A/N: Couldn't help it. Amid my writing of the last few chapters of The Rose Chateau, this pairing was whispered into my ear by my sister (who some of you have read before because she's posted a bit in this fandom as well - look at our profile for those) and I ended up writing the first scene instead of sleeping and then wrote the second scene when I woke up this morning. Anyway, hope you all enjoy.

Note: The Stephen quotes are from memory, so they may not be directly what he said. Take them with a grain of salt. Thank you.

Pain of Regret

The flashing lights streaked across his eyelids like annoyingly nimble butterflies – as beautiful and colorful as painted wings but as fast and fleeting as a half seen dragonfly. The lights were bright and sent pain from his head straight through to his toes. He moved his hand up to block out the light, but his hands didn't feel like they were moving. His open eyes saw his limbs shifting, but he felt nothing, nothing but pain and numb. His hands did nothing to block out the lights either.

He groaned. Sound. There were so many sounds. In the distance, he thought he heard a siren of some sort, someone calling out orders loudly, and the sound of dozens of marching feet. With them, he heard a sound he distinctly knew – the sound of a prehistoric roar. Where was it? More importantly, what was it? Where was everyone else? Where was he?

"Connor."

Someone called his name. He was moving, being pulled. His tired eyelids fought and his sight appeared stupidly unfocused. He heard a hiss and wondered if that was from him, because he felt the sting of pain but not the sting of sound out of his own mouth.

"Connor," a familiar voice spoke. White light across his eyes and there he was, shining a light at him and looking tired. His tight purple shirt and his exasperated eyes. He felt his lips twitch up and a laugh coughed its way painfully from his chest.

"Stephen," he murmured.

Time. Time was wrong. He could feel it. There was Stephen, shining a bright torch in his face and then walking backwards, like a tape on rewind, and then Stephen was unpacking the truck and nudging him in the side with his elbow. And Stephen was moving: fast forward, rewind, play back, skip and pause.

'How many more people are going to have to die before we start telling them what's going on?'

'What are we really doing?'

'Confidence is sexy.'

'The past has a way of coming back, doesn't it?'

'You'd be surprised what is revealed in animal dung.'

'Nice legs.'

And he was backing away from the window, eyes focused straight ahead. And he was squatting by a dinosaur, petting its rounded head.

'Don't worry, Connor.'

And he was taking another step back from the window, holding his head up high. And he was rolling his eyes and tossing Connor the keys.

'I'll be right back.'

And he was smiling and turning his face to hide it. And he was standing in the middle of a room with his hands clenched by his sides and trying not the shake.

'Tell Connor and Abby to stay out of trouble.'

'Connor.'

Stephen stood in the middle of the creature cage room, and Connor could almost reach him. He swung out to grab Stephen's wrist, to pull him out, but Stephen was too far. He was getting farther away. And the door was between them, and the predator was there, and the window was dark, and he couldn't-!

'Connor!'

"Stephen!"

"Stephen's not here!" a female cried. "Connor, stay with me. Concentrate! Stephen's gone! Focus on my voice! Look at me! Connor, look at me!"

"St-Stephen."

"Connor." A male this time. Forceful. "Listen to my voice, Connor."

Listen to my voice. Listen to my voice. Connor groaned and sucked in a deep breath. Listen to his voice. But there was pain, and everything was so bright. The colors were gone. Everything was white. Stephen was…

"He's gone. He's gone." And he could barely feel his lips moving, barely feel his own breathing, but he knew he was repeating.

"Connor!" the man yelled harshly. Shock, like electricity, and Connor felt all his muscles tense and refuse to relax. He bit his teeth together and tried to scream through them. "Connor! Close the doors and get this vehicle moving!"

Guns. Lots of guns. Army suits and utility belts. Dark clothes and hair. Boots, heavy and loitering just outside the ADD while Connor lay on his back beneath it. Strong arms and steady hands. Eyes - chocolate. No blue. Stephen in the window, hands pressed against the door. Brown. A hand on his shoulder. Someone watching him work. That voice. Listen to my voice.

"Stay with us, Connor." The girl again. Blonde. Spiky. Bright. "Almost there. Have a look at me."

