Where the rain can't get in - Secret Santa for Deinonychus_1

[stealingpennies]

Title: Where the rain can’t get in (Primeval/Atlantis)
Word Count: Part One (of 3). This section 3,975 words.
Rating: PG-15
Characters: Primeval: Becker/Connor, Atlantis: Jason, Pythagoras, Hercules, Medusa
Summary: A stone rabbit, an unbreakable curse, the honeymoon suite and a lot of pizza. Crossover with Atlantis.
A/N: For deinonychus_1 who wanted Becker/Connor. The prompts included ‘it followed me home so I kept it’ and ‘is it broken?’ which were more loosely inspirational than directly used. There’s angst and snuggling and a bit of hurt/comfort. There’s also Atlantis.
Huge, huge apologies for not having the complete fic ready. It is coming with the Maji.
*

WHERE THE RAIN CAN’T COME IN

The radio was playing ‘Deck the Halls’ but wavered and cut out mid fa-la-la-la-la-la. Undeterred Connor took over although halfway through the verse he clearly remembered just why he was travelling to a place so far in the back of beyond that even local radio did not reach and the line about it being a season to be jolly was completed with a distinctly mournful air. Silence fell while they waited for the music to return as it had been doing off and on for the last hour.

Becker was about to comment along the lines of ‘Cheer up, it may never happen’ but before he could think of some appropriate lie an all too familiar beep started to sound softly from the rucksack at Connor’s feet.

Instinctively Connor made a grab for his bag and pulled out the anomaly detector holding it up so they both could see. No mistake. The screen was definitely showing anomaly activity albeit only faintly.

“Chuffing hell!” Connor swore under his breath as he tried to coax the detector to provide more details. “I don’t believe it.”

“And yet…” said Becker as the radio flared back into sudden life. He reached out and flicked it off impatiently.

“Flaming bloody Nora,” muttered Connor by his side.

The beeping sounds continued.

If Becker was a more suspicious man he would have suspected that Connor had deliberately engineered an anomaly alert to avoid spending this pre-Christmas weekend with Becker’s family. He did still wonder about the timing but there had been no mistaking the look of sudden surprised relief on Connor’s face when the detector had activated. Catching Becker’s sideways glance Connor had hastily assumed a neutral expression but Becker was not fooled. Connor had always been a terrible actor. The condemned man had just been granted a stay of execution.

Becker hated that he himself had had a similar reaction.

This meeting had been hanging over them for weeks turning what should have been an enjoyable run-up to their first Christmas together to a series of tense disagreements and resentful silences. Neither was the kind of person who enjoyed arguments for their own sake with no regrets or repercussions - at the first sign of conflict Becker felt himself getting colder and withdrawn as Connor got more and more volubly upset. By mutual consent, they now avoided any subjects more contentious than ‘Are mountains better than lakes?’, ‘Postman Pat or Fireman Sam?’, or what kind of pizza to order for dinner.

This was new territory for both of them - an unexpected development from what should have been a one-night-stand following a particularly distressing smilodon incursion.

A second night had followed the first and…who knew, suddenly Becker found himself in a relationship. The sex was easy. It was all the other stuff that brought problems.

Becker had mapped every inch of his lover’s body with his hands and mouth but was unable to ask why Connor never talked about school. Or there would be something on the news and Connor would start to ask about Afghanistan and Becker would shy away. What if Becker said too much? He imaged the admiration fading from Connor’s eyes to be replaced by disbelief or even disgust.

But now was not the time to go into that. There was work to be done.

The portable detector continued to emit a series of soft, irregular beeps. Connor had given up pressing buttons and was now tapping impatiently at the screen with one gloved finger. This should not be happening. These portable units were strictly short-range and designed to fine-tune coordinates relayed by the central ARC computers. The ARC had not phoned but neither of their mobiles were currently picking up a signal.

