Fic: The Weather Outside
Title: The Weather Outside
Fandom: Primeval
Summary: In which a snowstorm in July is connected to the revelation that Becker actually would do anything for love. (Yes, even that.)
Characters: Becker/Lester, Emily, Connor, Matt; references to others.
Rating: PG
Length: ~1800
Beta: explodedpen
Spoilers: Through series 5.
Warnings: Some naughty language. Bad weather.
Author's Notes: Written for celeste9 for the primeval_denial Secret Santa, using the prompt "something with snow and hudding for warmth". Huge thanks to explodedpen for the support, encouragement and unholy enthusiasm, especially when the story derailed somewhat at the last minute.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Becker wakes up slowly, cocooned by warmth and streaks of sunlight. He rolls onto his front and reaches out blindly for -
- nothing. He fumbles around a few times, but doesn't find anything but warm air. He groans and opens his eyes.
This is how Becker finds out he's alone in bed. He buries his face in the pillow and groans a few more times before bracing himself, pulling the quilt back and climbing out of bed. There are voices coming from the living room and Becker pads in that direction, running a hand through his hair and pondering tea.
He finds the target of his aborted cuddle in the living room. Despite the obscenely early hour - on their shared day off, no less - Lester is fully dressed and staring at the television. Becker belatedly realises he's holding a phone to his ear.
“S'going on, James?”
Lester twitches slightly, and gestures at the television with his free hand. Becker blinks a few times, then squints for good measure. He thinks he recognises the BBC breakfast news, people flapping their arms about and making noises that Becker needs caffeine before he can decipher.
Then the picture cuts to a park. Except there's snow falling, fast and thick, and a reporter staring at the camera bleating something or other. The words LIVE FEED flash across the bottom of the screen. A lot.
Becker frowns. “S'July. Why's there snow?”
Lester sighs loudly. “Let me call you back, Jess. I'm afraid my better half is currently ill equipped for this situation.” He pockets the phone and eyes Becker up and down, but without his usual interest. “Get dressed, and I'll put the kettle on.”
“But -”
Lester holds up a hand. “Hilary,” he says.
The fog in Becker's mind starts to clear. James never calls him by his first name unless... there's an emergency. This is an emergency.
He glances back at the television just in time for the breakfast hosts to giggle nervously. One of them pulls a face at the camera and quips: “The ARC team are going to have a field day with this one.”
And then it sinks in. “Anomaly,” Becker says slowly.
Oh, shit.
o o o o o
The park has been cordoned off by the time the ARC team arrives. Becker pulls up last and hangs back as Connor and Matt get to work establishing a workable perimeter. Becker decides to be infinitely more useful, and corrals his team into setting up a tent where the science stuff can happen relatively safely.
The anomaly's maybe ten metres directly above an oak tree, and the snow is still falling thickly, fast enough to set in the middle of the park and leave the edges of the so-called blast zone a disgusting looking mixture of slush and mud.
He takes in the rest of the scene. The reporters have clustered at the far end of the park, behind a line of police sporting hi-vis jackets and helmets. Becker snorts and slings his Mossberg over his shoulder.
Emily joins him a moment later. “The reporters would like someone to make a statement.”
“Someone from the Met Office?” Connor asks with a quick grin.
Becker snorts. “They'll still be reeling from the shock come actual winter.”
Emily frowns at him, but it's Connor who jumps in. “They overreact to pretty much everything these days. Equal parts disturbing and funny.”
Becker pulls a face and scans the park again. He stops on a small cluster of - something - maybe twenty metres away. They look just like lumps in the snow. “Any indication of a creature incursion?”
“Abby's monitoring the feeds from the ARC,” Connor says from behind a laptop. “Nothing's come through.”
Becker nods, and urge to march over and poke holes in the snowdrifts lessens by a tiny fraction. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but he's been feeling more and more redundant lately. Since the ARC had gone public following the worldwide anomalies and Burton's own brand of mad science gone wrong, every single branch of the military and police has been offering to step up in the name of national security and safety - today's Met themed cordon very much a case in point.
“Connor, how soon until you can lock the anomaly?” Matt asks, interrupting Becker's now decidedly maudlin train of thought.
Becker glances over to see Connor shake his head. “In this weather? Could be tricky. I'll give it a shot, though.”
Matt claps him on the shoulder. “See that you do.”`
“Reporters,” Emily says pointedly. Matt sighs, fishes out a woollen hat from someone's backpack and heads over to the miniature cluster of cameras and news crews.
