So...yeah...I had been diligently working on my two massive Primeval projects, when - as per usual - I got distracted. In this case I was poking around some of my old notebooks for some lost snipets of the fics I had been working on when I found this tucked in a corner. It isn't finished of as of yet, but so far I know exactly where it's going and how I'm going to end it. It shouldn't be longer than four to five chapters, but even with it being as short as it is I have no promises of regular updates...I'm woefully horrible at updating...
As always I love reviews and reviewers more than life itself and would love you all eternally if anything off or down right screwy with my work was brought to my attention.
The ceiling was what one would expect a ceiling to look like. It was white, smooth, a tad boring, and above her head. All things a ceiling should be. It was also, as it turned out, all she could see when she slowly returned to consciousness.
Blinking, trying hard to push away the bleariness that held her vision hostage, she avoided moving. Moving, she thought dully, was a bad idea. There was a steady, distant throb reaching out to all parts of her body that seemed to have no end or beginning. As she lay there, every muscle aching, she searched with her ever focusing eyes to find out just where she was. Somewhere with a ceiling, that was certain - if not completely useless.
It was warm, not hot exactly, but a pleasant temperature that spoke of winter outside. She was laying down, surrounded on all sides by a wonderfully comforting softness. Below her she could feel herself sinking into a supple mattress as the weight of a toasty duvet settled around her and a perfectly plump pillow resting beneath her head. All she needed was to close her eyes and she would be lost again to the land of slumber, an almost too tempting offer. Had it not been for the sudden movement at her side, she might just have slipped off.
Ignoring her aching, well everything (why did she hurt?) Abby turned her head slowly. She was a little more worse than wear than she had originally estimated when she had been laying still. Perhaps it was the pain that caused understanding the sight she saw be so illusive to her mind. For the life of her she just could not grasp what she was seeing.
She was no more than nine, though honestly she looked younger still. Pretty blue eyes, wide and curious as they rested within a small heart shaped face. Pale skin, smattered generously with adorable looking freckles, was stretched over a skinny frame. If Abby's estimation for the girl's age was any good, the child was tall for her few years, lanky and perhaps a little awkward with her long limbs. Dark locks, perhaps brown but dark enough to be black, were haphazard and curling uncontrollably from the confines of her sloppy looking braid. For some strange reason she was the oddest thing Abby had ever seen.
She shifted, slowly propping herself up onto her elbows, and the girl froze in place. Her bright robin egg's eyes widening even further as she stared back. Noticing the girl's fright Abby worked to sooth the child. "'S okay," Her voice was thick, warbling in a tangled mess. Offering a stiff smile she winced as the girl scooted back before promptly turning on her heel and fleeing the room. Watching the girl run out of the room as if the demons of hell itself were in pursuit Abby could just faintly hear her shouting for her father. Her small feet sounding like thunder on the hardwood floors, how was it possible for children to make so much noise?
Scowling the lizard girl fell back onto the bed with a groan. She should have known better, she really should have. She was terrible with children. Any small movement, any attempt at conversation, and boom tears and screaming. She hadn't even gotten past "hello" this time, apparently some children could just naturally read her and knew just when to head for the hills. Where was Connor when she needed him? Children loved Connor. Huffing loudly she found herself staring once again at the ceiling. Lying there wasn't helping her figure out who the girl was, it wasn't even helping her figure out where the hell she was.
Huffing to herself she lifted her hands to rub at her stiff face. The instant her hands touched the skin she jerked them back with a yelp. Surprised by the pain she sat up again, careful of the ache that coursed through her frame. Tentatively she reached up for her cheek, slowly and carefully brushing her finger across the source of the stinging pain. A swatch of plastic and gauze rested uncomfortably between her cheek and her finger, silently explaining the pain away as part of an injury. Being careful not to add more pain by using too much pressure she traced the length of the plaster, estimating it to be roughly the length of her palm. Frowning she looked around the room, searching for a mirror to look herself over.
It had occurred to her before of course, that the ceiling above her had walls attached and a floor laying parallel beneath it. She hadn't, however, anticipated the room to look so...normal. It was a bedroom, not large or small but of a comfortable enough size that reminded her of her room back home in her flat. The walls were a creamy green that bounced nicely off the dark hardwood floors, and though it was sparse the decorator of the room had obviously put some effort into making it look nice in its functionality. Other than the bed she lay on, there were a few other pieces of furniture. A ornate dresser set against one wall, two bedside tables, a vanity and seat resting across from her beside a door that looked to lead to a pristine bathroom.
Trying to stand took more effort than it really should have and judging by the pain that radiated at distinct parts of her body she could guess that the cut on her cheek was not her only injury. Why wasn't she in a hospital if she was hurt? Trepidation prickled the hair at the back of her neck, the situation was wrong. So very wrong. Who was the child? Why was she there and why did it look like she was being housed in a guest room? Where was Connor? The rest of the team?
A few painful steps forward and she discovered a chest set at the foot of the bed. Her clothes were stacked on top, folded neatly and looking freshly washed with her shoes set on the floor next to the door. Seeing them alerted her to the fact that sometime in her fuzzy past she had been redressed and now wore a set of slightly too-large flannels. Her stomach dropped sickeningly at the idea of someone unknown stripping her down, even to redress her, while she was unconscious. Swallowing back her unease as best as she could she gathered up the articles of clothing, moving on towards the bathroom. If she was going to need to fight for her life she bloody well wasn't going to do it in jimjams and bare feet.
Her hand had just wrapped securely about the silver knob of the bathroom, her feet getting chilled on the cold tile of the bathroom, when the other door was thrown open with a flourish she had only ever seen in the badly made movies Connor sometimes watched. Jumping, her side roaring at her in protest at the sudden motion, she dropped her clothes to the floor as she looked about wildly for a weapon. Her hands clenched her sturdy boots, desperation making chucking them at the heads of any intruders all the more appealing. As her blue eyes jumped to the faces of her would-be attackers she let out a slow breath of relief, the adrenaline that had burned through her veins to prepare her to fight ebbing away and allowing the pain to filter back in.
Connor stood at the forefront, hat askew on his head appearing for all the world as if it was hanging on to his dark tendrils for dear life. A sizable bruise creeping about his left eye matched his split lip to explain to her that she was not the only one injured in whatever had happened to them. He was looking to the bed frantically before his frenzied search turned to the rest of the room, it was soothingly typical of Connor to be so over the top with his emotions. Finally turning to face her the tension in his lanky frame eased, elation replacing the panic in such a rush that it took her a moment to fully comprehend the large dimpled smile that was sent her way. Behind him Cutter had come in at a much less harried pace with a steaming cup in hand and...
...And Connor Temple filing in behind. Another Connor Temple.
What the hell?