Everything was smeared together, one big washboard of a child's art book. Vibration upon concentration. Was he in a car? The voice – it had said vehicle. He was moving. Connor let out a huff of a laugh. He was moving, and that was something. He felt like he was flying, gliding and touching nothing.

"Have a look at me," the girl called again. Abby. Connor hissed and shifted his eyes around. Where was she? Blue, distant eyes. No. Where was Abby? "That's it. This way," she cheered. The white was obscured by a sudden red.

Connor closed his eyes. He remembered. Morning. Abby spilling coffee down her white tank and ripping on the red top just as the phones went off. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the blur of red, tried to force back the painful grunts his chest wanted to push out.

"G-gone," he grunted. He felt shivers, but more like an idea than an actual movement. He huffed. "C-cold."

"It's gonna be alright, Connor," Abby said, voice cautious but form still indistinguishable. "We're already working on the anti-venom."

"Stephen," Connor coughed. He shut his eyes. Fire ran through his fingertips, and he willed himself to fan them back to normal, but from Abby's reactions, he must not have moved much.

"Connor, stop it," Abby pleaded. "Stop talking about that. He's gone. Do you hear me? Stephen's gone."

"Gone," Connor repeated. His head rolled back to its central position.

Stephen pushing back from the window. Gone. Stephen leaning his weight on Connor's shoulder. Gone. Stephen's wise advice. Gone. All of it gone. Those blue eyes were gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. He knew he was repeating. He could vaguely hear Abby begging him to listen. But everything was gone. Everything was colorless and blurred. Everything was hot and painful.

Brown. A gun in his face. A fierce grip and a comfy lap. The wind in his hair like a dog on the freeway. The freedom. The strength. The security. Fading. Everything was fading.

"Connor?" Abby's voice sounded from far away, as through a tunnel between times.

Where was he? How had he gotten here? Where was he going? Who was he with? Was he dying? Where had the male voice gone? All answers were fading, fleeing from his grasping mind, farther every second. And the white was replaced with the thickest darkness.

"Connor!"

"…"

Feeling like he was defying nature itself, Connor pulled his eyes open. He instantly took note of the hospital feeling bed he was lying in and the very hospital looking room he was situated in and the very hospital smelling scent radiating from every surface of this forsaken, barren landscape of evil paleness.

Why was he in the hospital?

Connor shut his eyes and swallowed harshly. It felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on his head. Everything came rushing back. There was the vicious spider infestation in Liverpool. He remembered being one of the group leading the search, flame throwers as their weapon of choice since it worked so well against the first spiders to come through an anomaly way back in the beginning. He remembered Becker turning to look down one direction of the corridor and another solider looking down the side closest to him. The poor soldier barely got out a scream before the spiders were on him, five of them all fighting for a piece of the kill.

Connor remembered Becker grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him back and the pained look on the captain's face as he watched his man be killed before his eyes. Connor remembered being pushed behind the others and watching Becker and Abby light up the tunnel with their flames, keeping the venomous arachnids at bay. He remembered wanting to be useful too and turning up the gas on his own flame thrower. He remembered the spike of pain in his left ankle, almost like the excess gas had snapped at him or hot wax had been flung directly onto his skin. He remembered everything becoming sort of wibbly and the clatter of his torch on the ground. He didn't rightly remember hitting the floor, but he did remembering grasping the wall for support, and the pain on his head told him he'd fallen regardless.

After that he knew only pain and heat and cold and… Connor stopped. He'd been thinking about death – about Stephen's death. It was the only downturn in this job – Stephen, Cutter, Claudia, Captain Ryan, Tom. Connor raised his arm up and laid it across his eyes. He felt weak, unable to wipe away the tears that stung his newly healed eyes, but he could still hide behind his arm and feel more at ease. They were all dead, and Connor might be too for all he knew.

"Where?" he asked, voice barely audible. Where was everyone? Where were those who had died?

"Here," a voice answered. Connor tensed, and his tears held back in his eyes.

"Why?" Connor murmured.

"Because I can," Becker said. "And because I was curious."

"Bout what?" Connor sniffed, eyes still closed and wet beneath his arm.

"It may be none of my business, and you don't need to answer it if it might be too painful, Connor, but I was beginning to wonder who Stephen was."