“I wonder how often this happens,” mused Connor who, now that he had got over his surprise, had lapsed into academic mode. “Naturally we pick up any sizeable waves but there’s so much geo activity that anything smaller or hidden could easily be missed or misconstrued. Danny didn’t try to reach us before the phones cut out but we should be able to back-check on the readings they’ve got on the central computers. Now that we have what looks like a positive regional identification we can try and match up similar readings that we’re previously ignored. Professor Cutter had a theory that anomalies had life cycles like stars and matured and eventually grew old and died but he never had a chance to work through it properly. I wonder what he’d say about this? I mean, obviously he’d say we had to explore and make sure nothing bad was happening but about the level of reading we’re getting. What d’you think, Becker?”

Becker had been concentrating on the road during this flow at speech but he turned at the sound of his name. “I think we’d better hope that there’s nothing out there trying to find lunch.”

This coastal road was largely deserted but featured a higgledy-piggledy mixture of stone walls, narrow lanes and blind bends with few safe places to stop. Becker had chosen it for its scenic potential with the optimistic idea that Connor might be relaxed and charmed by the countryside and forget the ordeal ahead. That had not actually worked although, when pressed, his companion had grudgingly admitted that he ‘liked the view’.

The route was clearly one more bad choice that Becker was going to angst over when he had time. He only hoped that whatever the creature incursion he and Connor were about to find, they would get there quickly enough to prevent bloodshed. Bitter experience said that this was probably a futile wish but they could hope to minimise any deaths and restore order as necessary. As he drove Becker ran through the armaments he habitually carried and considered how best to combine maximum firepower with minimum collateral damage. Connor would be fully occupied with dealing with the anomaly once they found it so protection and containment would be up to Becker. He could feel the adrenaline rising and his heart starting to beat faster as he pushed his foot down on the accelerator. First task was finding somewhere to bloody stop before they drove out of range.

Becker and Connor were officially off-rota this weekend. This was something of a rarity with ARC shift patterns, although they worked together more often than not, their free time rarely started or finished in tandem. Checking the advance rota, Becker had observed that this would be a perfect opportunity to take Connor to Devon to visit his parents. It had seemed a good idea on a number of counts. Firstly, it would be nice to have weekend away from London. Secondly, it would finally put a stop to his mother’s unsubtle attempts at matchmaking. Thirdly, it would prove to Connor that he was more than a casual fling. Contrary to expectations, Becker’s parents had professed themselves delighted that Hilary was finally allowing them to meet his boyfriend while Connor, who had been unsubtly angling for months to see where Becker grew up and be made ‘official’, had reacted not with pleasure but with horror.

“They won’t like me,” he had protested. “They’ll think I’m northern and common and make you stop seeing me. At least let’s wait until after Christmas and then we can have that to remember.”

Becker had laughed, which proved a mistake in retrospect. “You are northern,” he pointed out before proceeding to dig himself in deeper. “It’s not exactly a crime. Anyway, as long as you remember not to call the napkins serviettes you’ll do fine with my parents.”

It may not have been the best-considered comment in the history of the world but there was absolutely no need for the complete over-reaction that had followed.

“What’s wrong with saying serviette?” Connor had demanded furiously. Becker gave an inward sigh and cursed himself for forgetting just how insecure Connor could be and under-estimating how anxious Connor was about meeting Becker’s family.

He tried to back-peddle. “Nothing, nothing! I was just joking.”

“You think I sound common,” said Connor turning hurt eyes on him. “Well, let me tell you, my nan says serviette and she has beautiful manners and uses doilies and everything. And she made you a sponge cake for your birthday. So don’t you dare say a word against her.”

The last sentence was finished with a glare and an angry flounce that would have been more effective it had lasted for a greater distance than the two metres needed to get to the ARC’s central control station. Still Connor managed to sit down and swivel on his chair in a single fluid movement with a satisfactory amount of distain before starting to punch buttons in a clear ‘I’m ignoring you now.’ fashion.

Becker took the hint.

