Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.
Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.
A/N: A collaboration with Mijo54.
Collision Course
0.1 A Close Encounter
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"Becks!"
Peter shook his arm, breaking Hilary Becker's concentration. The thirteen year old boy had been staring awestruck at the screen, watching the final credits roll by.
"Come on Becks," urged his friend.
The boy was dressed in blue jeans and a red t-shirt topped by a bright blue rugby shirt bearing the logo of the Cardiff team. Another boy stood in the aisle, dressed in faded blue jeans and an overlarge gray sweater that looked as if it needed a wash. Becker glanced past his friend, to see Peter's school mate Clyde something or other shifting from one foot to the other.
"Movie's over," called the other boy. "Hurry up!"
Clyde turned impatiently and strode up the aisle towards the lobby. Hilary Becker finally arose from the red padded seat. He stood half a head taller than his friend Peter. Dressed in black jeans and sporting a long sleeved t-shirt for a New Zealand rugby team, the thirteen year old was barely visible in the darkened theater.
"What did you like best about the movie?" asked Becker.
Peter shrugged as they turned to walk up the aisle after Clyde.
"Guinevere," he replied in a matter of fact tone.
"Guinevere had the most beautiful eyes," sighed Becker.
"It wasn't just her eyes that were beautiful," chuckled Peter.
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In the bright lights of the lobby, Peter and Becker hurried to catch up with Clyde. The other boy was pushing his way through the crowd around the concession stand. A little girl with reddish brown hair, bearing a huge container of popcorn, stepped in his way.
"Watch where you're going!" exclaimed Clyde.
The little girl tripped and fell. The container she was carrying thumped on the floor. Popcorn bounced and scattered across the floor. Clyde pushed on past the child.
"Clyde!" called Becker.
He knelt to help the little girl.
"Are you all right?" Becker asked.
The girl appeared to be about five or so, guessed Becker. She looked up at him, her long eyelashes were wet, her bottom chin was quivering.
"Are you hurt?" asked Becker. He reached a hand out towards the little girl.
"Don't touch her!" exclaimed a loud voice.
Becker looked up to see an older girl towering above him, frowning angrily. Judging by the hair color, the two girls might be sisters.
"Marjorie," admonished a softer voice "he didn't knock Jess down, it was the other boy."
Becker turned to see the owner of the other voice. A girl with dark chestnut hair, holding the hand of yet another little girl, continued speaking.
"You shouldn't have let go of Jess's hand," reminded the other girl.
"Hmmph," sounded Marjorie as she reached down beneath Jess's arms and lifted her up, setting the child on her feet.
Becker grabbed the popcorn container and rose to stand. He held it out towards the older girl. Marjorie snatched it out of his hands.
"Come on now," said Marjorie to the rest of the girls, ignoring Becker entirely "or we'll be late for Jumanji."
Becker felt a tug on his arm. Peter jerked his head towards the door.
"Come on Becks," urged his friend again, "or we'll miss the bus."
As Becker followed Peter through the theater doors, he turned for one quick glance back. The four girls had been joined by two adults, and were now in the queue awaiting entry into the matinee. The littlest girl turned her head. Becker's eyes caught her gaze and a brief glimpse of a bright smile before he stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight.
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Gwendolyn picked up Becker at Peter's home after she got off work.
"How was the movie?" she asked her little brother.
"Awesome!" replied Hil, "Lancelot was the best swordsman ever!"
"And what did you think about King Arthur?" asked his sister with a chuckle.
"Well… Sean Connery is a good actor, but the King Arthur character was way too old for Guinevere," replied Becker. "I think Lancelot and Guinevere should have been together…"
"Hmmph," mused his sister as she turned the tiny compact car onto their street. "You might be romanticizing their relationship just a bit…"
"Well it is a romance," replied Becker.
"Depends upon your point of view," replied Gwendolyn "having an affair is adultery in most places… and high treason if the affair is with the wife of the king."
Becker looked across the car seat at his sister.
"You're teaching Henry the Eighth this semester," he said. "Aren't you?"
"Yeah," answered his sister.
She pulled the tiny car into the driveway and parked. As they got out and headed towards the flat, a slightly chubby man opened the front door and smiled brightly.
"You're back," greeted her husband happily.
Gwendolyn wondered for a moment… if she tried to tell Hil that a real romance was having someone who was glad to see you… someone who insisted on paying extra for a two bedroom flat just in case your mother wanted to visit… someone who said they needed the extra long sofa for when your little brother came to stay… would Hil believe her?
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That night, Hilary Becker dreamed of beautiful eyes… but they weren't Julia Ormond's.
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