Midnight Lady

Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, but belong to Impossible Pictures™.

Note: this story contains lyrics from Chris Norman's Midnight Lady.

"Sob".

For the last two decades – or even more so, given how non-linear and irregular her life had become – Helen Cutter was a survivor, able to identify many sorts of sound and to detect even more. That said, the sound of a grown man crying was still disturbing to her: her father had not been a particularly manly man, but neither was he overly emotional, able to bend but not break, unlike her husband – well, ex-husband if she ever got down to a divorce.

"Sob."

Helen Cutter was not a kind woman; in fact, quite a few people, especially at the ARC, would not have considered her particularly humane. Of course, there were others, like Berenice Ptolemy, the princess of Egypt, and Lucrezia Borgia who would heartily disapprove, but they were not here right now; in fact, other than Helen herself, there was no one to console the crier – if she chose to.

"Chirp."

Startled, Helen looked down at the Compsognathus that she was still holding. The little bastard had given her quite the run around, stealing her time anomaly manifestation device before fleeing to the modern world – and if anyone from the ARC were to encounter her, even now, they would blame her, and she was at a disadvantage.

"Sob."

Something stirred in Helen's chest at that sound: something raw and painful, something that was actually hurting her, urging her to flee once again into the past until her plan was complete – but there was still enough of her old self to pause and go to face that sound face on, come Hell or high water, whatever came first.

I've got many ways, to reach tomorrow

Love will always grow, no pain, no sorrow

"Sob."

Helen stared. The crier was her ex-husband's little sycophant, Something-Something Temple. Or Church. She honestly did not know, save that there was a C in there somewhere.

Then again, that was irrelevant; the crux of the matter was that he was crying, and her husband was nowhere in sight. Typical.

"What's typical?" the sycophant asked, uncurling from his semi-fetal position.

"That you're both close to Nick and crying," Helen said matter-of-factly before pausing. "Wait. Did I say that aloud? Must be more tired than I thought."

"Helen." The sycophant tried his trademark glare at her, but even in its natural state it was pathetic; now, with his bruises-

Wait. The bruises were new. "Who did such a half-arsed job of coloring you, kid?" Helen asked, as her inner woman was struggling to reach out to the young man and treat him for his injuries.

"Nobody," the latter looked away, embarrassed at Helen both being herself specifically and a woman in general. "It was my own fault. Now go away before I call Nick..." he trailed away, as he apparently realized that either Nick was out of reach or he did not want to talk to the older man.

"Come on," Helen wheedled, only in part from curiosity. "I'll let you hold the dinosaur if you tell me what has happened!"

"Um," the sycophant has only now noticed the Compsognathus that Helen had been holding all this time. "Why do you have a dinosaur?"

"I had to catch it before it stranded itself in time – here or elsewhere – and changed history as we know it," Helen shrugged. "Honestly. So, do we have a deal?"

"Yes," her interlocutor nodded, his spirits falling once more. "Why not?"

Magic touched my life, I'm still dreaming

Anything before has lost its meaning

If Connor had heard from someone, anyone, that once upon in his life it will be Helen bleeping Cutter who will appear to give a damn about him, he would have thought that they were crazy. His life being what it is, though, it turned out to be just that crazy.

"It all began earlier today, with the time anomaly," he began, "but you probably already know of this-"

"That depends. Are we talking about the Solnhofen lagoon in the late Jurassic, over 150 MYA? You know – pterosaurs, the first dinobird Archaeopteryx, and small dinosaurs like this one?"

"Um, no," Connor replied, sounding almost like his old self (at least to his own ears). "This was quite a bit later, late Cretaceous or so."

"Ah! The giant meteorite, right? That is where most Cretaceous time anomalies tend to generate, for some reason."

"Maybe," Connor almost smiled at Helen's friendly-teasing tone before he had caught himself. "We didn't see it, but a dinosaur did come through. A juvenile T-Rex, maybe, but I am not so sure-" he twitched, as much more unpleasant memories came to his mind.

"And?" came the patient question.

"Well, for its size it was fast and quite smart," Connor began to muse, "and its teeth weren't like that of a T-Rex. Maybe it was an Albertosaurus or a Gorgosaurus instead... never mind," he paused, expecting a rebuke.

None came.

"Yes, well, anyways," Connor began to rush, feeling tears come unbidden to his eyes once more, "it didn't go down fully to plan, and a couple of our soldiers got chomped. See, this dinosaur, it was smaller than a T-Rex, maybe half its size, tops, but it was fast, manoeuvrable, almost like a big cat, and seemed to really enjoy our taste – or maybe it just was that sort of a snaky bastard."

"But you got it back in?" Helen asked, quietly, with an odd note of worry in her voice.

"What?" Connor asked, before he remembered. "Oh! Yes! Well, it was not so much our doing as it charging Becker and me as we had an argument before the time anomaly and we got out of the way just as it went into the time anomaly and it closed."

"And that's when you got hurt," Helen said matter-of-factly, following her intuition.

