Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.
Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.
3.11 The Start of Something
"…all the time in the world…"
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"No one returned," repeated Becker.
His voice sounded hollow and echoed through Abby and Connor's flat. Becker was standing at the entrance to the flat, holding a large bag of take away. Jamal and Stephen stood on either side of him, holding similar bags. Becker's eyes were wide and shining just a bit.
"I failed…" said Becker "over a dozen times…"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Lester "no one is blaming you!"
"I'm blaming me," responded Becker. "I was supposed to protect..."
"Becker," interrupted Vivian, "James is right. No one blames you, but yourself."
Stephen and Jamal moved to set their bags of take away on the table, but the tall soldier remained framed in the doorway.
"In the four timelines that we know Abby and Connor returned," said Vivian softly "a version of you was present to help them get back."
"And the other eight?"
"In two of the timelines, the other timeline's versions of you were killed prior to anyone going through the racetrack anomaly," continued Vivian. "In three of the timelines… that Becker went with them."
"What about the last three timelines?"
"There's no record of a Hilary James Becker ever existing," said Vivian.
Becker closed his eyes.
"Hilary?" exclaimed Danny. "Your name is Hilary?"
Behind the tall red head, Sarah was trying to hide a smirk. She turned away, and found herself face to face with Jess. The young woman still had her hands on the key board, but she was gazing across the room at Becker.
"I like the name Hilary," said Jess softly. "It means cheerful."
Becker stalked into the room, leaving the door wide open. His lowered eyebrows and frown would have given most people pause. He set the bag of take-away on the table next to the others, and began unloading the contents and setting them on the table.
"I don't think Becker likes his name," chuckled Stephen.
"Wait… wait… wait," said Danny "we're getting off track here. If Hil…"
The glare Becker shot at the former copper made him rethink his next words.
"What I'm saying is… if Becker was present in the four successful returns of Abby and Connor," continued Danny "and Becker is here with us now…"
"Yeah, maybe," said Cutter. "It might mean something."
The Professor looked at Vivian. She was facing Lester. The usually unflappable Lester looked concerned. The two were whispering together.
"What else is the same?" asked Cutter. "And what's different? And who wrote those books you mentioned?"
"And where is this library?" asked Danny. His lips were curled up into a cheeky grin, but his eyes held an inquisitive gleam.
"Official Secrets Act," replied Lester, as he moved to stand next to his wife "strictly need to know."
"There's something that I need to know," called a querulous voice from the entry way.
A gray haired woman stood framed in the doorway that Becker had just vacated. She was wearing a somber gray dress and leaning on a cane. Her sharp gaze went around the room, from person to person. Her eyes widened as her gaze settled on Stephen.
"Mrs. Hart," exclaimed Lester "you really shouldn't…"
The woman's gaze snapped around to stare at Lester. Her features settled into an angry frown.
"I've been demanding to know what really happened to my son for over a year now," hissed the woman "and when you started driving different rental cars, and giving my investigators the slip… I knew something was up… but I never thought this…"
"You've had investigators following me," exclaimed Lester in surprise "I thought it was Christine Johnson's men…"
"I don't give a ruddy rat's ass about the official secrets act," interrupted Mrs. Hart "but you need to tell my why my son is dead… and why you've cloned him…"
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In another time and place, voices coming from the front room woke Abby. She gently lifted Connor's arm up off her waist. They had slept fully dressed due to the cold last night. Whispered hopes of home and his embrace warmed her. Abby finally stopped shivering and fell asleep. Now, she quietly slipped out from beneath the covers and searched for her shoes.
Slipping on her brown boots, she stood up and moved towards the door. The hairline of light coming in around the frame told Abby it was morning. She stopped before the fireplace, bent down and picked up a small log, adding it to the fire.
"Hmmph."
Connor rolled over on the bed, snuggling into the spot where she had just been. Abby watched, but his eyes remained closed. She smiled and stood up. One more step and she quietly opened the door and stepped into the main room.
Louis and the boy were asleep on their pallets near the fire. Percy was sitting at the table, talking with the man in the blue tunic. They both looked tired, as if they had been up all night. The two men stopped talking when they realized Abby had entered the room. They turned to look at Abby. She stared back, feeling a little self-conscious.
"What?" Abby asked.
Percy pointed at the small pile of clothing on the table. Abby watched as the older man rose from the bench and slowly limped towards the door. Percy said something to the man as he opened the door and started down the stairs. Then Percy turned his gaze back to Abby.