Connor pulled his arm away from his eyes and saw the way his veins were slightly black. He held back a queasy feeling and dropped it to the bed beside him as he closed his eyes. A weight sat on the bed as Becker no doubt took a seat. He put his hands on either side of Connor's face and let out a short and tired breath.

"Open your eyes, please," he ordered. Connor did as he was told, though keeping them open was more tiring than moving his entire arm. Becker tilted Connor's head this way and that, but Connor kept his eyes up on the officer, and it seemed that's what Becker wanted him to do.

Brown. Brown eyes. Becker's eyes were like pure milk chocolate, light and smooth. Connor had seen them darker, like bitter chocolate, when he was angry or just after fighting a dinosaur. But they were always such a clear brown.

Becker pulled out a tiny light and moved it across Connor's eyes. In its wake, Connor saw Stephen teasingly blinding him before a search. He closed his eyes and tried to turn away, but Becker held him still.

"Eyes open, Connor," he warned. Connor took a deep breath and reopened his eyes. The light was back, but Connor kept his focus on Becker's eyes. Each time the tiny torch's shine moved away, Becker's light eyes and smooth face replaced its brightness.

"What happened?" Connor asked.

"You don't remember?" Becker asked, moving the light away and taking another look at Connor's eyes. "Slight concussion."

"I remember being in the tunnel, and then I think something bit my ankle. I'm pretty sure I collapsed, but I don't remember anything passed that." Connor reached up and rubbed at his eyes. Becker let him, removing his hands.

"You gave Abby and I quite the fright. We were keeping the front end covered and then we heard something crash behind us. When we looked, a spider and three of its damn kids were working their way up your legs. We got them off, but you were already infected and going fast. I called it in and the ambulance was arriving just as we got you to the outside again."

"Was I saying anything?"

"Say again?"

"Stephen got poisoned once," Connor admitted. "He ranted at first. Most of it was gibberish, but he said a lot of true things too… like about Helen and asking Abby out. He remembered it eventually."

"I think you were too far gone for you to ever remember what you said, but trust me, it was probably dying gibberish," Becker said. He slid his mini torch into his pocket and tapped Connor on the forehead.

"But what was the gibberish?" Connor asked. He could feel himself beginning to pout. Was he unintelligible when he was poisoned? "If I ranted and no one knows what I said, that's totally lame."

"Mostly you kept asking for Stephen." The reply was blunt and quick, as though Becker wanted to throw it out and never speak of it again. "Abby later told me he's been dead for quite a while now. She was worried you were seeing dead people."

"Stephen," Connor mumbled. He closed his eyes. "He died… ripped to pieces by creatures… about a week before you were hired. You were hired because of Stephen."

"You saw him die?" Becker asked, voice quiet. Connor shook his head.

"Cutter did. He was in shock and told me about it. Lucky me, I've always had a vivid imagination. For a week, I just saw it repeating in my head every time I closed my eyes."

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Nah," Connor said, opening his eyes and locking them on Becker. "I've got new things to think about now."

Becker stared right back at Connor for a moment, seeming to consider the information he'd just heard. He wasn't wearing his combat gear, but he was still in that tight black shirt and his matching black pants. Connor could bet there was a gun hidden somewhere on his person. Becker nodded then and looked away for a moment.

"So you don't remember anything before you passed out with Abby in the ambulance, then," the captain stated more than asked. Connor frowned.

"I remember everything was white. I couldn't see anything."

"Could you hear anything?"

Connor groaned and nodded. His head felt light and dizzy from the motion and he reached both his hands up to hold it. Becker's hand was there in a flash as well, pressing against his forehead for a temperature check. He pulled his hand back and frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I don't know. Am I?" Connor replied, a nervous smile on his lips. He held out the arm closest to Becker to show the man his darkened veins.

Becker took hold of the arm gently and examined the coloring. He looked intense, but he also looked caring. Stephen always looked too intense to interrupt. Becker touched one of his fingers to the largest visible vein and set his jaw. As Becker traced the vein, Connor felt a shiver run through him and closed his eyes. He hadn't noticed it on his own, but every time Becker touched him, the contact spot was hot and every nerve in the area seemed on high alert. He was sensitive to foreign touch. Becker noticed the change in Connor and released his arm. Connor took a deep breath and reopened his eyes.