On a whim, Becker digs through another pack and pulls out a pair of binoculars, and focuses on the lumpy snowdrift things. It takes him a few seconds to figure out the focus settings, and when the objects come into focus, he laughs.
“What is it?” Emily asks.
Becker just chuckles, hands her the binoculars and waits.
“Please tell me those - things - were constructed by children,” she says faintly.
Becker smirks. “Probably. Connor, have you ever tried building a snowman with a really big -”
“Don't,” Emily interrupts him. She hands Becker the binoculars back and crosses her arms.
“What?” Connor asks. “What is it?”
“An apparent decline in children's understanding of basic human anatomy,” Emily tells him. Feeling relatively safe behind her, Becker illustrates Emily's statement with his hands.
Connor snorts, but says nothing. At least, not about the snowmen. “Think I'm ready to lock this thing up. Becker, give me a hand here?”
“Sure.” Becker manoeuvres the anomaly locking device into a position under the tent where it's less likely to get bombarded with snow, and aims it upwards at the anomaly. It's weird, he thinks dimly. His brain knows that this much snow means his extremities should be under threat of falling off, yet there's summer heat on his back, melting the snow almost as fast as it's settling.
At least there aren't any creatures this time. Just everything else.
“Okay,” Connor mutters, “one moment please.”
Becker gets an eyeful of fresh, prehistoric snow that quickly melts and runs down his neck and underneath his shirt. “Any time you like.”
There's a loud smash of keys behind him and the anomaly lock starts whirring and emitting its high pitched tune - and sure enough, the anomaly convulses and closes in on itself. Abruptly the snowstorm stops, and the team are left standing in a field of white in the middle of summer.
Applause sounds out from the other side of the police cordon. Job well done.
Becker stares up at the anomaly, and he thinks he has an idea. “Connor,” he calls out, “is there any way to tell when the anomaly leads to without reopening it?”
“Dunno.” Connor sounds like this idea has only just occurred to him. “Why?”
Becker shrugs. “Curious.”
Connor looks unconvinced, but he nods anyway.
“What are you thinking?” Emily asks him. She looks a bit how Becker feels - wondering what the heck she was called out of bed for for all the use she's been so far.
Becker wonders if this is what projecting feels like.
“All this snow,” he says slowly, “just wondering where it came from.”
“Met Office are thinking the same thing,” Matt announces from behind them. “They want to send a couple of scientists over to run tests on the melted snow.”
“What did you tell them?” Becker asks.
Matt tilts his head. “Lester okayed it. Advancing the arena of human knowledge, something like that.”
Becker smirks.
“You gonna use that line on him later?” Connor asks. Then he scrunches up his face. “On second thought, no, I don't want to know.”
“The news crews, on the other hand...” Matt trails off.
“Oh, shut up,” Becker tells him.
o o o o o
“Anomaly dated to before the Carboniferous, in case you were wondering,” Becker says later that evening.
“I wasn't,” James replies. “Have you not seen how News 24 has all but re-branded themselves as the ARC's own personal newsfeed?”
Becker doesn't answer that. Instead he looks through the window. He and Lester are in the observational room overlooking the ARC's menagerie. Its number of residents has been slowly depleting over the last several months, thanks in part to time-appropriate anomalies but also to worldwide zoos and parks offering the resources to help once-dead species begin to repopulate.
One resident is still hanging around. Becker can't tell if that's because it's tricky to re-home a lone several thousand year old Columbian mammoth in the twenty-first century, or if James is just that attached to the behemoth.
He suspects it's a little of both.
Did they say anything else about what happened today?”
James' mouth twitches. “Only that it was a shame you didn't get to play with your guns.”
“Nothing to shoot.”
“Of course, dear.”
Becker tries not to smile, and focuses on the mammoth instead. “I'd have taken him back through. If the anomaly went to an appropriate time period, I mean.”
James turns to look at him, and his expression is borderline soft. “I know. But I'm glad it didn't. The last thing I want is for someone else to get lost in time. I mean - can you imagine the paperwork involved? Not to mention the press conferences.”
There might be a declaration of sorts hidden in that statement, but Becker knows better than to press. Instead he smirks and goes with: “I think the end result would have been worth it.”
James' eyebrow climbs. “The mammoth returning to where he belongs?”
“No,” Becker tells him. He turns back to the window and counts to five. “Coming back through the anomaly and huddling up against you for warmth... in front of all... those... cameras.”
“You wouldn't dare,” James says confidently.
