Title: Survivors

Author: Mary Willing Prey

Email: willing.prey@verizon.net

Website: http://www.geocities.com/willing_prey/index.html

Pairing: Tom/Ed

Sent to the Slash n' Prey archive: November 10, 2001

Note: What if Sloan had died in Alaska? Pre-slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Prey. I'm just borrowing it. I'll give it back when I'm through. I'm making no money on this. Tom, Sloan, Ed, Attwood, Peterson, Mark and Lewis belong to Prey; everything else is mine. Read and enjoy.


SURVIVORS
By Mary Willing Prey
* * *

Tom considers his glass. It still had some whiskey in it. He had started out with ice in his glass but now he just drank the whisky. The ice took up too much room. The room is dark, it is night, but the day is dark, too. The only thing that is left is darkness. That and the whiskey. He looks up at his gun, again. He'd set it on the mantle over the fireplace. He'd turned all the pictures down so he wouldn't see them. He wonders once again; would he use it? Could he use it?

He hears someone at the door. He couldn't sense them. His sensing ability had shut down long ago. Maybe it was someone who wanted him dead. He hopes so; he so very much hopes so.

Ed stood outside the door a long time. The lights inside were out. No one could find what had happened to Tom, but then no one had come here. They had called but no one answered. The way Tom looked when they touched down two days ago, he could be dead by now. Ed hopes he's here. He didn't want to loose another friend. He knows where Sloan had kept her spare key and he opens the door. He flips the light on and there is Tom, sitting on the love seat and soused to the gills. "Tom, why sit in the dark and drink? Sloan wouldn't want you to do that."

"There's no light left. The sun has gone out and there is nothing left. If I drink enough maybe I won't feel it any more." Tom says his voice slightly slurring. "She let me feel things. She let me know why I was alive. Now I don't know any more. Why am I alive, Ed? Why didn't I die too?" He drains the glass in his hand and pours another from the fifth of Southern Comfort at his feet. Ed sees that the bottle is half-empty. Tom could be dead if he finishes it.

He goes to the cupboard and gets himself a glass. If Tom's gonna drink he'll join him maybe he can get him to stop before he kills himself. "Pony up, Tom. If your gonna drown your sorrows you've got company. I loved her, man. I have for years and you came along and she couldn't see anyone else. I'll have one too. You're not the only one who misses her."

Tom looks at him and pours him a drink. Ed reaches down and takes the bottle from his hand. Tom's eyes are unfocused and he lets him. All Tom can feel is the burn of the whisky and the glow it leaves in his belly. He hasn't showered or shaved since he came back. He keeps expecting to see her and doesn't, can't.

"What happened? She made the vaccine. It worked for you. How did she get it and die?"

"I don't know, Tom. It was never tested. Maybe the virus mutated again. Maybe she had it before it was given to her and we didn't catch it soon enough. It's not your fault you left and she got sick."

"She didn't die alone. You made it back in time to see her. What did she say to you? We left you alone with her. What did she say?"

"She said she loved me. And she'd always be with me. She said I was strong enough to go on. She knew she was dying. She said she loved me, Ed. And now she's dead." He takes a big swallow of the whiskey and the tears slowly drip down his cheeks.

"I can't go on Ed. I'm not strong enough. Not for this. It's so dark and empty. There's nothing left. Nothing left but the pain."

"Tom, if you loved her don't say that." He swallows the whiskey and feels the burn. "Tom, would she want you to do this? Don't tear yourself up. If you die who will remember her? They say as long as someone remembers you, you don't really die. Remember her for us. No one will remember her like you will."

Ed empties his glass and pours himself another. He hasn't been able to cry for her in the two days since he's been back. He 's supposed to be home in bed. But he had to come here. Had to see what was left of her.

Maybe the whiskey would let him cry. It had helped Tom to cry. He needed to let it out. Stop the pain. Lance the boil that his life had become. He wished he had died instead of Sloan. Tom shouldn't be in this kind of pain. Kelly had died, Sloan had died, and he didn't want Tom to die, too. It'd be another nail in his own coffin.