Some sustained grovelling - helped along by a mutual desire to get laid - had papered over the cracks but all the same Becker worried all over again that beyond obvious physical attraction they were too dissimilar to last. And, if that was the case, was he not better walking away now before they both got hurt?

This weekend was a kind of test. Could they get through the awkwardness of meeting Becker’s family? Connor’s grandmother had been easy. Connor was her darling and she was disposed to like anybody her boy brought home. Whatever trials the outside world brought Connor had always had a loving home to go to. Becker’s family on the other hand…Nothing he had ever done was quite good enough. He did well at school and excelled at the army but these achievements had been seen as the least they could expect. They’d been pleased enough with his foreign postings but the assignment with the ARC was clearly something of a disappointment. One did not get medals or promotion for working in central London protecting civil servants. He’d taken partners to visit his parents’ house - he couldn’t honestly call it home - twice before and both times the relationships had quickly broken up. Becker couldn’t honestly blame his parents for this but he could read through their polite welcome to the fact that they did not approve of his choices. He couldn’t see this third visit by a partner as being any more likely to be a success. But, for the first time, he was less worried how his parents would view his boyfriend than how Connor would view his parents. Still they’d have to meet sometime and it was probably best to get it over with sooner rather than later.

It was all very frustrating. And frankly Becker could have done without Connor’s constant harping on the subject. However, telling Connor that fine, he did not have go had not worked either. It just inspired a different strand of anxious fretting. Finally Becker had snapped, “It’s not always about you, you know. This isn’t easy for me, either.”

That worked where reasoning hadn’t and the visit had been arranged. They were both dreading it and pretending otherwise.

Beep- bep, beep-bep, beep-bep.

The detector continued to register activity.

Eventually Becker found somewhere suitable to turn off. A painted wooden ‘National Trust’ sign led to a small parking area which offered a view of the sea, four weathered picnic tables and a choice of flattened grass and chalk footpaths in three directions. There were a couple of parked cars but both were empty. The cold December day and the isolated location did not encourage casual visitors.

As he parked the detector stopped. Becker immediately moved into reverse and drove back a couple of hundred feet just in case they had gone out of range but the unit remained silent with its screen gone blank. Now they were facing the possibility of creatures with no anomaly to herd them back into. That’s great, thought Becker, Chuffing bloody great as Connor would say. On bright side they now had a phone signal. Becker phoned Jess, holding the phone with one hand while sorting anumition for his rifle with the other.

Jess had registered the disturbance but it had only created a mild reading on the ARC’s computers.

“It could be in a cave or something that muffled the statistics,” suggested Jess. “Do you want back-up? I can put a call out to the bases at Aldershot. ”

“Get a team on standby but don’t send anyone in until you hear from me,” replied Becker relaxing somewhat in the face of her unruffled competence. “There’s no point creating a disturbance if we don’t have to. It’s likely just a blip and a massive coincidence that we were in the area at the right time to register a reading. Connor and I will scout around and get back to you.”

“Right-o,” said Jess. “Consider it done. You take care - both of you. And remember it’s your weekend off! Don’t forget to have fun.”

“Don’t we always?” asked Becker as he rang off.

“Always what?” asked Connor scrabbling for his winter jacket in the back of the SUV. He continued without waiting for an answer delivering a running commentary as he checked the items he wanted to take with him. “This is the reason we should always Be Prepared and keep our kit with us. Like boy scouts. Not that I was ever a boy scout but you get the picture.”

Becker’s lips twitched. As far as he had ever been able to work out Connor’s emergency kit did indeed include all necessary technical equipment but this was supplemented by a Rubik’s Cube, random chocolate bars and half-filled cola bottles and a spare pair of boxer shorts. Becker’s habitual emergency pack now included everything times two.

“Always take care,” said Becker answering the original question as his companion finally shut up and seemed to ready to move.

