Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, neither does the Beatles song "When I'm Sixty-Four." This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N Part of the Claudia story verse (AU) Transitions, Transitions Too, Continuum, Trimming the Tree, Missing

6.6-4 – Observation

homesick…

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Abby was on her knees in an instant. She felt Connor's forehead. He was burning hot. The blonde reached to check for Connor's pulse, but her husband was pushing her hands away.

"Whatcha doing?" asked Connor. His eyelashes fluttered as he opened his dark brown eyes.

"You fell on the floor," hissed Abby, "what do you think I'm doing?"

"Dunno," replied Connor. He blinked his eyes again and tried to sit up. Abby put a hand firmly on his chest and pushed him back.

"What are you trying to do?" asked Abby.

"I'm trying to get off the floor," answered Connor.

Abby rolled her blue eyes.

"Wait," the herpetologist ordered. "Just... don't... move."

The blonde scrambled back up and grabbed a cloth. The dormitory restroom facilities were just down the hall. By the time Abby got back to Connor with a cold wash cloth to put on his forehead, he was sitting up, blinking his eyes.

"You were supposed to wait," said Abby as she knelt down beside him. "I don't want you falling over again."

"I don't feel so good," responded Connor.

Abby grabbed a wastebasket and got it in front of him just in time.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

In London, Sarah called the Cutter residence. The Professor answered the phone.

"How's Claudia?" asked the dark haired archeologist.

"No temperature," responded the Scot. "She took a nap. When she woke up she ate dinner and kept it down with no problems."

Sarah gave a happy sigh and leaned back against the wall of her flat. She looked across the room where little Stephanie was riding piggy back on Jamal. Her boyfriend was laughing as the little child kicked up her heels and squealed happily. Cutter was still talking.

"What?" asked Sarah. "I didn't hear you. Would you repeat what you just said?"

"I said I can come pick up Stephanie," said the Professor. "I don't think Claudia has the intestinal flu."

Sarah's pretty face crinkled up in a small pout.

"Hmmm," replied Sarah. "Stephanie is fine here. Why don't we wait and see how Claudia is feeling in the morning?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Danny and Stephen sat in the SUV outside of Professor Cutter's new office at Central Metropolitan University. The two men had dropped Matt's futuristic anomaly opening device off with Cutter earlier that morning. Lester had wanted to ensure all anomaly opening mechanisms were out of the military controlled ARC. However when Danny and Stephen arrived, the Professor had been more concerned with his ill wife than with the gadget. Cutter had shoved the device in his desk drawer and left the university office rather abruptly. Now the two men were watching Cutter's office and Stephen was drumming his fingers on the dashboard.

"Do you have to do that?" asked the former copper.

The muscular young man from an alternate reality stopped the motion of his hands. Stephen turned to look at his partner. He raised one eyebrow and shrugged.

"I just think we should destroy the anomaly opening device," answered Stephen, "instead of leaving it in Cutter's desk, waiting for Matt and Emily to come steal it back."

"What? I didn't leave it in Cutter's office," said Danny. The lanky red head sat up straight in the driver's seat and looked at the man seated beside him in surprise. "And Matt and Emily wouldn't steal it. They're probably back at the Forest of Dean by now."

Stephen looked at Danny in confusion.

"But the book said Matt came back," replied Stephen. "Isn't that why we're here?"

Danny grinned. The man reached his big hand forward and opened the glove box. Inside, the device that Stephen had been so worried about sat atop a small blue book. Danny reached for the slim volume. Danny handed the book to Stephen. The two men had found the book during one of their many travels across time. While Danny had read the book from cover to cover, Stephen had hardly glanced at it.

"We're here to stop someone from trying to break into Cutter's office," answered Danny, "but I don't think for a minute it was Matt and Emily. Helen wrote this book."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You should go home," said the normally vibrant Jess. "Really I'm fine."

Becker looked at the pale woman lying in the hospital bed before him. He'd seen Jess empty the contents of her stomach, and when heaves had worsened the soldier had picked Jess up and taken her to the doctor's. Jess had told the doctor she was fine too, but a sudden heaving and spattering of green bile convinced the physician otherwise. The doctor insisted on monitoring and hydration. The IV drip hooked up to Jess's arm was precautionary only, Becker reminded himself.

"You're in a hospital for a reason," replied the soldier. He crossed his arms and glared at the petite brunette. "I'm staying."

"Visiting hours will be over soon," countered Jess.

"Lester spoke to the hospital administration staff," said Becker. The soldier's lips curled up in a grin. "I'm here for your security."

"But… you don't work for the ARC anymore," reminded Jess. "You're employed by the university security services now."

"Lester may not have mentioned that little detail," replied Becker.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

At the Paris School of Technology and Science, the dormitory monitor directed Abby and Connor to the student health office. The place was packed. After presenting his insurance card, Abby and Connor were directed to a bench seat crowded with students.

"The ARCs insurance is still covering us until the end of the month," said Abby.

"Good thing too," responded Connor in a slightly woozy tone, "don't know if the university insurance would cover foreign doctor visits."

A familiar tune, with unfamiliar lyrics, played softly in the waiting room. Abby was trying very hard to be brave, but truthfully she was scared to be in a foreign country with her sick husband. If Connor had to be taken ill, she would rather they were home with a doctor they knew.

"I miss hearing music and being able to sing along," said Abby in an effort to take her mind off her worry.

Connor leaned against Abby. In spite of the paracetamol she had given him earlier, Connor was still warm to the touch and his face was flushed.

"Abby, you can still sing along," protested Connor. "And it hasn't been that long, we've only been in France one day."

"Two," countered Abby, "we got here yesterday evening."

Connor looked at the wall clock mounted above the nurse's station. He shrugged.

"Depends upon how you look at time," responded the scientist. He rambled on, "Technically we've only been in Paris twenty-six hours… maybe twenty-seven... "

"It's just I can't believe how different the song sounds in French," sighed Abby interrupting him.

Connor lips curled up in a familiar grin. He knew this song in both English and French, and he would do anything to make Abby happy. He picked up the refrain.

"Will you still need me," sang Connor, "will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four?"

Abby's face lit up with a smile at his attempt to cheer her up, but the nurse called Connor's name just then. The British couple went into the examining room. The nurse took Connor's temperature and blood pressure. The doctor entered as the woman wrote Connor's vital signs down on the chart. The physician looked at the numbers and frowned.

"Let's try this again," said the doctor as he picked up the blood pressure cuff. He wrapped the device around Connor's arm and squeezed the little ball rapidly.

"We think Connor's got a stomach virus," volunteered Abby. "We just came from London, friends of ours say it's going around."

"Yes, yes," agreed the doctor with a nod. "We too are seeing a lot of patients in Paris with intestinal flu."

The doctor looked at the numbers on the blood pressure monitor and shook his head. He undid the cuff and moved it to Connor's other arm and tried again. This time the man frowned even more severely.

"What's wrong?" asked Abby sharply.

"The flu doesn't usually cause these kind of blood pressure readings," answered the physician. "Mr. Temple, I think we should admit you for observation."

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