Matt takes Becker for a drink to try to talk him into rejoining the team. At the pub they run into Stephen who is actually from the past, having pursued Helen through a few anomalies. He thought he had finally found the his own time again but he was off by a few years…
Stephen Hart had been walking London for hours in the chill gray. So little had changed in the two years that had passed here since he followed Helen through an anomaly that it almost seemed like a bad dream, the weeks he had spent trying to find his way back. He wondered if this was the closest he would ever come to his proper time. Well, it beat the Silurian by miles, no matter what year it was.
What to do now? His flat had been let out ages ago and the building that had housed the ARC was no longer standing. After two years Cutter and the team had to have guessed he'd gone through an anomaly, the way he up and disappeared. They'd barely tolerated him after learning of his associations with Helen. They certainly wouldn't welcome him back now, even if he could find them. Everyone else he knew, well, what few people he could think of, would have so many questions. Why had he been way so long? Why hadn't he called or wrote? Where did he go without his passport? It made his head ache just thinking of dealing with that mess, trying to explain where he had been. His steps slowed as he came to the realization that avoiding everyone meant that he now had nowhere to go.
Pulling a hand from his jacket pocket, he ruffled his hair with a sigh. He glanced up just as the first raindrop fell to spatter on his face. A few more drops followed, then turned into a drizzle. Stephen turned up his collar against the wet and stuffed his fists back into his coat. Seeing the warm glow through the windows of a pub, he decided he might as well take the edge off till the rain passed. He still had his wallet and currency couldn't have changed that much since he left.
… … …
"Becker, we've both seen a lot of things. Been to war. Lost friends." Matt Anderson turned to look at the who sat besides him staring stonily into his drink. Captain Becker was reluctant to rejoin the ARC and really, Matt couldn't blame him. The ARC was dangerous to the people of the future as well as the present. But Whitehall and Prospero were determined to start it up again and Matt needed to be there to keep an eye on it. "But there's a job to be done and you are the best there is."
No response. Matt watched the other man drain his scotch and soda. He'd requested Becker to join him at the pub, hoping to get the man's measure. He needed someone in this time he could trust. It was midday so the pub was sparsely populated, one other man seated a few stools down from them at the bar and an older couple playing darts across the room. As Becker lifted a finger to order another, Matt took a pull at his pint and hoped the alcohol would make Becker a bit more approachable.
He waited until Becker took a sizable gulp of the refill before he broached a sensitive subject.
"I'm sorry about your team. We go into these situations knowing the dangers involved, but it never makes it easier to lose people. Don't you think they would want you to continue on with their work in the ARC? Professor Cutter-"
"Nick Cutter is just a name in a file to you, Anderson. Don't try to tell me what he would want, you never met the man." Becker's face was bitter.
Somewhat chagrined, Matt had to nod in response. "No, I didn't. Tell me about him?"
For a moment it appeared he wouldn't get a response. Becker stared straight ahead for a long moment, took a sip before he spoke. "Cutter was brilliant. Stubborn to a fault, had no respect for authority, and married the most psychotic woman in the country. He could be a damned pain in the ass to be perfectly honest, but he was the smartest person to bring into the field with you."
"You cared for him."
"I respected him. He was a good man, a good team member. They all were. All of them, brilliant and courageous." He sighed and Matt could almost hear the pain behind it. "Too courageous. They took risks because they felt safe. Because I was there to protect them. But I couldn't do it. Hire someone who can."
"They knew the risks, Becker. You can't foresee every danger, prevent every accident."
"It was my job to do so. It was my job to keep them safe and bring them home. And look how I managed. Cutter is dead! Danny, Connor and Abby are lost, God knows where. And I got Sarah killed trying to find them." Matt tried to object, tell Becker it wasn't his fault, but the other man was far enough into his cups that he wasn't having any of it. "I didn't just lose a friend. The entire team is gone, Matt! Gone. And its my fault!"
Agitated, full of guilt and angst, Becker slammed his drink down on the bar top. Too hard. The liquid sloshed violently out of the glass and flew everywhere. With a curse, Becker stalked off to the loo to wash the sticky liquor off his hands and forearms.
—
Stephen sat frozen, staring at himself in the mirror behind the bar with his glass half raised to his lips. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, tried desperately to tell himself he was hearing wrong. But as the taller man's voice has gotten louder, he couldn't keep denying it. Whoever these men were, they were speaking of the ARC, of Cutter and the team. Cutter… who was dead. He set his glass back down without drinking. He would never be able to swallow past the lump in his throat.
