The Cost of Secrets
Pairing: Connor Walsh x Fem!Reader (I know he's gay, for sake of this oneshot- he is bi!)
Summary: A secret causes an argument between you and Connor- which eventually leads to you leaving your shared apartment. What happens after will change your life forever- even more than when you and the others murdered Sam Keating.
Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, blood, violence, foul language, and probably more that I'm forgetting...
Timeline: Takes place at the end of season 1/beginning of season 2.
Notes: This is my first time attempting to write in second person, so hopefully I achieved it well and didn't mess up anywhere, lol. I have loved Connor's character from the moment I started watching HTGAWM and knew I had to write for him- and as a female, I wanted to write him with a female love interest. Sorry if that upsets you, I'm aware he is gay, but this is just fiction and for the sake of the oneshot- he also likes females. If you have any comments, let us know! Also, requests are open if you have any ideas that you want us to try executing!
There are some slight spoilers, but not really any tbh. If you've seen s1 and s2 of the show, you'll be fine.
Word Count: ~7.79k
Author Signature: 🦋
Annalise’s house feels heavier at night.
You don’t know if it’s ‘cause of the night that the murder of Sam Keating occurred, or if it has always been like that. It’s hard to remember how you felt before having the weight of a murder on your chest.
And now Rebecca was missing.
The house is too quiet. Everyone had files open, scattered around the room as they tried to find holes in evidence or alibis.
Connor’s hand is warm on your thigh, his thumb rubbing lazy circles as you sit on the arm of his chair, a manilla folder open on your other leg while he watches security tapes on his laptop.
Wes is sitting across the room, his posture rigid as he runs a stressed hand over his hair.
Michaela is sitting on the floor, papers scattered around her and Laurel while Asher talks quietly with Bonnie in the corner- Frank and Annalise in the office, likely discussing who to kill next.
Or so that’s what you always assumed because of how shady the pair was.
Suddenly, the door opens, causing you to glance up and make eye contact with Annalise.
“Y/N.” She says, “My office. Now.”
You furrow your brows and glance at your boyfriend as his thumb stills on your leg, “I’ll be right back.”
He nods, but there’s a crease in his brow that shows he is worried about what is going to happen in that office.
Annalise backs in as you walk past her, Frank shutting the door behind you.
“This doesn’t leave this room.” She says, causing a worried feeling to flow through you, your stomach dropping, “Okay…”
Frank reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. It’s familiar in the worst way possible.
It’s Rebecca’s.
Your eyes widen, “You still have that?”
“Yeah, I took it off of her when we had her tied up to make sure she couldn’t call the police and she ran away without it.” Frank replies, holding it out to you.
“Okay and why are you handing it to me?” You ask in shock, backing away from the device like it was a bomb.
Annalise eyes you cautiously, “She’s missing, as you know, and this cannot be found. I trust you enough to keep it safe.”
“What?” Your throat goes dry as you try to process what she is asking you to do, “Where do you want me to keep it?”
“Not your apartment and not on you unless absolutely necessary. No one can find out you have it. Especially Wes and Connor.” Annalise says sternly causing you to scoff, “I can’t tell Connor? Why not just give it to someone like Laurel, then? She’s better at keeping stuff like this quiet-”
“Because I’m asking you.” Annalise interrupts, “Now can I trust you to do this or no?”
Not wanting to disappoint Annalise, and because you have a slight fear of what would happen if you say no, you reach out and take the phone from Frank’s hand, “Of course you can.”
“Good.” She smiles before it drops dramatically, “Now go back out there and act normal.”
You nod, turning and making eye contact with Frank- who gives you a warning look as you pocket the phone and walk out.
The house feels even quieter somehow, and you go back to where you were sitting previously. Connor’s hand is quick to find your thigh again, almost as if it’s second nature, “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You lie and the guilt immediately begins gnawing at you because of it.
-
About an hour later, you and Connor walk in your apartment- some of the tension dissolving from your body as you shrug your backpack off your back and set it next to the door.
Connor kicks the door shut after he walks in, grinning as he walks forwards and kisses you.
“You sure you’re alright?” He asks, “‘Cause ever since you’ve walked out of Annalise’s office, you’ve been distracted.”
“I’m good, just tired.” You say with a smile, planting a quick kiss on his lip before slipping out of his hold and plopping on the couch- not bothering to shrug your shoes off.
Connor quickly sits beside you, laying his head on your lap as he sighs heavily, “My mood instantly goes up whenever I get to leave that house.”
You look down at him as you laugh quietly, scratching his scalp absentmindedly as you think about Rebecca’s phone in your back pocket, “Mine too.”
Connor then sits up, patting your leg as he stands, “Want anything to drink or eat before we shower and head to bed?”
You stand up also, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his, “I’ll come with you to the kitchen. I don’t remember what we have.”