"Tom, we've gotta go on. I don't wanna lose you too. I'm grabbin' at straws here, man. If I could give my life and she'd be right here I'd do it in a shot. But I can't. Please, Tom, don't do anything. I couldn't take it if you died, too.

He crouches down by the chair that Tom was sitting in and looks in his eyes. They were haunted and empty. "Ed, I can't live without her. I don't know what to do." Tom puts his head on Ed's shoulder and begins to sob.

Ed puts his arms around the smaller mans shoulders and begins to cry, too. Soon they both are clutching each other, crying in great gulping sobs

Eventually the sobs lessen and stop. They look at each other. "Feel better, Tom?"

"Yeah, how 'bout you." The slurring of his voice is less but Tom is nowhere near sober.

"Tom, you sleep in Sloan's bed and I'll sleep out here. That's what she would want."

"Ed, I've tried. I can only think of her. I can't sleep there."

"Tom, it's a double bed. You take half and I'll take half. I don't wanna leave you alone. I'm scared what'll happen. Tom, I'm too sick to stay up too long. Please, try."

Tom allows Ed to help him into the bedroom. The tears start to come down again. Ed helps him with his shoes and pants and he sleeps before Ed has a chance to hit the bed. He has a second thought and empties the whiskey bottle before he sleeps.

When Tom wakes he has a jackhammer in his head and the smell of Sloan in his nostrils.

He turns over expecting to see her. It must have been all a very bad dream. And sees Ed and last night came crashing back to him. She was gone and would never be back. He stumbles to the bathroom and then returns to the bed.

The phone rang in the front room. Tom gets up and staggers out to answer it. "Hello" he says in a voice that sounds to his ears very far away. He realizes his mouth tastes like old shoes with the feet still in them.

Hello, Tom?" He hears Walter Attwood say.

"Yes" he says wishing his head would stop pounding.

"Do you know where Ed is? He's supposed to be home in bed and he's not. He's gone.

"Nah, he's not gone. He's here. He came over and we talked last night. About her. And what should come next. I think he was afraid of what I'd do. He stayed here last night."

God, his head hurt. Where was that bottle? What was it humans said 'hair of the dog'. Well, he needed a little of the hair of the dog. "Tom, are you there?" the voice on the phone said

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Don't you do anything rash. Things will get better. I know they will."

"Walter, it'll never be any better. This time she's not coming back. She'll never come back." He says in a whisper.

Ed comes up and takes the phone from him and lets Tom bury his face in his shoulder. "Who is this?" Ed says.

"Ed, this is Walter. How is he? Is he suicidal? Will he take that last step? Do we need to watch him?"

"It's bad, Walter. Yes to everything. I don't wanna bury him, too. What do you wanna do? We can't make him get help. This is a hole he's gonna have to climb out of. We can only give him a hand. He's gotta take it."

Tom walks over to the trash and sees the empty bottle. He takes it out and drains the dregs out of it. He checks the refrigerator to see if he has any beer left.

Ed switches to the wireless phone and follows Tom into the kitchen. He takes his shoulder and guides him to the chair in the front room and sits him down. "Walter, I'm staying here today maybe 'til I'm well enough to come in to work. If I can, I'll take Tom to my place. It might help him."

He puts the phone down and goes to make coffee. He gets Tom some water and aspirin after taking some himself. "Here Tom, take these. They should help the pounding in your head. And drink all the water."

Ed sees Tom's handgun on the mantle. "Tom, what's this doing here? Tom, look at me"

Tom is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands cradling his head. He glances up at Ed. "I wanted to see it. Know it was there."

"Tom, were you thinking of using it? On yourself?"

He looks at Ed and decides to tell the truth, it doesn't matter anyway. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it since we got back. So far I don't have the courage to do it. Ya know, Ed, that's a good joke. Sloan would've loved it. Here I am a trained assassin and I couldn't do my job and kill her. Now she's dead and I don't even have the courage to die myself."

