Title: As I Am
Author: Bekah
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing(s): none
Rating: PG for violent images
Warnings: contains spoilers for both Seasons.
This is for Ina and the Primeval ficathon!
Stares follow him as he makes his way down the white halls, his slow pace giving adequate time for word to spread before him, and soon he's gathered a following of curious eyes. Reaching his destination, he manages to push the door open with one shoulder, the other bound to his chest. With as much dignity as a limping and one armed man can have in a glass fishbowl, he enters his office and settles behind the desk. A single stare is effective enough to scatter the gawkers. Once he's sure no one was around, he fumbles open a bottle of aspirin and swallows three dry.
James Lester was having a very bad day.
There is a gentle knock on his door, and without looking he knows that it's Jenny, who enters silently with a small, concerned smile on her face.
"Heard you had an adventure today," she says as she moves to stand in front of his desk.
"Not the words I would have chosen," he responds with a grunt as he tries to find a comfortable position. Her mouth twitches in the makings of smile and he stares stonily at her, though the tension in the room had marginally relaxed.
Any observers would have been thrown by the familiarity between the two, but they had a bond, as both were on the outside of Cutter's team; Jenny was separated by her relative newness to the project, and he by his position as the feared and hated overseer of the ARC. Both knew that they would never fully be a part of the little group, as they each had respective responsibilities that took precedence over whatever moral ground or mission Cutter took on. They both acknowledged that were anything to happen to the team, they would be the ones left behind.
"Is there something you needed?" Lester asks. Aware of the observers outside his office, he picks up his pen and shifts the forms around on his desk, repressing every twinge that the movements cause.
"Actually, yes." Jenny replies. "The Prime Minister called while you were gone. He called again while you were in the infirmary. He's on the line right now."
Sure enough, a glance over at his phone reveals the flashing light as it beats out a rhythm that echoes in his head. If he were a lesser man, he would tell Jenny to inform the PM that he wasn't in the office, that he was out, that he couldn't be reached; if he were a lesser man he would have avoid the call at all costs.
James Lester is not a lesser man.
He tries to pick up the phone but, unable to balance it with half his body out of commission, presses speaker-phone. "Sir," he says. "Ah, Mister Lester. I just received a preliminary report from the police about the abnormal activity in the Metro." There is a pause and Lester can hear papers rustling in the background. It buys him little time to gather his thoughts. "The reports of events are sketchy. Would you be so kind as to clear that up for me?"
"Yes, sir. It originally began as one of Temple's pet projects, readings that were similar to the anomalies in general but too weak to actually merit observation, until the computer had complied reports of strange noises and missing pets that coincided with the location. Cutter and his team were unavailable, so I had Miss Lewis remain at the ARC while I took a small team to investigate. It was meant to be a reconnaissance mission."
X X X
"This is my beat, and you don't know the tubes like I do. I'm down here all the time dealing with vagrants and runaways that get lost in the tunnels. I won't have you getting lost too; I'm coming with."
"Oh, if you must."
James grimaced as he strode down the passageways that made up the Metro's interior corridors, following the path of emergency lights. They had been able to use the cover of a bomb threat to evacuate the area, but that didn't include the local police, and one PC David Taylor matched him step for step. He had given in to PC Taylor's insistence only out of necessity, as most of his men were with Cutter in Cardiff investigating several questionable sightings, and he had brought only Captain McLaren and one of his men with him for backup. He had left the rest of the active ARC personal behind for support in case this was a trap, which no one had dared argue with; even he had to admit he was still tense after the situation with Helen Cutter and Leek.
The gun nestled in the small of his back was unspoken proof of this unease.
McLaren's voice fizzled over the radio. "You should be nearing a junction that branches off into a smaller section where most of the, ah, disturbances were heard. Five metres ahead--" Static broke the communication. "Sir?"
Taylor looked around. "We're under pretty deep, that's probably what's causing the interference."
"Stand by, Captain. And leave the line open," James said. "We're just taking a look, but be prepared to come if we lose contact and let me know immediately if you hear anything from the ARC."
"Yes, sir."
They had reached the junction and James felt instantly that there was something here, or had been; the air was rank, thick with rust and decay, and he could see the fresh tracks that marred the ground beneath their feet. Taking the light from Taylor, James knelt, and pushed aside some of the dust to unearth bones, small enough to be one of the missing animals. Or a child. He pulled his hand away only to find that the grains stuck to his fingers, thick with freshly spilled blood.