He smiles, kissing your forehead before he makes his way to the fridge, dragging you behind him.
As he opens the door, you wrap your hands around his waist, peering over his shoulder as you scan what you have.
Connor’s hands cover yours as he purses his lips, looking at the bareness that was your refrigerator, “Looks like we need to take a trip to the grocery store.”
You nod against his back as he shuts the fridge and turns in your hold, wrapping his arms around you.
You stand there for a second before his hands began to trail down playfully, causing you to slap his chest and pull away with a laugh as you give him a mock glare.
“What?” He asks with a smirk as you turn around and begin to walk to the living room, not even noticing his confused gaze as he watches you walk away.
His footsteps speed up behind you and you feel him grab something from your pocket, causing you to whip around, noticing he had Rebecca’s hand in his grasp.
“What the fuck are you doing with this?” He snaps as your eyes widen before you try to play dumb, “What do you mean? That’s my phone.”
“No.” He says, going over to your bag and grabbing your phone out of it, “This is your phone.”
And then he holds up the other one, “This is Rebecca’s.”
“Connor-” You begin, only to get interrupted, “This is why she called you into her office isn’t it? You’ve been acting weird ever since.”
You sigh, running your hand through your hair as you snatch the phones from him, “Yes, that’s why.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Since when did we hide things from each other?” Connor asked, not giving you the chance to reply before saying his next statement, “Why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not shutting you out.” You mutter, chest tightening as guilt consumes you.
“Yes, you are!” He shouts, causing tears to rise in your eyes as you speak, “She told me not to!”
“And you just listened to her? I’m your boyfriend, Y/N! She’s just our untrustworthy professor who never tells us anything and is always acting shady.” He spits, his hatred for Annalise showing through his words.
You shake your head, “She’s just trying to keep us safe, Con. I admit she’s a bit shady, but where would we be now if we didn’t have her looking out for us after everything that happened with Sam?”
“Oh, so now you’re defending her?” Connor scoffs and you nod in response, your voice rising, “Yes, Connor! And you know why? Because I want to trust her. I’m tired of being scared every time I walk out the fucking door!”
“We should be scared! We murdered someone! How are you okay with that?” He snaps, lowering his voice for fear of neighbors overhearing.
“I’m not okay with that, that’s not what I’m saying! Don’t twist my words.” You shout, “Why are you turning this around on me?”
“Maybe because you have a missing girl’s phone in your hand!” He states as he points to the device, “How do I know you aren’t keeping anything else from me?”
“Because I’m telling you I’m not, okay? You just have to trust me.” You reply, which causes him to shake his head, “And how do you expect me to do that, huh? I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust you when you’re starting to sound exactly like her.”
“That’s not fair.” You reply, shaking your head as tears begin to gather.
“No.” He snaps as he steps closer to you, his finger lingering dangerously close to your chest, “What’s not fair is finding out my girlfriend is playing secret-keeper for Annalise while we’re sitting on a murder.”
You wince internally, weakly defending yourself, “She told me not to tell anyone.”
“And you listened.” He replies quickly, “That’s the problem.”
“Connor-” You begin, only to get cut off, “Don’t ‘Connor’ me like I’m being irrational. You chose her over me.”
“No. That’s not what this is, you’re taking this out of proportion!” You try, but he doesn’t want to hear it, “Then what is it? Because from where I’m standing, you decided that I couldn’t handle the truth.”
“I was scared of how you’d react, yes, and I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would make things worse! I wanted to keep us from falling apart!” You reply, your voice rising.
He scoffs, “By lying? God, do you even hear yourself?”
“I wasn’t technically lying.” You spit back.
He rolls his eyes, “Don’t go all ‘lawyer’ on me right now. If that’s how you want to play it, fine. You weren’t lying- you were hiding. And that’s not better.”
You take a breath, trying to calm down and steady yourself, “Con, you know me. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“No. I thought I knew you.” He replies immediately, jaw clenched as he stares at you with the coldest look you’ve ever seen him direct your way.
His comment lands hard, making your chest tighten, “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t tell me what I mean.” He snaps, “Because right now, I’m looking at you and wondering what else I don’t know.”
“There is nothing else.” You tell him, desperation seeping through your tone, “I swear.”
He doesn’t soften at your tone and instead replies harshly, “That doesn’t mean anything to me now. I trusted you and you made me feel like an idiot for it.”
Your hands curl into fists, your nails biting into the skin of your palm, “I was trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” He fires back, “And I don’t need you deciding what I can and can’t handle.”
You shake your head in slight disbelief, “Don’t let this ruin us, Connor. You’re being cruel.”
“I’m being realistic.” He retorts, “Because if you can lie this easily now, how do I know I can trust you when things get worse?”
“Things have been worse, and I didn’t let you down then!” You reply and he is quick to retort, “But you let me down now.”
