I don't own Primeval.

Okay, I just had fun with this chapter. (Only I would call angst fun. Maybe I'm a psychopath....or maybe just a psocho-fangirl.)

Sarah was on the beach, her arms about her knees to hold them to her chest. The sun was setting on their second night in the past, while Becker was busy in the woods, trying to find something worth eating. All he wanted to do was work. He accepted her help when she offered it but assured her she could relax; she guessed he decided she was too much of a burden. Besides, she really was more of a backroom kind of gal.

If there was a backroom in the past. She tended to doubt it.

She loved to watch the sun do down. It was so pretty in the past, where there was no light pollution and the stars appeared just as soon as the sun was gone.

She slowly turned to the side, lifting up on her knuckles so she wouldn't get sand into her swimsuit. She leaned back and tilted her head so she could see their shelter. It was so humble and so…she had to admit it, it was pathetic. But it was theirs, wasn't it?

She smiled as Becker returned, until she saw what he held.

"I am not eating that," she said. What she had turned her nose up was some sort of small, scrabbly dinosaur thingy. It looked like it weighed about two pounds, but even if it was a meaty thing she wouldn't touch it. "It's all--dead and creepy."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Becker replied, lifting it up to eye level. "Didn't know you like living dinos for supper."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Isn't there anything less creepy? I mean, it's looking at me."

Becker glanced at the little dinosaur and shrugged. "That's part of the experience, Sarah."

Sarah shared his smile but was unwilling to relent. "It's just weird, seeing it and then eating it."

Becker shook his head. "Come on, Sarah. Just close your eyes and pretend like it's chicken, or turkey or something."

"Turkey?" Sarah asked skeptically. "Unlikely." She rolled onto her side, facing away from Becker and the dinosaur.

Becker finally just rolled his eyes and stepped to the tiny little smoldering fire. He dropped a stick onto it, making the flames rise a little, and then cocked his head to the side.

"How do you s'pose we cook it?" he asked, then sighed when Sarah ignored him, facing the opposite direction. "Come on, Sarah. We have to make it work until they find us."

Sarah gave a halfhearted grunt.

"Sarah." Becker grimaced. "Just think about it. We don't know when they're going to get here, but when they do, we've got to be alive and well."

Sarah didn't acknowledge him, and Becker took a step towards her.

"Sarah, I won't let you get hurt here," he murmured, stepping towards her. "I'm going to cook this damn chicken and you're going to eat it, because I don't want you to starve to death. I won't let you get hurt--I can't.

"Sarah, I love you."

He expected Sarah to speak at that, but she was unresponsive. He gritted his teeth, looking around unhappily.

"God, Sarah," he exclaimed. "I'm bearing everything to you, okay? What the hell? Say something! You're mad, you're happy, you're hungry--damn it, say something!"

Sarah remained silent and he sighed. "Okay, so that's how it is, then," he frowned. He dropped the dinosaur into the fire, where the flames licked up about its form. He didn't bother urging Sarah to return to her little hole in the tree--he just sat down, leaning up against the tree and allowing sleep to calm his torrential heart.

Sarah's breaths were slow and even. She had been sleeping the entire time.