“Boy Scouts,” agreed Connor with a quick grin that faded as he turned his mind to business. “If Jess didn’t pick up a disturbance we probably only got a reading as strong as we did because we were more or less on top of the anomaly. That means we’re best taking the path to the left and retracing our steps are far as possible.” Connor dipped his head towards the anomaly detector and flicked through a series of screens as if confirm the coordinates before looking up and nodding at Becker. Not that Becker had questioned his conclusions. He’d been thinking the same thing about following the path of the road as far as possible.

Connor continued chatting, a familiar facetious attempt at reassurance. “We’re probably on a wild goose chase. Or a wild some-other-creature chase. Think about it, Becker, there’s no visible corpses . That’s something. I’ve never met a creature which cleans up after itself. There’s probably a cave of some sort. It might not even be accessible with all the landslides and rock falls in this area. We may have to go climbing. That’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” Becker said. “Let’s go investigate. Visible corpses or not you don’t know what we’ll find. Keep with me and remember not to get between me and any dangerous predators we encounter. I’d hate to shoot you by accident.”

For a moment Connor’s eyes met his alight with laughter. “When you’d so much rather shoot me deliberately!”

Becker grinned and caught him in his arms in a fleeting embrace. It was not exactly a professional response but they were alone and technically at least off-duty. “No heroics.”

“As long as you take your own advice. I can look after myself but if it makes you happy you can go first if we need to climb down the cliff!”

It was mid-afternoon and the grass still crunched with frost from the winter pale sun had not been strong enough to melt. Overhead a group of seagulls followed their progress with raucous cries hopeful of food to scavenge. The tide was up and the foam-flecked waves hit tumbled grey and white rocks with angry crashing sounds. The slight wind was enough to be exhilarating but not to prevent climbing should it become necessary.

This part of Devon was notorious for land slippages and the footpath had clearly been reworked in several places where the original line had crumbled away. Metal and barbed wire formed a partial wall along some of the steeper drops but it was a token gesture rather than a real preventative barrier.

Becker and Connor walked for about half a mile along the cliff and found no sign of disturbance. As they walked Becker’s misgivings began to fade. There was nothing here. They had coffee and snacks in the car along with a thick blanket. A picnic would be nice.

“False reading?” offered Becker eventually.

Connor shrugged. “It could be I suppose but Jess got the same readings back in London. It could have been some sort of temporal blip, I guess, an anomaly-lite if you like, one that didn’t fully form and fizzled out. There’s still so much about them that we don’t know. I don’t think we’re going to find anything. D’you want to go back to the car?”

“Soon. We’ll walk as far as that bent tree and then check out the cliffs from the beach. There were cars in the car park so there must be a few dog walkers or ramblers around. We should try and find some of them.”

Connor wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck. “And just have a nice walk?”

“Yes,” agreed Becker. “You wanted to see where I grew up. This is it.”

“It is nice, by the way. I meant what I said earlier about liking the view.” He grinned at Becker. “All the views.”

Despite the tension that remained over the anomaly alert and the purpose of their visit, there was a definite pleasure in walking this coastal path. The grasses were winter-brown there was still a range of colours amongst the gorse and small shrubs that grew along the headland and the wind-bent trees that struggled to hold on to their shallow-rooted perches.

As a child Becker had come to seaside every weekend with his dog. He had looked for fossils along the cliffs and skimmed stones into the water. Later he had come camping with his friends building small heaths with beach pebbles and gathering up dried grasses to act as kindling for their fires.

Connor’s voice pulled him from memory.

“Look! Look Becks!” Connor’s stage whisper was clearly an unsuccessful attempt at quiet but incredibly the rabbit he was trying to point out to Becker did not turn tail and run away.

Instead it sat on its haunches and watched them.