“You think I didn’t want to tell you?” You finally snap in frustration, “I’ve felt sick and guilty since the second I left that office, but she asked me not to say anything!”
“That’s not enough! If you felt so guilty, why didn’t you just ignore her and tell me? And don’t spit out the same bullshit about you not wanting this to make us ‘fall apart’ or that you wanted to ‘protect’ me.” He replies immediately, his voice venomous- and it causes you to freeze, your mind going blank.
Why didn’t you just tell him?
As your thoughts take over, Connor decides you didn’t answer fast enough.
He scoffs, taking a step back, “Right. That’s what I thought.”
That’s when you decide that you’ve had enough and you pocket the two phones that started this argument as you take a step closer to him, “Look, I get that you’re mad, but you don’t get to suddenly rewrite who I am because you’re angry and scared.”
“Then don’t give me reasons to doubt you.” He replies.
You stare at him for a few moments, a tear dripping down your cheek, “So, that’s it? One thing and suddenly I’m… what? A stranger?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
A few more tears drip down as you nod, “Right.”
Then you turn and make your way to the door.
“What? So you’re just going to leave? That’s your solution?” He snaps and you pause, turning to look at him, “No. This is me deciding to give you space to figure out if you want to be with me anymore. You can take whatever time you need to decide if you actually trust me or if you just like the idea of me when I don’t complicate things.”
“Don’t walk out like this.” Connor says, anger creeping back into his tone, “If you leave now, you can’t expect me to pretend everything’s fine tomorrow.”
“I never asked you to.” You replied before opening the door and leaving, listening to the door click behind you before you walked off.
As you walk outside, you regret not grabbing a jacket- the cold air quickly running along your arms.
As you walk along the street, not even knowing where your destination will be, you rub your arms frantically in order to warm up.
And you don’t even hear him coming.
A hand suddenly clamps over your mouth and something sharp bites into your neck, making your legs turn to jelly.
You gasp and try to scream, but it’s only muffled by the person’s hand as they drag you over to a vehicle and open the trunk.
They easily lift you in and tie your arms together with something rough- which you deduce as rope- whatever they injected in you not allowing you to fight back.
More tears gather as you remain helpless, the person not saying anything as they shut the trunk and head to the drivers seat.
Your wrists quickly begin to burn as the rope rubs against your skin, but you know that now is not the time to panic and rather the time to focus as the car starts.
You slumped sideways against the trunk door and you force yourself to breathe calmly as you focus and listen.
Count. You think to yourself as the vehicle begins to move.
You swallow carefully, counting the time in your head in order to know how long it took to get to form your apartment to whatever destination your kidnapper is taking you to.
Whenever the vehicle turns, you feel it and mark it as a checkpoint in your head- thanking God for your memory since it could be something that saves you in this situation.
The car turns left.
You mark it. Keeping it locked away in your mind for later when you can hopefully contact someone- considering your phone is still in your back pocket and just out of reach.
Your heart pounds, but your mind stays sharp. Annalise’s voice echoes in your head, clipped and commanding.
Details matter.
You listen for clues- if the tires are on gravel or pavement and if the car goes over a bump- railroad tracks, maybe.
You count obsessively, anchoring yourself to it so that the fear doesn’t swallow you whole.
Five minutes.
Ten.
You don’t know where you’re going, but you do know how you’re getting there- and that might be enough.
Fifteen.
Finally, the car slows.
You tense as the vehicle comes to a complete stop and you force yourself to go limp, playing as if you’re unconscious before the trunk is opened.
Cold air floods in and hands grab you- rought and impatient- hauling you up and over their shoulder.
Your head lolls, hair falling into your face as you let your full weight sag.
“Jesus.” A man mutters, “How much did I inject into you?”
You don’t recognize the voice.
And you can’t decide if that’s better or worse.
He slams the trunk shut and begins walking. Pain sparks in your ribs as your body bounces with each step, but you refuse to make a sound.
A door creaks open and you quickly act.
You flop out of his grip and catch the door before it closes, running as best as you can with your hands tied behind your back.
His footsteps echo quickly behind you and then you tumble to the ground as he throws himself into you and rolls you over before swinging, landing a punch clean across your cheek.
“Well.” He comments, “Guess I didn’t inject as much as I thought.”
And then he hauls you back up, keeping a tight grip on your bound hands as he brings you back towards the building.
But you feel that the ropes have slipped.
He holds you tight enough so that you can’t move and brings you to the basement before unceremoniously shoving you into a chair.
He grabs more rope and steps forward, “Cooperate and I’ll be a lot easier on you.”
And then he bends down to tie your legs, and you don’t listen to his instructions, kicking your leg out.
You make contact with his chest, but he quickly grabs your leg and pulls a knife from his back pocket, stabbing it into your leg quickly before pulling it back out.
That pulls a scream from you.
“What the fuck did I say?” He spits before roughly tying your legs to the chair.
