Hello there. I'm back with a new story, after all this time. I've made sure I'm many chapters ahead in the writing, so I should be able to update regularly, just because I think it's nicer to people that way.
I've brought in a couple of regular characters I use in the security department, but really, this story stands alone. It takes place mid-way through series 3. I think there must've been a fair gap between episodes 3 and 4 that series, as the ARC required huge structural works from being blown up, which weren't shown. Thus, I've used that opportunity to insert a story between them.
Anyway, enough yabbering. On with the story. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. Though it's on my wishlist.
It was drizzling. Typical English weather Becker mused as he leaned against the barriers, surveying the work being done. The Arc was being put back together. But there was a significant piece missing.
Cutter had been buried the previous week; at least that had been done in the Sun, and in peace. It was a black affair, though for Becker this was hardly a change from the routine. A small green plot, near Stephen for sentimental reasons but not too close; Lester felt that creating an ARC area of the cemetery was rather... sapping to morale. He'd also vetoed placing a remembrance tree outside but that was more due to the pointlessness of it all. And a bench would 'only provide people with a place to mope around not doing work on'. He refused to see Cutter's name on a plaque behind Josie from accounts and Billy from catering 'meeting up'.
Becker agreed; surely the best way to move on was to avoid putting up things to remind everyone of what they'd lost. And there was little point in prolonging the grief; there was work to do.
Work. He'd been prevented from thinking about it the last few days but now the armoury had been declared stable and there was an awful lot of work to do in restocking it, restoring the ranges, rehabilitating a few of the men. Not everyone could return after such a disastrous couple of months; over the past week he'd handled 8 resignation letters.
He was still holding the 8th in his hand. It was his own.
He'd written it the day after Cutter's death, but something had made him leave it in his bag up until now. Maybe it was because as soon as he'd walked in the door, there'd been a creature sighting. Maybe it was because as they traipsed round a park hunting lizards from the Jurassic he was the only one who didn't mention that Cutter would know what to do.
Maybe it was because in those few hours he'd felt needed. Needed to be someone who'd rise above it all and get on with the job. Everyone wanted to grieve.
The paper turned to mulch in his hands as the ink spread across the white like a dark bruise, the lines blurring into one dark stain. After a few minutes, no-one could tell what the words were meant to be.
His Sergeant, a forward fellow named Banks, came up to him.
"Won't be the same," he commented, surveying the structure. "I've heard they've switched the canteen with the gym.
Becker eased into what was, for him, a smile.
"Well, I'm sure they'll be a survey asking for comments about the designs at some stage."
"After they've been built and there's no going back."
"That's right."
Banks sighed. "I leave this place for a few days and they change the menu. Can't leave for five minutes."
Becker sobered as he swung round to face the Sergeant properly.
"How were the few days?" he asked. He was referring to the 10 days Banks had taken off after invasion. Being in charge of those at the ARC when the clones arrived was enough. Escaping from their entrapment to find Cutter dead: Banks immediately asked for time away, and counselling, and Becker readily granted it.
"Good. Considering. It's not like we haven't lost anyone before." Banks looked to his Captain. "What about you? Enjoy a break?"
Becker shook his head. "Not enough time."
"There's always time for grieving."
"Not for those that hold the clock. They must stand to give the time to others."
"Remarkably poetic."
"Death makes poets of us all."
"Nah it doesn't. Who said it?"
"My father. When my Uncle died."
"Has anyone ever told you your father was an idiot?"
"Yes. Abby. To his face, or ear at least. I doubt he'll ever answer my phone again."
Banks smiled. "Talk of the devil..."
The blond girl made their way towards them, a wistful smile on her face. She greeted them with a slight distance that would usually be noteworthy, but recently very characteristic of her.
"Are you lot coming inside or are you just going to get wet? Come on, we need to have a staff meeting apparently."
The two men pushed themselves off the barrier and began walking towards the building, but Banks was no great urgency and Becker was unwilling to let him walk into the place alone. As they neared the entrance, he could feel the slightest of tremors run through his friend's body, but when he looked he was static again.
"Jones, I need you to show the Sergeant where they've put the locker room and armoury now," the Captain ordered upon his entrance.
"Oh bloody Hell! Don't tell me they've moved them as well! Is the ceiling in the same place?!"
Becker watched as the vocal complaints drifted off down the corridor. He didn't like to admit that the locker room had to be moved as several of the men refused to enter the old one.
Abby looked at him, a sad smile washing across her face. Becker looked down at her, his usual stoic expression on his face.
"He'll be alright." Abby raised her eyebrow. "Meeting. Come on."
"I've got to drop something off first."
"You mean dry off," she smiled.
He turned off the main corridor and walked down to his office. As expected, it was the same medium sized room with a desk and computer. However, Becker noted that a sofa was installed at the other. Thanks to the time Banks was in charge, a sofa had always been a novel feature of the austere Captain's office. Someone had obviously felt it wouldn't be the Captain's office without it.
He scraped the paper mulch off his hand, into the bin and sighed.
It was the sigh of a man who'd realised he'd fallen into a job and was now too busy to leave. Not that he didn't like the job. Goodness knows, he loved it, which was a stronger emotion than Becker was usually comfortable with. Just that didn't mean he was any good at it.
He was by no means the last there. Connor was held up as he desperately tried to link the alarm system to the detector and Jenny was caught directing supplies to their rightful position.
Upon the arrival of those two, Lester shifted his auditing to one side and cleared his throat.
"Right, welcome all to the first merry gathering of the ARC choir." The joke was greeted with rolling eyes. "Well, my children enjoyed that one this morning."
"Your children are both below 10," Sarah pointed out.
"Doesn't mean they don't have a sense of humour to match Connor's." This drew several sniggers as Connor suddenly looked up from picking his gloves.
"What?"
"Anyway," continued Lester. "We have a lot of things to do and no doubt no time to do them so we must prioritise. We need to be decisive but not cut corners. We need a list."
"I'm busy getting the detector on-line," said Connor.
"How long do you need?"
"Week or so to be picking up signals. Couple more to be fully operational. And that depends if I get the parts."
"I've still got injured creatures, plus food and supplies to replace for them. On top of that the ones from last week need to be written up."
"I've got to go over the research, find out what's lost."
"Rebuilding that model mightn't be such a bad idea either," interjected Connor. "We predicted one anomaly via it after all."
"Yes, well, we'll have to see whether there's enough research left over to do that. And see if anyone understands any of it," said Lester. "To me, it always looked like a mess. Jenny?"
"Building blows up in central London? I'm on the cover-up of my life. Plus we need to replace staff."
"I'll need to give them background checks," Becker reminded her. "And the armoury needs looking over plus I need to go recruiting. And more protocols in place though we're still thinking about what."
"Indeed. Quite a lot to do, but that hardly surprising," mused Lester. "If you feel it's too much ever remember there are other people in this ARC who, while maybe not quite as competent as you, can certainly deal with the simpler tasks of life. And remember any suspected creature sightings must come first. I don't want to hear about anything going wrong because someone stops to do the paperwork; that's my job."
"About creature sightings," said Jenny. "They're on-going and need organisation and..." She paused. "I know it's soon, but, well..."
"We need a leader," Abby supplied. There was a moment's silence.
"Yes, I had considered it," admitted Lester. "But I can hardly put out an advert calling for experience in dinosaur hunting."
"Well, then we recruit internally," suggested Sarah. People looked at her. "It's what they do in other jobs."
"No, no, you're right," said Jenny. "Though I'd say there's only one obvious choice for that."
"Who?" asked Becker.
"Well, you of course."
Hope you enjoyed the start. Please review.