"Tom, you don't understand. It's not the dying that takes the courage; it's the living. Is that what you want Sloan's legacy to be? Your death. She said you were strong enough. Did she lie? She said she'd always be with you. I think she is. Maybe not her body but her spirit is. Look around. She's here in spirit. The things you loved about her were not only her body, but also her spirit. Her joy of life."

Tom tries to think above the pounding in his head. "No, I don't want her legacy to be my death. Sloan never lied to me. When she said I was strong enough she thought I was. But it hurts so much, Ed. Like my skin's being torn off and my insides' are being pulled out. Nothing's ever hurt me like this."

Ed nods at him. "I know, Tom. I feel the same way. But I've been through it before. My grandparents died when I was a kid. You feel like if only you could die the pain will stop. But that only makes pain for someone else. Tom, it will never go away. Not all of it. But it will calm and you will feel better. Tom, I don't wanna have to mourn you, too."

Tom looks at the floor wishing his head would stop pounding. "You're sure, Ed. You're sure I'll feel better eventually?"

"Tom, a broken heart never killed anyone. It's what happens when you don't let the broken heart heal. Tom, try to let yourself heal. We can help each other."

Sloan said he was strong enough. He had to be for her. "I'll try. I can't try for myself; I'm too empty inside. I'll try for her, it's what she would've wanted."

"I'm gonna call Ray. He can take us over to my place. The memories here are too sharp, too new, too strong." Ed stops and thinks. He wants another drink but won't do it. He won't let himself sink in a sea of whiskey. What little he saw of what it did to Tom, he didn't want to happen to himself. He puts his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Tom, we're gonna have to plan her funeral. It'll help us both say good-by."

He calls Ray and asks him to give them a ride. He'll be there in half an hour. "Where are your clothes. You'll need some clothes to change into."

"In my car. I can live out of my car for a long time. I have lived out of my car for long periods. I don't want to anymore." He didn't want to leave here. She was here, but Ed was right. The memories were too sharp. They cut him too deep. Maybe at Ed's place he could get some balance. He could think. Maybe the pain wouldn't be so deep.

They go down to wait for Ray. Ed locks the door carefully. They'd have to come back and do something. He didn't know what, not yet. Tom gets a carryall bag out of his trunk. Most of his clothes are in it. He travels light.

Ray has never seen two men look so miserable. Ed gives him Tom's gun and tells him to keep it 'til Tom feels better. Ray looks at Tom and can tell why. Ray can't think what to say to them to make either of them feel better, so he just brings them to Ed's place. Both of them look shattered by what happened.

Ed comes in and looks around. Kelly died here but it's better than at Sloan's. He wonders what Tom feels. If his empathic sense is still working, it could make it worse if he feels Ed's pain too.

"Tom, why don't you shower? You'll feel better. Do you want the bed or the sofa? I'll flip you for the bed."

"You take the bed, Ed. I can sleep anywhere, including the floor. Remember that was my job. You'd be amazed at some of the places I've slept.

While Tom showers Ed makes up the sofa with sheets and blankets. He comes out dressed in briefs and looks at Ed. "Where do we go from here?"

"You go to bed and get some more sleep. I'm gonna do the same thing. You've gotta get all the alcohol out of your system. I don't know what it does to your people, but until you can think straight there's no use trying to make any decisions."

"What decisions, Ed? She's dead and the world's empty. I said I'd try, but the world still seems empty."

"It will Tom. Probably for a long time. You gave up everything for Sloan. With her gone you have no world left, but that doesn't mean you can't build a new one. Tom, she loved you. You know that. Don't you think she would want you to do that? She still could be the center of your world; you'll have to fill it with other things.

He knew Ed was right. And he slept and tried to heal. They planned the funeral and he went. He didn't remember much of it; he was in too much pain. No casket, no grave, she'd been cremated. They couldn't take the chance of the contagion spreading. He took the urn with her ashes in it to her apartment and placed it on her mantle. He was paying for it. He kept it just as it was when she died. Ed called it a shrine and maybe it was. Her family only wanted a few personal items and that was ok with him. They left almost everything. Every time he returned from her apartment he picked up a fifth of whiskey and sat on the sofa and drank until Ed took the bottle away. Tom let him.

