A/N: Lots of spoilers for the end of series 5! Set in my Lester/Becker 'verse. The title was inspired by a line from A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin (my geekiness, let me show you it).
Fear Cuts Deep
Lester was leaving in the morning. He was going to be away for several days, off at some sort of conference or something. Becker wasn't all that clear on the details. Lester had explained but truthfully, when Lester started to go on (and on) about his work Becker's mind tended to wander and he would just watch the movement of Lester's mouth, listening to the cadence of his voice. The words were superfluous, really.
The important thing was, Lester was leaving and Becker was making sure he gave him a very good send-off.
At the moment, Becker was lying stretched out on his back, pleasantly tired, while Lester leaned on his forearm at Becker's side. He was considering whether or not it would be worth getting up to find something to eat and whether possibly he could get Lester to do it for him when Lester completely ruined the moment by opening his mouth.
"I've been meaning to tell you that I've spoken to my lawyer. I've put you in my will," Lester said off-handedly, like it was nothing.
"What?"
"My children are the biggest beneficiaries, of course. You understand."
"Yeah, of course," Becker said as his brain attempted to catch up with what Lester was actually saying. Lester always chose the most inopportune times to have serious conversations. He obviously did it on purpose.
"But I just wanted… If something were to happen to me, I want to know that you'll be okay." Lester said that earnestly, like it was terribly important to him, like he thought… Becker had no idea what he was thinking, honestly.
"It's not your money I want, James."
"No, but these things need to be considered. It's important to be prepared."
Becker didn't know how to deal with what was happening, what he was meant to say, what Lester wanted him to do with this information. Lester had just sprung it on him with no warning and all Becker could think was, He's making plans for his death. Fuck, he's thinking about what would happen if he died, like I'd be his God damn widow. And when exactly had they got married? "Can we not talk about this?"
"Hils, listen to me. I have to live every day knowing that you're at risk, that there could be an accident with the creatures, that your luck could run out the next time you do something reckless and stupid. My job's much safer than yours but that doesn't mean nothing will happen and you should be prepared for that."
There was an unfamiliar prickling sensation behind Becker's eyes and he blinked. He was not going to fucking cry for fuck's sake, not at a suggestion of the remote possibility that Lester could- He was Captain Hilary Becker, formerly of the Special Forces, graduate of Sandhurst, survivor of both a tour of duty in Afghanistan and God only knew how many creature incursions. He didn't fucking cry. He covered his eyes with his arm to block out the sight of Lester.
"Hils," Lester said softly. "I'm not saying that anything will happen."
"I know."
"Darling, look at me." Lester tugged at Becker's arm till Becker was forced to look at him, his expression warm and concerned. "You know that I love you, don't you?"
Becker stroked his hand over the slope of Lester's nose and down the angle of his jaw. "Yeah, I know." That was the problem, wasn't it? He made himself smile. "I hope you've left me the flat and the Jaguar."
Lester scoffed. "As if I'd trust you with the Jag. I'm leaving it to Agatha."
"I don't suppose there's anything I could do to persuade you to change your mind?" Becker rolled onto his side and pushed at Lester's chest, nudging him onto his back. Becker climbed on top of him, licking the hollow of his throat.
Lester settled his hands on Becker's arse and arched his neck. "I'm not sure. I do hate to change things once they've already been arranged."
"I'll have to be very persuasive then," Becker said and sucked on Lester's collarbone. If he made jokes, if he concentrated on pleasing Lester, then he didn't have to think about what it all meant. Because if he thought about it, he was ashamed to admit that it scared him. It scared him that they'd got this far, that Lester was thinking about their future, that they even had a future together that needed to be thought about. It scared him that Lester considered things like his own death.
And mostly it scared him that he cared so damn much.
It wasn't even a week later that everything went to shit. The ARC lockdown, Philip fucking Burton, convergence, future predators inside the bloody ARC… When Becker rounded the corner and found Jess slumped against the pillar, Lester's head cradled in her lap, blood all over his clothes, all that ran through his mind was, That fucking bastard put me in his fucking will. He focused on Jess, on sweet Jess who had wanted to stay far away from the creatures and who was clearly in shock, because if he concentrated on her then he didn't have to look at Lester lying there, at Lester bleeding out on the floor with the ARC in lockdown and not a medic to be found in the entire building. His fucking will, as if that would make it okay.