He then stands up and holds his hand out, “Phone.”
You lift your head slowly, “No.”
The word is barely out of your mouth before his fist connects with your face again.
Your head snaps to the side, pain radiating across your cheekbone, hot and blinding. You taste blood from that second hit.
“Try again.” He says.
Tears spill despite your best effort to stop them and you grab Rebecca’s phone from your back pocket, leaving yours where it was, “Fine.”
Then you drop the phone on the floor behind the chair, since you can’t actually hand him the phone.
He quickly rounds the chair and grabs it, “Finally.”
Then he walks out, shutting the door behind him.
Your body collapses forward as soon as your alone, your breaths ragged as tears drip off your chin along with blood from where he hit you.
Your heart races as you listen to your surroundings.
Silence.
Then you hear a door shut in the distance and know that it’s time to move.
You grab your phone from your back pocket, slipping your hands from the ropes and pulling them in front of you.
You unlock it, eyes lingering on Connor’s name before drifting to the next one and clicking on that instead.
Frank.
It rings once.
Twice.
“Yeah?” Frank answers, voice slightly impatient as it echoes through the line.
You breathe a sigh of relief, trying to ignore the pain in your leg as you whisper, “Frank- I need help.”
“What is it?” He asks.
“I’ve been kidnapped. I don’t know by who- but I-” You reply, getting cut off by the man as his voice rushes through the speaker, “Where are you?”
“I- I don’t know.” You say, you’re voice trembling, “I-”
Footsteps.
You quickly cut yourself off, turning the phone down all the way as your blood runs cold, “He’s coming back- please-”
You shove your phone back into your pocket, slipping your arms back into the rope to make it look as if you’re still restrained.
A shaky breath leaves you as the pain radiates from your leg but you slump forwards, eyes half-lidded as your body goes slack.
The man walks in and stops in front of you.
“Already passed out?” He mutters before grabbing your chin and forcing your face up.
You don’t fight it.
“Y/N L/N.” He grins and you clench your jaw, “How do you know who I am?”
“I know a lot of things.” He replies, dropping his hand from your chin, “Like how you and your little group of friends killed Sam Keating.”
“What?” You ask, feigning confusing, “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play coy, Y/N. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He snaps.
You shake your head, “No, I don’t. I know nothing about what happened to him, just that he was murdered by Nate Lahey.”
The man is quick to backhand her across the face for that comment, his jaw clenched as he glares at her, “You’re gonna learn that lying to me gets you nowhere.”
“I don’t know anything!” You argue, the need to protect your boyfriend and friends overpowering any pain you felt.
His hand shoots forward, grabbing your jaw harshly, “Listen to me, girl. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know and then you’re free.”
He drops her face then, red prints imbedding in her skin from his harsh grasp as he smirks sarcastically, “It’s as easy as that.”
“So, I want you to tell me everything you know about Sam Keating.”
“He was my professor’s husband and he was a psychology professor, that’s all I know.” You reply, jaw clenched as you look at him with a fierce look in your eye.
He shakes his head in disappointment before leaning down and wrapping his hand around your stab wound- squeezing harshly.
You scream loudly, “I don’t know anything, I swear!”
And somewhere, hidden in your pocket, Frank Delfino hears everything.
You can only hope that he’s trying his hardest to find you.
-
As soon as Frank heard your situation, he knew he had to move quickly.
He was quick to get into his car and make his way to Annalise’s, staying on the line and not saying a word as he tries his hardest to pinpoint your location.
He drives fast, luck being on his side as he hits every green light.
Your scream suddenly rings through the speaker and he grimaces, “Jesus Christ.”
And he continues to drive.
-
Connor stands in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist as a feeling of guilt flows through him because of how he snapped at you.
His thoughts continue to race through his mind.
Should I have been that cruel to her?
Was I cruel enough?
How should I have handled that?
As he gets dressed, his phone buzzes on the night stand.
Before he even picks it up, he has a feeling that something is wrong. He just doesn’t know what.
He grabs the device and sees a single text message in his notification box.
From Frank.
Where’s Y/N?
His stomach drops and he types back immediately.
I don’t know. Not here.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Then the phone rings.
Connor furrows his brows, answering the phone with shaky hands, “Professor Keating?”
“You need to get here now.” The voice orders, and Connor quickly realizes that it’s not Annalise on the line.
“What happened, Frank?” He asks frantically.
“Y/N just called me. She’s been kidnapped.”
Connor’s throat runs dry and he quickly feels like he’s going to throw up.
“What?” He croaks, “No- no. You’re lying, right?”
“I’m at Annalise’s.” Frank snaps, “Get your ass here. Now.”
The line goes dead.
Connor stands frozen in the apartment, his chest tightening as he runs a distressed hand through his hair.
“Oh my, God.” He whispers before grabbing his jacket and rushing out the door.