"Oh God."
He heard Taylor's gasp and his head spun around to see the PC making his way into the small junction, where at second glance, he could see that a trail of blood led. He raised the light and followed Taylor in. He made his way over to see Taylor leaning down, reaching toward something; when he was closer, James could see that it was a body that was still fresh, judging from the state of the wounds.
It was a man, the light revealing an unshaven face and clothes in such a ragged state that James knew him to be a homeless, the eyes still frozen in blank shock. A quick scan showed that the dead man's belongings had been shoved over the left of him, and James picked up the man's wallet from where it lay; inside was five pounds and a picture, well-loved, of a young and smiling girl. A second glance at the man's head revealed that it was basically hanging by a thread, having been ripped nearing off, and the bones shone whitely in the light. His arms, obviously held up to protect, also showed evidence of having been chewed, and one was missing entirely. Taylor retched at his side but James' attention was focused on the tracks, inhuman tracks, leading off to the side. One hand moved behind to grip his gun while the other flicked the radio as he paced to the side, heading in the direction of the man's belongings.
"Captain, I have a potentially hostile situation. Alert--"
"Sir!" McLaren broke in. "The anomaly is active! You should be right on top of it."
James stiffened and looked around, but could see nothing, no sounds, no tell-tale flicker of light showing an open anomaly. He opened his mouth to answer when he heard a noise, echoing hollowly in the empty tunnels, and it took him a moment to recognize it as an animalistic growl. In the dim lights of the corridor, he could make out the shape of a large dog. It looked to be about the size of a grown man, and its eyes reflected the light with a green shine that reminded him obscurely of a cat. He saw the muzzle move, revealing powerful-looking jaws and rows of blood-stained teeth that smiled at them grotesquely. James cursed; he may be trapped but Taylor still had enough room to run.
"Taylor, get out now!" James withdrew his gun and took a step back to brace for any shot he would have to make. There was a loud cracking noise as the floor beneath him gave way, and with a cry he fell, his last glimpse above was one of red-hued horror as the creature ripped into Taylor. The fearsome howl followed him to unconsciousness like diabolical laughter.
James wasn't sure how long he had been out for, and when his mind cleared, he was actually shocked that he woken at all. Shifting the debris away, he gingerly took stock of his injuries; he couldn't move one obviously broken arm without blinding agony, and while he could walk, he knew that he'd torn something in his leg. A glance at the debris told him that he had fallen through the floor into what looked like a storage space, one that had not been detailed in the blueprints. To his left he could make out stairs leading upward, so he wasn't stuck, and a glance to the right revealed the anomaly. He saw the still-fresh trail of blood that lead through it, so he couldn't have been out for that long. With a chill he realized that he had been lucky enough to be overlooked as a meal, but knew that the bodies of the other man and Taylor would most likely be irretrievable.
He was ashamed at how relieved he was to still be carrying his gun.
"Ooh, that was a nasty fall."
James started at the harsh voice and turned to the stairwell, where a small and haggard man was watching him. Like the dead man, this one was also dressed in threadbare clothes, the uniform of another vagrant, but James was unnerved by the look in this man's eyes as they feasted upon him.
"Look what you did. Look what you did!" The man hissed at him. "This is my home, my home, trespassers not allowed." He scuttled around James and started rummaging through the debris.
"Because this is such a castle," James sighed. He eyed the man. "You do realize that this isn't the safest," he broke off as the man threw the body of a dead rat his way, "or most hygienic place to be."
"Safe for me," the man scoffed. "Safe enough for me."
"And just why is it safe for you?"
"Leave the neighbours presents, leave them tasty trespasser treats." The man mumbled, pulling items out with one hand and tapping a steady beat with the other.
"What are you counting?" he asked, watching the fingers move, counting out the beats in his head. Each tap was second, seconds into minutes, and minutes...
"Time the lights; when they open, when they close, when the beasts feed. Time it, time it right, they leave me alone."
Shrewd eyes stared at the man, and James let his fingers loosely rest on the handle of his gun. "You're down here pretty deep and those...beasts...have never actually been seen outside. Why do they stay down here?"
"People come, trespass, so I give them to 'em. Some I lead, lead through the light as it closes as gifts, so the next time it opens they're not so hungry."
The man actually sounded proud. Just like Leek. I am going to hunt you.