He watched Matt and Connor hold up Lester between them and then looked away, sighting down his EMD. Watch for the future predators, keep them away from Lester. Keep Lester safe till they arrived at the medical bay. He could do that. He needed to be able to do fucking something, something to help, or he'd go mad.
The corridors were all clear, which was a small mercy. While Matt and Connor laid out Lester on the nearest bed inside the medical bay, Becker shouldered his EMD and started rummaging through the cabinets.
"Becker, find the saline-"
"I know," Becker said shortly, interrupting Matt. He collected up everything they'd need, the saline bag, IV tubing, peripheral venous catheter, and an alcohol swab, then hurried over to Lester. "Connor, watch for the creatures."
Connor did what he was told without comment and Becker took Lester's arm, wiping it with the alcohol while Matt readied the IV drip. He could see Lester's pale face from out of the corner of his eye and gritted his teeth, focusing on what he needed to do. He tied a tourniquet around Lester's upper arm, found the vein and carefully slid the needle in, removing it once the catheter was in place. He secured it with tape.
Matt connected the tubing and started to say, "Put some pressure on -"
"I know; I've got it. Go and wait in the corridor with Connor; I'll finish in here."
"Becker-"
"I said I've got it!"
Matt stared at him for a moment before nodding. He gripped Connor's elbow and the two of them left Becker alone with Lester.
Becker took Lester's arm, the one that wasn't connected to the IV drip, and pushed his hand over his abdomen. "James, you have got to keep pressure on this. Do you hear me? Do you understand?"
"Pressure," Lester said, his hand twitching in Becker's. He laid his other hand on top.
"That's right, good," Becker said, brushing Lester's sweaty hair back from his face. "I'm going to go block the doors, okay? You're going to be fine, everything will be fine." He wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure more, Lester or himself.
Lester's eyes locked on Becker's face, appearing more coherent than Becker had yet seen. He fisted his hand in Becker's hair and said hoarsely, "Go on and do it then. Do your job."
Becker kissed Lester's palm and lowered his hand back to the wound. "Keep the pressure on." He gave Lester's hand a lingering squeeze. "You can keep your bloody car, all right? Don't you fucking dare die on me."
"Wouldn't… dream of it, love," Lester said and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow and rapid.
"Don't you fucking dare," Becker said again, too quietly for Lester to even hear, as he tore himself away. He hated the idea of leaving Lester alone but the sooner he left the sooner they could deal with the predators and the anomaly- and the sooner Lester could get the attention he needed.
Becker was going to fucking kill every last predator in the building.
After everything was over, including Connor's mad plan and Matt's fucking stupid suicidal drive into the anomaly, they made it back to the ARC. Becker heard Connor ask after Lester and Jess' response and felt his chest lighten. If Lester was feeling well enough to be provoking the medics then he was really going to be fine. He bounded down the steps and immediately went to Jess' side, brushing his hand against her back. "Sounds like he's back to normal then. How is he physically?"
"The medics said there was no internal injury, so they just stitched him up and treated him for shock and blood loss. They said he'll most likely have a scar," Jess told him.
"A scar? I can live with that." One fucking scar, yeah, if that was the only lingering damage Lester sustained from this, Becker would be ecstatic. "And Jess, thank you. Thanks for staying with him. It… helped to know that you were there with him."
Jess fidgeted self-consciously. "Becker… I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. He gave me an EMD but I was so scared I could hardly shoot straight and there were so many of them-"
"Jess," Becker said and stopped walking, gently turning Jess to face him and rubbing his hands up and down her thin arms. "Jess, don't even think about apologising. What happened to Lester is not your fault, understand?"
She gazed at him, bright-eyed like she was near tears, and nodded. "Okay."
Becker straightened. "Okay. And besides, he's going to be fine. He's going to be fine," he repeated to himself, relief swelling up inside.
Before they reached the doors to the medical bay, they could hear Lester's upraised voice. Becker shared a grin with Jess and walked inside.