When Ed got well enough to come back to work, Tom followed. He sat and watched like he used to when She was there, but his heart wasn't in it. It was a way to fill the time. Ed was the only one who knew how much he hurt, how much he cried, sometimes Ed cried too.

A couple of months after she died the change happened. He still hurt, but the edges weren't so sharp, time was grinding them down. He sat on the couch with the glass of whiskey in his hand, looking at it and deciding what to do. He got up and poured it down the sink, the bottle, too. He tossed it away. He wasn't going to drink any more.

He gets his jacket and leaves. Ed follows him and they walk for a long time. "Ed, am I forgetting her? Why doesn't it hurt the way it used to?"

"Because you're healing. It's not forgetting, it's healing. I bet there a dozen, no, a hundred things you can remember about her. You loved her a lot, Tom. It'll take a long time to heal. Years probably. But you can do it. Do you still want to die? Is the hurt fading enough for you to want to live?"

Tom stops and looks at him. "Sometimes. Sometimes I want to die and know I'll stop hurting. Sometimes I want to live because that's what she would have wanted. I don't know anymore, Ed. I just don't know."

Tom sifted through what he felt from Ed. He knew that Ed felt much the same way as he did. He handled it differently. The grief was there in both Walter and Ray also, to a lesser extent.

Soon it became a habit. He comes home and walks. Ed walks with him until he was certain Tom wouldn't do anything foolish. No, he'd just walk. An hour some times two or three. Sometimes when he walked he feels her, her arm linked with his, her head on his shoulder. He takes pleasure in it when it happens. He talks to her softly and hopes she can hear. She'd said she'd be with him, at these times he thinks she still is. When he comes in chilled, Ed would make him something to warm him up. It let him think.

One day before he left Ed asked. "Tom, are you thinking about getting your own place?"

"What's the matter, Ed, gonna kick me out?" He knew Ed had no intention of that, but it was something to say.

"Nah, and you know it. No, this place is too small for the two of us. We can pick up a two-bedroom closer to the college. I don't mind having you for a roommate. You're neat, you're quiet, and you can cook. That's an unbeatable combination. Think about it and we can go apartment hunting in a week or two."

He did and they got an apartment closer to the college. Ed made him get a bed and dresser but other than that his room was bare. He still lived like a chameleon, no personal items at all. Tom followed when Ed went to investigate possible Dominant plots. Ray was convinced to return his gun on Ed's word that Tom was better. Some leads were good, but many turned out to be false. Walter was negotiating with a Dominant coexistence movement. Tom was interested but not hopeful. He didn't think his people could be trusted any more.

The next great change came after she'd been dead for six months. He was out walking again. His hands in his pockets and his collar up, it was chillier than he thought and he wished he'd put on a heavier jacket. His danger sense flashed, they'd sent someone. He was a well-trained operative, very valuable. Sooner or later he knew they would, and now was the time. As they got closer he knew there were three. He didn't think they'd send only one. The first one came from behind. Tom snapped a kick back, hitting him in the breastbone. He heard the bones snap and knew the assassin was down for the count.

None of them had drawn weapons; they were to take him alive. The second came from the side; Tom snapped his arm and twisted him away. A kick to his side knocked him down and away. The third was more cautious. Tom had to keep track of the other two but the third was the most dangerous. He circled looking for an opening. Tom put his hands down, giving it to him. As he charged, Tom stepped aside, swiping his feet from underneath him. Tom stepped on his back from behind. Reaching down and snapping his neck, Tom turned to the others. The one with the broken arm was preparing for attack. "Do you wanna die?" Tom says to him. The man slowly shakes his head.

"Did the council send you?" Another slow shake of his head.

"Did Lewis send you?" The man nods, fear evidenced in him even if he didn't show it.

