A/N: Thank you everyone who has reviewed. Especially smallfri, Kate, Xanthiae and Pandora. Have some cookies guys. I'm really sorry about the delay. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it somewhat... I hope...

Chapter 13

Becker watched the knight closely. For a fellow soldier, he didn't seem particularly aware of his surroundings. So far, he had slept through Kate's return through the anomaly to bring the rest of their group into the decidedly safer medieval era, a hurried discussion on how they should proceed and whether or not they should wake the knight, another discussion on what they would say to him if they did wake him up, the removal and hiding of every gun and piece of obviously futuristic kit possible and now two of Becker's attempts to wake him. Becker was beginning to think the man was dead. He reached a hand forward and checked for a pulse. It was there, but it was weaker than he would have liked in one of his own men.

Turning and nodding to Kate and Elizabeth to join him, John wandering over with them, Becker began to check the knight for injuries. It was a task he had completed many times in training and in the field on his own men, but never on a knight Templar in full chain mail armour.

"What's wrong?" Kate whispered in Becker's ear. Becker froze and turned to glare at her.

"The guy is unconscious, Kate, and we're trying to wake him up," he remarked dryly. "Why bother whispering?"

Kate shrugged in response and stared back at him, waiting on an answer to her question.

"He's really unconscious, that wasn't an exaggeration," Becker explained with a sigh. "I think he might be injured somewhere, but I can't find where."

"In that get up, it's as likely to be internal bleeding as anything else!" Elizabeth stated from Becker's other side. "Under that tunic he's got a chain mail vest and hood, then a thick, padded leather jerkin, called a haubergeon, to stop the chain mail chafing. They stop most blows breaking the skin, but that's not always a good thing."

Becker sighed and continued his check of the knight.

"Did you check under the chain mail hood?" Kate asked, frowning at the unconscious man before her.

Becker glanced sideways at her, then looked back to his patient. Frowning, he spotted what had made Kate speak up. He hadn't spotted it before. A tiny trickle of blood wound its way down the edge of the chain mail hood. Carefully prising the hood away from the knight's head, Becker brought away a hand red with fresh blood.

"Great! Head injury! Now what do we do?" Becker groaned.

"Well, you're in charge," Kate shrugged.

"Nice," Becker snarled, glaring at her again. "Thank you so much for that one."

"Well, I don't have any official first aid training," said Elizabeth. "I know a little bit of this and that from research for my books."

"I've got some training, but it's mostly diving related injuries," Kate admitted.

"Oh, and divers never hit their heads then?" Becker deadpanned.

"Not quite as often as soldiers do, no," Kate replied, smiling sweetly in return to Becker's renewed glare.

"Fine," Becker hissed. "Get me one of the first aid packs, a blanket and something to brace his neck with."

He heard rather than saw Kate disappear from his side, followed by Elizabeth. In their absence, John edged closer to watch Becker ease the hood further back off the knight's head, feeling gingerly for the source of the blood.

"Can I help, Uncle Pete?" John asked, receiving a sharp look from Becker. "Sorry, I mean Uncle James. I'm sorry," the child sighed, wincing. "I just keep forgetting, that's all."

"It's okay, John. It probably doesn't matter now anyway," Becker sighed. "It's probably a better name to have in these times anyway."

"Why?" John sat down beside the unconscious knight with his back to the tree and looked up at Becker.

"Well, if we are in the middle ages, around the time of the crusades, then we're probably somewhere between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. The Templars were disbanded in thirteen hundred and seven. Friday the thirteenth, actually: that's where the superstition comes from."

"What does that have to do with your name?"

"Well, think back, John," Becker looked down at the boy. "Remember when I told you about some of the big battles in British history? What one happened in thirteen fourteen?"

"Bannockburn," John grinned.

"Exactly. And who fought that?"

"The Scots and the English."

"Right. So we weren't all one country then. Worse: Scotland and England were deadly enemies. And guess what: James is a Scottish name. Not one held by any of the Scottish monarchs. Not yet, anyway. Still, it's probably best if you stick to Peter, or just call me Becker, like everyone else."