-
The man begins to circle you slowly as pain becomes your whole body.
“You people always think you’re smarter than you are.” He says lowly, “But someone always cracks.”
Your legs strain against the chair as he grabs it and yanks it closer to the center of the room. The scrape of wood against the concrete makes your stomach churn- though that could also be the nausea settling in.
“Let’s try this again.” He says, making eye contact with you, “What happened to Sam Keating?”
You shake your head weakly, “I don’t know.”
He laughs- short and humorless.
And then he is quick to send his fist flying into your stomach.
You sputter, gasping for air as it’s knocked out of you. Your ribs scream in protest as the pain blooms violently in your abdomen.
“What do you know?” He roars, placing both hands on the arm of your chair as he yells in your face like an interrogator.
“I don’t know anything!” You sob, voice hoarse from the previous screaming and the dehydration as you continue to bleed from the wound in your leg.
Another blow.
Then another.
Your body jerks violently with each hit, the chair shaking beneath you. Tears stream down your face in a continuous flow, mixing with your blood as your cheek and lip split from the force of his hits.
“You don’t get that close to Annalise Keating without knowing something.” He snarls aggressively.
You cry, not bothering to hold it back as you try to speak through your hyperventilation, “I swear… I- I don’t know anything. I don’t.”
Pain explodes once more- sharper than the others. You scream as the new knife wound on your arm begins to leak.
“Stop lying!” He yells.
“I’m not!” You scream back hysterically, “I’m not lying.”
Through all of your screaming and the hits, in the back of your mind, you’re aware that Frank is listening. He’s still there- trying to find you.
You cling to that.
-
Connor bursts into Annalise’s house, quick to notice that the others are already there as he speaks, out of breath due to panicking, “What happened?”
Frank doesn’t reply, and instead, hits the speaker button on his phone.
Your scream fills the room.
Michaela gasps.
Laurel brings a hand to her mouth.
Wes looks away from the phone as if that will stop the screams.
Asher runs a distressed hand through his hair.
And Connor stumbles forward like he needs something to grab onto before he collapses into the nearest chair, “Oh my, God…”
“So, you wanna tell me what you did?” Frank asks, lifting his eyes from the phone to Connor as he raises his brows, “She’d never call me over you, so what the hell did you do?”
Connor’s hands shake violently as he runs ones through his hair, “We got into a fight.”
He looks down then, ashamed that he let the fight get far enough that she felt the need to give him space.
Why didn’t he stop her from walking out the door?
Another scream rings through the line and the group can hear that she’s not telling the kidnapper anything.
She’s being tortured and still keeping them safe.
“I can’t listen to this anymore.” Michaela speaks up, “Take it off speaker.”
Frank just looks at her, not doing anything as he furrows his brows in slight confusion, “What?”
“Turn it off!” She screams, and Frank finally does as asked, bringing the phone to his hear so that he can still hear in case you spoke again.
“This is our fault.” Michaela adds, shaking her head as a tear runs down her face. “She got taken and is getting tortured because of what we all did-”
“We can’t think about that right now, okay?” Laurel speaks, trying to be the voice of reason, “It could’ve been any one of us.”
“But it’s her.” Connor chimes in, his jaw clenched as he looks from Laurel to Wes, “Everything is because of you, you know that right?”
Wes scoffs slightly, opening his mouth to speak, but Annalise’s voice fills the room instead, “Enough! You all played a part and now we have to deal with the consequences. Stop arguing, we have more important things to worry about!”
Her gaze goes to the phone and all of their expressions become ones of guilt at the fact that they were just arguing while their friend is actively being traumatized.
A few seconds goes by before anyone says anything.
“You’re tracking her, right?” Connor asks, his voice breaking as he speaks.
Frank gives the man a deadpanned stare, “What? Do you think I’m stupid or somethin’? I’ve been trying to land a signal this whole time- it should register soon.”
“This is my fault.” Connor mutters, “I blew up on her, I-”
Annalise is quick to interrupt him, “No. It’s my fault.”
She then turns to Frank, “Get that thing to land a signal. If we don’t find her-”
“I know.” Frank says with a grim expression on his face.
-
The man grabs your hair, yanking your head back so hard that your neck throbs.
“Last chance.” He growls, “What happened to Sam Keating?”
Your vision swims as blood continues to pool around you.
Everything hurts and you repeat the same answer you’ve been giving, “I don’t know.”
He hits you again.
You scream until your voice can’t do it anymore, the sound dissolving into hoarse and broken sobs. Your body trembles in pain and exhaustion.
Between blows, he continues to ask questions that you no longer answer.
“What do you know?”
“Who killed him?”
“What has Annalise Keating made you do for her?”
“Did she murder him?”
Each time, you give similar answers.
“I don’t know anything.”
“She hasn’t made me do anything.”
“I don’t know!”
