Fic: Because the Night (Belongs to Monsters) (Primeval, PG)
Title: Because the Night (Belongs to Monsters)
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Captain Becker
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Series 4. Talk of canonical deaths.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I promise.
Summary: Becker has to keep them safe. It's his job and he's failed too many times. It's not going to happen again.
Becker didn’t sleep much anymore. He didn’t have the time.
He had other things to think about. Sleep was just a necessity, a few hours of recharging each night so that he could function well and prevent his reaction times from getting sluggish. His work was what he had to focus on at all times. It was his highest priority.
His dreams, when he had them, always reminded him of that.
He saw dinosaurs and out of world people, armed to the teeth. Every one a suspect. He couldn’t stop them and there was a slaughter in the ARC. The air smelled of Jess's favourite chocolate.
Or he turned and Abby and Connor were gone again, swept through an anomaly. But he couldn’t get there in time to stop them. Then the anomaly disappeared. He hadn’t been able to stop them going through. Why hadn’t they listened to him? Why hadn't he made them stay?
Danny called to him, laughing and out of breath. He was never where Becker was looking. He was always out of reach, or in a communication blackspot, or in the one place he’d been specifically told not to go into without back-up. Danny was a liability and he was gone and no matter how fast Becker ran, he couldn’t find him.
He heard Sarah screaming. She was always in that car, the oversized raptor on top, greedily clawing its way in. And Sarah was trying to get the door open and he was shooting and running over uneven ground and then the sunroof broke and Becker didn’t notice the raptor’s mate behind him.
(He’d come round a day later and Lester had been the only familiar solemn face in the room.)
He suffered through that nightmare more than the others.
He deserved to. He’d let the team down. If he’d done his job, if he’d made them listen, Sarah would still be alive. Abby, Connor, and Danny would still be here. Cutter wouldn’t have been gunned down by his own wife.
He’d been brought on board because Lester had wanted no more Stephen Hart incidents. Instead, the body count had risen.
Becker had failed.
Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed.
He spent a lot of evenings at the gun range. He worked hard on improving with every available weapon. He filled his weekends with gym sessions and hand-to-hand training. He pushed his personnel harder, at reacting quicker, at assessing the risks more thoroughly, at being prepared for anything, at working together seamlessly as a strong deadly unit. They needed to be an impenetrable protective shell. Nothing was going to get past them again.
He reread the reports on all the deaths. He wrote up any new ones himself.
Sometimes, Becker fell asleep without meaning to, at strange hours in the weird half-light of the TV. He always jerked awake, sweating and heart thumping like running feet and his hand reaching for the nearest weapon. Several pieces of furniture had suffered thanks to his quick-reactions.
Having Connor and Abby back didn't change the fact that they shouldn't have been gone in the first place. And there was still no concrete news on Danny. Not knowing was worse. Becker had no idea what kind of life or death he'd condemned Danny to.
Abby touched his hand. She was glad to be back. But she'd come back different. Becker had seen that look on soldiers' faces. Survival did that. Slow and excruciating loss of hope did it too. It wasn’t just Abby. Connor, under the constant jokes and clumsiness, wore that look as well. They were back, but they weren’t going to forget what they’d been through.
Becker squeezed the trigger. Three clear head shots through the paper outline. He’d done that.
His nightmares had been filled with smoke recently and Nick Cutter’s body. Sometimes Danny was lying lifeless beside him. Or Abby and Connor holding hands. Sarah, her mouth frozen open in a scream. Jess covered in blood.
Cutter had rarely waited for back-up. He’d always run towards the creatures, towards the anomalies, despite the danger and risks. He’d been sure it was worth it. Danny had behaved in the exact same way. At least Connor and Abby stuck together. Matt had military training. He could handle himself. But it was clear that he preferred doing things his way. Becker didn’t care. How the others had done things before didn’t matter now.
They were going to stay together; they were going to wait for back-up. They were going to listen to him and stay safe by doing exactly what he said. They were going to listen.
