Anomalies had the unpleasant and uncanny ability to interrupt life. Not just in the having to suddenly rush out to deal with creature incursions, but the little day to day things that you could not plan in advance because you never knew when your life might have to be put on pause for the Crown and country. An anomaly had grounded the lives of Abby Maitland and Connor Temple to a halt for an entire year. Of course neither one would deny that there were most definitely perks from it. Romance that there had not been time for before they followed Danny Quinn in pursuit of Helen Cutter now not only had been established, but was strengthening with each new trial. Both found inner reserves of strength that they had not known they had, especially Connor. He had proven that he was in fact "not just a massive intellect".
The intellect part didn't fade away either though. While no longer denied firearms for fear of shooting someone that wasn't suppose to be, Connor still found himself coming up with unconventional methods for defending himself, and Abby, from creatures that crossed through the anomaly. It bothered him that he had not time to earn his degree before that long year in the Cretaceous. The ARC seemed to be on the brink of breaking even after repairs had been done. First they lost Cutter, then the brief take over, and Jenny leaving them. So much had changed in such a short period of time and Connor wanted at least one thing in his life to go to normal. Or at least one thing that was just for him. Connor hated the idea of lying to Abby, but he didn't want to tell her that there was more to it than just that. He nearly wiped the human race out of existence, nearly given birth to a hell world where you could not breath the air and future predators hunted freely. As mundane as it might be in comparison to being chased by a giganotosaurus, getting his diploma would make him feel as if he had done something right for the first time in a long time.
The problems came with just trying to get back into the paleontology program. Too much time had passed, thanks to life as a member of the ARC, and he needed a new academic advisor. Courses that had counted towards his major no longer had any credit, his transcript was a mess, and the massive piles of paperwork he had to slug his way through gave him headaches. Learning was actually fun to the man, but making heads or tails of this was maddening. Everyone kept telling him that he was a genius, but here was something that his brilliant mind could not find a way out of. So between the ADD going off, trying to find a flat that he and Abby could live in, and vague ideas towards wedding planning, Connor found himself making his way frequently to the registrar's office. Each trip earned him a thicker stack of forms that had to be completed, only to be told that he had been given the wrong one.
Tossing the newest addition of his so called homework onto Jess's counter, Connor took a bit of relief in the quiet that he found himself faced with. Sid and Nancy were great, but diictodons make better distractions and paper shredders than secretaries. Abby understood that he needed just a little bit of time to quietly work on this by himself, she was going to stay at the ARC a little later today. With a buzz, his cell phone alerted him of a new text message.
Do you want coffee later?
He smiled at the message from Abby. Sweet that she thought to give him a bit of comfort. The caffeine helped a little with the migraine that he knew was going to be coming. Thumb flying over the touch screen Connor sent back an affirmative to the offer, adding that they could maybe get some take out and sit down for a movie. Even now the two found themselves playing catch up to the world. Missing out on the media didn't always seem like such a bad thing though.
Enough distractions, Connor scolded himself as he took a seat. Not all that the Uni gave him today was paperwork. Turns out that there was a backlog of mail for him as well that Lester had not thought of getting. Most of it seemed to be junk flyers, advertisements for campus events that he missed while running from raptors or trying to build up a fire. The only thing that remotely caught his interest was a manila envelope, the kind typically used for on campus mail between professors. The date last stamped on it was old. Before the year in the Cretaceous. His curiosity sufficiently peaked, Connor unwound the string and slid out a faintly familiar pink file. What the?
Somehow his dissertation had made its way back to him. In stunned silence Connor sat there, puzzled at how he held in his hands his theory that life on earth derived from aliens. At the time he wrote it he had honestly believed that such a thing was possible. Now he was questioning the existence of it at all. But there it was in his hands, as if it had followed him and Abby through the anomaly. Chuckling at his conspiracy fueled paper, Connor began thumbing through it. The further in he went though, the more he noticed notes written in the margins in red pen. Glancing back at the envelope there was still a page that had been left behind. One not typed up, but with the same red ink.
Connor, it began innocently enough.
Connor,
I believe that an apology is in order. When you first presented this to me I thought it was rubbish and put it in the bin it seemed meant for. I've had many students write thesis and dissertations that were ill researched and I believe fueled by the mad imaginations of paleontology "experts" who have yet to grasp the difference between "your" and "you're". Admittedly you are only slightly better than that, I suspect you did well in your grammar lessons as a child, but you cannot deny that you are eager to believe anything. I've heard you called an idiot, an irritating student, and a halfwit, but your mind is far from foolish.
It would seem that maybe I am the fool. While aliens being the catalyst for future evolutions that ultimately resulted in the human race strikes me as fantasy, we both have seen the unexplainable. Who would have thought that we would be fortunate enough to see raptors or dodos in a world where something as simple as an eagle is considered rare. There is more out there then we know, and the anomalies are bringing light to those links in the history of evolution I told you about in our first meeting.
Unfortunately I do not think your dissertation, well written as it may be, would be considered well enough researched by anyone not tied up with the anomalies. I know that you have learned the value of silence about our work. The events with the centipede and your friend Tom have made certain of that. I hope that you will take this not as a rejection, but rather a request for you to challenge yourself further, to think of a new "conspiracy" for me to enjoy reading through.
Professor N Cutter
Oh and Connor, don't fret so hard, you shine brightest when you simply are you.
Abby found him sitting in that same spot later, hunched over papers as had become the new norm for him. His eyes were red, streaks down his face and hair mussed where she knew he must have run his fingers through it for comfort. Surely the paperwork for resuming his education couldn't be that taxing. A gentle kiss on his temple, with a cup of hot coffee placed beside his occupied hand brought her fiance back down to the earthly realms.
"Alright then Con?" she asked, studying his face a minute harder. He'd been crying, that much she knew, but something in Connor's face looked more relaxed, almost like he was laughing at a joke that only he knew. A hand was freed from the stack of papers he'd taken from a pink folder and wrapped around her waist. Strangely enough Connor looked comfortable in the mess he'd surrounded himself with, caught up in a type of work that he was not usually suited for.
"My dissertation finally made its way back to me," Connor explained, "Cutter must have fished it out of his bin sometime after the anomalies started opening and read it. Looks like it got shuffled about when his office was cleaned out and then when we were on holiday." He was finding it hard to explain how the rejection of his dissertation brought him comfort, as though Cutter had found a way to say once more that he was a good man. "Not every day that you get a review from an adviser before you actually are enrolled back in college."