Okay! So, I finally got up and at 'em and wrote iEvenstar Estel's plotbunny (from months ago!) for a fic-swap. She wanted a fic in which another more confident Connor comes through an anomaly and results in one very lucky Abby; Connor/Abby/Connor threesomes will ensue. Then she went and wrote a fic called 'Cloudy With a Chance of Connors', which featured an alternate-universe Connor with an eye patch and the ideas poured forth. So this fic is a semi-sequel to 'Cloudy' as well as an answer to her plotbunny. I recommend reading that story before this one.

WARNING: The rating of this story will eventually be very much M—this prologue is tame, as are the first couple of chapters, but it isn't going to stay that way! Consider this your head's up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval, Connor, Abby, anomalies, or anything else from the series. Nor do I own Eye Patch Connor, who is the creation of iEvenstar Estel.

o…o

It was bad.

Most things these days were bad, Connor mused, feeling curiously detached from the whole situation, like he was watching it from the outside, but this was bad even for these days. He didn't know where the rest of his men were—the strobe-like flickering lights in the warehouse and the new wave of Future Predators caused the men to scatter in fear. The Predators, they'd learned grimly over the years, were not only extremely dangerous but highly intelligent. The creatures learned their formations, their techniques, and adapted their attacks accordingly. The same plan only worked a small handful of times before the Predators knew it by heart and it became completely useless.

It seemed they'd also learned how to anticipate new formations and were somehow one step ahead of a new plan. The soldiers were driven apart and left to fend for themselves, frightened and disoriented and totally helpless in the blue flicker of the lights. Most of the men, Connor knew, were probably dead. If they weren't already, they soon would be. The shrieks of the victoriously feeding Future Predators could be heard echoing in the warehouse.

There was the metallic skittering of claws on the panelling. They were looking for more food. He heard a low growl and felt a warm weight pressing against his thigh.

"I know, Eva," he said. "I know."

So this is how it all ends, he thought. The whole Anomaly Project, his life, humanity—it all ends here, alone and helpless at the hands of monster bats.

In the last few years, Connor Temple thought about death a lot, particularly in the past four or so—four years, maybe five; how long had it been, anyway?—since his Abby died. Part of it was morbid and crippling depression, wondering about and hoping for death, and then later he told himself it was because he wanted to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable. The more he thought about death, he'd rationalized, the less frightening the idea was.

So now here he was, about to die.

And it scared him. Good god, it scared him stupid. He knew it was only a matter of seconds now, his heart pounding hard and fast against his ribs. They'd hear that, find him. Eva was panting in fear and he knew her heart was going fast, too; they'd go for her, once they were done with him. And he was scared, no matter how much he told himself he didn't care if he lived or died. No matter how badly he thought he wanted to die, that annoyingly persistent survival instinct was always going to be stronger. Faced so totally with his own mortality, he was terrified.

He felt the weight of the gun in his hand. He could cock it and end it now, for himself and Eva—two quick deaths, two bullets in their brains. Better than being torn apart alive by the Future Predators, a slow and agonizingly painful death—more than once he'd heard his men screaming on and on for minutes as the creatures devoured them. But cocking the gun would just draw more attention and he didn't know where the others were…

Who was he kidding? There were no others. If there were any other soldiers left, they'd be dead soon themselves.

He reached for his gun, preparing to end it now.

And then there was an explosion, a flash of light; Eva barked and growled, predators shrieked in pain and confusion, the sound and the sudden burst throwing their sensors off and disorienting them. Not all anomalies came up in such a flashy explosion, but occasionally one did. Just like this one.

It was like a gateway to heaven, or it would be if he hadn't stopped believing in any higher power long ago. His mind raced as he thought over his options—of which he had very few. He could stay here and die by Future Predators or his own gun, or he could take a chance. This anomaly could lead anywhere, to any time or place. But even death by drowning in the serene pre-Cambrian ocean would be better than being torn apart by Future Predators, the last human being on earth.

The familiar shifty white glitter of the anomaly illuminated the dim warehouse. The creatures had scattered, taken by surprise, which meant that at least they wouldn't come through it immediately after him to hunt him.

He made his decision.

"Come on, Eva—let's get out of here," he said.

It was ages since he'd been through an anomaly, and he'd almost forgotten the weird topsy-turvy-stomach feeling that came with going through a tear in time and space. Anomalies appeared in this world but they never ventured through them; there was no time for that in this world.

There was grass on the other side, sweet and a little damp. He fell to his hands and knees in the soft green, the dew on his hands and seeping through to his knees. The smell kicked up dead memories in his head and Eva sniffed cautiously at it—this was the first time she'd ever seen or smelled fresh grass.

Behind them the anomaly flickered, contracted, and then swelled before it snapped closed behind them. It was a blessing, a gift—something that stayed open just long enough for him and Eva to get to safety. He didn't know or care where he was right now. He was tired, everything catching up when his exhaustion came up and broadsided him. Injuries he'd been too busy to notice only moments ago suddenly became painfully apparent—there was a sharp pain in his knee, shooting all the way up his body, his head hurt, his hands stung from countless tiny cuts.

He had no idea where he was, but he couldn't hear any predators and his dog wasn't alerting him to any danger. He knew he had to get up and get under cover somewhere until he figured out where he was and what he could do, but his strength drained from him all at once and he slumped, the world going out of focus and then dark.