She loves him.

Of course she loves him. Maybe she had loved him from the first time that he had awkwardly stumbled into her life. Maybe it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, hiding with all of the other things that she rarely let see the light. She would probably never really know how long she had loved him, but that didn't matter, all she knew was this:

She loves him.

"Think of your happy place," she whispers, closing her eyes. She knows that he is aching and that he is terrified, but he doesn't let it show. And, as usual, he does what she asks of him.

Maybe that was one of the many reasons that she loves him.

"...a nice sandy beach...."

"Are you there?" he asks without opening her eyes and a piece of her icy heart melts, as it usually does when she's around him. She opens one of her eyes to watch him. He looks so content. Not like he's fifty feet up in the air, stuck millions of years in the past, hiding from raptors and God knows what else.

"If you'd like," she whispers. He smiles. She closes her eye.

Unbidden, he pops into her own beachy vision, a stark contrast against the bright sky and sand. He's smiling, that half smile, eyes closed against the gentle sea breeze. He's so beautiful in his own strange, unique kind of way.

In the real world-what is real anymore, she wonders-a smirk splashes across his face.

"Are you wearing a bikini?"

She swallows any sort of sarcastic remark that might try to make it's way out and opens an eye again to study him. He looks so peaceful. She remembers the shock of fear coursing through her when she saw him laying there at the base of the tree. When he wouldn't wake up. When she realized that she would rather risk her lie and die than see him die. The tribulation of watching him swing the branch in a wide arc, connecting with that damn raptor.

She thought that she was going to lose him and that thought had been unbearable.

"If you'd like."

The small smile gracing his features clearly says: I'd like.

Some part of her wants to crawl over to him and ask him to hold her because she knows that he will. That same part wants to kiss him and ask him to tell her that everything is going to be alright, but she can't. That stubborn Abby part of her that she hasn't managed to control, the part of her that's terrified to let Connor in, won't let her.

Instead she closes her eyes. Forces herself to be calm.

"See you in the morning," she whispers, wondering if her words are true at all.

Something screeches in the distance, maybe a teradactyl, maybe a raptor.

He's thinking the same thing.

"I hope."

That night she dreams of Stephen.

Stephen was different than Connor. Stephen was never anything more than fling material. He didn't threaten her solitude the way that Connor did. Stephen was manly and sexy ad aloof and totally unattainable and maybe thats why she lusted after him so. But that's all it had ever been-lust.

So much different than Connor.

In her dream, Stephen replaced Connor on her beach.

"Hey Abby," he said.

"Hey," she said. "You're dead."

He nodded and looked out into the ocean. "I know."

"What you did," she said, words spilling from her lips. "With Helen. To Cutter."

It was wrong, went unspoken.

"I know," he whispered.

She wants to ask why, but she's not sure that she wants to know the answer.

She touches his shoulder. "He forgave you, you know. Cutter."

"I know," Stephen says. "That's why I did what I did. Because he forgave me for something that he never should have forgiven me for."

Vaguely Abby remembers that she's dreaming and wonders how she could possibly know any of this.

"I'm sorry,"he whispers, but she's not sure why he's apologizing to her.

She turns her head away from him and when he turns back, he's gone.

Cutter replaces Stephen on her beach.

She wants to cry and hug him, but instead she just chokes out his name. He's sitting on the sand, legs pulled up to his chest. His eyes are clearer than she remembers them being in a long time.

He pats the sand beside him and she sits in the same position as him, slightly curled up, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"So you love him." It's not a question. "Connor."

She nods, slowly. "Yeah, I think I do." Words tumble from her mouth, maybe it's because it's a dream, she's being more honest than she ever though possible, or maybe it's because it's Cutter. "I kissed him, you know."

Cutter nods. "And?"

"And I liked it. I love him. And it's not the right time. Cutter, we're stuck in the past and Connor's hurt and I don't know what to do."

He smiles. "You alwasu were the strong one, Abby." He turns his calm, piercingly blue eyes at her. "Everything will be fine. And there's never a 'right' time for love. Just different opportunities."

"Opportunities?" she whispers.

"Don't wait too long," Cutter says turning his eyes out to the ocean again. "That's how I lost Claudia. And then Jenny."

There are unexpected tears pricking at Abby's eyes.

"I miss you so much, Cutter," she whispers.

He puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. "I know."

"And so does Connor. He doesn't say it, but he doesn't have to."

"I know," Cutter says again, and there's something like regret tinging his voice. "I know."

She closes her eyes and when she opens them again, he's gone and she misses him even more.

"You too?" she hisses, feeling mutinous. They're standing in the future, looking for her brother, looking for her Jack, and they all want to go home. He's her only family. He's all she has. Why don't they understand that she can't stop?

"Abby..." he whispers, something like hurt flashing through his dark eyes.

"You never liked him!" she screams. "You'd be glad if he was dead!"

She knows in an instant that shes hurt him and she doesn't care. He needs to stop this silly charade. He needs to get as far away from her as possible.

But she can't look at him.

And then the Predator, appearing from no where. No where to run.

Jack...

"Hey!"

Her head snaps back to the entrance of the room that they had emerged from. Connor is standing there, a strange look on his face. With a shock, she realizes that she recognizes that look. It was the same dead look that his face wore after Cutter died. After he came walking out of that building with Cutter in his arms.

"Hey!" Connor yells again. "Over here!"

He waves at the Predator. Distracting it.

"Go on," he says to her, that sad dead look in his eyes.

For a moment she wants to say something, but she doesn't. She watches as the Predator rushes at him. At Connor. Her Connor; and for a moment she can't breathe because all of a sudden she realizes what is happening. What he's doing.

For her.

Maybe that was when she realized that she loved him.

She's alone on her beach. Not even Connor is there anymore and suddenly, with every fiber of her being, she wants to wake up and she wants to be back in her own time, in the flat with Connor, laughing with Danny and Becker and Sarah, and she remembers dancing with Connor in the strange compound when they were running from Christine's troops and she remembers how he looked in the tux and tails and how happy he seemed and it's not fair and she wants it all back, now.

When she wakes up, she's still in the tree and her cheeks are damp. She's shivering a little bit and when she looks over at Connor, she sees that his chest is rising and falling slowly.

And, despite it all, if there ever had to be someone stuck in this bloody situation with her, she's glad that it's him.

"I love you Connor," she whispers into the darkness.

She's sure he's still asleep, she's sure that he can't hear her, but something like a vague smile spreads across his face anyway.