"Yes," Connor said forlornly.

"I have one more question."

"Shoot."

"Who's Becker?"

You think love is a game, love is emotion

Endless and so deep, always in motion

There was a pause as Temple stared at her with an almost farcical facial expression before it was shifted into something else. "Oh right, you never came back after Stephen died," he said, sounding more like his old self for the first time this night. "Becker is his replacement and the head of our new security forces. His solution is to shot everything that moves and is out of time."

"And how does Cutter take it?" Helen softly asked, thinking of her husband's more humanitarian public side, desperately trying not to think of Stephen. "What does he say?"

"Nothing!" Temple bitterly replied. "After Stephen died, it's like he's no longer quite there! He is Cutter, but he is vapid now, and his hair – do not make me start! He's just no longer the same Nick Cutter that was when Stephen was alive, and it's your fault entirely!"

My fault entirely. Now it was said aloud, in the open, as a challenge that Helen had been expecting all this time: unlike her, Nick was straightforward and direct as a mountain crag, even if just as inert.

Yet it was not Nick who was confronting Helen with this, but his sycophant, whom Helen did not really give much thinking or even time of a day. She did not have to explain herself to him, she could evade him, she could fool him, she... did not give a damn. The time to face this challenge was either now or never.

"You're correct!" she said faux-brightly. "You're absolutely correct! This is my fault! If I have been just a bit quicker the damn raptor would not have caught me and Stephen would still be alive! I should not have panicked – I have dealt with their kind before and usually was not afraid of their teeth and talons. But Nick was there, Stephen was there, and if anyone can get under my skin, it was they. So yes, I messed up, Stephen is dead, and I am alive, though I have no reason to live anymore. So, my question now is – if I commit suicide, will anyone give a fuck? Now that Stephen is dead and Nick got his Jenny."

There was another pause as her interlocutor looked at her, then at the small dinosaur. "Don't even think about releasing it," Helen snapped. "Size for size, it got a bite as powerful as that of the T-Rex and possibly even more painful."

"Got it," Connor said quickly, wincing. "Ow!"

"Must've been some fall that gave you so many bruises," Helen said, eager to change the topic now.

"It wasn't the fall," Connor said mournfully, "it was Becker. He is the bloke who got Stephen's job, but he is hardcore military, and he is no fun at all. Of course, with Cutter being not quite there, Jenny having eyes only for him, and Sarah being the new kid herself, it's only Abby who sticks up to Becker, really. I tried, and he got rough, and Cutter just ignored it. It's like his soul is gone or something..."

There was a pause, and then Helen decided to do the right thing. "Maybe he has. I mean, for me, Stephen was... special-"

"Whoa, whoa! Helen, I hate you, but suicide isn't the way-!"

The sycophant remembered her name and she didn't know his? Annoying. "As I was saying, young Temple, Stephen was special for me, but for Stephen, Nick was special, though the rock hard Catholic that he was, he didn't admit it, and now – regrets it."

There was a pause as Connor clearly thought it over, dinosaur still in hand. "Interesting point. What should I do, though?"

"You're Nick's – friend, right?" Helen decided not to call him a sycophant this time – it would spoil the mood. "Try to get him to talk, to get therapy or something. Ask Jenny to help. She's in love with him – maybe..."

"Got it," Connor said brightly, "and-"

"You can keep the dinosaur – just remember that although it's the size of a chicken, it still eats meat, so keep your fingers away from it."

"Thanks! But, I meant, that if you ever feel alone and anything – please come over to my place. I mean, it's mine and Abby's place, but Abby won't be jealous of you..."

"'Cause I'm old?" Helen asked wryly, in a teasing tone, but Connor turned red.

"Um, er, can I have another one?" he stuttered

"No," Helen shook her head. "I'm keeping this one. So keep your fireplace warm, because one night when it is cold and raining, I just might come over. Until then – see you around." Helen grinned, activated her time anomaly manifestation device and left.

I feel the magic of your charm, oh,

you're tearing me apart

After Helen left (and how did she do it? What was that device of hers?), Connor just silently stood there. Of all the familiar people today (well, technically tonight – or was it?), his friends at the ARC were distant (increasingly distant), and Helen Cutter, who has been their archnemesis ever since the ARC got together, was understanding – and that was disturbing.

Come to think of it, however, James Lester was also understanding – and that was almost as disturbing as Helen. Connor Temple's life has really turned strange, and the time anomalies were not even involved.

"So what do I do now?" Connor asked rhetorically.

"Chirp."

Connor blinked and looked at the chicken-sized dinosaur, who stared back with its beady eyes – somewhat how Becker did it, only not. "Right, let's go and talk to Lester about getting you a new home – and then talking to him about Cutter," Connor said brightly. "Glad to see things looking up at last!"

Without a warning a torrential downpour soaked both Connor and the dinosaur to the bone, but Connor just shook his head. "God still hates me, though, but that's nothing new. Warm bunk at the ARC, here we come!"

End