Finally, Kate returned with the first aid kit and blanket, Elizabeth following her shortly afterwards with something that resembled a neck brace. With help from John and Kate, Becker managed to lift the heavy chain mail hood from the knight's shoulders, peeling it gently away from the congealed blood matted in with the knight's hair. He took the brace and carefully slid it around the knight's neck. It fitted well enough. Making sure his patient's neck was secure, he pulled the unconscious body forward and motioned for Kate to slip the blanket behind the knight's back, providing a cushion of the knight and some space to work for Becker.

"We have to keep him upright," Becker told them. "At least keep the wound above the heart. That should help slow the bleeding."

Kate nodded and took up a position at the knight's side, making sure he didn't suddenly slump in one direction or the other.

Taking a bottle of water from the pack Elizabeth had now opened, Becker washed the knight's head, watching closely for any signs of renewed bleeding. With the worst of the blood away, he could see that the wound was high up at the back of the knight's skull. He pressed down on the wound, feeling for any signs of broken bones. There were none. He was sure of it. So far, all he could find was a knock on the head that had cut into the scalp and bled a lot.

"It's just a bad bump, nothing more serious," he said. "I'll clean it and dress it all the same though."

Taking the bottle of antiseptic and the gauze Elizabeth held out to him, Becker began to clean the cut, dabbing at the area around the wound before turning his attention to the cut itself. As soon as he pressed the antiseptic into the wound, he head a hiss of air being sucked in below him. He looked down. A look of pain distorted the knight's features and Becker watched as the man groggily opened his eyes.

"Pax vobiscum," Becker said quickly, blurting out the rehearsed Latin speech that Elizabeth had taught them back when they had finally decided on how to communicate with the knight. "Sumus amicum peregrini."

He hoped he had just said something along the lines of 'peace be with you, we are friendly travellers'. He watched the knight's eyes roll around the scene before him, focussing briefly on the anomaly in the background before slipping off to John at the side.

"Lullay, lullay, litel child, to care art thou bimet," the knight mumbled in John's direction. "Thou noost nat this worldes wilde bifore thee is yset."

"What?" Kate asked Elizabeth as the knight slipped into unconsciousness once again.

XXXX

Connor looked down at the contraption before him. It certainly looked like the pictures he had seen in the reports. He wasn't sure if he knew what every single component in the machine did exactly, but he had been assured that they did what he wanted them to do. His team had gathered behind him, Peta hovering close to his shoulder. Helen stood a few feet away, Cai and the other future humans of this time gathered around her.

Connor still wasn't sure just how different Cai and his people were from what Connor himself thought of as human. They were certainly taller. Their heads were larger over all and especially at the back. According to Cai, his people had a life expectancy that ranged well into three figures. They were paler, but Cai had assured Connor that further south he would find people with darker skin: all those who were able to live outdoors mainly. Their ears were larger and more pointed, giving Cai, to Connor's eyes, a Vulcan look. Their eyes were larger too and their reactions much faster. Connor hadn't suggested arm-wrestling Cai or any of his people, but from the boxes they carried around with ease, it certainly looked like they were a lot stronger than he was. A myriad of small changes randomly picked up through time to help them survive in this new world, now changing them into an entirely new species.

Turning his attention back to the small computer screen in his hands, Connor keyed in a few details, cast a final glance at Helen, then pressed the enter key. An anomaly sprung into life in front of him, illuminating the chalky cavern in an eerie glow.

"So far so good," Helen called out. "Not bad for a month's work."

"Entirely useless if it doesn't go where I want it to though," Connor shot back, not taking his eyes off the shimmering gateway.

"Then let's go find out," said Helen. "You set the co-ordinates we agreed on?"

Connor nodded and lifted a backpack, slinging it round one shoulder and stepping forward to join Helen in front of the anomaly.

"Such a clever boy," Helen mused, looking round at him. "Such a shame you didn't meet me first."

"I'm not interested in your games, Helen," said Connor, turning to face Helen. "I'm here to save Abby. That's it."

Helen smiled sweetly, tipping her head to one side as she scrutinised Connor's face.

"Well, let's see where this one goes first," she said. "One step at a time."