Saved by an Angel (With a Gun)
Connor Temple has nothing.
Well, that's not strictly true, he supposes; he does have a wooden pallet which he is now hiding behind. It's doing a good job of making his leg ache. He's on his knees, his back bent to fit between the pallet and the wall. He doesn't usually feel claustrophobic but this empty garden shed is beginning to feel very, very small. All he can see without awkward contortion is the dust on the floor lit by the daylight which is creeping in underneath the battered door.
As he studies the floor to take his attention away from his aching knees, he hears footfalls from outside. Heavier than a man's, a longer stride with four feet in use. He imagines a tail swinging from side-to-side. He hears sniffling but he has no desire to give the Gorgonopsid a tissue. It's coming closer (as if it isn't close enough) and he can feel the vibrations of every step in his knees.
Step, step, step...
Like a merciless army, it never stops. Closer and closer, destroying not people (Yet, he reminds himself with a bitter smirk) but doors. Just one more door and a flimsy pallet and then it will have a human-shaped snack. Connor wants a gun, a stick, a sharpened pencil – something to defend himself with. But he has nothing.
The garden outside falls silent and he becomes painfully aware of how loud his breathing has become. He covers his mouth and nose with his hand to muffle the sound of his breathing. Do not panic, a sensible voice commands in his head. Sometimes the voice sounds like Stephen, other times it sounds like Cutter – in both instances it is equally painful.
But Connor listens to the voice and takes as deep a breath as he can without being too noisy. He strains his ears but he can't hear anything from the Gorgonopsid and although he wants it to go away he certainly doesn't want it to run off and eat the neighbours. He is just about to crawl over to the door and try and see out when a huge, grey-brown nose thumps against the door lightly. More sniffling; it's testing, looking for him exclusively, he thinks. It knows he's in here.
He has nothing, but he wants Abby. Images of her face, her eyes, hair, beautiful smile flash through his mind and by God he holds onto them as if his life depends on it. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't, but his sanity is definitely benefiting at this moment in time. Every time he sees her it's like she's glowing. He hangs on her every word. Sometimes, when she smiles at him or looks at him in a certain way, he thinks that she feels the same about him – but then Rex lands on the table in front of them with a pair of her nickers in his mouth and the spell is broken.
Conner did call her before he came here – he had forgotten about that – but he can't remember where she said she was or if she was close at all. But then he'd heard crashing in the house and his curiosity had led him to investigate. Now is mobile phone is on the living room floor in a thousand pieces. She knows he is here, so maybe she will come.
Maybe he has something, then: maybe he has hope.
He jumps as the shed door rattles under the force of a head-butt from the Gorgonopsid. All he can do is try to make his form even smaller behind the pallet. Through the gaps in the planks he can just about make out the hinges – both are rusty, one has already clattered to the floor. One more hit and the door – his last defence – will be down.
He listens, holding his breath even though all he wants to do is suck in oxygen, as the creature takes a pair of heavy steps backwards. It's getting ready to run up again, bash the door down and eat this member of the ARC team for an afternoon snack. Connor never thought that this would be way he would leave this mortal coil – but it is at the back of his mind at all times, especially in his line of work.
Connor thinks of his mum, his dad, his friends, those he's lost and those he's gained, the batty terrier that tries to nip his heels every time he enters the supermarket. Rex landing in his arms after a long day of chasing Anomalies. The flat he shares with Abby. Abby.
All of this in just a second.
The world seems to slow down then: he hears every pound as feet hit the ground, every breath the creature draws, every rustle of leaves in the hedge.
The door falls off its hinge and tumbles to the ground, landing not an inch from his pallet, unsettling the dust on the floor. Specks of dust get into Connor's eyes and his vision blurs as he tries to blink them away.
The blurry shape of a Gorgonopsid more than fills the empty space left by the fallen door. Sunlight streams into the little shed and blinded both by his watery eyes and the glare, he has no choice but to wait for the inevitable. At least now he won't be able to watch as he's eaten.
What surprises Connor is that he has the chance to think that. The creature in the doorway doesn't move any further.
After a moment it falls like a particularly heavy sack of bricks, landing in an undignified heap on top of the very door it knocked down. Connor's vision has cleared enough by now to make out three tranquiliser darts sticking out of its back.
"Conner?" someone calls. "Connor!"
He takes a moment to remember how to breathe.
"Connor!"
