Pairing/Characters: Abby and Connor (about as much Abby/Connor as there is in series 1 of the show)

Spoilers: None but set in series 1

Author's Notes: Written as a comment_fic prompt for myfloralbonnet, who requested Primeval, Abby & Connor, four-leaf clover.

Thanks to temaris for the encouragement and look over.

-o-

It had been raining, on and off, all morning, seeping into Connor's clothes, soaking through every single layer until all he could do was shiver and curse British summers. The rain, however, didn't seem to faze the small herd of Mesohippus they were chasing, who not only had discovered a taste for the grass of this time but were nippy little buggers to boot. By the time Ryan and his men had separated them out from the much more local flock of sheep - who had been eyeing their guests suspiciously, as though it had finally percolated through their tiny, sheepish brains that these were not just oddly shaped, oddly coloured and spotted brethren - the ground had been well and truly churned up into mud.

And, of course, as the perfect end to a particularly crappy day, Connor had to slip in it and land flat on his back.

He watched the grey clouds scurry overhead and thought about staying there for a while, maybe even until everyone else had gone home; at least then he couldn't humiliate himself even further. Of course, he, Connor Temple, prat extraordinaire, had to do something like that. He didn't suppose that Stephen had ever done anything as unheroic as to simply slip and fall. If Stephen ever did fall, it would probably be because he'd leapt in front of some creature that was about to eat Abby or something. And he'd probably look good dirty.

"You okay?" Abby's face appeared above him, a small frown on it. "You're not hurt, are you?"

He thought about suggesting that maybe his pride was, but that wasn't the kind of thing Abby would kiss better. Not that there would be any kissing from Abby anyway.

"'M fine," he said, pushing himself upright. The mud squelched unpleasantly between his fingers and he scowled, lifting his hand to wipe it on his jeans. It didn't do any good - his jeans were just as filthy. "Ick."

Her nose wrinkled sympathetically but any hope he may have had that her sympathy would extend further was soon quashed. "Could be worse, Connor. You could have landed in sheep shit."

Ick again. She'd had to say it, hadn't she? Now he was wondering whether or not it was really mud he was sitting in, or what might be mixed with the mud he was sitting in. He didn't want to think about it. He tried wiping his hands on his jeans again, as though that was going to help.

Some of that must have shown on her face because she laughed, low and earthy. The sound was a surprise from someone as small and pretty as Abby, but he liked it. It suited her.

She stopped laughing long enough to ask, "Are you going to sit there all day?"

"Maybe," he said and she smiled again. "How are we doing?"

She glanced back over her shoulder, shifting just enough for him to be able to see past her to where Ryan's men were finally chasing the last few stragglers back through the anomaly. None of them, he noticed, slipped. It was so unfair. Although at the last minute, one of the sheep, either confused by the flapping arms or maybe just deciding that it was a case of 'bugger this for a game of soldiers' - literally - decided to make a break for it, too. Stephen lunged for it and missed; it disappeared, white tail bobbing, through the anomaly.

"... oops," said Connor. "I hope that doesn't mess up evolution."

Abby snorted. Maybe he was imagining things but the look she threw him, before her attention was drawn back to Stephen, might have bordered on affectionate. Either that or the rain had soaked into his brain, too. That was more likely, he thought morosely, watching as Stephen, Ryan and the Professor got together for a bit of a confab. He was too far away to make out what they were saying but there seemed to be as much arm waving involved as there had been in chasing the Mesohippus around the field.

Abby let out a sigh and plopped down onto the muddy grass next to him, apparently unconcerned about what might be mixed in with the mud. But then, working at a zoo, he supposed she'd be used to it. Even so, the fact that she'd done it, chosen to sit beside him, warmed something in his chest. When he looked at her she shrugged her shoulders, wrinkling her nose up again. It was a cute look on her, although even he knew better than to mention that.

"They'll be a while," she said, absently pulling on the grass stems next to her. Her attention was fixed on the men in the corner of the field, or one of them anyway. "I think Cutter's trying to persuade them to go after it."

"After a sheep?"

She shrugged again and tore her attention away from Stephen for long enough to look at him. "Maybe he's worried it'll mess up evolution," she said, grinning cheekily and his cheeks flushed. "Although, when I learnt biology, it generally took two of them."

He smiled back weakly, watching as she turned away again. The drizzle had plastered her hair to her head and there was mud on her cheek. If he was braver - as brave as Stephen - he'd try and wipe it away or something, but he wasn't, on either count. All he had the courage to do was sit and watch her playing with a blade of grass absently while they waited for a decision to be made.

She was really very pretty.

"Hmm," she said eventually.

"What?"

She held up a piece of something she'd pulled out and twisted it around between her fingers. "Look. Four leaf clover." She gave him a strange, searching look and then handed it to him, holding it out until he took it. "Here. Maybe it will bring you luck."

There was only one kind of luck he wanted, and it wasn't going to happen while he was covered in mud. If it ever happened at all.

Still... Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Does this mean I get to use the shower first?"

The End