"The doctor says the anti-venom is working and getting you clean. The discomfort and discoloration should leave within the next twenty four hours," Becker assured. "But be sure to alert someone if you relapse into pain."

"No problem there," Connor assured and smiled stupidly. His eyes left Becker and scanned the room. He saw no personal items and no other people, not even in the doorway. "Where's everyone else?"

"Sarah's sealing the anomaly. Abby is speaking with the doctors to negotiate how long before you can safely leave. Danny's probably having a tiff with Lester back at the ARC. My men are handling the anomaly site. Lester's already taken care of the press." Becker looked to the door as well, probably looking for Abby.

"And you're in here with me," Connor pointed out, partly because it seemed like a ludicrous place for the captain of their security to be during a time like this and partly because he was honored and touched by the fact.

"Yep. And I'm in here with you," Becker repeated and let out a sigh. He looked back at Connor then with a surprisingly comforting stare.

"Stephen's eyes are blue," Connor blurted out suddenly. The softness died in Becker's eyes, and he turned away. The captain stood from the bed and took several steps toward the door but did not leave.

"That's fascinating," he said, though he sounded bitter.

"No. No, I promise there's a point to that," Connor amended quickly, trying to push himself to a sitting position. He failed and thumped back against the pillows. Becker came over and helped alter the bed so that it propped the ARC's young inventor up in a semi-sitting position.

"The doctor's say you shouldn't exert yourself. Please don't do that again. I'm supposed to protect you, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult to protect you all from yourselves," Becker said. Connor smiled.

"Right," he said. Then he shook his head slowly. "Stephen's eyes are blue," he began again. "That's what I remember from being poisoned. I kept seeing Stephen's eyes and the way he died and all the missions we went on together. And then I could hear people yelling. I think it was you and Abby, but don't lock me into that. And I remember… out of everything, the only words I can remember are Abby saying Stephen was gone and you ordering me to listen to you."

"Ah. Sorry about that. In hindsight, I sounded pretty pissed. Just to be clear, I wasn't mad at you," Becker interrupted, resetting himself on the bed. Connor smiled.

"No worries. Your orders were easy to hear, and I feel like everything was easier to hear after that… not that I remember anything else that was said, of course, but it's the idea that counts, yeah?" Connor offered.

"Glad to be of service," Becker said, a smug smile on his stupidly handsome face. His face fell back into pleasant complacency after a moment, and his eyes said he was back to critical thinking. "About Stephen," he began, and Connor stopped smiling. "You two must have been close."

Connor shook his head and frowned. "He treated me like a younger brother at work, but during missions I was just in the way and outside of work he never wanted to hang out with any of us but Cutter. The last week or so, things were pretty tense between him and Cutter. It made everything awkward, and he didn't speak to any of us. Out of the team, I think he liked me the least," he admitted.

Becker frowned and placed a hand gently on Connor's arm. "But you liked him quite a lot."

Connor hesitated but then nodded. His eyes stung with new tears, and he covered his face with his hand to hide his expression. Becker grabbed his wrist and pulled the hand away.

"Stop hiding, Connor. It's perfectly alright," he said.

"I never said anything to anyone," Connor said, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. "But uh… he died without knowing, and I sometimes think maybe it was for the best, ya know? He had enough problems to deal with without adding me to the lot."

"You're not a problem, Connor," Becker assured, and Connor realized his hand was still stuck in Becker's strong grip.

"Yeah?" Connor laughed shortly. "Admit it. I'm still pretty shit with a gun."

Becker grinned. "You're no special ops officer, that's for sure."

"That's your job," Connor said.

Silence took over for a minute in which Becker shifted his grip on Connor's wrist. He turned Connor's hand over so it was facing palm up and rested his thumb in the center of it.

"You still hung up on him?" Becker asked casually. Connor shrugged and found himself smiling again. Becker's grip was almost too tight, even though there was barely any pressure.

"Nah. I've moved on to better things. After all, more than a year would be a bit of a length of time to stay on someone after they're gone," Connor said. "I think my mind flashed back on him because he got poisoned once too. We almost lost him. Heh. And I took out my first creature."

"So you fancy someone new now," Becker noted. Connor felt his face flush and he shrugged.

