AN: My first foray into Primeval fanfics... love love love the show (when I discovered it, I did a four day marathon watch of all three seasons) and it has spawned a lot of ideas in my head, so I am sure this won't be my last Primeval fic. Please review... let's me know if I'm getting it right.
The dodos had seemed so innocent, so harmless compared to anything that had come through the anomalies yet. They were playful, and almost cute. And so stupid, or rather, "trusting" as Abby had put it. Cutter had a rare moment of letting his guard down and playing with them, and everyone had been fairly amused by their antics before all but two were successfully herded back through the anomoly.
But as Connor ran up, placing himself between the soldiers with guns and one of his bests mates, he knew that things had not been what they had seemed. And the full weight of what he was involved with finally stuck him.
He knew that, even without the soldier's bullets, Tom was going to die. The parasite that the dodo had infected Tom with was going to destroy him. There was nothing they could do to stop it. He had already infected a doctor, and right now he had Abby pinned to the ground on the football field, and there was a very real threat that he was going to infect her as well. But Connor couldn't bear to let the soldiers shoot him. It wasn't right. It wasn't Tom's fault.
"Don't shoot him," he cried out desperately. "Just... please, don't... don't shoot him."
"Connor, get out of the way!" Captain Ryan barked at him, keeping his gun trained on Tom's head. He didn't want the stupid kid to be an accidental victim if they had to open fire.
"Let him try, let him try," Cutter said softly, at Captain Ryan's shoulder. The captain nodded, but he and his soldiers kept the guns trained.
Connor slowly turned, looking toward Tom. He was sprawled out over Abby, looking up at Connor with fear filled eyes, the laser guides of the guns making dancing red dots on his hair. Connor kept his hands out in a "stop" motion to the soldiers, even as he addressed Tom.
"Tom, Tom, it's me." Connor tried to draw Tom's attention, even as he kept looking up at the soldiers in the bleachers. "Let her go mate." He was trembling, and he hoped the growing crowd wouldn't notice.
Tom was looking wildly between Connor and the soldiers with guns. His eyes were wide and confused and fearful. He didn't seem to even recognize who Connor was. Connor wracked his mind, trying to find something to say to distract Tom, to calm him. But then Tom grasped harder around Abby's wrist, and Abby made a small, frightened sound of pain, and Connor winced.
"Easy!" Connor took a step closer. "Easy." He knew that the soldiers wouldn't tolerate much more. He had to get Tom to release Abby. "Easy."
Tom finally looked straight at him, his eyes so desperate that for a moment Connor had to look away to compose himself. And an idea dawned on him. "You remember Thursday nights, don't ya?" He hoped that this would work, that it would bring Tom back. "Battlestar Galactica, Blake 7?" He forced a smile, even as tears started to fill his eyes. "Pepperoni pizza?"
Tom's eyes started to clear, and he looked again directly at Connor. The tears were threatening to fall now, as Connor kept a smile on his face, even though his heart was falling apart. Thursday nights. They had kept him sane through years and years at uni. It had always been Tom and Duncan and him. Watching sci-fi, playing video games, discussing conspiracies, eating lots and lots of pizza. He knew they would never have that again, and the thought nearly broke him.
"Connor." Tom spoke his name softly, tentatively.
"Yeah." Connor's voice was barely above a choked whisper. "They were good times, weren't they?" Tom just continued to stare at him. He needed to keep talking. Star Wars. Right. The forced smile started to fade off of Connor's face as he said, "You can fight the dark side, mate." He took a steadying breath. "You really can."
Tom turned, pulling back, and looked down at Abby, still sprawled, terrified, on the ground. He looked like he was trying to say something, and Connor could read the pain and regret in Tom's eyes, as he pulled back slightly and released Abby's wrists. Finally free, with a choked cry, Abby scrambled to her feet and fled for the safety of the bleachers. Tom reached a hand after her, but it wasn't malicious. It was almost an apology.
"You too Connor! Move away!" Captain Ryan's voice broke the moment. "He will kill you!"
Connor took another breath, as Tom rocked forward slightly on his knee on the grass. Connor didn't even turn toward the soldier. His eyes never left Tom, and a tear finally found its way from his eye onto his cheek. "No he won't," Connor said, and started to move toward his mate. "He's my friend." Tom looked into his eyes at that, and this time Connor didn't break contact.
Tom knew he was dying. Connor could see it, and it was tearing his heart out. He looked into Tom's defeated eyes. "You come with me," he said softly. "We can... we can help you." Another tear. He knew that there was nothing they could do, except try to ease his fear. But he hoped, if Tom came with him willingly, the soldiers would put the guns away.
But Tom looked back up at the people in the bleachers, and distrust entered his eyes once again. He could recognize a coverup when he saw one. He looked back at Connor and the expression softened.
"It was a conspiracy, wasn't it, Conn?"
