"Jess, what's the ETA? Where the bloody hell are our reinforcements?"

"Five, ten minutes tops. I'm sorry, Matt; they're on their way. Coming quick as they can." There was a pause on the other end of the line, but then, "How is Connor?"

Matt, clearly not sure how to answer the question, turned back to Becker.

The soldier had heard the whole thing, and his face was set hard. His eyes were still red.

"He's holding on," Becker said. And he was, but he was getting worse. Going on twenty minutes now, since he'd been bitten, and he'd started fading in and out of consciousness. Becker was having a hard time keeping him awake now, giving him a light nudge whenever he felt his head start to loll. He'd start awake, maybe with a gasp of surprise, maybe with a gasp of pain, but it never failed that no more than a minute later, he'd be fading out again.

He was actually just getting ready to give him another shake when all the sudden, Connor tensed. At first, Becker thought the pain had spiked; it'd done that before, too. But then Connor started trying to get up, and when he couldn't, he let out a distressed sort of sound.

"What's wrong?" Becker said. Connor didn't reply, though, and instead gave another go at getting up. Becker held him in place, though, keeping him sitting on the barrel even as he apparently worked to stand. "Connor, what're you trying to do?"

"The door," Connor said, his voice equal parts plaintive and alarmed. There was something about it, though…something in the sluggishness of his movements, in the slur of his voice that got Becker to thinking something was up. He wasn't just trying to get comfortable; he was trying to get up, and Becker wanted to know why.

"What about it?" Becker didn't understand, and as Connor's efforts became more insistent, more agitated, Becker got more confused. That, in turn, agitated Becker.

"We have to—" He tried to pull Becker's arms from around him, and Becker ended up loosing his arms from around him just to grab his hands. "We have to close it! Becker!"

Becker's confusion grew with his alarm as Connor started actually fighting him. He was weak; he didn't accomplish much in doing it, but he was twisting and writhing as best he could in Becker's hold.

"Connor, calm down!" Becker said.

The commotion drew Matt's attention, and he came quickly over. "What's going on?"

"They'll get in," Connor said, his voice cracking as desperate tears wept from his bloodshot eyes. "We have to—we have to close it!"

Becker pulled Connor closer, crossing his arms over his chest and holding them in an arm bar. He was trying hard not to hurt him, but at the same time, he had to keep him in place. "It's closed," he said. "It's alright, Connor, they're not getting in. Nothing's going to get in." And when Connor's struggles didn't let up, he turned to Matt. "What's happening?"

Matt didn't answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed hold of Connor's chin, tipping his head up and peering into his eyes. He pulled out a penlight and flashed it in his eyes, and Becker felt Connor recoil against his chest. Connor was trying to get his head turned away from Matt's prodding, as the older man pressed a hand to his brow.

"He's hallucinating," Matt said.

That…wasn't what Becker wanted to hear. "What from? The venom?"

"Or the fever," said Matt. "There's no telling, and I don't reckon there's much I can do. Just keep him calm, keep him still. The less his blood gets pumping, the better. You hear me, Connor? You're hallucinating. That door over there's solid as anything; nothing's coming through."

Becker didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned when Matt stepped back and Connor didn't move. It was like he was trying to process what Matt had told him. Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing or what he was being told and was trying to make sense of it all.

"But I—look at it," he said. He sounded so pitiful, so lost, so scared, and Becker couldn't be sure how much of the shaking now was from the shock and how much was from the fear that something could be coming at him any second.

There was nothing Becker could do to make the hallucinations stop. He couldn't change what Connor was seeing, and he couldn't change the fact that Connor was seeing it. So, he did the only thing that he could do.

He held him, let him know he was there. "Easy," he said. "I've got you. There's nothing to be afraid of, Conn…I'm not going to let anything hurt you."

Connor still didn't quite settle, though. "Becker…"

"Shh, Connor." Becker slipped one of his hands around Connor's smaller one, giving it a reassuring squeeze as his own heart skipped. He'd forgotten what it felt like to hold those hands in his, those slender, graceful fingers twined in his own calloused ones. "Do you trust me?"

There was a hesitation, but then, a nod. Tentative, it was, and shaky, but a nod was a nod.

"Then trust me," he said. "No matter what happens, I'm going to keep you safe."