"So that they leave you alone. You time the fluctuations and lead them through, only to trap them on the other side." James looked over at the anomaly, noting that it was growing dimmer. "How long until it closes?"
"Minutes. Only minutes left."
"You took the girl through, didn't you?"
The man froze and turned his head towards James, eyes wide, blankly reflecting the light. His fingers twitched. He moved quickly, trying for the stairs, but James--despite the pain that it caused-has experience on his side and was able to grab the man before he reached them. He shoved the man against the wall again and again, mouth twisted in an animalistic snarl.
"Sir?"
He didn't stop at the sound of McLaren's voice, but stilled, keeping a tight grip on the man's throat.
"McLaren," James breathed. "Captain, have you radioed for reinforcements?"
"Yes sir." God bless McLaren, who doesn't falter at the sight of his seemingly unhinged supervisor.
"I want you to requisition the necessary amount of explosives needed to seal this area of the tunnels, and I want you to wait here while they bring it and then set it up."
His hand tightened on the man's throat, cutting off the weak "My home!"
"Sir?" Now McLaren's sounded troubled. "And you?"
"Will hopefully be right back."
With the man held in a trembling yet powerful grip, James walked them through the anomaly, only to exit in hell.
It was actually a cave, or the back hollow of one, and at closer inspection seemed to so closely resemble the tunnels they had left behind that James isn't surprised that the beasts never tried to exit the depths. Or that no one ever questioned where they were being led to. Thankfully there were no bodies, intact or otherwise, but there were bones; there were a multitude of bones, some with scraps of clothing still attached. He made out the remains of uniforms belonging to rescue workers, police constables, delivery men, and so many others. He saw the sleeping bags and items that had once belonged to people long since dead. He felt as if he was staring at a serial killer's collection.
He knew he wasn't far off in his assessment.
"You promised them safety, and then you lead them here to die!"
He hurled the man sharply at the far wall when he saw the girl. But she was merely curled up against the wall, making no noise so as to attract no attention. Yet she must have understood the lack of threat he presented to her, for before James could speak she had launched herself at him and clutched at his leg, burrowing her face in the fabric. He took no notice of his own wounds, as he saw that she had wounds of her own. He noted the dried blood on her shirt; her father's, he thinks, and knows that it is the only reason she still lived. The man, livid, began to yell, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke.
"This is my territory! All these people, these kids, barge in with no respect and bring their drugs and booze and guns; taunting me, hurting me, messing up my home! I won't let them take it from me!" The man stared at James with a look so feral that he unquestionably belonged to this untamed world. Their voices have attracted attention and James could see shapes moving in the distance through the cave's opening. The howls were distant, but soon began to grow steadily closer.
James turned his attention back to the flickering lights of the anomaly as they grew steadily dimmer; he knew that they didn't have long before it closed. The man seemed to realize this as well, and that James stood between him and escape.
"We must go, we must go! There is no time! Leave the girl-they'll go after her first!" the man screamed, fisting his hands in James' shirt and shaking him.
Disgust coloring his features, James pushed away and stared at the man, the sobbing child pressing closer to him. He reached down to assure the girl, and gave her a push in the direction of the anomaly.
"Go and don't look back," he said.
The girl took off toward the anomaly when the man snarled and lunged. James pivoted, almost losing his balance, and brought out his gun, knowing that he shot that echoed over stone would no doubt bring the predators straight to them. The man let out a cry and fell, clawing at his leg, and as he continued to scream James knew that it was certainty. He watched the man writhe on the ground and listened to his broken sobs. Already he could dimly make out the snarls from the entrance of the cave, drawn by the fresh scent of blood and pain, and he knew there was little time.
"What have you done, ooh, what have you done," the man moaned, flopping like a beached fish, blood spilling out beneath him like water.
"Put down an animal," James replied as he watched him coldly.
He walked to the back of the cave and the neat little crook of tunnels that lead back to London. He chose his position and raised the gun towards the ceiling, aiming where erosion has created a slight dropping ledge.
"You can't leave me!" the man screamed, spittle flying as the hungry snarls come ever closer.
He met the man's gaze steadily and fired into the rock, causing large shards to fall and start to cover the way back to the modern world, and the man's screams faded under the sound of falling stone. It doesn't block the way completely, but enough to have hopefully bought the time he needed. He made his way around the corner to see the girl huddled by the anomaly, shaking. She whimpered when he lifted her despite his own pain, but her arms were soon wrapped tightly around his neck.
