This is so belated even for me. Actually, no, I've probably done more belated. :/ ANYWAY. I want to say a big bold Happy Birthday to Schofield or Sarahluvsdwrh here on Fanfiction :3 HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAY! And sorry for the belatedness of your fic.
A man limped across the dusty plain of the Rift Valley, somewhere in the middle of Africa, several million years before the twenty-first century, his home. Connor would have known the exact time, if Connor was still alive. Hell, Danny didn't even know if he was alive, let alone if Abby and Connor were.
A small gust of wind blew sand and grit and heaven knows what else into his face, his eyes stung as it scratched them, and small tears leaked out of the creases of his eyes in a desperate attempt to dislodge the foreign material. He raked his fingers through his ragged beard to free as much of it as he could – Not much success. His hands were weathered from over a year of living in the Pleistocene; the contours of face much more defined, his clothes hung over his frame like they were on coat hangers.
Danny slouched on the stick he'd collected perhaps two months before, and had since named Molly. She was a relatively tall stick, not too tall and not too short; a pretty blonde, slim from head to toe and didn't talk much. Just how Danny liked his sticks.
The sky clouded over, becoming an odd hue of yellow, almost white, and slightly blue around the edges – the sun was obscured from sight, and the cliff Danny was standing next to formed huge shadows on the ground. Spotting a small cave carved into the rock, he decided to set up camp; Day 407 without an anomaly or sign of human life. A man could only go without espionage for so long…
Danny was stuck in the middle of the era of cavemen and he was thinking about common-day espionage, he chuckled at the thought, not bitterly, but because it was genuinely funny. A lot of things that were boring in London become funny when you're stranded in the Pleistocene; like rocks, they get pretty funny when the lights turn off – And insects too, their faces when you poke them is priceless. Oh dear god, what's wrong with me? Danny swore the wind whispered a witty response back to him.
"You've been stuck in the past for how long?" The wind's voice sounded just like Becker's. Wow, he'd gotten to the point when he was imagining even Becker's voice. That certainly couldn't be a good thing.
"We're not stuck now! Look, I can do my job fine!" Connor's voice too. Danny began to think perhaps he wasn't imagining the voices, perhaps there was something else out there…and sure enough, almost like he was dreaming, around the corner, just out of view, was the welcoming, pearly glimmer of an anomaly.