"Yeah, but that's normal, yeah?" he asked, realizing he sounded retarded.

"Oh yeah. Completely," Becker agreed, nodding and glancing toward the door again. "So uh… Abby says you changed your tune just before you finally passed out."

"Did I? Like I said, I don't remember much," Connor said.

"Well she said you stopped talking about Stephen, for one thing. You were fading and the last thing you said…," he stopped there and looked back at Connor. It was as if he were nervous about the meaning behind Connor's last words.

"Well go on then. What did I say?" the nerd asked. Becker's grip changed ever so slightly, and Connor's hand flexed around the officer's thumb. Connor moved his hand until he was lamely holding Becker's hand. The warmth was intense on his sensitive palm.

"Well, according to Abby, the last thing you said before you were gone was my name," Becker said. "She said you stopped calling for Stephen and started calling for me."

Connor's eyes went wide and his insistent smile faltered through four uneasy expressions. He tugged his hand back, but Becker held on to it tighter. It actually hurt, and Connor winced but the grip didn't relax. His heart hammered in his chest, and the monitor attached to him reflected the increase, but it seemed far less dramatic from the machine compared to how it felt. He wondered if Becker noticed the change. He tried again to pull his hand back, and the painful grip grew worse. Connor hissed and stopped pulling. Becker loosened back to his gentle hold and frowned.

"Do you remember that?" Becker asked. Connor started to shake his head but stopped. He lowered his face.

"Your eyes are brown," he mumbled.

"What was that?" Becker asked, scooting closer to hear better.

"I remembered they were… I mean, when I was spinning, you told me to listen and I remembered your eyes are brown. Inside, my mind struggled between thoughts of Stephen and his death and focusing on you like you told me too. I remember that. I remember trying to concentrate on you."

"So you were just following orders," Becker clarified, his grip growing even looser.

"I was doing what you told me to," Connor said. He looked at their hands and felt how easy it would be to pull away now. He looked at Becker's face and saw the disappointment barely hidden. "I'm glad… Becker… I'm glad you're the one in here. I'm… I mean…"

Becker sighed and closed his eyes. "Connor, stop talking," he said.

"But - ," Connor tried. Becker shook his head. "Becker."

"I'm glad… that I could save you, Connor. I'm glad I was the first one you saw when you woke up." Becker pulled his hand away and shifted till he was facing the door.

"It wasn't Stephen," Connor said. "When I was bitten, it wasn't Stephen I thought of."

"Oh?" Becker asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"I… I knew… I knew you'd save me," Connor said.

Becker turned then. He slowly, hesitantly, placed his hand on Connor's cheek. The touch sent surprised shivers down Connor's back despite the long warning he had.

"I'll always save you," Becker said, voice quiet. Connor smiled and nudged Becker's hand with his head. The cool, calm, collected officer looked anything but as he leaned down over Connor on the bed.

"That's what I want," Connor said, and he wasn't sure if he was talking about being saved or about being kissed. It didn't matter, though, as Becker nodded and pressed his lips to Connor's. The sensation was amazing. The already sensitive lips stung with the gentle press of Becker's lips, and the tender area of his cheek tingled with the caress of Becker's thumb.

"Is that what you want?" Becker asked as he pulled away. Connor seemed stunned for several moments, and then he nodded a bit too rapidly and swallowed heavy.

"Y-Yeah. That'll do it," he said. Becker smiled and kissed him once more before sitting back up straight.

"No more until you're better. I already feel like I'm hurting you," he said. Connor smirked and shrugged, his eyes feeling heavy. It must have had something to do with the rush of blood from his heart to his head.

"Just a bit of stabbing pain. Nothing I can't handle," he said.

"Well you look about to pass out. Rest and I'll be here when you wake up. Then we can discuss if you're just high on medicine and venom or if you're completely conscious of what we just did," Becker said, readjusting Connor's bed to a flat position.

Connor frowned. "You promise?"

"On pain of exile," the captain assured. Connor nodded and relaxed into his thin and helpless pillows. His eyes shut and he thought of Becker's eyes again and the sting of the lips against his own.

"Brown like chocolate," he mumbled out loud. He heard Becker snicker, and then he faded into his medicated dreams.