This little one-shot is based off a prompt from the ever lovely none-of-them-were-you-casket on tumblr, who asked for Abby finding Kane after his Mother's death. It's a bit angsty, so apologies for those of you who are used to my more fluffy stories!

Let me know what you think, and feedback is always welcome!

Enjoy :)

She leaves her quarters in a bid to track him down when she realizes that she isn't entirely sure what to do with herself. She's been staring idly at photos of herself, Jake and Clarke for the last four hours and all that had achieved was a deeper sense of loss and the overwhelming need to scream at the tops of her lungs at the injustice of the world.

There are less than 24 hours to go before they leave on the dropship for Earth, but Abby finds that she's unable to settle, restlessness seeping into every part of her body. She hasn't seen Marcus since earlier that morning, when they'd silently shared cup of coffee together in the Mess Hall. That fact alone causes her to worry; he's been a near constant by her side for the last 18 hours, since her rescue, and she finds that she misses him. His presence has been a reassurance in the chaos that has ensued since the culling and she finds that she misses him.

Abby instinctively knows where he'll be and when she reaches the door to the Mess Hall she spots a guard standing at attention just outside.

"Is Councilor Kane inside?" She asks, already knowing the answer.

The guard, a young man whom she vaguely recognizes, turns his gaze towards her and nods.

"Yes ma'am, but he asked not to be disturbed."

Abby returns the nod, knowing that Marcus wanted, no, needed, to grieve for the loss of his mother. There hadn't been time before now, and she knows he deserves to have this, to be able to process everything that's happened in the last 3 days. Unfortunately, she knows she's about to tear him away from his opportunity to do just that.

"It's ok, I've got urgent business with him. I won't be long."

The lie slips easily off her tongue and the guard looks wary. He's clearly reluctant to stand in her way however, despite the fact that she no longer holds a position on the Council. At least her reputation still stands for something. Maybe it's down to the fact that so few of them actually remain now, that the last vestiges of the human race are suddenly more connected that before.

The young man gestures to the door and enters a security code into the panel to allow her entrance. Abby watches as the door shifts, revealing the lone man inside.

He doesn't turn when she steps through the open doorway, but Abby can see his back tense immediately. His shoulders are hunched and shake slightly as he breathes. She can't hear his sobs, but Abby senses their echoes in the quiet of the room.

She's never seen him look so vulnerable.

"I said I didn't want to be bothered…" his voice is quiet, thick with emotion, and his shoulders remain tense. He still doesn't turn around.

"I know…" Abby whispers, just loud enough so that her voice carries to the man stood in front of the small tree before him.

Marcus does turn then, his gaze immediately snapping to hers. His eyes are red and tired, and she sees the faint trace of tear marks running down his cheeks. Abby wonders how long he's actually been here, keeping a near silent vigil. She knows he's not particularly religious, but she senses that he's desperate to cling to the last thing that held some meaning to himself and his mother; faith.

She moves hesitantly, quietly, as if worried that his fight or flight instinct will kick in. She wouldn't be surprised if he reacted either way, but she'd rather just be able to see how he is without any undue tension.


It's the second time he's said her name like that, with a disbelieving breath, as if she's the answer to his prayer. She doesn't even want to think about the implications, now's not the time, but at least she can be a friend for him in this moment.

She reaches his side and places a tentative hand on his forearm, which is bare; his familiar jacket resting on the table in front of him.

"I… I…"

"You don't have to explain yourself Marcus," she assures him, giving his arm a squeeze. "You need this."

He doesn't reply, just nods and turns his attention back to the tree.

"She died thinking I hated her," he admits, voice wavering in the quiet of the room. Abby is sure she feels her heart break for him in that instant.

"That's not true," Abby replies, shaking her head softly. "You were there for her, gave her the Traveler's Blessing… she knew you loved her Marcus, trust me on that."

He sighs and wipes his hands across his face in frustration before sweeping them into his hair.

"I can't believe that she's gone," he mutters quietly, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes. "My mother's dead and now everything's gone to Hell."

She can't argue with his assessment, her own feelings matching his; there is such a slim chance that any of them will survive the drop tomorrow that the whole atmosphere on the Ark is quiet and downbeat. She hates it.

Abby can't think of the words to say, can think of nothing to reassure him, so she merely reaches out and lightly grips his injured hand. The bandage itches against her palm as she wraps her fingers around his, but she doesn't care.

His focus shifts to their joined hands and she senses the moment that some of the overwhelming tension leaves him.

"I'm sorry I'm in such a state," he finally whispers, glancing up from their hands to her face, his expression almost shy as he faces up to his own vulnerabilities.

She shakes her head slightly in dismissal.

"It's fine," she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently and turning towards the small tree. "You should grieve for her; it's not a weakness Marcus."

His nod is infinitesimal, Abby only catching the movement out of the corner of her eye. His sobs start again then, quieter and more controlled than before and Abby doesn't protest when he leans against her shoulder, their positions mirroring those from her rescue an eternity ago. She allows him this time, this moment to grieve, to use her as the friend that she is close to becoming. Their relationship is a funny one, with suspicion and doubt more evident than not, but she isn't cruel, not anymore. He is perhaps the last friend she could potentially ever have. Abby finds that she doesn't mind the thought of that at all.

He has become her anchor in the chaos of the last weeks; it's only fair, and right, that she returns the favor. Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever terrors and troubles ensue as they try to find a way to Earth, at least she was here for him. It's good enough for her.