Survivor - Connor x OC

I Don't Care

Fall Out Boy – I Don't Care

Connor was observing Taylor as she stood in the bathroom, applying her makeup in the mirror over the sink. It was a fascinating process to watch. Right now, she had one eye closed as she carefully swept eyeliner along her lash line. Though she had shown up to the investigation every day with her makeup fully done, for days she hadn't bothered to wear any.

"I'm almost done," she said as she worked on the other eye.

"I like your face without it," he told her. She paused, her hand lowering reflexively, and turned her head to look at him. Her cheeks warmed and she turned back, continuing on.

"Thank you." She cleared her throat. "I've gotten away with it because there's hardly anyone here in Detroit to notice me when I do go out and I haven't posted on the internet in a while either. Much to Alex's chagrin, I'm sure."

"Couldn't you decide not to wear it? If that's what you wanted?" Connor tilted his head. She smiled then, just slightly, reaching for a tube of lipstick.

"We're going back to the real world today." She said, as if that explained anything. "People expect me to look a certain way."

Pressing her lips together, she turned back to him and smiled. Her lips were a deep coral now, but her nose crinkled when she took in his expression. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It's part of my job."

He hadn't realized his brow was creased, lips turned down in a frown. He smoothed his features while she tucked the lipstick in her pocket and stepped closer to him. Reaching her hand out, she waited with it outstretched until his fingers closed around hers.

"Thank you, for yesterday." Her blue eyes stayed on his face. She reached up and tucked the errant strands of hair off of his forehead. "I already knew that he wanted to replace me, but seeing it made it real all over again. It was just as terrifying as when he tried to kill me. I didn't mean to panic on you."

"You don't have to apologize for being afraid." Connor squeezed her hand, then reached his other hand up to place on her waist. He pulled her closer, until she was standing between his knees. "Promise me something?"

"Depends on the something," she said, smiling again. It faded a little when she noticed how serious he was. "What?"

"When we get to Washington D.C., take me with you. Wherever you go." Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, he assumed to protest, but he persisted. "Don't go off alone. Please."

She pressed her lips together. In the moment of silence where she considered him, she kept her eyes fixed on his. Finally, she sighed and said, "Okay. I promise."

Taylor turned away, stepping back into the bathroom to pack up the last of her makeup and toiletries. He watched her place it in her suitcase and cross the room again, to the unopened package on the nightstand. She had gone downstairs to pick it up from the desk when she woke up.

It was from Alex, she told him at the time, from Los Angeles. The box was small, just a couple of inches wide and around a foot across. If it held her belongings, it certainly didn't hold much. She picked it up, working at the corner of the flap with her fingers. He was curious to know what was so important that it needed to be sent overnight.

She struggled with the box for several minutes. He was just about to offer his help when she finally succeeded, nearly ripping the first flap completely off the box in the process. The rest was easy, and she slid the contents onto the bed a moment later: three spiral-bound notebooks and several folders.

"Oh good, he managed to send the right ones." She picked up the one on top, thumbed through a few pages before she was content to pick up the whole stack and carry them to her suitcase.