Birthday fic for Lsellersfic: "Official Visit Home"
Title: Official Visit Home.
Birthday Present for Lsellersfic.
Author: Keenir.
Fandom: Primeval.
Rating: PG13
Just to refresh memories (for those new to this corner of fandom) (as I haven't re-uploaded her photos since Geocities went under), the image and voice of Mary Tremayne is that of Saba Homayoon.
Characters/Pairing: Mary Tremayne, Connor Temple, various members of the Tremayne family, Finn, Lacy. Reference to Mary/Finn, and requests of Mary/Connor.
Mary is my creation, though I am happy to loan her out in the fandom. Tanya Lacey is the creation of Reggietate. Finn is the creation of Fredbassett.
(all canon characters are the property of ITV and whomever bought them for re-making the series)
Summary: Sometimes the job sends you home. And sometimes it makes you bring company.
note: Thank you, Fredbassett, for answering a pivotal question.
References to backstory remarks made in the attitude of the Tremayne women, and Mary's taste in music, Mary's family, and Mary's faith. In my mind, the ARC was constructed during the Thatcher Administration.
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sorry this is late
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Deep down - and a lot higher up - Mary Tremayne wasn't sure whether this was all Lester's idea of a backhanded compliment, him trying to help, or him punishing her for something. "You remember what I told you in the car?" she asked Connor.
"I do," Connor nodded as the two of them walked up the sidewalk. "Don't chatter, don't talk sports, don't get underfoot, don't ask personal questions. Though I don't chatter."
"Uh-huh," Mary said, pulling out her keys to her parents' house. "My brother's office is upstairs, second door on the left. If for any reason we get separated," as she was putting her key in the lock, "go there." Her brother was why Lester had sent Connor with her: to ask another civilian for an expert opinion on one of the ARC's bigger problems. My brother, with degrees boasting of how well he knows the jaws and teeth of anything with a backbone.
And the door opened before Mary could unlock it. "Hey sis - oi, broke down, didya?" said brother asked, grinning broadly at the sight of Connor.
"Alfred," Mary said. "Connor, my brother, the one in question. Remember, nothing that violates -"
"The Official Secrets Act, I know," Connor said. I'd really rather not repeat the entire conversation we had in the car. "Hi," Connor said to Alfred.
"We need to show you some things," Mary told her brother. "Get some honest answers. In plain English."
"Just 'cause you ain't no good at slang, don't mean I can't be," Alfred said.
"You want me to get you that date or not?"
"Damn." To Connor, "Wait at the top of the stairs." Back to Mary, "One of us needs to run interference: grandmother's here."
Not surprising - the entire family's supposed to be here to watch football. "I'll throw myself on my sword," Mary said. "Now let us inside."
* * * * *
"Astute girl," said Violet Tremayne, the grandmother in question. Now that the conversation about the merits of certain minor football teams had wound to a close, Violet said, "Now, who was that young man your brother smuggled in while you drew our attention?"
There was no sense lying - there never was. "His name," Mary said simply, "is Connor Temple. I work with him in the Thatcher building."
"Military, civilian, or politician?"
"Civilian."
"Which way does he vote?"
"I never asked."
"And who is this nice young man you've brought home?"
Mary wasn't fooled: that wasn't a repeat of an earlier question; it was putting a different spin on it. "Connor Temple is a friend," Mary said to her grandmother.
"So you don't have your eye on him?" sounding slightly disappointed.
Only in the sense that I have to know where he is so he doesn't get eaten. "I don't."
"Are you eyeing anyone? I'm getting old, child."
I've had my eye on Finn since two days after we met; but we're not possible now. "I'm sure my brothers're closer to providing you with great-grandchildren."
"John, yes but only slightly. He's bringing his fiance up to propose in front of all of us. She's from Bournemouth, a good solid girl from good roots.
"But Alfred, who is he seeing? Weren't you being a middleman?"
"I've arranged another date between him and one of my coworkers." Lacey always thinks I'm kidding when I tell her I'm playing matchmaker - to her, this is a laff.
"What's wrong in your mind with this Connor?" grandmother asked.
Besides that I'm tasked with keeping him alive? "He's Catholic," Mary said, plucking the first excuse she could think of.
"Feh. So was your mother's grandfather. I didn't forbid my son's marriage," and leaned back in her chair, smiling, as if that was the final rebuttal and no comebacks were imaginable. "Now Mary Matilda, what real reason can you offer up?"