Connor swallowed hard against a lump that almost strangled him. "Big time," he managed. "Right to the top." It was true. It was a conspiracy, a coverup. A government secret.
"Was it any... mind control?" Tom gave a weak half-smile.
Connor forced the smile back. "Yeah," he lied. He saw Tom give a bit of a laugh, and he did too, though it could just as easily have been a sob.
"Brilliant," Tom whispered, looking at the ground. Connor watched him, uncertainly, fighting to keep the smile on his face and losing the battle.
Then Tom looked up at him again, only there was something very wrong. Tom's eyes were the wrong shade of blue and dark veins appeared in the skin underneath them.
Connor felt a moment of terror as he stared at his friend. He could hear reaction on the bleachers behind him, people yelling at him to back away, to run. He thought he heard Abby yell his name. He didn't move, couldn't move.
Tom moved upwards and then fell forward against the inside of Connor's shoulder. He could still hear the cries from the bleachers above him, and he realized that everyone thought that Tom was biting him.
He put his hand onto Tom's shoulder, holding the man to him. Tom didn't bite, didn't attack. He just leaned into Connor, trembling.
"It's okay," Connor finally said, just loud enough for the soldiers on the bleachers to hear him. Then he spoke to Tom. "You're okay."
Tom fell further, leaning into Connor's chest, and Connor just kept his arms around him. This was the end. Tom pulled away, so that he could make eye contact once more. "They tried to take me over," he whispered hoarsely, "but I fought them Conn... I fought them."
His eyes were so earnest, staring up into Connor's. Connor felt the lump rise in his throat again. "You did a really good job," he forced out around it.
Tom made grunting noises of agreement. "I'm a hero," he said finally, weakly, his whole body shaking. Then he clenched his eyes shut in obvious pain, and his body tensed once in Connor's arms before falling limp.
Connor stared down, numbly, as Tom's weight carried him out of Connor's arms onto the ground. He was gone. Tom was gone. Tom was gone and it was his fault. He stayed there, kneeling on the ground over Tom's still body, not looking up, not noticing the stunned and somber silence that had taken over the bleachers.
He stayed there, in frozen grief until he heard the slow approach of footsteps. Cutter was standing there, watching him.
He knew what he needed to do. This had been his fault. He had to make it right.
He stood up and took a couple of steps away from Tom, toward Cutter. "I can't do this anymore," he stated. He barely recognized the voice coming out of his mouth.
"Come here," Cutter whispered gently, taking him by the arm, and positioning himself between Connor and the majority of the onlookers in the bleachers. It wasn't private, but it was as private as it would be.
Cutter took a breath. He knew he was losing a vital member of the team, and that the next few moments were critical. "We need you," he told him.
Connor's eyes were full of agony and tears, his voice unstable and choked, but his reply was immediate. "If I hadn't been involved, Tom would still be alive." His breath hitched in his chest. The guilt of the statement felt like a lead weight on his body, threatening to push him through the ground.
"No," Cutter said, focusing intently on his student. "There's a handful of people, in the whole world, who know what's going on here, what we're grapplin' with, and you're one of 'em." Cutter looked at him pointedly, and motioned slightly with his head in Tom's direction. "That would have made his day! He'd of loved it."
Connor's lips were trembling and he was fighting to maintain control, but Cutter's words caused him to grin slightly. Tom would have loved it. A conspiracy theory proven true. But the smile faded again as quickly as it came. All Connor wanted to do was let himself break down, let out what he had been holding inside since the moment, back in Tom and Duncan's flat, where Cutter had indicated that it was too late to save Tom, that maybe if they had gotten to him earlier...
Cutter could see that Connor was falling apart, but he had to break through to him. Break through, or risk losing him altogether. And so, Cutter pushed. "So you can't bail out now, okay?" Damn, he could hear the emotion starting to trickle into his voice.
But it had done what it needed to do. He could see the determination returning to Connor's face, and through his tears, Connor forced out a replying, "Okay."
Cutter's own eyes were starting to get bright, and he was surprised by his own emotions. He didn't make emotional attachments – he hadn't since his wife had left eight years ago. But there was something about this one, something about Connor that had caught him off guard.
He reached out his arm and grasped Connor by the shoulder and pulled him in. "You come 'ere," he said softly, and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders.
After a second he could feel Connor returning the hug, leaning into his shoulder, and breaking down entirely. Cutter could feel every shaking sob that forced its way through Connor's frame, and all he could do was hold him. Cutter kept his back firmly to the crowd on the bleachers, as he fought to regain his own control.
AN: Sorry that ch 1 was essentially a retelling of the end of the episode, but ch 2 is going to deal more with how Tom's death affects Connor. I understand why the show decided to jump to over a month later, and pick up where Connor is past the worst of the grieving (giving only a slight nod via video game and a photo). But I want to explore it a bit more. Stay tuned.
Please review.