As they walked through the anomaly, James could hear a cacophony of sounds behind them, shouts and cries and snarls, and while the girl pressed closer, she didn't protest, she doesn't speak.
This will be their secret.
X X X
"After the child and I returned, McLaren then used the explosives, per my instructions, to collapse that tunnel of the subway system so that access to that section is completely blocked. The creatures, Hyaenodon as I've since been informed, aren't large enough to force a way through the debris. I'll set up a CCTV system to keep watch but I don't believe that particular anomaly will be accessible again." He shifts in his chair as the muscles in his leg stiffen and cramp.
"And the man? There's no mention in the police report of his presence; what became of him?"
"I'm afraid that he was unable to make it back through the anomaly, sir. I can't be sure. There was rather a lot going on at the time."
"And you're sure of that?"
"Yes."
"Hmm." The Prime Minister makes a sound, as if still unsure of the truthful nature of James' response but unwilling to push. "And Cutter's team was in Wales, dealing with a secondary anomaly."
"Yes, it was a pity that they were unable to return in time."
"According to your monthly reports the frequency of the anomalies is increasing." The Prime Minister paused. "Other emergency operations could be helpful. Should we be considering making this information public?"
Without hesitation, Lester replies, "No. It is still my recommendation that the secrecy act remains."
"Do you believe that the events might have transpired differently if there had been advance warning?"
He thinks back to the bodies among the rocks, only the shredded pieces of clothing to show that they had once been people. He thinks back to the child that clung to him so fiercely, gaze dulled by horror and shock, and so very different from the picture of the vibrant girl that he had found in the dead man's wallet.
"No," he says. "It would have made no difference." He tries to modulate his tone, but wonders if he sounds as tired to the Prime Minister as he does to himself.
There was a moment of silence before the Prime Minister replied.
"Agreed. The secrecy act remains in effect."
He lets out a silent breath. "Thank you sir."
"No James," the Prime Minister replied in a soft voice, sounding almost apologetic. "Thank you. We'll speak again when you present the monthly report." There was a click and then a dial tone as the call was terminated.
Lester presses the button and silence fills the office. He reaches into his top drawer and brings out a personal cell phone, one he keeps only for emergencies, and presses the automatic dial. Almost immediately it is picked up and Jenny is graced with the first real look of peace that has ever been seen on James Lester's face.
"Hello love, yes, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be home tonight slightly later than usual." He pauses, and Jenny watches as his face softens slightly, the lines between his eyes easing slightly. "Yes, it was a bad day. I wanted to warn you that I'll look a little rough. There was an accident--no, don't worry. I'm fine, everything's fine." He's nodding to something she cannot hear. "Yes, I promise. No, don't worry about getting her; just tell your mother not to wait dinner. I'll be home in time for your story; I'll even do the voices. Yes, yes. Goodbye." With a sigh he ends the call with unsteady hands, eyes rimmed red.
He starts a bit when he raises his gaze to Jenny's, as he had forgotten she was there.
This is the side of him that the others will never see; this tired man with such responsibility on his shoulders, a man who must make life and death choices, a man who even when faced with horrors that few had ever seen still manages to remain composed and do what must be done. A man, who even now, lies to his family in order to keep them innocent and safe. He closes his eyes—a count of five beats—and then he opens them, once again composed, with no hint of inner turmoil.
"I believe we're done here," he says, once more focussing on the papers before him, effectively dismissing her. With a nod she turns, then looks back.
"You're not going to rethink your position, are you?" she asks.
His eyes go distant, looking out at the ARC but not truly seeing it. He remembers the men who have already fallen under his command. He recalls Captain Ryan, whom she had never met, Stephen Hart, and all the damage that Helen and Leek have caused in their prideful ambition.
"We have the knowledge," he says. "But we do not have the wisdom to go with it." His eyes harden. "No, I will not change my position. Goodnight."
He can feel her watch him return to the forms, the papers that record the lives of those employed by the ARC, the ones whose lives have already been lost. Later he will write each of the families a letter, stating what information he is allowed to give on just what their loved ones had died for.
On her way out, bag slung over her shoulder, Jenny passes by his office again. He is still bent over, the lamp his only light as he steadily works through the files. The dim light casts heavy shadows, and his pen scribbles diligently against the paper. He will stay until he has finished them all.
She enters his office and takes the seat before his desk without a word, extending a hand for the next file. Without a word it is given to her.
They are outsiders on the inside, and they are doing the best that they can.