Becker just grins at him. Perhaps it's best if they never find out.
Fandom: Primeval
Summary: In which a snowstorm in July is connected to the revelation that Becker actually would do anything for love. (Yes, even that.)
Characters: Becker/Lester, Emily, Connor, Matt; references to others.
Rating: PG
Length: ~1800
Beta: explodedpen
Spoilers: Through series 5.
Warnings: Some naughty language. Bad weather.
Author's Notes: Written for celeste9 for the primeval_denial Secret Santa, using the prompt "something with snow and hudding for warmth". Huge thanks to explodedpen for the support, encouragement and unholy enthusiasm, especially when the story derailed somewhat at the last minute.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Becker wakes up slowly, cocooned by warmth and streaks of sunlight. He rolls onto his front and reaches out blindly for -
- nothing. He fumbles around a few times, but doesn't find anything but warm air. He groans and opens his eyes.
This is how Becker finds out he's alone in bed. He buries his face in the pillow and groans a few more times before bracing himself, pulling the quilt back and climbing out of bed. There are voices coming from the living room and Becker pads in that direction, running a hand through his hair and pondering tea.
He finds the target of his aborted cuddle in the living room. Despite the obscenely early hour - on their shared day off, no less - Lester is fully dressed and staring at the television. Becker belatedly realises he's holding a phone to his ear.
“S'going on, James?”
Lester twitches slightly, and gestures at the television with his free hand. Becker blinks a few times, then squints for good measure. He thinks he recognises the BBC breakfast news, people flapping their arms about and making noises that Becker needs caffeine before he can decipher.
Then the picture cuts to a park. Except there's snow falling, fast and thick, and a reporter staring at the camera bleating something or other. The words LIVE FEED flash across the bottom of the screen. A lot.
Becker frowns. “S'July. Why's there snow?”
Lester sighs loudly. “Let me call you back, Jess. I'm afraid my better half is currently ill equipped for this situation.” He pockets the phone and eyes Becker up and down, but without his usual interest. “Get dressed, and I'll put the kettle on.”
“But -”
Lester holds up a hand. “Hilary,” he says.
The fog in Becker's mind starts to clear. James never calls him by his first name unless... there's an emergency. This is an emergency.
He glances back at the television just in time for the breakfast hosts to giggle nervously. One of them pulls a face at the camera and quips: “The ARC team are going to have a field day with this one.”
And then it sinks in. “Anomaly,” Becker says slowly.
Oh, shit.
o o o o o
The park has been cordoned off by the time the ARC team arrives. Becker pulls up last and hangs back as Connor and Matt get to work establishing a workable perimeter. Becker decides to be infinitely more useful, and corrals his team into setting up a tent where the science stuff can happen relatively safely.
The anomaly's maybe ten metres directly above an oak tree, and the snow is still falling thickly, fast enough to set in the middle of the park and leave the edges of the so-called blast zone a disgusting looking mixture of slush and mud.
He takes in the rest of the scene. The reporters have clustered at the far end of the park, behind a line of police sporting hi-vis jackets and helmets. Becker snorts and slings his Mossberg over his shoulder.
Emily joins him a moment later. “The reporters would like someone to make a statement.”
“Someone from the Met Office?” Connor asks with a quick grin.
Becker snorts. “They'll still be reeling from the shock come actual winter.”
Emily frowns at him, but it's Connor who jumps in. “They overreact to pretty much everything these days. Equal parts disturbing and funny.”
Becker pulls a face and scans the park again. He stops on a small cluster of - something - maybe twenty metres away. They look just like lumps in the snow. “Any indication of a creature incursion?”
“Abby's monitoring the feeds from the ARC,” Connor says from behind a laptop. “Nothing's come through.”
Becker nods, and urge to march over and poke holes in the snowdrifts lessens by a tiny fraction. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but he's been feeling more and more redundant lately. Since the ARC had gone public following the worldwide anomalies and Burton's own brand of mad science gone wrong, every single branch of the military and police has been offering to step up in the name of national security and safety - today's Met themed cordon very much a case in point.
“Connor, how soon until you can lock the anomaly?” Matt asks, interrupting Becker's now decidedly maudlin train of thought.
Becker glances over to see Connor shake his head. “In this weather? Could be tricky. I'll give it a shot, though.”
Matt claps him on the shoulder. “See that you do.”`
“Reporters,” Emily says pointedly. Matt sighs, fishes out a woollen hat from someone's backpack and heads over to the miniature cluster of cameras and news crews.
