a new start (Stephen Hart)
title: a new start
fandoms: primeval/chaos
characters: Stephen(/Billy Collins), surprise Primeval character at the end
pairings: references to Nick/Stephen/Helen, Billy/Michael pre-slash
rating: PG-13
word count: 700
summary: After his nearly fatal brush with the creatures, Stephen gets an offer not to be refused. Fix-it-y.
“What’s your choice, Mr Hart?” the man who had introduced himself as Lionel Harris asked with a fake benevolent smile. It made Stephen’s still relatively fresh wounds itch.
“I wasn’t aware I had one,” he said, voice still ragged. His vocal cords seemed to take the longest to heal, unsurprisingly - after all most of the creatures had tried to go for the jugular first.
“Despite what you seem to think of us we value free will highly. Your future is entirely in your own hands.”
Stephen couldn’t help but laugh, then winced from the pain that shot through him.
“Imprisonment for life or deportation?”
The man smiled too sweetly. “I never said they were good ones.”
Stephen nodded, glancing around in the sparsely lit room where he’d been nursed back from the brink of death over the last ten days - most probably some secret government facility... he was beginning to get sick of all this.
“I’m guessing you already have the appropriate payment in mind for getting me out of the country.”
There was a predatory glint in the man’s eyes as he leaned closer to Stephen’s hospital bed to speak:
“Helen Cutter.”
Naturally.
Stephen resisted the urge to roll his eyes - this had stopped being funny a long time ago.
***
It had been three months and he was finally going to put it all behind him. He felt no guilt over selling out Helen, not because she would have done the same had the situation been reversed, but because some part of him knew she’d be almost proud at his act of selfishness. Survival above all - that had been her priority even before she ran off into the wilderness. What Stephen did feel guilty about was letting the ARC team believe he was dead - it pained him, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to be able to start with a clean slate.
“Your papers are all in order,” Harris said as he held a passport out to Stephen. “Not even that wretched CIA would find fault in them.”
He laughed like he’d just said something hilarious. Stephen faked a smile and opened the passport.
“Scottish?”
“A little touch we thought you’d appreciate,” Harris smirked and Stephen wanted to punch him. Instead he just asked:
“What happens if I ever set foot on British soil again?”
“You will be shot on sight, of course,” Harris said but then burst out laughing. “Just kidding. No, you’ll be thrown into some secret prison for the rest of your life.”
Stephen nodded. He stood up and accepted Harris’ outstretched hand.
“I hope we never see each other again,” he said honestly and Harris smiled sincerely for the first time since they had met.
“Goodbye, Mr Collins.”
***
“Wanna come up for a coffee?” Billy asked as the car stopped in front of his apartment building. Michael looked at him with a sly expression and mischief in his eyes.
“Make that Scotch and you have yourself a deal.”
“No way, mate, then I’ll have to put you up on my couch and listen to your ungodly snoring all night - which, I might add, is practically a weapon of mass destruction.”
“Which is why I only reserve it for special occasions. You should feel honoured.”
“Good to know,” Billy laughed openly and Michael grinned back at him.
“See you tomorrow, then,” Michael said eventually. “And try to be ready in time for once, or I’ll be forced to use drastic measures.”
“Promises, promises,” Billy smiled brightly, then got out of the car. “See you tomorrow, then” he called back before shutting the door. He stood there a few moments longer, watching Michael drive away, until a voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Good to know some things never change. Did you fuck his wife too?”
Billy froze, mind racing a mile a minute. He turned slowly, half hoping it was only a trick of his exhausted brain but, no, there she was: older, wrung out, but not a bit less alluring. And just like that the past he’d thought dead came stumbling back into his new life as she smirked like she used to.
“Hello, Stephen. It’s been a long time.”
fandoms: primeval/chaos
characters: Stephen(/Billy Collins), surprise Primeval character at the end
pairings: references to Nick/Stephen/Helen, Billy/Michael pre-slash
rating: PG-13
word count: 700
summary: After his nearly fatal brush with the creatures, Stephen gets an offer not to be refused. Fix-it-y.
“What’s your choice, Mr Hart?” the man who had introduced himself as Lionel Harris asked with a fake benevolent smile. It made Stephen’s still relatively fresh wounds itch.
“I wasn’t aware I had one,” he said, voice still ragged. His vocal cords seemed to take the longest to heal, unsurprisingly - after all most of the creatures had tried to go for the jugular first.
“Despite what you seem to think of us we value free will highly. Your future is entirely in your own hands.”
Stephen couldn’t help but laugh, then winced from the pain that shot through him.
“Imprisonment for life or deportation?”
The man smiled too sweetly. “I never said they were good ones.”
Stephen nodded, glancing around in the sparsely lit room where he’d been nursed back from the brink of death over the last ten days - most probably some secret government facility... he was beginning to get sick of all this.
“I’m guessing you already have the appropriate payment in mind for getting me out of the country.”
There was a predatory glint in the man’s eyes as he leaned closer to Stephen’s hospital bed to speak:
“Helen Cutter.”
Naturally.
Stephen resisted the urge to roll his eyes - this had stopped being funny a long time ago.
***
It had been three months and he was finally going to put it all behind him. He felt no guilt over selling out Helen, not because she would have done the same had the situation been reversed, but because some part of him knew she’d be almost proud at his act of selfishness. Survival above all - that had been her priority even before she ran off into the wilderness. What Stephen did feel guilty about was letting the ARC team believe he was dead - it pained him, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to be able to start with a clean slate.
“Your papers are all in order,” Harris said as he held a passport out to Stephen. “Not even that wretched CIA would find fault in them.”
He laughed like he’d just said something hilarious. Stephen faked a smile and opened the passport.
“Scottish?”
“A little touch we thought you’d appreciate,” Harris smirked and Stephen wanted to punch him. Instead he just asked:
“What happens if I ever set foot on British soil again?”
“You will be shot on sight, of course,” Harris said but then burst out laughing. “Just kidding. No, you’ll be thrown into some secret prison for the rest of your life.”
Stephen nodded. He stood up and accepted Harris’ outstretched hand.
“I hope we never see each other again,” he said honestly and Harris smiled sincerely for the first time since they had met.
“Goodbye, Mr Collins.”
***
“Wanna come up for a coffee?” Billy asked as the car stopped in front of his apartment building. Michael looked at him with a sly expression and mischief in his eyes.
“Make that Scotch and you have yourself a deal.”
“No way, mate, then I’ll have to put you up on my couch and listen to your ungodly snoring all night - which, I might add, is practically a weapon of mass destruction.”
“Which is why I only reserve it for special occasions. You should feel honoured.”
“Good to know,” Billy laughed openly and Michael grinned back at him.
“See you tomorrow, then,” Michael said eventually. “And try to be ready in time for once, or I’ll be forced to use drastic measures.”
“Promises, promises,” Billy smiled brightly, then got out of the car. “See you tomorrow, then” he called back before shutting the door. He stood there a few moments longer, watching Michael drive away, until a voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Good to know some things never change. Did you fuck his wife too?”
Billy froze, mind racing a mile a minute. He turned slowly, half hoping it was only a trick of his exhausted brain but, no, there she was: older, wrung out, but not a bit less alluring. And just like that the past he’d thought dead came stumbling back into his new life as she smirked like she used to.
“Hello, Stephen. It’s been a long time.”