casy_dee

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: 1/3?
Summary: This is written as a Birthday fic for my good friend

evenstar_estel. I'd give you her prompt, but I don't want to give it away, so how about a teaser instead? 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

Connor was well aware of the fact that Abby didn't trust Philip Burton. She'd made no secret of it, and he trusted her… he did, but Philip Burton was his idol. He had done a lot of good in the world of science, and Connor hoped he could someday follow in his footsteps. He didn't want to believe anything bad about him, especially considering all the resources he'd put at Connor's disposal. More than that, Philip believed in him. He treated him as if he was important, that is, once he'd proven himself to him. He didn't want to believe that he could be wrong about him, but he'd seen and heard some things that he was quite certain he hadn't been meant to hear, and now he couldn't help but to be suspicious.

He felt almost guilty, sat at his workstation rifling through Philip's computerized file system. He'd easily disabled the system's warning tripwires, and he knew for a fact that he'd turned his screen and his body so the camera in his lab couldn't catch what he was doing well enough to alert Philip. If Philip was truly involved in anything nefarious, Connor would find it. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do about it, but he'd find it. Connor swallowed hard as he found the files relating to New Dawn. Burton had meticulous logs detailing the project from its very inception. He'd meant well, Connor was certain of it… at least he had in the beginning.

The most recent information detailed a new direction in the project. Connor's breakthrough discovery that the anomalies could generate energy had been too much of a carrot for Burton to pass up. Properly harnessed and applied, it was essentially free energy. The increasing anomalies, the spaghetti junctions that had cropped up, the strange variations... they were all detailed in Phlip's files as 'acceptable side effects' until such a time as they could be countered. He'd not stopped his energy experiments, not even when he realized the damage they were causing.

Connor hadn't realized what he'd done with the research Connor had supplied to him. He'd thought that surely Philip wouldn't attempt to create anomalies just to harness their energy, not when every time an anomaly was created it upset the balance of the naturally occurring anomalies. Connor's stomach clenched when he saw that his his name was included in the project file… and it was right next to Helen Cutter's. He'd enabled him, helped him, been duped by him. He'd been a fool. Abby had been right all along.

Connor had to tell her. They'd sort out what to do next together. He inhaled deeply and squeezed his eyes shut; he had to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was rubbish at artifice and Philip had been watching him closely recently. He'd thought he was just concerned for him because he'd been working such long hours, but now he was beginning to understand that all the questions he'd been asking about the practical applications of his inventions had been a little too close to comfort.

Connor gathered his things, knocking over his cup and then his pens and then a sheaf of papers in his haste to leave. His hands were shaking as righted the items; he was not meant for this sort of thing. He was probably being paranoid. There was no way for Burton to know what he'd been doing, he told himself. He shouldered his bag and made to leave, intent on finding Abby.

Connor turned the lever on the door, but it didn't give way. He'd been locked in. Confused, he tried the handle once more.

He banged on the door, "Oy! I'm locked in!"

Connor paced the length of his lab restlessly, flicked the switch on his comm unit and tried again, "Jess? Are you there? Anyone?"

Empty silence answered him. He fished his mobile out of his pocket and thumbed it on. No signal. He was beginning to think that perhaps this was no accident. He'd been locked in for a reason. He chewed his lip and thought furiously. If he could get into the security system- He cursed softly as he was suddenly plunged into darkness. Okay, so he was definitely locked in on purpose. The background whine of computers and electricity and lighting fell silent. He hadn't just lost light, he'd been cut off from the power grid as well. Shit.

Abby wouldn't be looking for him for hours yet. He'd taken to working increasingly long hours in order to fulfill his promise to Philip about balancing work for the ARC and Prospero. He and Abby hardly spoke anymore; he'd gotten well blinkered by all the toys and technology that had been waved in front of him. What if he was too late? What if he'd lost her and never realized it? The thought brought a painful lump to his throat. He'd be lost without her. He was a fool twice over.