Over and over.
Your defiance isn’t confident anymore. It’s quiet as your body shakes and blood pools.
But it holds.
It feels like hours between all of the screaming. Your body feels disoriented and wrong- some places feeling heavy while others are numb. You can feel the blood soaking into your clothes as your head droops forward despite your best efforts to stay upright.
Finally-
“Fine.” He scoffs, stepping back as his hands shake with rage.
“You’re either useless,” He snarls, “or you’re too stupid to matter.”
He storms out, the door slamming so hard that the walls rattle.
You freeze, breathing as shallow as possible in order to listen carefully.
Seconds go by.
Then you hear a door open and close.
Silence.
Everything hurts as dizziness consumes you. You can barely hold yourself upright, but you know that now is your chance.
You’re still alive, even though your quickly getting closer to not staying that way.
With shaky hands, you fumble for your phone and manage to grab it, hitting speaker.
“Frank,” You whisper hoarsely, “He’s gone.”
“I know.” He replies immediately, “You did great. I know it’s dumb to ask if you’re okay, so how bad is it?”
Your eyes close slightly due to droopiness but you force yourself to stay awake, “I feel like I’m going to pass out… he-”
You take as deep a breath as you can possibly manage right now, “It’s bad. He cut me, Frank, I’m bl- bleeding a lot.”
“I’m getting your location, okay. I need you to hold on.” Frank tells you.
You nod, even though he can’t see you, “I counted.”
“What?” He asks and you can hear the slight confusion in his voice.
“The time. It took abo- about fifteen minutes from my apartment.” You inform, “I know the turns and everything too.”
Frank immediately asks you for them and you relay, hearing the scribbles of a pen as someone writes in the background.
You can also hear the others in the background, especially Connor as he tries to order Frank to give him the phone.
“Can- can I talk to Connor?” You rasps.
He doesn’t respond, but you know he listened to your request as the next voice flows through the line, “Y/N, I’m here, I- I shouldn’t have let you leave. I shouldn’t have said half of that shit. I was scared and I- God, that’s not an excuse, I know, but-”
He stops for a second, his shaky breaths echoing through the line, “Are you… are you still with me?”
“Yeah.” You whisper, exhausted, “I’m here.”
“Oka- okay.” You can see him shaking in your head, pacing the room as he talks to you, “Listen to me. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to explain anything. I don’t care about the phone or Annalise or- any of it. I just need you to stay awake, alright?”
His voice drops, “Please don’t pass out.”
“I’ll try.” You mutter weakly and he is quick to respond, “I’m coming. Just hold on, okay?”
“Just come and bring me home.” You reply, a feeling of hope and relief flowing through you because you know that you’ll be safe soon.
“I’ll be there soon.”
-
Frank drives like he’s a street racer, his hands tight on the wheel as Bonnie reads off the directions to him from the sheet where they were written down.
“Left in one minute.” She tells him, her voice steady but clipped, “Another 2 minutes after that, you’ll make a right.”
Connor sits rigid in the backseat beside Asher, his knee bouncing so hard it makes the seat shake. His hands won’t stop fidgeting- one digging into his thigh while hte other grips the seatbelt tightly.
It was just them four, Annalise ordering the others to stay put while they brought you home.
Streetlights flash through the car in quick intervals, illuminating their faces and all the emotions that are displayed on them.
What the lights display is that Connor’s jaw is clenched, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused.
Asher notices.
He grips the fabric of his jeans, trying to ground himself as he deals with the stakes of the situation. Even though fear is running through him, he knows his friend is worse off. So, he looks at Connor, “We’re gonna get her, bro. She’s tough. She’ll be okay.”
The said boy gulps as he continues to shake, “I hope so.”
The words sound small and fragile, almost like they might shatter if anyone pushes too hard.
Asher sighs, “Connor-”
“No, I did this!” He interrupts, his knee beginning to bounce faster as he shakes, “I practically pushed her out the door. I said all that shit and then I just- let her leave.”
His voice breaks on the last word and he presses his lips together, breathing harsholy through his nose as if he can force the panic down.
“If I hadn’t snapped- if I’d just shut up for once-” He laughs weakly, it’s bitter, “God, I always do this.”
“Stop.” Frank orders from the front seat, looking at Connor through the rearview mirror, “You can spiral all you want later. Right now, we get her.”
Connor nods quickly, like he’s been scolded, his fingers curling around the door handle tightly. He forces himself to take a deep breath.
But the thoughts don’t stop.
I should’ve followed her.
I should’ve apologized.
His throat tightens.
I don’t deserve later.
The car turns sharply, tires running over gravel. Bonnie glances up through the windshield and scans the surroundings.
“This should be it.” She says, “Slow down.”
Frank does as told, his foot easing off the gas as he narrows his eyes, looking in front of them.
In the backseat, Connor leans forward slightly, heart beating harshly in his chest as dead coils in his stomach.
