Primeval fic: "Never sought contemplate that" (birthday fic?)
Title: Never sought contemplate that
Rating: PG
Warnings: Reggietate, this started out as your birthday fic…but then it mutated. If you still want it to be your birthday fic, it is; if you don’t want it for birthday fic, then it’s just ordinary fic.
Spoilers: 1.01, 1.06, 2.01, probably various others to a lesser degree.
note: one of the original plot bunnies that spawned this fic - "would Stephen have stuck around if Helen didn't exist?" - escaped this fic & was last seen in the vicinity of the Primeval/Sliders plot bunny.
Characters: Nick Cutter, Jenny Lewis.
Pairings: shades of Nick/Helen, Nick/Claudia, Nick/Stephen, and Nick/Jenny.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I’m only exploring the characters we’ve seen onscreen.
Short Summary: Trapped in a paradisical era, Jenny hits where it hurts the most: the one thing Nick never contemplated. Never let himself contemplate?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Early Devonian:
“We just need to be patient,” said Nick, standing just a centimeter from the waterline; no tides - not this season? not this time of day?
“That’s what you said seven hours ago. I swear the sun is still in the same place as it was then.”
“The Anomaly will re-open. Trust me.”
“And what scientific theory is this based upon, Professor Cutter?”
“The trusting?”
“That the Anomaly will return and rescue us,” Jenny said.
“It’s based on the fact that Anomalies always re-open when there is an imbalance of how much organic matter passes in either direction through it. That’s why the Forest of Dean Anomaly stayed open for as long as it did: it needed the weight equal to Rex and a Gorgonopsid to pass through it back to the Permian, before it could close.
Given how much those seal-things weigh, I doubt the Isle of Dogs Anomaly will be closing any time soon, she thought to herself. That is, assuming you’re right. “This is your theory?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re pretty confident in it, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Because you’re always right.”
“It usually turns out so, yeah.”
Well then, “I have a question,” Jenny said, all innocence to her tone.
“Go on,” Nick said, watching the jawless armored fish in the shallows.
“Are you sure your wife never tried to tell you what had transpired between herself and Mr. Hart?”
“Stephen. And yes I’m sure. Don’t you think I’ve gone over in my head all the conversations I’ve ever had with Helen, during the eight years she was missing?”
“I don’t doubt you’ve relived the conversations. Though from what little I saw,” Jenny said, “she wasn’t a sterling conversationalist.”
“True. Always to the point, Helen was. Is.”
“So maybe she left you a note. A letter perhaps.”
“No,” Nick said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve looked. Several times. Thoroughly.”
“Oh I don’t doubt that you can be quite thorough when you want to be, Professor Cutter,” Jenny said. “But is there any way that such a letter could have escaped your notice? Well-hidden, perhaps?”
“Why would it be hidden?” Nick asked. “Wouldn’t Helen - assuming she wrote it - want me to find…” and trailed off. Oh my God.
For so many years, I loved Helen. She was my wife, my helpmate, my partner in all things.
Stephen was a student of ours, then a friend. When Helen was declared dead - missing…
And I was starting…starting to feel… If Claudia hadn’t shown up when - and how! - she did, I would’ve had full-blown feelings for you, Stephen.
But if it was all based on a lie…
Nick turned about and held out his arms, needing help and knowing damn well he was a sad pathetic sight. And yet, and yet Jenny met him, let him embrace her. She feels a little like Claudia - and yet, and yet she’s quite different. There was only so much he could attribute to the type of bra and conditioner.
I was on my way from University to a field site when I got the call Helen was missing. There weren’t any shortcuts back to home. When I got there, Stephen was sitting on my doorstep.
Waiting for me.
He said he’d been in the neighborhood. What an idiot I’ve been - my house is in the neighborhood…he knew I’d go through all of Helen’s things, all her writings, in the hopes of finding a clue, a hint. How easy it must’ve been to secrete away anything that spoke of him in my wife’s arms.
Why?
All those times…
Why?
But Jenny knew none of that, hadn’t an inkling of what was racing through Nick’s thoughts. All she knew was that here they were, at what may as well’ve been the Dawn Of Time as far as she was concerned, and Nick Cutter had his arms around her, head on her shoulder, and he was silent. And, best of all -
He doesn’t think I’m Claudia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Rating: PG
Warnings: Reggietate, this started out as your birthday fic…but then it mutated. If you still want it to be your birthday fic, it is; if you don’t want it for birthday fic, then it’s just ordinary fic.