Few people were working in the ARC at this hour, and fewer still on the Prospero side. He might be stuck in his lab until Philip explained what was to be done with him. He'd likely fire him from the ARC again, and perhaps keep him away from the anomaly project altogether. He must have had some other way to detect when his files had been accessed that Connor had missed, although he couldn't fathom how. Connor didn't make mistakes like that.

Connor navigated around the room with the light from his phone, finally accepting that he was trapped. He sat in his chair and shuddered, he didn't like the dark, not when it was like this… inky and black and suffocating. Although he was able to function with his claustrophobia, that didn't mean it was easy. The velvet darkness of his lab felt all too much like… no. He was not going to think about that.

He was kept in the dark for hours before Burton collected him. He assumed it was him, but he never saw a face. He was sat in the dark trying to not freak out and then gas had begun streaming into his lab through the vents. He remembered choking, and then falling to the ground. He'd woken to find himself strapped into a narrow bed in an isolation room. His arms and legs were secured to the frame so that he could hardly move. He was barefoot and dressed in green hospital trousers and shirt; he was fairly certain that anything personal had been taken from him. His necklace and ring were missing. No windows and perpetual fluorescent light made it difficult to gauge the passage of time. He had no idea how long he'd been there, or if he'd been missed, or if anyone was even searching for him. He wasn't completely sure that Burton was the one responsible, but he couldn't imagine anyone else being to blame, not after what he'd seen in those files.

He'd been left alone for far too long, by his reckoning. He'd shouted for someone to let him out, but no one came. He wondered how long he would be held without being told why. He was frightened, if he admitted it. He'd heard of things like this, people being locked away and never heard from again. What he couldn't figure was why he was still alive. If he was such a threat, if he knew too much, then why hadn't they just killed him? There are worse things than death, he mused. Living like this? Well, that was one of them.

"Oy! Why am I here? Why won't nobody tell me something?" he shouted again.

He was losing his voice, and still no one came. "Please? Please someone tell me what I'm doing here!" he tried again. "Please?" That sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. "I need food and water. Am I meant to just lie here and starve to death?"

Apparently so. Hours passed, at least it seemed like hours, and he was beginning to give up on the thought of anyone helping him when the door to his cell opened. A tall man in a white coat entered, clipboard in hand and false smile firmly in place.

He stared down at Connor, "Have you calmed down Mr. Taylor?"

Connor gave a relieved smile, "There has been some sort of a mistake. Me name's Connor Temple."

"So I'm speaking with Connor again. Could I speak with Gordon?"

Connor swallowed hard, "What are you on about? I am Connor and only Connor."

Cold washed through him as he worked through the implications, "Why am I here?" he asked carefully.

"You are here to get help. You're safe here. We are going to help you get better, if you let us."

Connor paled, "Who put me here? Was it Philip? Why am I strapped to the bed?"

"Your Uncle was very concerned for your safety, and so are we. Do you remember what you did to your room?"

Connor shook his head no as his stomach twisted and heaved. This was bad.

"You made quite a scene. I'm afraid that until we can be certain that you are not going to be destructive again that you will have to stay here. Take your medications and don't act out, and we'll consider putting you into an ordinary room again."

Connor nodded. Best to go along for now, at least until he learned more.

"We'll take the restraints off of you now that you are awake. You were hurting yourself and had to be sedated. I'm sure you will feel a lot more comfortable after that, and then we can get you a meal and we can talk."

Connor nodded again, "Okay."

He couldn't see the point of shouting, though he felt like screaming at the top of his lungs. Connor had survived years of verbal abuse by knowing when to shut his mouth, by not making waves, by acting as if the words didn't sting. He survived it, and he could survive this. He'd stay calm and follow their program until someone came for him. He'd look for a way to get to a phone or a computer or something meanwhile. Abby would come looking for him; he'd just have to last long enough for her to find him. She would, wouldn't she? There was a time when he wouldn't have even had to question it.

TBC

A/N: As always, comments are love! Por Favor?