Please, He thinks, not exactly sure who he believes will hear it.
Please let her be okay.
“Shut the lights off.” Bonnie mutters to Frank from the passenger seat, the male doing as told as they pull up to a building that looks abandoned- other than the fact that there is a blue SUV sitting next to it.
Asher’s eyes are hooked on the vehicle, “That must be the guy’s car.”
“Yeah.” Frank replies while Connor clenches his jaw, hand on the door handle as he is ready to step out of the car and go get you.
His leg is no longer bouncing, his body going rigid as he thinks about how you’ll look when they find you.
“So, this is it? This is where he took her?” Connor speaks up, not gaining any response as Frank cuts the engine and reaches across Bonnie’s lap to open the glove box, pulling out a pair of black gloves and a gun.
He quickly slips the gloves on before looking at Bonnie and Asher, “Stay here.”
His gaze then flicks to Connor as he opens his door, “You too.”
Connor’s head snaps up, “No.”
Frank pauses, raising his brows as he looks at him slowly, “I wasn’t asking.”
Connor shakes his head, opening the door, “I’m not staying in the car.”
“Yeah, neither am I!” Asher argues as he opens his door.
“Fine.” Frank replies, jaw tight as he exhales sharply, “But you make sure you stay behind me. Don’t rush in and don’t play hero. Got it?”
“Got it.” Connor and Asher both reply as Bonnie then gets out and follows them in, not wanting to be the only one to stay behind.
They move quietly, the gravel crunching under their shoes as they approach the building. Frank checks the door, gently twisting the handle and cheering internally when it’s unlocked.
Inside, the air is damp and cold. It smells like rust, mold, and blood all mixed in to one scent.
Connor feels sick.
They hear you before they see you- a weak, broken sound that is a mix of a breath and a sob.
Connor’s heart slams against his chest as Asher inhales harshly at the sound.
“That’s her.” He whispers, beginning to move forward.
“Connor-” Frank warns, but it’s too late.
They reach the basement doorway just as the perpetrator steps into the hallway, a knife in his hand.
Frank doesn’t hesistate as he grabs Connor’s arm and tugs him back before firing one shot into the man’s head.
The man drops instantly.
Connor gulps, bile rising in his throat at the sight of the dead man, but he’s quick to swallow it down as he rushes down the basement steps- Bonnie and Asher in tow while Frank goes to take care of the body.
His eyes immediately land on you.
You’re slumped forward in the chair, hair matted to you face as blood continues to soak through your clothes. Your chest rises and falls slowly as you continue to weakly hold your phone in your grip.
“Oh my God.” Connor whispers, his voice breaking as he rushes towards you and drops to his knees to meet your drooped gaze, “Hey- hey, look at me. We’re here. I’ve got you.”
Your head lolls as you struggle to focus. “Connor…?” You whisper hoarsely, the phone falling from your grasp as he places a hand under your chin.
Relief hits him so hard he almost cries, but he’s too worried to cry right now.
“Yeah.” He replies quickly, hands cupping your face, “I’m here. You’re safe now.”
Asher is already moving, cutting the ropes while Bonnie shrugs her jacket off and places it on the wound that looks the worst- the one on your leg.
You cry out loudly as she puts pressure on the cut, falling forwards completely as Asher finishes undoing your restraints. Connor is quick to catch you, manuevering you into his arms with the help of Asher.
Frank comes down the stairs a few moments later and Bonnie looks at him, “Everything taken care of?”
He only nods in response before glancing over to you and then Connor, “How is she?”
“She needs a hospital.” He says, which causes Frank to look at him in disbelief, “No. We can’t.”
Connor’s jaw drops in shock, “She’s been stabbed and beaten-”
“And if she shows up to an ER like this, they’re gonna want to know what happened.” Frank interrupts, “That means cops. Statements. Reports. Do you want to explain why she was kidnapped?”
Connor opens his mouth and then quickly closes it.
Frank is right.
You whimper quietly in Connor’s arms as the pain flares and he looks at you instantly, “Hey, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.”
“Everything hurts.” You whisper, your eyes fluttering as you struggle to stay awake.
“I know.” He replies, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s go.” Frank ushers, beginning to walk up the stairs- everyone following.
They get you to the car fast, Connor holding you against him as if you might disappear.
“Make sure she stays awake.” Bonnie tells Connor as she hops in the front seat while he gets into the back with her, laying her body across his and Asher’s lap.
“I will.”
-
He manages to do as told during the drive to Annalise’s, you having stayed conscious the whole ride.
Her house is lit up, cars filling the driveway as everyone waits inside.
Frank opens the backdoor, grabbing you from Connor’s lap and carrying you inside while he quickly follows behind.
Annalise opens the door, having heard the car pull up, and makes eye contact with Frank, “Take her upstairs and clean her up.”