“It’s a white rabbit like in Alice in Wonderland!” Connor grabbed Becker’s arm and bounced excitably from one foot to the other. Becker grinned. Connor was such a city boy. You’d think he’d never seen a rabbit before. There were whole colonies which lived on these heaths like something out of Watership Down. But something was not right. They’d made so much noise that even the relatively tame rabbits who were used to walkers would have hopped away. And this rabbit did not look like the local rabbits Becker was used to seeing. It was snow white. Perhaps an abandoned pet? That would be the height of cruelty and a certain death sentence for the animal which would swiftly fall prey to foxes but it would not be the first time that such a thing had happened. Shrugging off Connor’s arm Becker moved slowly towards the animal where it crouched half-hidden by foliage. As he got closer he could see why the rabbit made no move to run away.

It was made of stone.

“Oh!” Connor was at his side, blushing slightly. “I didn’t….it looked so real. It still does, like you could stroke its fur.”

“It fooled me too,” Becker reassured him. “The question is, what is it doing here?”

“Perhaps someone’s dropped their Christmas present?” said Connor. “Or a courier got confused about where to deliver.” He bent down to pick up the sculpture and staggered standing up under the weight. “Wow! It’s really heavy. Just look at the detail, Becker. It’s amazing. You can see why we thought it was alive. It’s a perfect copy. We should take it back to the car and find out if someone’s reported a burglary. This isn’t exactly the kind of ornament you can pick up for a fiver at the local garden centre.”

Becker took the rabbit from Connor and examined it. It was indeed extremely heavy. The pale white stone reminded him of the kind of statues looted from the ancient world that were now in museums. But the detail on this was beyond any of statue that he had ever seen, each strand of fur was separately defined and the small nose had been captured in mid-twitch. The blind eyes held an expression of mild concern. It was a masterpiece by any standards and probably worth thousands of pounds.

“We’ll ask Danny to check it out,” Becker agreed. “Meanwhile, let’s see if we can find any trace of the anomaly location. What’s the likelihood of finding something like this so near an alert and it not being connected? It could be a modern theft but it’s more likely someone placing an object through the anomaly for safe-keeping and then being unable to retrieve it. How often have we attributed isolated treasure hoards to just that?”

Connor stroked the rabbit gently. “That makes sense. More sense than a modern thief randomly dropping something. Bad luck for the thieves though to go to all that trouble and then get lose their loot on the wrong side of time.”

The statue posed something of a problem but they clearly could not leave it. Becker wrapped it in his jacket like a sling and carried it over one shoulder. He walked more carefully now fully alert. There might be other treasures dotted about. Connor too was treading carefully.

Though, as it turned out, not carefully enough.

A stray stone, led to a trip which led to a grab and an untidy double descent as the path gave way beneath them. Becker’s last thought as he crashed down the cliff was that the white rabbit was taking them down the rabbit hole.

As falls down a cliff went it was probably only a five out of ten for pain. In fact they’d only slipped about twenty feet down before their fall was halted by an overgrown patch of brambles. Nothing was broken and that included the statue. Becker eased himself up ignoring the collection of cuts and bruises he’d collected and crawled towards Connor. Connor lay with his eyes shut but opened them when Becker put his hand on his cheek. “Ow!” he said, then taking in Becker. “It’s really amazing how your hair manages to stay perfect whatever happens. It’s like magic.” His gaze fell lower on to Becker’s arms. Oh..you’re hurt.”

“Just scratches,” said Becker pulling him up.

And then they found the anomaly. Or rather the incursion.

“Becker!” Unlike his earlier attempt, this time Connor’s whisper was genuinely low. “Over there! I think we’ve found our thieves!”

Becker followed his finger.

It was a miracle that they hadn’t been seen considering the noise they made but the four people in on the shore were clearly wrapped up in their own affairs. And those affairs were clearly not going well. As they watched a scuffle broke out between the three men and a smaller figure which appeared to be a woman although it was difficult to be certain as her head and upper body were completely swathed in a black sack. The woman was struggling to free herself from the grasp of the largest man.

“Wait,” cautioned Becker.

But Connor was already scrambling down the slope towards the figures.

Part Two

*