A/N: this is semi-based off Sar-kaz-m's Saving Stephen series, in which Stephen survives the events of S2E7 and Becker and Sarah have both joined up with the ARC team. Other than that, this is all mine. Well, the plot is. The actual show…that definitely isn't mine, though one can dream. I thought this up awhile ago, but I wanted to finish my Fractured fic first (let's hear it for alliteration!). Anyways, I saw the fan art online, and the muse attacked me. Enjoy.

Connor Temple was going to die. He knew it for a fact. He was bleeding at a most alarming rate, the thick red liquid seeping through his clothes and onto the grassy ground beneath him; in the moonlight, his blood looked black instead of red, almost as if he was bleeding tar or ink. It was a disconcerting, disorienting sight. He dragged in another ragged breath, hearing it gurgle horribly in his lungs. The wind howled through the trees, bitterly cold even though it wasn't quite winter yet, his breath steaming in the air in front of him. Trembling, numb fingers hesitantly reached up to his side, probing past his ripped layers of clothing to the wound underneath; a low, rasping moan of pain was drawn from his throat as he touched the bleeding gouge in his side.

That is…a bit not good, he thought, mind numbed by shock and pain. He knew he ought to call out to the others, but what good would that do? They'd left him. He'd been forgotten. Again. The Future Predator that'd attacked him and turned him into ceviche had fled when it heard the sounds of the team. Cutter had led the team – Abby and Stephen, along with new additions Captain Action Man Becker and Dr. Sarah Page – after the raptors, ones that had escaped the anomaly. And none of them had noticed Connor wasn't with them. He was used to it, on some level, being the one person that everyone overlooked, that everybody forgot about, but it was another thing entirely to be left behind with a raptor and a Future Predator on the loose. Well, they didn't know about the Predator, but they did know about the raptors, and weren't those dangerous enough?

His breath came in low rasping gasps, a wet gurgling noise in his throat like someone forcing air through a clogged pipe. He was starting to believe that he'd punctured a lung from the way his breathing felt wet in his throat, and every exhale sent thick, tacky blood gurgling up his windpipe into his mouth. Wonder what'll kill me first…drowning in my own blood, the shock, or the blood loss, he thought vacantly, no longer alarmed by the prospect that he was dying. His mind had sunk too far down into the haze of shock to be afraid. He coughed hard, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, trailing down his cheek; his own blood felt hot on his skin, like someone had dribbled hot tea down his face.

Connor looked up at the dark sky. The stars were starting to get blurry, a hazy darkness forming around the edges of his vision, and the moon seemed brighter than before, pulsing with a silver light that overtook everything else he saw. He felt peculiarly tired now, like he'd gone too long without sleep. He didn't feel quite as cold now, and his lashes were heavy. The ground wasn't that uncomfortable, either…. He yawned widely. His head fell back on the leafy ground, lashes falling closed. The last thought that passed through his mind before darkness overcame him was, I wonder if they'll find my body or if the Predator will come back and eat me. Either way…

Jenny paced back and forth along the damp, leafy ground, rubbing her hands together for warmth as she watched the anomaly. The team had gone through over an hour ago, and she was still waiting for them to come back. There was a CO2 gun of tranquiliser darts in her hand, and the longer time went on, the more nervous she found herself getting.

"Oi, something's coming through!" said one of the soldiers, and she turned to face the anomaly again. Anomalies looked like broken glass. It was as if a crystal ball had exploded in midair, glass fragments exploding outwards, frozen in time, suspended and shimmering with a soft white-gold light. Right now, it was pulsing and warping, a sign that something was making its way through the temporal gateway.

The first to step through was Cutter; she let out a low sigh of relief, seeing him coming back whole and unhurt. It was rather common for him to return with scrapes or cuts of some sort, or bites and scratches from a creature. So whenever he came back without fresh blood on his clothes, it was cause for relief. "Are the raptors back where they belong?" she asked, stepping towards him. Three raptors this time, though not as big as the ones from the shopping centre the year before. These were smaller, though no less vicious, dromaeosaurs and not the enormous utahraptors from the mall.

"Yeah. All sorted," he replied, stepping past her to put the tranquiliser guns back into the cases in the back of the Hilux.

Jenny smiled and glanced over her shoulder as the rest of the team came through the anomaly, looking no worse for wear: Abby, Stephen, the newest additions Sarah and Becker… A small frown pulled at her lips. "Where's Connor?" she asked.

Cutter glanced up. "Eh?"

A sinking feeling was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. "Connor. Connor Temple, your student. Where. Is. He?" she asked again, separating each word into its own sentence. The sinking feeling only grew worse at the expression of dismay on his face; his mouth opened, made no noise, and closed again. She turned to look at the rest of the team; they were exchanging glances as well, faces turning guilty. "Oh, no. No, no, no…. Nick Cutter, do not, do not tell me that you left him behind," she demanded; he didn't say anything, averting his gaze in a gesture that to her spoke of nothing but shame. "Oh, my God." Whirling around, she snatched up her tranquiliser rifle. "Let's go."

As they made their way back towards the anomaly, she glanced over at Cutter. "I can't believe you, Nick. He's part of the team, too," she said coldly.

"I didn't notice he was gone," he replied, a defencive note coming to his voice.

