She’d sprained her left medial collateral ligament. She’d
be putting herself at risk of permanent injury.
Abby had insisted she was fine, however; that the Grounder woman next to her
would need more saline solution for the laceration on her arm, that it was
showing signs of infection – I need it now, Jackson –she couldn’t understand what on earth he was waiting for, had
he inhaled too much dust? He’d tried to physically grab her, in an effort to
steer her out of Medical – but Abby had quickly wrestled herself out of his
weak grasp and made her way towards the supply cabinets to get the solution
It was then that
Jackson had raised his voice; she’d jumped at the sharpness of it. Her
soft-spoken assistant had a powerful baritone that he was loathe to use; but it
had shaken her into stillness, then, with just two words: “That’s enough!”
The entire Med bay had quieted at that, and all eyes were on Abby as she
sheepishly turned to face the flustered Jackson. Offering a small nod of
concession at the young man, she’d made her exit.
Standing in the open, sparsely-populated hallway, trying to invent a task to
occupy her – the chancellor and head of medical suddenly usurped by the boy
she’d trained and the teenager she’d given birth to - Abby felt completely
She tried to think of what she’d advised her patients to do: sleep it off. But… it was barely even
noon. So, she’d headed for the war room, where she knew Raven would be working
to figure out the acid fog – if it was safe enough work to do with a full leg
brace, it was safe enough for Abby. However, when she arrived, she found that
Raven had miraculously already acquired an assistant. The young mechanic did
her best to catch Abby up, but Wick had jumped in with a sudden revelation
that, upon having it explained twice, Abby still couldn’t quite wrap her head
around. But Raven understood, and Raven was excited – and there was a glimmer
of girlish mischief in her eyes as she smacked her fellow engineer for not
thinking of it sooner. Abby quietly excused herself.
She’d managed to
pass an entire half hour picking at a bowl of berries in the mess hall before
she finally gave in and headed for her quarters.
She’d covered her
window with a bedsheet and gotten herself undressed. She’d climbed under the
covers of her bed. The adrenaline finally seeping out of her body as she lay
flat on her back, it was quickly replaced with a heavy, consuming soreness,
which Abby concentrated on, breathing deeply into the places where it hurt
most. In this meditation, she’d almost found sleep.
“It’s nothing, Marcus,” she replied at last. Then, with a sigh: “Move over.”