"I'm working up the nerve to tell someone else how I feel," said Mary Matilda Tremayne.
"Now that is a fine reason."
* * * * *
"So, you and my sister?" Alfred asked up in his office, which had once been his childhood bedroom.
"What?" Connor asked, interupted from reading the spines of all the books on the shelves while he waited for Dr. Tremayne to finish analyzing the picture he'd brought.
"You and Mary. While you don't strike me as being her type, I suppose there were extenuating circumstances involved?"
"We're not together," Connor said. "I mean, we work together, yeah."
"Huh." Then, a moment later, "Where did you get this?" Mary's brother asked, having not looked up from the drawing this entire time.
"Me and some of the guys at work like inventing monsters," Connor said. Actually, that's an illustration of a Future Predator's bat jaws, and only the jaws.
"Well you done it wrong, and please tell Mary I said that."
"How's it wrong?" Connor asked, having heard the precision of Mary's words often enough to suspect that, if Alfred Tremayne was anything like her, he did grammatical thing deliberately. "These're the - They're supposed to be the most powerful carnivores ever." I've certainly been hunted by enough of them.
Alfred nodded. "Well the frequency of the teeth is right - we see it in crocodiles and Goliath Tigerfish. But the teeth in your drawing are too slender. This creature of yours might be a kissing cousin of the alpha predators, but if I had to guess, you've got an insectivore."
"Oh."
"Not that it couldn't kill you dead," Alfred said. "But as before, that's just a guess. I couldn't say more unless you were willing to sketch the rest of the creature."
"Sorry," Connor said, then gave a half-truth: "I can't. We're still arguing over the rest of the body. But so far in the story, our adventurers haven't noticed anything further than the mouth."
Alfred nodded. "Makes sense - the business end usually does draw the eye. What occurs to me is that you gave no sense of scale here, nothing to say how big the jaws are; so its possible that this creature might be like deep-sea viperfish."
"Living stomachs?"
"The teeth are more like prison bars than knives, serving primarily to keep the prey from escaping the - as you said - living stomach. Mind if I keep this?" meaning the paper with the Future Predator's dentition on it.
"I'm afraid I have to take it back with me."
"Ah the joys of intellectual property in graphic novels - or are you making a book?"
"I'm trying my hand at a novel, but there's probably going to be a graphic novel produced at some point."
"And a guest appearance on Doctor Who, one hopes."
Connod nodded. "That would be ideal," he agreed.
"Now, is my sister dating anyone?"
Connor blinked. "I...I don't know," he answered with honest uncertainty - it wasn't the sort of thing that came up in conversation when they were in other eras.
"Huh. Ask her out."
"I, uh, I'll try."
Good choice of words where Mary's involved, Alfred thought to himself.
"Got a question."
"Ask away."
"Why isn't Mary allowed to leave England?" Connor asked.
Alfred snorted. "She told you that, did she?"
Connor nodded. Actually I overheard her and Tanya Lacey talking.
"It's Britain, actually. One of our family's traditions, started when we settled here a bit over two hundred years ago, is that each generation gets to make a rule that the family has to abide by. In 1822, shortly before we married into the Tremayne name, came the rule that we can't step past the borders of the British Empire. Empire, not Commonwealth."
"So now it's just England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland?" Connor asked.
Alfred nodded.
"What was the first rule?"
"For wizards, robots, or us?" Alfred joked.
"For you guys."
"You sure my sister doesn't mean anything to you?" he probed.
"I depend on her for my life," Connor granted.
Alfred grinned. "In that case," the truth. "The first rule was this: never go back to the Old Country. And if you want to know why, you should ask Mary." We left for a reason, and we'll never go back.
* * * * *
Back in the ARC, Connor had just come from delivering the report to Cutter and Lester. So now, roaming the corridors aimlessly, he nearly bumped into Mary - she had better collision avoidance than he - and Connor noticed her hair smelled like the ARC's showers. He used that as a shot in the arm for courage and he said, "Mary," which earned him a warning Look. "I was wondering," Connor said, and felt hurt when her face got that deer-in-the-headlights look. "A date, just one, wherever you want to go."
She took a minute to get her voice how she wanted it: "Mr. Temple," Mary said, her hair thoroughly dried, "I'll go out with you when Tanya goes out with my brother, and no sooner." Which'll probably be about when the Beatles get back together. Or Thatcher gets reelected.