Becker reloaded his gun. He was going to make sure of it.
-the end
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Captain Becker
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Series 4. Talk of canonical deaths.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I promise.
Summary: Becker has to keep them safe. It's his job and he's failed too many times. It's not going to happen again.
Becker didn’t sleep much anymore. He didn’t have the time.
He had other things to think about. Sleep was just a necessity, a few hours of recharging each night so that he could function well and prevent his reaction times from getting sluggish. His work was what he had to focus on at all times. It was his highest priority.
His dreams, when he had them, always reminded him of that.
He saw dinosaurs and out of world people, armed to the teeth. Every one a suspect. He couldn’t stop them and there was a slaughter in the ARC. The air smelled of Jess's favourite chocolate.
Or he turned and Abby and Connor were gone again, swept through an anomaly. But he couldn’t get there in time to stop them. Then the anomaly disappeared. He hadn’t been able to stop them going through. Why hadn’t they listened to him? Why hadn't he made them stay?
Danny called to him, laughing and out of breath. He was never where Becker was looking. He was always out of reach, or in a communication blackspot, or in the one place he’d been specifically told not to go into without back-up. Danny was a liability and he was gone and no matter how fast Becker ran, he couldn’t find him.
He heard Sarah screaming. She was always in that car, the oversized raptor on top, greedily clawing its way in. And Sarah was trying to get the door open and he was shooting and running over uneven ground and then the sunroof broke and Becker didn’t notice the raptor’s mate behind him.
(He’d come round a day later and Lester had been the only familiar solemn face in the room.)
He suffered through that nightmare more than the others.
He deserved to. He’d let the team down. If he’d done his job, if he’d made them listen, Sarah would still be alive. Abby, Connor, and Danny would still be here. Cutter wouldn’t have been gunned down by his own wife.
He’d been brought on board because Lester had wanted no more Stephen Hart incidents. Instead, the body count had risen.
Becker had failed.
Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed.
He spent a lot of evenings at the gun range. He worked hard on improving with every available weapon. He filled his weekends with gym sessions and hand-to-hand training. He pushed his personnel harder, at reacting quicker, at assessing the risks more thoroughly, at being prepared for anything, at working together seamlessly as a strong deadly unit. They needed to be an impenetrable protective shell. Nothing was going to get past them again.
He reread the reports on all the deaths. He wrote up any new ones himself.
Sometimes, Becker fell asleep without meaning to, at strange hours in the weird half-light of the TV. He always jerked awake, sweating and heart thumping like running feet and his hand reaching for the nearest weapon. Several pieces of furniture had suffered thanks to his quick-reactions.
Having Connor and Abby back didn't change the fact that they shouldn't have been gone in the first place. And there was still no concrete news on Danny. Not knowing was worse. Becker had no idea what kind of life or death he'd condemned Danny to.
Abby touched his hand. She was glad to be back. But she'd come back different. Becker had seen that look on soldiers' faces. Survival did that. Slow and excruciating loss of hope did it too. It wasn’t just Abby. Connor, under the constant jokes and clumsiness, wore that look as well. They were back, but they weren’t going to forget what they’d been through.
Becker squeezed the trigger. Three clear head shots through the paper outline. He’d done that.
His nightmares had been filled with smoke recently and Nick Cutter’s body. Sometimes Danny was lying lifeless beside him. Or Abby and Connor holding hands. Sarah, her mouth frozen open in a scream. Jess covered in blood.
Cutter had rarely waited for back-up. He’d always run towards the creatures, towards the anomalies, despite the danger and risks. He’d been sure it was worth it. Danny had behaved in the exact same way. At least Connor and Abby stuck together. Matt had military training. He could handle himself. But it was clear that he preferred doing things his way. Becker didn’t care. How the others had done things before didn’t matter now.
They were going to stay together; they were going to wait for back-up. They were going to listen to him and stay safe by doing exactly what he said. They were going to listen.
Becker reloaded his gun. He was going to make sure of it.
-the end