Words couldn't describe Becker's relief when he felt some of the tension leave Connor's shoulders, and after a second, Connor sniffled. "Promise?" He sounded timid, unsure, still scared…but there was something there that hadn't been there just moments before. A try at levity.

A try at hope.

In response, Becker lifted Connor's hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to it. "Promise," he said.

Silence fell in the room after that. Minutes passed, each one its own eternity as far as Becker was concerned. He was going to have to teach his men what it meant to be proper reinforcements when he got out of this.

He'd only just thought that, though, when all sorts of commotion broke out behind the door. Flashes of light, harsh clicks, screeches. Things rattled on the door so violently Becker went for his gun on the odd chance it did give in.

Matt did the same, too, his gun levelled at the door just in case.

Connor, for his part, couldn't do all that much. Both his hands were still caught, one kept tightly in Becker's, and the other tucked under the other, hugging his chest. His breaths came too quick; his eyes were too wide.

"Remember what I told you," Becker said, his eyes never once leaving the door. "No matter what comes through that door, I've got you."

"Right." Connor's voice was weak, pitched high and too breathless. His hand had gone cold in Becker's.

And then he heard it.

"All clear."

The voice came from outside the door, and sure enough, all the chaos had ended. The cacophony of sounds had died down until only a soft knocking remained.

"Captain?"

Both Matt and Becker shared a look. Matt was the first to recover, saying, "We're in here!" He was closest to the door, too, so he was the one to pull it open.

Becker had never been so glad to see the familiar uniforms of his fellow ARC soldiers before in his life. The relief was nearly enough to make him lightheaded, only they weren't out of the woods yet. "Get a medic," he said. When none of his soldiers moved, he said it again, louder and sharper. "I said get a fucking medic!"

That did the trick, and one of the men closest in the back turned tail and started back out.

Orders given, Becker turned his attention back to the man in his arms. "C'mon, let's get you topside, yeah?" he said. He started to shift Connor around, only to freeze. Connor's hand had gone limp in his hand, and the rest of him was like a rag doll.

Heart leaping into his chest, Becker moved around so he could see Connor's face. He kept an arm cradled around Connor's shoulders to hold him up. He saw closed eyes, a pale face, blue-tinged lips...

Connor was unconscious.

"Connor?" He slipped his hand from Connor's cold fingers to slap him lightly on the cheek. No response. "C'mon, Connor, wake up. Wake up!"

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Medic's upstairs, mate. We need to hurry," Matt said.

He was right, and Becker knew well enough. Forcing the panic back, he gave a curt nod and without any further ado, he hooked an arm under Connor's knees and lifted him bridal style into his arms. The soldiers were wise enough to make a path as he carried him quickly and carefully as he could out of the storage closet and up the stairs.

The light assaulted Becker's eyes as soon as he went topside, but he ignored it. He could see well enough to see the back of the van where the medics had set up. They already had a stretcher out the back and a whole set-up inside it waiting, and Becker sent Jess a silent thank you.

"Put him here," said the medic as soon as he arrived. Becker prided himself on his knowledge of every face in ARC – part of his job – but at that moment, he couldn't be arsed to remembered his name. All he knew was that he was the guy that could help Connor, and that was all that mattered.

He laid Connor out on the stretcher, wincing as he went without resistance. He'd have been pitching a right fit if he'd been conscious; Connor hated doctors of any sort.

But he wasn't conscious. So far as Becker knew, he wasn't even breathing.

"We'll take it from here," the medic said, and together, he and the other man inside the van got the stretcher loaded up.

Becker wanted nothing more than to climb in the back with them, but...this was his job. He couldn't do anything for Connor; he could take care of things here. He turned just as the medics pulled the first door closed, only to find Matt standing just behind him.

"Go with them," Matt said.

Becker shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No," he said. "I need to be—"

"You need to be with him." Matt nodded towards the back of the van. "We can take care of things here. Now, go, before they get going."

Indecision plagued Becker for all of a second, glancing between the chaos at the pub and the van.

"You've got it, then?" he said.

Matt's only reply was to shove Becker towards the van. It was all the reply Becker needed, anyhow.

Turning on his heel, he jogged back up to the van. "Hang on," he said, grabbing the last door just before the medic closed it. "I'm coming with you."

Wisely, the medic didn't say anything. He just nodded, and Becker climbed inside.

The door slammed behind him, and the van took off.