He shouldn't be so shocked. In the old days they had all faced death on a regular basis. But they had always come out of it more or less intact. How could the whole team be gone? Little Abby, a bundle of dynamite packed into a petite blonde and Connor who could barely stop staring at her long enough to work. And Cutter… his teacher, his mentor,... his friend. Nick was dead, and Stephen would never get the chance to make amends for his mistakes with Helen. He tried to collect himself and drew a ragged breath. This caught the attention of the remaining man.
"You'll have to forgive my companion. He's a bit worked up." The other man, Matt was the name he'd overheard, turned to him. Stephen stared dumbly at the fistful of napkins being offered to him before he realized his left arm was splattered with drink from Becker's outburst.
With a mute node, he accepted and dabbed himself dry. Matt had turned back to his drink but curiosity overcame Stephen. If they were all gone, no one else could tell him what had happened. He had to see what he could find out.
"Having a bad day, is he?"
"He's had a rough time of it. He's lost people who were… very important to him."
Matt was curt, but not quite rude. It would be tough to pry anything out of this one. He had that ex-military stoicism about him, not prone to chattering. Still, they were surrounded by social lubricant.
"That's a shame, I'm very sorry to hear it." Stephen hoped his hand wasn't shaking too noticeably as he grabbed his pint and finished it off. "Buy another round for you two?"
Matt's eyes narrowed slightly at the stranger but Stephen spoke honestly "I've lost some people too, very recently. I know how he feels. Thought we'd drown our sorrows together."
That top shelf liquor Becker was splashing all over didn't come cheap, so Matt nodded his consent. Stephen turned to order two pints and more scotch just as Becker returned. Becker seemed to have gotten himself under control, but Matt could tell it wasn't wise to push him any farther about the issue today. He would have to wear Becker down slowly, or risk him flatly refusing to return to the ARC.
"We've another round coming" Matt told him as he regained his bar stool. "Courtesy of…" He looked at Stephen questioningly as they'd not yet gotten around to introductions.
"St-," Stephen caught himself. A file on Cutter had been mentioned. It was a fair guess they had files on all the ARC members. "..Stuart. Name's Stuart."
… … …
For the better part of the afternoon the men sat at the bar, taking turns buying rounds. None of them discussed their sorrows further, but after a few drinks had muddled his mind and heart Stephen had decided he didn't want to know. The details would only make it harder to cope with the fact that he hadn't been there to prevent it. He wasn't sure he could have gained any information anyway. Becker had remained astonishingly tight-lipped, getting quietly drunk with no further emotional outbursts. It wasn't until the conversation had turned to football that he had shown any interest in Stephen. Or Matt. Or anything except his next drink.
They were in the middle of a rousing debate of the merits of Manchester United when Matt returned from a trip to the loo and announced it was time he and Becker left. Stephen shook their hands and offered his assistance in hauling Becker out to a taxi but the tall, dark, and very soused man took offense to the suggestion. Gaining his feet, Becker stubbornly insisted on walking himself out. The other two were actually a bit impressed he didn't wobble more. No one who had spent the day pounding drinks should be that steady on their feet.
But Becker did betrayed his inebriation. As they left the pub, Stephen heard him belting out, somewhat off-key, "We're the pride of all Europe, the cock of the north. We hate the Scousers, the Cockneys of course! We are United…" The voice faded out as the pub doors closed behind them.
Stephen almost smiled at that, but in light of the days revelations even the liquor couldn't improve his mood. All he could think about was his old team. They'd been through so much together, tiptoed to the very brink of death together on more than one occasion. They never gave up hope on him when he'd been poisoned by the Arthropleura, and he'd lost track of the number of times he had personally rescued the others from certain danger. They'd looked out for each other at all times. He tortured himself wondering what might have been different if he'd never left. They were gone. Was it his fault, because he hadn't been there to save them?
Stephen paid for the many rounds he'd bought and marched out. He had decided. He did have somewhere to go. He had to go back through the anomaly and keep trying to get back to his own time. Cutter, Connor, and Abby needed him. They were a team, through thick and thin, and he couldn't live with himself knowing he might have been able to save them if he had been where he belonged. Chasing after Helen had been a mistake. Everything about his relationship with Helen had been a mistake. When he found his way back, he would spend the rest of his life making his amends and protecting his friend. And he would get back. If he had to go through every anomaly he encountered, if he had to battle Silurian scorpions again. Nothing was going to stop him going home.