A/N: I was struck by how nice Lester was to Connor in episode 5, and how much I really liked the guy. From twit to team player, I loved the development (being bad ass with the gun and mammoth a favorite). I don't see enough love for Lester, so here's a little look into his head, as much as he's letting us in, anyway. Not so much angst since this is Lester we are talking about, but writing this was a nice warm up for more vignettes on all the people that died/left. I'm still not used to losing characters so fast…:( My mind was occupied while studying for finals, had to churn this one out…
Well, I hope you enjoy it.
=Human After All=
I am not sentimental. Only one film in my lifetime of forty long years has elicited tears, more from the ghastly perfume from my wife next to me rather than the tearful farewell on screen. (They get no sympathy from me—it was their damn fault they boarded the ship. That it was to hit an iceberg nobody could guess, but I digress.)
I do not like people. Seems a bit contradictory, doesn't it, considering the job I've landed myself. It wasn't intentional, that I can assure you. What it was supposed to be…a desk job pushing papers, signing documents, the security guard and the secretary the only human beings I have to look at, perhaps speak to if I'm unlucky . Some call that type of job dull and dreary, but they forget what it signifies: Peace. Calm. Security. No idiots running around like chickens with their heads chopped off ( more likely bitten off, in this case). Yes, a job where people keep to themselves, occupied with their extremely exciting lives and staying out of my way. Something I thought was perfectly attainable…but the universe does like to play its jokes.
I would like to wish dinosaurs were a joke. Yes, yes, I've seen the fossils in the museums…a pity they couldn't stay fossils. The past should stay in the past (and future to future, etcetera). Of course, the job fell to me to make sure it did. I wonder what the job qualifications were, if the Home Office had known what the job would have entailed. Dashing good lucks, charming personality and a wicked wit—why yes, I guess I am quite qualified. Fortunately enough for me, I didn't actually have to deal with the creatures directly. No, no…the universe is much kinder then that. I get to manage the people who do.
Do I think they are qualified? Well, their achievements versus London being devoured by a horde of raptors…I would think so, yes. One can only expect so much from a group of amateurs. Am I calling Professor Nick Cutter an amateur? In some ways, yes.
For instance, his blasted habit of trying to…to save everyone. I'm not exaggerating. If the British Isles were to be destroyed and there was only one ship left to get to continental Europe, I'm sure Cutter would find a way to fit the entire population on that ship. Of course, I am limiting his actions in that scenario, aren't I…him being the genius that he was, he would probably manage to get the population off the island without the use of the ship, and neutralize the threat, even at the risk of his life.
That damned, stupid habit. It's what got him killed. He saved the artifact…but looking back, it hasn't done so much as it has undone. He ruined the team dynamic, that's what he did. I may be unfeeling, but that doesn't mean I don't have eyes.
First Stephen…now him. Then Jenny had to get up and go. I don't blame her…I admit I do rather miss the arguments I had with the man, him trying to save the world without a thought of tax payer's money and the amount of paperwork that would follow.
But he got the job done. It's not like he worked alone. They were a team, after all. But he was the leader. The one who grounded them. Provided direction. He managed them, that crazy bunch of twenty-somethings. He even managed to affect Jennifer, much to my surprise. She soon came to realize heels were not ideal for the job…
But it was of no surprise to me that his name was the first on her lips as she came back from the dead that day. The man's crazy rantings of "Claudia Brown" really got to her, I had already seen. She had us all in quite the scare. I found myself thinking exactly what the Connor boy was. If this was to happen again…I don't know how the team would have handled it. How I would. (I don't manage crying people that well, let alone people in their normal condition…did I mention how much I dislike people?)
My little office at the top of the ramp, overlooking everything else…its position speaks of rank, and of power. But even I cannot ignore what that power means. Standing there above the operations room, watching, managing…I have a responsibility, to see these people had what they needed to ensure other people's safety. Simple as that.
Connor's lack of lodging space was no different, albeit a bit more…personal then I would have liked. But I wasn't going to do with having his unfashionable pairs of boxers flashing at me every time the door opened, or his snoring greet me in the morning. His stupid grinning face was enough cheer I could handle for a week. (If I needed some pep I shall rewatch Titanic again…maybe spray a little of that perfume around the room for a bonus.) I do slightly regret the gesture, but what was done was done. His lack of sleep I knew was not just because of his new home. Almost ragged, the team was…all because of that blasted man.
The team was balanced when he was here. Now the scales are left swinging, and, despite having Danny filling in as team leader, I realized I would have to step up. They'll need all the help they can get. I very much wish it took just a signature, but life is not that simple. Humans are not that simple.
Yes, two-thirds of the world may be made up of idiots, with a surprisingly high number here in Britain (including my neighbor)…but Nick Cutter wasn't one of them. He displayed idiotic behavior, but it was only to save said idiots. Saved money, saved paperwork… I owe him that much. It irritates me that I owe him anything at all…but I have a job to do. We all do. I won't baby the team like he did, but I have my own ways of showing concern. I can see it now: Lester and company, offering discount hugs and heart-to-hearts all around, come one, come all…
No, no, that won't do. I'm not an overachiever like Cutter was, and never shall be. Just don't expect me to be very happy when shoving you aboard the last ship off the Isles.
And you'd better have a ticket.