Tom looks at the three men and discovers that he no longer wants to die. He wants to live, even without her he wants to live. "Tell Lewis I'll meet with him. He knows how to contact me. Call a clean-up crew. You're gonna need it." With that he turns and walks away. He has things to do.

He goes back to talk to Ed. As he puts on his gun and changes his jacket he says, "They've come for me. I don't want 'em to get you. Go to the lab and stay there 'til you hear from me. If you don't hear from me in a day or two, assume I'm either dead or they got me for reprogramming. Ed, I mean this. You told me you didn't want me to die. I don't want you to either." With that he left, he knew Ed would leave. He already was getting ready to go.

He goes to Sloan's apartment. Lewis would be here shortly. He knows how his mentor thinks. He gets out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and places them on the dining room table. He puts his jacket on the love seat and sits at the table and waits. Waiting was something he knew how to do. He feels him come up to the door and watches him enter. He didn't bother to mask. "Hello, Tom. It's been a long time. Too long"

He nods to him. There is nothing to say.

He comes over to the table and sits across from Tom. Lewis opens the bottle and pours a drink for each of them. "I heard how she died. I didn't want you to stay with her but I didn't want this. Will you come back to us now? There isn't anything keeping you here."

Tom looks at the amber liquid in the glass, remembering the first few weeks after her death. "Yes, there is. I have the memory of her here. I can help do what she wanted. She wanted peace. There is no need for this futile war you are engaged in. I'm sorry you were taken but I heard you were there only a couple of weeks. I can't do it any more. I can't kill on command. Her death broke me into shards. You know how I felt about her, I never could hide something like that from you. Maybe someday I could do something else, but I'm not healed enough, not yet."

"Why do you come here? Where she lived. Why do you keep it? You've been watched you know. This can't be helping you forget."

Tom shakes his head at him. "I don't keep it to forget. I don't want to forget. I only want to heal. Lewis, when I'm here I can feel her. In some ways it's like she's still here. The first weeks after she died, I only wanted to die too. When you sent your people after me I learned something new. I want to live. Even without her, I want to live. If you had sent them right after she'd died, I would have made them kill me. For that, I thank you." He tips his glass at him and drinks.

"I'm on the outs with the council. If I brought you back I could be back in. What would it take to get you to come back to us?"

"You knew the answer to that before you asked. No more war. Co-existence. They'd never agree to that. There's something else you need or want. What is it?"

Lewis is the one contemplating his glass now. Tom is right. He always had the knack of cutting to the heart of the matter. He may think he is damaged but in some ways he is as good as or better than he'd ever been. Lewis knows he needs out. His position is so damaged that someone is sure to try to take him out. Tom had made it. Tom is the best escape hatch he has.

He swallows the whiskey in his glass and pours himself another. "Tom, the council doesn't want you back. They think you're useless now, drowned in a sea of drink. I know better. That's why I sent them after you. You succeeded against a three-man team."

"They weren't chameleons, Lewis. I wouldn't have survived against three chameleons. What were they, a retrieval team? They didn't seem to be that experienced. I took them out rather easily."

He nods. "You're better than you think. They were one of my better teams. You killed the alpha; the others will have to be retrained to do something else. It doesn't matter anyway. Tom, my position is damaged. I need your help."

Tom is so stunned by this revelation he almost drops his shielding. The expression on his face never changes. He looks at the remaining liquid in his glass and downs it. He places the glass upside down in front of him, signaling he wants no more. "Why tell me? More important, why come to me for help? I'd be no use to you if I returned, even though the council would see that as redemption. I need to stay here, where she was, to finish my healing. Or is it something else you want, not me?"

Lewis looks at him evenly. Tom's shielding is so much better than it was that he gets very little from him. He may have been broken but in the process of healing he has become much stronger. The humans had a saying 'That which does not kill me only makes me stronger.' Apparently, in the case of Tom, it was true. "I need out. Out of the program. Away from the council. Out of sight."

Tom looks at him thoughtfully. "Out before someone takes you out."


END