Lester was seated on the same bed they had left him in, his shirt only partially buttoned and braces half on, his legs hanging off the side. He seized upon Becker's presence at once. "Becker, thank God. This place is staffed with incompetents; they should all be fired. They're trying to tell me I can't leave unless someone wheels me out in that." Lester pointed to a wheelchair on the other side of the bed, his expression one of utter disgust.
A harassed-looking medic explained, "It's only a precaution, sir. We don't want him to burst his stitches."
Becker turned back to Lester and shrugged. "Seems reasonable enough to me."
Lester scowled at him. "You're meant to be on my side in this, Becker. You agree with me, don't you, Jess?"
"Sorry, Lester, I'm afraid I have to side with the professionals," Jess said, face shining with mirth.
"You're all useless, the lot of you. Don't expect any bonuses this year."
"Believe me, James, no one wants you in this medical bay a second longer than necessary," Becker said. "You should probably just do as they tell you."
His eyes narrowed as Lester appeared to be assessing whether or not to be offended. Eventually Lester shook his head in defeat. "All right, let's get it over with, then."
While Jess wheeled the chair over, Becker moved to offer Lester assistance in getting up. Lester eyed the chair warily. "Are you certain this isn't merely a ploy to make me look ridiculous? Connor's not hiding somewhere with a camera?"
Becker glanced at Jess and didn't bother to hide his smile. "No cameras, I promise." As he put his hands around Lester to help him up, Lester struggled out of his grasp.
"I'm not an invalid, God damn it, I can get up on my own." To prove his point, Lester slid off the side of the bed, not quite hiding a wince as his feet hit the floor, and straightened up. Then his knees buckled and Becker's quick reflexes were all that kept Lester from ending up on his arse. "Well," he said, clutching at Becker's shoulders in an entirely undignified manner. "I stood up too fast, that's all. Happens to everyone."
"Of course it does," Becker said while Jess giggled behind them. But Lester did allow Becker to help him into the wheelchair, Becker easing him down as gently as possible.
Even though he knew Lester would be furiously embarrassed by a public display of affection (and Becker probably would be as well, when he thought about it later), Becker couldn't stop himself. Burton was dead, Jess already knew, and they were probably the worst-kept secret in the ARC anyway. And frankly, Becker didn't give a damn. They'd essentially stopped the world from ending, Lester was okay, and Becker was bloody well going to touch his lover if he wanted to. Becker bent down and kissed the top of Lester's head, letting his cheek rest against Lester's hair. "You're a fucking idiot, James. Don't you know you're supposed to leave the heroics to me?"
Lester reached up and briefly touched Becker's shoulder, and Becker knew that was his cue to pull away. "Just softening them up for you. It seemed you had quite enough on your plate as it was."
Jess was smiling indulgently at them, like they were the most precious sight she had ever seen. "Ready to go? I think everyone wants to make sure you're all right, Lester."
"Everyone wants to see me make an arse of myself getting wheeled about by Becker, more like," Lester said and Becker moved behind the chair, pushing Lester forward and out of the medical bay. He imagined he could hear a collective sigh of relief coming from the staff.
As they returned to the hub, Lester spotted Connor and Abby and said, "Oh, lovely, that's just what I wanted to see whilst recovering from a gut wound- Connor's tongue shoved down someone's throat."
Becker suddenly found himself possessed with an urge to kiss Lester senseless, right there in front of everyone, but thankfully more rational thought was able to prevail. Instead he slid his hand up from the chair handle to rest on Lester's shoulder, thumb rubbing patterns against his back. Lester went rigid but then all the tension seemed to drain out of him at once and he allowed Becker's hand to remain right where it was.
Hours passed before Becker was finally able to take Lester home. He had been a little dismayed to find Lester still in his office when he returned to the ARC, tired and sore yet exhilarated, but at least Lester hadn't tried to leave on his own. Jess had been sitting with him and the sight of her, perched on a chair in Lester's office, talking cheerfully and rather unsubtly looking after Lester, made Becker feel a surge of affection for the girl. She had smiled at Becker as he came in and left them alone without needing to be told, giving Becker's arm a squeeze as she went out the door. Lester had given up his car keys without being prompted, a sure sign that he was feeling worse than he let on.