"You're their leader, Nick. It's kind of your job to notice," Jenny replied, turning to stride forward through the anomaly. It was the middle of the night on the other side of the anomaly, and so damned cold that the sharp slap of frigid air made her gasp. She reached up and clicked on the torch attached to her rifle. "Where'd you last see him?" she asked, glancing over at Cutter; he opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking, and that was all the answer she needed. "Christ, Nick," she muttered, then glanced over her shoulder at the others. "Where'd you last see him?" she repeated, but nobody else answered her.

Jenny felt a knot form in her chest, and she had to grit her teeth hard. "Fine, then. Spread out, retrace your steps. Find him," she hissed under her breath, glaring at the professor. She had been on the team for a long while now, and Cutter had always taken care of his team, had pushed the limits to keep those on his team safe, had protected them, which is why it disappointed her so much, leaving Connor behind without even blinking twice at his disappearance, never even noticing that he was gone.

Holding the rifle tightly, she made her way through the waist-high ferns that sprouted between the tall trees. "Connor? Connor, where are you?" she called out softly, keeping her ears strained for any sound. "Connor?"

There was a low, soft noise from the ground, and she lifted her rifle defencively. But then she heard it again, a low, gurgling sigh, and it didn't sound like an animal. Stepping closer to the noise, she carefully pushed past the undergrowth into a small clearing, shining the torch in front of her. What she saw made her blood go cold. "Oh, God, Connor," she gasped.

The young man was lying on his back on the leafy ground; the side of his clothes were in shreds down the left side, glistening wetly with blood. The ground beneath him was wet as well. Connor had always been pale, having that fair complexion of one who avoided the sun, but now he was chalky pale, white as bleached bone, as if all the blood had been leached out of him. His hair appeared all the darker for it, a black halo around his pale face. Blood was dribbling from the corner of his mouth down his cheek; in the monochrome of moonlight, the blood looked like black ink. Only when the light of the torch fell on him did it turn crimson. As she hastened forward, kneeling down beside him, her shaking hand went out to touch his neck. His skin was cold, but she could still feel a pulse, thin and thready, beneath the skin. "Nick! Stephen!" she shouted.

She heard the sound of running footsteps crashing through the undergrowth, and then the others were there, the sharp glare of their torch lights cutting through the darkness. Abby let out a soft half-wail as she saw the young man on the ground, falling to her knees beside him. Sarah's face went ashen, and even Becker of the steel nerves looked a little ill. "Oh, God," Cutter rasped out weakly, then seemed to snap out of his brief horror. Stepping around Abby, he leant down and slid both arms beneath Connor, lifting the thin form into his arms; the boy didn't seem to weigh anything at all, as if he was full of air and feathers instead of flesh and blood. If moving hurt him at all, Connor didn't show it. His head lolled back bonelessly on his neck, exposing the white skin of his throat; Cutter had never seen anybody so pale. Anybody alive, anyways.

"He isn't bleeding," Sarah said in a stunned voice as they made their way back towards the anomaly.

"He hasn't anything left to bleed," Stephen growled back.

Crouched in the tree limbs, watching the scene below them unfold silently, black-clad hunters observed everything and missed nothing; keen eyes watched the team hasten back through the anomaly with Connor. Once they had gone and the night fell silent once again, they dropped from the trees to the floor of the Cretaceous forest. A fall like that would've broken a human's legs in several places, but they merely bent their knees to absorb the impact and stood up straight.

Stepping forward until they just stood at the edges of the anomaly's flickering, prismatic light, they stared at the temporal gateway. All of them were sheathed in sleek jumpsuits, and though the fabric appeared black, it was only because those wearing them had adjusted the settings as such. The colour changed as they so wished it to, blending into their surroundings. In the midst of a forest in the dead of night, black was best if they wanted to stay hidden from view. Dark hoods and scarves hid most of their faces as well as protected them from exposure to the elements. Even though it was impossible to tell looking at them, each had at least a dozen weapons hidden on their person, artfully disguised in the folds of their clothes.

"Well...this could be quite problematic," murmured one in a soft female voice, reaching up with a slim hand to push the hood back and draw the scarf down as well. Beneath it was a startlingly young face with delicate features and a wealth of curly, honey-brown hair.

"Just a wee bit," agreed another as he absently ran his fingers across the knife tucked into a leather sheath strapped to his thigh, tracing the familiar texture of the bone-carved hilt. He was watching the anomaly as well, the fractured light playing curiously off his eyes, which were the most distinctive thing about his face. They were the clearest shade of blue, almost crystalline, as if his mother had fooled about with a cat to get him; humans simply didn't have eyes like that.

Another voice spoke up, low and harsh. "We have to go after them. The Predator was infected." This came from the most volatile of the hunters' number, and he practically hummed with tension, the way a string drawn taut would vibrate after being plucked. "We'll find the young one and kill him. Quick and quiet; they'll think it was the injuries. They wouldn't miss him either, or they wouldn't have left him in the first place."

"Quiet," hissed the other man, fingers tightening on the hilt of his knife for a second before loosening once more. "He might not have to die. He's young but he's strong, maybe enough to survive the infection. We'll follow them, but nobody – " He shot a purposeful glance towards his companion, who only skulked and glowered. " – will touch him unless I give the order. He might be of use to us just yet."

"What did they call him?" asked the young woman that'd first spoken.

"Connor. His name is Connor," he answered without taking his gaze from the anomaly. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the young man spoke of a strength that went beyond merely physical. He had the feeling that this Connor would be quite useful.

If he survived.