The male nods and Connor doesn’t say anything as he trails behind him, Asher walking into the house slowly as blood stains his slacks- going to the living room where the others were rather than following you, Connor, and Frank upstairs.
Frank sets you the counter gently and looks at Connor, “Make sure she stays upright.”
Connor nods, lacing his fingers through yours as Frank moves with a calm precision of someone who has done this too many times- grabbing a few towels, antiseptic, and bandages.
“We need to get her out of her clothes.” Frank suddenly says, causing Connor’s eyes to snap to him, “What?”
“I need to be able to see her injuries.” He deadpans, rolling his eyes at Connor’s hesitancy, “I’m not going to check her out or anything.”
When Connor still doesn’t move, Frank stares at him like he’s an idiot, “Do you want her to bleed out or something or are you going to let me patch her up?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Connor mutters, beginning to strip you of your jeans and t-shirt carefully. You try to ignore the pain it causes, but you let out small groans of pain as he pulls the clothing off, Connor apologizing too many times as you do.
Frank immediately gets to work on cleaning the worst wound- the one on your leg.
You wince loudly and Connor flinches like he’s the one being hurt. “Easy.” He murmurs, “Squeeze my hand if you need to, okay?”
And you do.
He doesn’t let go, even when your grip tightens painfully.
Frank cleans, stitches, and bandages- working quickly and efficiently as he looks up at you, “You’re lucky. He missed anything vital.”
You laugh weakly, “Guess he’s probably never tortured anyone before, huh?”
Connor didn’t laugh at that joke.
When Frank is done, he takes a step back, “She needs rest and fluids. Keep an eye on her.”
“I will.” Connor replies immediately, “I’m not going to leave her.”
Frank nods once and then gestures to the bedroom, “I’m sure there’s some clothes here that she can wear. Find her something loose fitting that won’t rub on the stitches.”
Connor nods and then Frank leaves, causing a silence to settle in the room.
Connor picks you up then, carefully carrying you to the guest room and laying you in the bed- tucking the blankets around you as his hands tremble slightly.
Once he’s done, he sits on the edge of the bed hesitantly, like he’s afraid that touching you will make you break.
You break the silence first, “You came.”
His throat tightens as he looks at you, “Always.”
You study his face weakly, eyes soft despite everything that has happened, “You were really mad.”
He swallows harshly before nodding, “Yeah.”
A beat passes before he speaks again, “I didn’t mean anything I said. I was scared and I- I guess I wanted to hurt you.”
You nod, hands inching towards his until you finally grasp it, “I didn’t want to hide it from you.”
“I know.” He says immediately before shaking his head and pulling his hand away, “I should’ve gone after you, I should’ve-”
You’re quick to interrupt, “No. Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve happened to someone else.”
He looks at you, “Am I a terrible person if I wish that it was someone else?”
“No.” You say with a gentle smile, “That’s just because you wish nothing happened to me.”
Connor returns the smile before letting out a breath, the smile dropping from his face, “I hate how I reacted earlier. I hate that I said all of those things.”
You squeeze his hand gently, testing. He doesn’t pull away this time.
“I wasn’t scared of Annalise.” He continues, “Or the phone. Or even the fact that it was Rebecca’s. I was scared because everything felt like it was getting out of control and I needed someone to blame.”
Your expression softens, “So you picked me.”
He winces, “Yeah. Because you were right there.”
“I don’t need you to be calm all the time.” You assure him, “I just need you to not turn me into the problem when things get messy, or scary.”
Connor nods, his eyes fixated on the floor, “I don’t want to be that guy.”
“Then don’t be.” You say, squeezing his hand and bringing his attention back to you.
He gives you a small smile, “I don’t know how you’re being this understanding. After everything.”
You shrug and grin, “I don’t have the energy to be anything else.”
That finally gains a small laugh out of him.
“And plus, it’s not like you’re at fault here. I should’ve never kept it from you in the first place, and I just want you to know that I won’t hide things from you in the future.” You add.
He smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a kiss on the back of your hand, “I know.”
He then looks at you with a soft gaze, “I don’t want to lose you to anything. Especially not this mess.”
And by mess he means all the murders, the lies, and anything revolving around Annalise.
“You won’t.” You reply, “Not today, and hopefully not ever.”
And though he doesn’t necessarily like the way that you worded that, he accepts the answer with a sigh and a nod.
“I love you.” He then says, squeezing your hand in his own.
“I love you too.” You grin and then gently shuffle over, grunting quietly as your wounds brush the bed underneath. You pat the space beside you, “Lay with me.”
He smiles and nods, pulling you onto his chest once he’s situated.
Connor then plants a kiss on your forehead, you releasing an exhausted and relieved sigh as he does.
And through all of the pain that happened today, and all of the things that are going to come tomorrow, you know you have him.
And for now, that’s enough.