Once they were inside Lester's flat, Sid and Nancy came scurrying over as if they had been lying in wait, bumping their noses against Becker's shins and twining around Lester's ankles. Becker shooed them away as kindly as he could, worried that they might trip Lester.
Lester hobbled across the floor, leaning on his cane, and Becker moved to press a guiding hand against his back. "What do you want, James? I can make you something to eat, or if you'd like to shower-"
"What I want," Lester said, twisting away from Becker's hand, "is for you to stop treating me like a cripple. I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own." He paused and then added, "And a lie-down. I'd very much like to lie down."
"Whatever you want, darling," Becker said, closely following behind Lester, ready to help the stubborn sod if he needed it.
Still fully dressed, Lester carefully laid down on his back on the bed, softly exhaling through his mouth as his eyes fell shut. Becker stretched out beside him, propping his head up with one hand and letting the other rest on Lester's chest. The silence verged on uncomfortable, pregnant with emotions neither of them wanted to admit to.
Becker couldn't help but think that it had been only days ago that they'd lain together in this bed, having a surreal conversation about wills and the possible eventuality of unfortunate events. And then today the unthinkable had almost happened and Lester's forethought had very nearly become necessary. In his mind's eye, Becker could still picture how Lester had looked lying in the medical bay, his skin clammy, the way his eyes had rolled in his head, the blood seeping through his clothes. It lingered in Becker's thoughts like a bad dream, only it had been all too real.
He was going to have to ring Agatha in the morning, and probably Henry as well. While Becker knew that Lester had spoken to his ex-wife while Becker and the others had been in the field, Lester had almost certainly downplayed everything. Agatha deserved better than that; she deserved to know what had happened to Lester. And Henry- Henry had sent a handful of texts and left four messages on Becker's voice mail, his voice edging closer to frantic with every message (and with Julia audible in the background during the last one). The news had been filled with footage of the T rex and the other strange events, and Henry knew what that meant. Becker had managed to send him a quick text after it had all been over, on the way to King's Cross, but Becker really owed him an actual conversation. He wasn't sure why Henry had put the majority of his efforts into contacting Becker rather than his father, but he knew that it meant something.
But that was tomorrow. Right now was about him and Lester. Right now he wanted to simply be with his lover, feeling the warmth of his body, knowing that they were going to be all right. Lester was all right.
"What are you waiting for?" Lester asked, the sound of his words a shock in the silence. "You've been staring at my mouth for five minutes."
"Your eyes aren't even open, how could you possibly-"
"You were staring very intently."
Becker shook his head in amusement and kissed Lester the way he had been wanting to all day. Lester was pliant beneath him, his mouth open and willing. Becker kissed him like he thought he would never get to again because that had almost been the case, he'd blocked the doors to the medical bay and hadn't known if that would be the last time he would ever- Becker took a ragged breath and pressed his cheek to Lester's. "I love you, I love you so much, but if you ever scare me like that again I'll fucking kill you myself."
Whatever Lester's response had been going to be was lost as Becker kissed him again, kissed him until he needed to draw air back into his lungs to breathe and then once more just because he could.
Lester's hands were tangled in Becker's hair and he was panting against Becker's face. "I'm still here, Hils, I'm right here, okay?" He reached blindly for Becker's hand and pressed it lightly to his abdomen, over his wound. "It's nothing, love, it's nothing."
Becker slid his fingers under Lester's shirt, felt the outline of the stitches through the bandage. Lester had been bleeding out and now that's all there was, stitches. Stitches, and eventually a scar. He molded himself against Lester's side, kissed his shoulder. Lester smelled a bit like sweat and antiseptic, with the faint tang of blood underneath it all, but Becker really didn't care.
He sat quietly in the darkness, watching as Lester's face relaxed into sleep and his breathing evened out. Lester would grumble in the morning over Becker allowing him to sleep in his clothes, but Becker found he was almost looking forward to it. He laid his head on Lester's chest, his ear over Lester's heart. Becker fell asleep to the steady thrum of Lester's heartbeat and the slow rise and fall of his chest.
End