"I'm – I'm –" he coughs the dust out of his lungs – "in here!" He pushes the pallet over and it topples to the ground, hitting the unconscious Gorgonopsid on the nose. He slides it off. "I'm okay!" His legs protest as he gets to his feet, knees stiff and unwilling to straighten. He uses the wall to steady himself.
On hearing no reply from his saviour outside, he instead follows the light. Connor has no choice but to awkwardly clamber over the massive creature's body.
He is met, when his trainers land on the grass, with a very, very angry Abby Maitland. He turns away from her glare, slides down the side of the shed so that his bum is on the ground and lets his legs stretch out. He hears his knees crack.
He looks up finally – Abby is framed by the sun behind her. The light makes her blonde hair glow beautifully and the tranquiliser gun in her hand gleam. She's like an angel – or she would be on any other day.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" she shouts at him, eyes ablaze, breaking the angelic illusion.
He feels like a scolded child already and he knows that the verbal pounding has only just begun. "I didn't know that no one lived in the house, did I?" he counters, gesturing with his hand at the two-storey building which at the other side of the garden.
She scoffs at his tone but doesn't smile. "You're an idiot."
He smiles, a warm smile at the familiar tone she's using. "You've said that before."
Abby doesn't smile back, but takes a deep breath. "Don't ever do that again," she says. "You could have been..." She trails off. The word 'killed' hangs in the air like a noxious gas. He knows that this is too soon; they only lost Nick Cutter last month and if they lose anyone else then it will damage them both even further.
She's not looking at him, instead watching the Gorgonopsid's chest rise and fall. "I'll try not to," he assures her.
She jerks her head up and meets his gaze, snaps, "Don't just try, Connor. You bloody go and get yourself into a fight with a Gorgonopsid and you don't even have a gun! God, what if you..?" She stops to collect herself. Then she steps closer and hits him on the arm. Hard.
He rubs the sore spot and looks up at her accusingly. "Ow!"
She looms over him, waves the gun in the air. Connor makes a mental note never to get on her bad side. "If you get yourself killed I am going to kill you, alright?" He nods.
Desperate to change the subject, Connor glances at the Gorgonopsid. "What are you we going to do about him?" he asks.
"I called Jenny," she replies. "She's on her way. Won't be long." She always resorts to short, blunt sentences when she's angry. He understands why she's angry – he would be too in the same situation. Abby doesn't speak any more.
They stand and stare at the Gorgonpsid for a few minutes in tense silence, each avoiding the other's eyes. He pretends not to notice when she sits down on the grass beside him and holds the gun on her lap.
The rustle of both leaves and the Gorgonopsid's breath is all that they can hear until the sound of an ARC vehicle approaching in the distance joins in.
He rests his head against the wood of the shed's wall. "Abby?"
She takes a moment to respond and for a moment he doesn't think he's been forgiven. "Hmm?"
His mood lightens beyond the simple relief of still being alive. She is speaking to him; he's been forgiven. "I need a coffee," he announces.
Abby reaches out with her hand and takes his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I think I do too."
He grins to himself and closes his eyes. After a beat: "Abby?"
"Yes, Connor?"
Says Connor quietly, "I think I need a cuddle."
She doesn't drop his hand but says, "Lester will be pleased to hear that."
"What? No!" Connor splutters.
"He's the hugging type..." she goes on.
He opens his eyes and looks at her. She finds that she has been watching him too. "I mean from..." He turns a nasty shade of red, unable to finish his sentence.
"Oh, I know," she says, before leaning over and giving him a peck on the cheek. He inwardly declares never to wash that cheek again. She smiles at his dumbstruck expression. They hear the vehicles come to a stop on the other side of the house, doors slam as soldiers jump out. "Let's make this clean-up a quick one. I want to go back to the flat."
"What for?" Connor asks, tilting his head.
She starts to count off the list with her fingers. "Rex needs fed; I need to check on my other pets and my flatmate needs a coffee and a pizza because of a near-death experience..."
"Does said flatmate need anything else?"
"Don't push it," Abby warns only half-heartedly. She stands to meet the soldiers in black as they rush over.
With the promise of a night in with coffee and pizza later, the wrath of Jenny seems that little less terrifying.
Author's Note: Sorry for any inconsistences with the canon of series three – I haven't watched that series since last year (I know, I'm a terrible fan). This is my first voyage into the waters of the Primeval fandom. It's been fun, so most likely I'll be back for more. If you'd like me back, a review would be lovely and if you want me to leave you can fire your torpedoes. Either way, thanks for reading.