"Fine," Lacey said good-naturedly as she walked by, "but you're paying for dinner."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Birthday Present for Lsellersfic.
Author: Keenir.
Fandom: Primeval.
Rating: PG13
Just to refresh memories (for those new to this corner of fandom) (as I haven't re-uploaded her photos since Geocities went under), the image and voice of Mary Tremayne is that of Saba Homayoon.
Characters/Pairing: Mary Tremayne, Connor Temple, various members of the Tremayne family, Finn, Lacy. Reference to Mary/Finn, and requests of Mary/Connor.
Mary is my creation, though I am happy to loan her out in the fandom. Tanya Lacey is the creation of Reggietate. Finn is the creation of Fredbassett.
(all canon characters are the property of ITV and whomever bought them for re-making the series)
Summary: Sometimes the job sends you home. And sometimes it makes you bring company.
note: Thank you, Fredbassett, for answering a pivotal question.
References to backstory remarks made in the attitude of the Tremayne women, and Mary's taste in music, Mary's family, and Mary's faith. In my mind, the ARC was constructed during the Thatcher Administration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sorry this is late
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deep down - and a lot higher up - Mary Tremayne wasn't sure whether this was all Lester's idea of a backhanded compliment, him trying to help, or him punishing her for something. "You remember what I told you in the car?" she asked Connor.
"I do," Connor nodded as the two of them walked up the sidewalk. "Don't chatter, don't talk sports, don't get underfoot, don't ask personal questions. Though I don't chatter."
"Uh-huh," Mary said, pulling out her keys to her parents' house. "My brother's office is upstairs, second door on the left. If for any reason we get separated," as she was putting her key in the lock, "go there." Her brother was why Lester had sent Connor with her: to ask another civilian for an expert opinion on one of the ARC's bigger problems. My brother, with degrees boasting of how well he knows the jaws and teeth of anything with a backbone.
And the door opened before Mary could unlock it. "Hey sis - oi, broke down, didya?" said brother asked, grinning broadly at the sight of Connor.
"Alfred," Mary said. "Connor, my brother, the one in question. Remember, nothing that violates -"
"The Official Secrets Act, I know," Connor said. I'd really rather not repeat the entire conversation we had in the car. "Hi," Connor said to Alfred.
"We need to show you some things," Mary told her brother. "Get some honest answers. In plain English."
"Just 'cause you ain't no good at slang, don't mean I can't be," Alfred said.
"You want me to get you that date or not?"
"Damn." To Connor, "Wait at the top of the stairs." Back to Mary, "One of us needs to run interference: grandmother's here."
Not surprising - the entire family's supposed to be here to watch football. "I'll throw myself on my sword," Mary said. "Now let us inside."
* * * * *
"Astute girl," said Violet Tremayne, the grandmother in question. Now that the conversation about the merits of certain minor football teams had wound to a close, Violet said, "Now, who was that young man your brother smuggled in while you drew our attention?"
There was no sense lying - there never was. "His name," Mary said simply, "is Connor Temple. I work with him in the Thatcher building."
"Military, civilian, or politician?"
"Civilian."
"Which way does he vote?"
"I never asked."
"And who is this nice young man you've brought home?"
Mary wasn't fooled: that wasn't a repeat of an earlier question; it was putting a different spin on it. "Connor Temple is a friend," Mary said to her grandmother.
"So you don't have your eye on him?" sounding slightly disappointed.
Only in the sense that I have to know where he is so he doesn't get eaten. "I don't."
"Are you eyeing anyone? I'm getting old, child."
I've had my eye on Finn since two days after we met; but we're not possible now. "I'm sure my brothers're closer to providing you with great-grandchildren."
"John, yes but only slightly. He's bringing his fiance up to propose in front of all of us. She's from Bournemouth, a good solid girl from good roots.
"But Alfred, who is he seeing? Weren't you being a middleman?"
"I've arranged another date between him and one of my coworkers." Lacey always thinks I'm kidding when I tell her I'm playing matchmaker - to her, this is a laff.
"What's wrong in your mind with this Connor?" grandmother asked.
Besides that I'm tasked with keeping him alive? "He's Catholic," Mary said, plucking the first excuse she could think of.
"Feh. So was your mother's grandfather. I didn't forbid my son's marriage," and leaned back in her chair, smiling, as if that was the final rebuttal and no comebacks were imaginable. "Now Mary Matilda, what real reason can you offer up?"