On a whim, Becker digs through another pack and pulls out a pair of binoculars, and focuses on the lumpy snowdrift things. It takes him a few seconds to figure out the focus settings, and when the objects come into focus, he laughs.
“What is it?” Emily asks.
Becker just chuckles, hands her the binoculars and waits.
“Please tell me those - things - were constructed by children,” she says faintly.
Becker smirks. “Probably. Connor, have you ever tried building a snowman with a really big -”
“Don't,” Emily interrupts him. She hands Becker the binoculars back and crosses her arms.
“What?” Connor asks. “What is it?”
“An apparent decline in children's understanding of basic human anatomy,” Emily tells him. Feeling relatively safe behind her, Becker illustrates Emily's statement with his hands.
Connor snorts, but says nothing. At least, not about the snowmen. “Think I'm ready to lock this thing up. Becker, give me a hand here?”
“Sure.” Becker manoeuvres the anomaly locking device into a position under the tent where it's less likely to get bombarded with snow, and aims it upwards at the anomaly. It's weird, he thinks dimly. His brain knows that this much snow means his extremities should be under threat of falling off, yet there's summer heat on his back, melting the snow almost as fast as it's settling.
At least there aren't any creatures this time. Just everything else.
“Okay,” Connor mutters, “one moment please.”
Becker gets an eyeful of fresh, prehistoric snow that quickly melts and runs down his neck and underneath his shirt. “Any time you like.”
There's a loud smash of keys behind him and the anomaly lock starts whirring and emitting its high pitched tune - and sure enough, the anomaly convulses and closes in on itself. Abruptly the snowstorm stops, and the team are left standing in a field of white in the middle of summer.
Applause sounds out from the other side of the police cordon. Job well done.
Becker stares up at the anomaly, and he thinks he has an idea. “Connor,” he calls out, “is there any way to tell when the anomaly leads to without reopening it?”
“Dunno.” Connor sounds like this idea has only just occurred to him. “Why?”
Becker shrugs. “Curious.”
Connor looks unconvinced, but he nods anyway.
“What are you thinking?” Emily asks him. She looks a bit how Becker feels - wondering what the heck she was called out of bed for for all the use she's been so far.
Becker wonders if this is what projecting feels like.
“All this snow,” he says slowly, “just wondering where it came from.”
“Met Office are thinking the same thing,” Matt announces from behind them. “They want to send a couple of scientists over to run tests on the melted snow.”
“What did you tell them?” Becker asks.
Matt tilts his head. “Lester okayed it. Advancing the arena of human knowledge, something like that.”
Becker smirks.
“You gonna use that line on him later?” Connor asks. Then he scrunches up his face. “On second thought, no, I don't want to know.”
“The news crews, on the other hand...” Matt trails off.
“Oh, shut up,” Becker tells him.
o o o o o
“Anomaly dated to before the Carboniferous, in case you were wondering,” Becker says later that evening.
“I wasn't,” James replies. “Have you not seen how News 24 has all but re-branded themselves as the ARC's own personal newsfeed?”
Becker doesn't answer that. Instead he looks through the window. He and Lester are in the observational room overlooking the ARC's menagerie. Its number of residents has been slowly depleting over the last several months, thanks in part to time-appropriate anomalies but also to worldwide zoos and parks offering the resources to help once-dead species begin to repopulate.
One resident is still hanging around. Becker can't tell if that's because it's tricky to re-home a lone several thousand year old Columbian mammoth in the twenty-first century, or if James is just that attached to the behemoth.
He suspects it's a little of both.
Did they say anything else about what happened today?”
James' mouth twitches. “Only that it was a shame you didn't get to play with your guns.”
“Nothing to shoot.”
“Of course, dear.”
Becker tries not to smile, and focuses on the mammoth instead. “I'd have taken him back through. If the anomaly went to an appropriate time period, I mean.”
James turns to look at him, and his expression is borderline soft. “I know. But I'm glad it didn't. The last thing I want is for someone else to get lost in time. I mean - can you imagine the paperwork involved? Not to mention the press conferences.”
There might be a declaration of sorts hidden in that statement, but Becker knows better than to press. Instead he smirks and goes with: “I think the end result would have been worth it.”
James' eyebrow climbs. “The mammoth returning to where he belongs?”
“No,” Becker tells him. He turns back to the window and counts to five. “Coming back through the anomaly and huddling up against you for warmth... in front of all... those... cameras.”
“You wouldn't dare,” James says confidently.
Becker just grins at him. Perhaps it's best if they never find out.