Spoilers: 1.01, 1.06, 2.01, probably various others to a lesser degree.
note: one of the original plot bunnies that spawned this fic - "would Stephen have stuck around if Helen didn't exist?" - escaped this fic & was last seen in the vicinity of the Primeval/Sliders plot bunny.
Characters: Nick Cutter, Jenny Lewis.
Pairings: shades of Nick/Helen, Nick/Claudia, Nick/Stephen, and Nick/Jenny.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I’m only exploring the characters we’ve seen onscreen.
Short Summary: Trapped in a paradisical era, Jenny hits where it hurts the most: the one thing Nick never contemplated. Never let himself contemplate?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Early Devonian:
“We just need to be patient,” said Nick, standing just a centimeter from the waterline; no tides - not this season? not this time of day?
“That’s what you said seven hours ago. I swear the sun is still in the same place as it was then.”
“The Anomaly will re-open. Trust me.”
“And what scientific theory is this based upon, Professor Cutter?”
“The trusting?”
“That the Anomaly will return and rescue us,” Jenny said.
“It’s based on the fact that Anomalies always re-open when there is an imbalance of how much organic matter passes in either direction through it. That’s why the Forest of Dean Anomaly stayed open for as long as it did: it needed the weight equal to Rex and a Gorgonopsid to pass through it back to the Permian, before it could close.
Given how much those seal-things weigh, I doubt the Isle of Dogs Anomaly will be closing any time soon, she thought to herself. That is, assuming you’re right. “This is your theory?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re pretty confident in it, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Because you’re always right.”
“It usually turns out so, yeah.”
Well then, “I have a question,” Jenny said, all innocence to her tone.
“Go on,” Nick said, watching the jawless armored fish in the shallows.
“Are you sure your wife never tried to tell you what had transpired between herself and Mr. Hart?”
“Stephen. And yes I’m sure. Don’t you think I’ve gone over in my head all the conversations I’ve ever had with Helen, during the eight years she was missing?”
“I don’t doubt you’ve relived the conversations. Though from what little I saw,” Jenny said, “she wasn’t a sterling conversationalist.”
“True. Always to the point, Helen was. Is.”
“So maybe she left you a note. A letter perhaps.”
“No,” Nick said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve looked. Several times. Thoroughly.”
“Oh I don’t doubt that you can be quite thorough when you want to be, Professor Cutter,” Jenny said. “But is there any way that such a letter could have escaped your notice? Well-hidden, perhaps?”
“Why would it be hidden?” Nick asked. “Wouldn’t Helen - assuming she wrote it - want me to find…” and trailed off. Oh my God.
For so many years, I loved Helen. She was my wife, my helpmate, my partner in all things.
Stephen was a student of ours, then a friend. When Helen was declared dead - missing…
And I was starting…starting to feel… If Claudia hadn’t shown up when - and how! - she did, I would’ve had full-blown feelings for you, Stephen.
But if it was all based on a lie…
Nick turned about and held out his arms, needing help and knowing damn well he was a sad pathetic sight. And yet, and yet Jenny met him, let him embrace her. She feels a little like Claudia - and yet, and yet she’s quite different. There was only so much he could attribute to the type of bra and conditioner.
I was on my way from University to a field site when I got the call Helen was missing. There weren’t any shortcuts back to home. When I got there, Stephen was sitting on my doorstep.
Waiting for me.
He said he’d been in the neighborhood. What an idiot I’ve been - my house is in the neighborhood…he knew I’d go through all of Helen’s things, all her writings, in the hopes of finding a clue, a hint. How easy it must’ve been to secrete away anything that spoke of him in my wife’s arms.
Why?
All those times…
Why?
But Jenny knew none of that, hadn’t an inkling of what was racing through Nick’s thoughts. All she knew was that here they were, at what may as well’ve been the Dawn Of Time as far as she was concerned, and Nick Cutter had his arms around her, head on her shoulder, and he was silent. And, best of all -
He doesn’t think I’m Claudia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End