"I'm working up the nerve to tell someone else how I feel," said Mary Matilda Tremayne.
"Now that is a fine reason."
* * * * *
"So, you and my sister?" Alfred asked up in his office, which had once been his childhood bedroom.
"What?" Connor asked, interupted from reading the spines of all the books on the shelves while he waited for Dr. Tremayne to finish analyzing the picture he'd brought.
"You and Mary. While you don't strike me as being her type, I suppose there were extenuating circumstances involved?"
"We're not together," Connor said. "I mean, we work together, yeah."
"Huh." Then, a moment later, "Where did you get this?" Mary's brother asked, having not looked up from the drawing this entire time.
"Me and some of the guys at work like inventing monsters," Connor said. Actually, that's an illustration of a Future Predator's bat jaws, and only the jaws.
"Well you done it wrong, and please tell Mary I said that."
"How's it wrong?" Connor asked, having heard the precision of Mary's words often enough to suspect that, if Alfred Tremayne was anything like her, he did grammatical thing deliberately. "These're the - They're supposed to be the most powerful carnivores ever." I've certainly been hunted by enough of them.
Alfred nodded. "Well the frequency of the teeth is right - we see it in crocodiles and Goliath Tigerfish. But the teeth in your drawing are too slender. This creature of yours might be a kissing cousin of the alpha predators, but if I had to guess, you've got an insectivore."
"Oh."
"Not that it couldn't kill you dead," Alfred said. "But as before, that's just a guess. I couldn't say more unless you were willing to sketch the rest of the creature."
"Sorry," Connor said, then gave a half-truth: "I can't. We're still arguing over the rest of the body. But so far in the story, our adventurers haven't noticed anything further than the mouth."
Alfred nodded. "Makes sense - the business end usually does draw the eye. What occurs to me is that you gave no sense of scale here, nothing to say how big the jaws are; so its possible that this creature might be like deep-sea viperfish."
"Living stomachs?"
"The teeth are more like prison bars than knives, serving primarily to keep the prey from escaping the - as you said - living stomach. Mind if I keep this?" meaning the paper with the Future Predator's dentition on it.
"I'm afraid I have to take it back with me."
"Ah the joys of intellectual property in graphic novels - or are you making a book?"
"I'm trying my hand at a novel, but there's probably going to be a graphic novel produced at some point."
"And a guest appearance on Doctor Who, one hopes."
Connod nodded. "That would be ideal," he agreed.
"Now, is my sister dating anyone?"
Connor blinked. "I...I don't know," he answered with honest uncertainty - it wasn't the sort of thing that came up in conversation when they were in other eras.
"Huh. Ask her out."
"I, uh, I'll try."
Good choice of words where Mary's involved, Alfred thought to himself.
"Got a question."
"Ask away."
"Why isn't Mary allowed to leave England?" Connor asked.
Alfred snorted. "She told you that, did she?"
Connor nodded. Actually I overheard her and Tanya Lacey talking.
"It's Britain, actually. One of our family's traditions, started when we settled here a bit over two hundred years ago, is that each generation gets to make a rule that the family has to abide by. In 1822, shortly before we married into the Tremayne name, came the rule that we can't step past the borders of the British Empire. Empire, not Commonwealth."
"So now it's just England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland?" Connor asked.
Alfred nodded.
"What was the first rule?"
"For wizards, robots, or us?" Alfred joked.
"For you guys."
"You sure my sister doesn't mean anything to you?" he probed.
"I depend on her for my life," Connor granted.
Alfred grinned. "In that case," the truth. "The first rule was this: never go back to the Old Country. And if you want to know why, you should ask Mary." We left for a reason, and we'll never go back.
* * * * *
Back in the ARC, Connor had just come from delivering the report to Cutter and Lester. So now, roaming the corridors aimlessly, he nearly bumped into Mary - she had better collision avoidance than he - and Connor noticed her hair smelled like the ARC's showers. He used that as a shot in the arm for courage and he said, "Mary," which earned him a warning Look. "I was wondering," Connor said, and felt hurt when her face got that deer-in-the-headlights look. "A date, just one, wherever you want to go."
She took a minute to get her voice how she wanted it: "Mr. Temple," Mary said, her hair thoroughly dried, "I'll go out with you when Tanya goes out with my brother, and no sooner." Which'll probably be about when the Beatles get back together. Or Thatcher gets reelected.
"Fine," Lacey said good-naturedly as she walked by, "but you're paying for dinner."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End