"Why is he limping?" asked Abby. "He walked slowly yesterday, but he wasn't limping. What happened?"
"Nothing happened Abby," replied Percy "he just… overdid. He limps when he is tired and sore."
"What was he doing here so early in the morning?" asked Abby.
"He brought you some clothes," said Percy. "They belonged to his daughter. He also brought something for Connor as well."
"Oh… that's kind," said Abby, "but we can't accept that."
"Abby," said Percy "you might have noticed that it gets cold here… especially when that wind blows."
"Connor and I were talking last night," said Abby "we don't want to do anything to change history… every bite of food we eat… is taking food from someone here."
"Abby," began Percy. He was shaking his head as she continued talking.
"It would be the same with the clothes."
"You're wrong Abby," said Percy "and if history was going to change because of eating food and wearing clothes… then I've already changed history."
"When we first got here," reminded Abby "that man said the village doesn't need anymore mouths to feed."
"It doesn't," agreed Percy, "but we can't…"
"So why the change...?" asked Abby. She narrowed her eyes and looked at Percy suspiciously.
"Sharing, caring for each other," said Percy "it's part of what makes us human."
"But why…" asked Abby "why now?"
"Whoa!" exclaimed Connor.
Abby turned to look at Connor. He was leaning against the doorway to the small bedroom they shared. One hand held the heavy staff so like the one Connor had used in the Cretaceous. His jacket was open at the chest. The black pants he wore were hanging low on his hips. The torn pants leg exposed his bandaged calf to the cold. He was staring beyond Abby.
She slowly turned, half expecting to see a creature or an anomaly, but the sight outside the narrow window wasn't frightening at all. Abby had barely paid attention to the white light which filled the window. She'd been intent on the discussion with Percy. But now, she looked. The flakes of snow swirling up in the air, around and settling softly around the buildings of the town looked beautiful… and cold.
Abby crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Connor stepped forward slowly, crossing the room to finally stand beside her.
"How long has it been snowing?" asked Connor.
"Not long," replied Percy. He stretched his arms overhead and yawned.
"It doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon," said Connor.
"Probably not," agreed Percy lowering his arms.
Percy pointed to the pile of clothes on the table.
"You might as well be warm while you're here," said the public relations professional. "Now, I'm going to try and get some sleep."
Percy shoved the pile of clothing towards Abby, and started to lay his head down on the table.
"Mate, you can't sleep on the table," said Connor "you should go lay down in the bed… we're up and others will be soon."
Percy blinked sleepily.
"Yeah, might be a good idea," he replied. "Just… don't go anywhere without me."
"Of course not," said Connor.
Percy rose from the bench and slowly crossed the room. He turned at the doorway to the small bedroom.
"If it snows too long," said Percy "you might not be able to go anywhere until Spring."
He stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. Abby and Connor exchanged a glance.
"Do you think Percy was right," Abby asked "about not going anywhere until Spring."
"No," replied Connor firmly "as soon as I can walk properly, we need to leave… we can't stay here… we don't belong in this time and place."
Connor shivered.
"You need something warmer to wear," said Abby "you're dressed fine for a June day in London… or the cretaceous, but not so good for snow."
Abby went through the pile of clothes. There was a heavy woolen dress and two linen shifts that Abby thought must have belonged to the woman in the green dress. The long dark gray cloak must have been what the man brought for Connor. She handed it to him.
Connor swirled the cloak over him. It settled on his shoulders and fell to within a half inch of the floor. Abby chuckled.
"What's so funny?" asked Connor as he picked up the rucksack of gear and started laying out the parts and pieces of the broken equipment on the table.
"Oh nothing really," smiled Abby fondly "it's just… you said something about the movie Lord of the Rings… the other day… the cloak reminded me of something…"
"Yeah."
"Well.. the cloak is gray," said Abby "and you're carrying a staff… it reminds me of that wizard…"
"Gandalf?" asked Connor. For a moment, he looked inordinately pleased at the comparison.
"Yeah," agreed Abby "you look like a wizard."
"But Gandalf was old and he had a beard…" objected Connor "a really long gray beard. I don't have a beard."
Abby ran her fingers lightly over Connor's jaw. There was several days' growth of stubble beneath her fingers.
"Looks like you might be starting a beard," teased Abby.
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