Primeval fic: Memories Of A Different Life (1/2)
Title: Memories Of A Different Life (1/2)
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~3950 (of ~6700)
Characters: James Lester, Tom Ryan, (Christine Johnson, Team, OC)
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: Um, I'm not entirely sure what this is. Possibly a bit of Lester introspection on life? Thanks go to Fifi for the beta, cheers m'dear. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Part 2 here.
Warnings: Character and OC deaths mentioned, along with angst and dark thoughts. A little sprinkling of slash and a dash of het too.
Christine Marie Johnson had been the bane of my life but... at one point, she had also been so much more than that for me. Which was the only reason I had for being here, walking towards her grave on a grey autumnal morning. The dampness of the air slowly saturated my suit, leaving my shirt clinging to my skin by the time I stood over her final resting place and I allowed my thoughts to wander. A smile flickered across my face as I considered what my people - and Christine's - would think of me standing here, but then again, as far as I knew, they didn't know I was here and I had no reason to inform them of my visit. It would raise too many questions, ones that I had no wish to answer, but which brought back memories of a different life.
As I stared down at Christine's grave, I recalled how we had met as two young, wet-behind-the-ears agents, both keen to prove ourselves and eager to show how good we were. Blinded by glory and patriotism and stupidity, so sure we could make a difference to the world.
We had worked well together in training, forming a strong partnership, and our boss decided we should become a team once we graduated from the training program. We had also started a relationship, even if it was against regulations. One that I was fairly sure our boss had known about but had tacitly allowed, after all, it gave him a hold if either of us had stepped out of line.
As I stood over the empty grave, my thoughts wandered back over my recent encounters with Christine, after so long an absence of her in my life. Indeed, until a few months ago I believed - hoped - that she was out of my life for good. The last I had heard on the grapevine was that she had been sent to Jamaica and I had known she had been exiled for one of her many sins. Not that I cared why she had been sent, I only breathed a sigh of relief that she was half a world away from me. I had promptly forgotten about her, too caught up in containing dinosaurs and keeping their presence a secret from the public. I should have known better, I should have remembered that it was a mistake to lose track of her. A mistake that had come back to bite me when I had read her name as the new military liaison for the ARC. I had been so shocked that I had to read her name several times to make sure that my eyes hadn't been playing tricks on me. I firmly believe it was the shock of seeing her again that allowed her to wrong foot me the first time we met after so many years, leaving me stuttering like a schoolboy in front of their first crush. It had been then that I realised I had been wilfully blind for many years and had the nasty, distasteful realisation that I still had feelings for her. Feelings I had known she would use mercilessly against me if she ever found out about them and the bitch had - even worse, she had taken the ARC from me.
I smiled as I recalled the rush of pleasure I had felt when I had listened to the recording Becker had made. However, I just couldn't believe Christine could have made such an elementary error in talking about such things in an insecure location and to a man she knew had been loyal to me. It just didn't make sense to me and so I had hesitated for several long moments as I tried to figure out how she could have forgotten so much of the training drilled into our heads all those years ago. All I could think was that she believed Becker was only interested in promotion and how she could help him climb through the ranks. In the end, I had taken the risk and played it to the minister, it had felt so good to watch his face, knowing I was not the only one who had fallen for Christine's dubious charms. I really had hoped that would be the last I would ever hear from her, but she had bounced back to twist the minister around her little finger as she lead him around by his dick. Christine always had excelled in Honey Traps, which was a rather sobering thought when I thought about it. Had she ever truly loved me?
I would never know the answer to that question, not that it looked as if I'd get my wish now... maybe. I knew Becker had reported that she'd been dragged through an anomaly - kicking and screaming - by a bloody future predator, but... I knew she'd survived tighter situations than that, after all, I'd been in several of them with her. I shook my head and knew that until I saw her bloodied and lifeless body for myself that I wouldn't truly believe she was really dead, and even then, I would still wonder. After encountering Helen Cutter and her bloody clones, I'd be a fool not to consider the possibility.
It was an odd feeling to know, or at least suspect, that I'd never see Christine again, for she had been part of my life for so long. We had clashed when we had first met, both vying to be top of the class, and we had never really stopped fighting and competing over who was the best... even in bed. She had been a thorn in my side long before she'd tried to wrestle the ARC from me. I grimaced at that thought, my hand absently rubbing my side as I recalled that she had shot me once, I still bore the scar and it should have served as a reminder to never underestimate Christine.
I sighed again as I looked down at Christine's empty grave and felt the conflicting emotions I felt for her churn inside me. Love and hate, two sides of the same coin, and as much as I had come to loathe Christine, that hadn't always been the case.
Training had been an experience, I had learnt how to behave in various social situations, how to gamble - both to win and to lose convincingly - and a hundred other social mores at the same time I had been taught how to break-and-enter, how to hack computers and set explosives and a hundred different ways to kill - from using my bare hands to knives to guns to bad sushi.
It was then, when I had been partnered with Christine and we had been cramming our courses, that we had started our relationship, one based on lust. No, that was a lie, for I was sure that I had loved Christine once - the love I had once felt for her was the only reason I could have felt drawn to come here, to stand over her grave, especially on such a miserable morning. I had slept with her, and while no one would ever call us friends, it had created a bond between us and we could almost anticipate what the other would do in a situation.
I smiled, the sex had certainly been bloody good and... I smiled as I recalled how bloody amazing those interrogation techniques had felt when turned into games that, I had to admit, no sane person would ever consider playing and, truthfully, we only played them after especially trying missions. Even then, we were careful and knew exactly how much pressure to use in breath control and the like, but the thrill of danger had heightened every orgasm. It had been dangerous and could have had us sanctioned, but we hadn't cared as it had provided a release from all the tension and fear we felt but couldn't show.
Not that the reason for our risky games mattered in the end, what did was that it had changed me in ways that scared me. I found myself craving the excitement and the risk of death, finding everything else lacking in some way and I was sure it affected Christine in the same way. We both courted death far too casually in those days and I was not so far gone that I hadn't realised I had to stop.
Our split had been amicable on the whole, certainly separate postings - and I'm sure our boss had his hand in that, not willing for two of his best assets to clash - had probably helped as being on different continents made sneaking off for sex somewhat of a logistical nightmare. Oh, we could have done it and I will admit that the need to do so had been hard to resist after a particularly difficult operation, but I had been determined not to succumb to her charms once more. She was an addiction and like any addiction, she would end up killing me. Instead I fell into a pattern of anonymous one night stands, male or female, I didn't care, I just needed the touch of another human, no matter how briefly, to remind me that I was still one of them.
I had to wonder, in those few moments I allowed myself to be introspective, whether being with Christine had ruined me for a normal relationship. My marriage had certainly faltered, although I had to admit that the lies I told about my work and the odd and unexplained absences and injuries certainly hadn't helped. I sometimes wondered if I had been running from the darkness of my life back then when I met my old girlfriend on one of my infrequent returns to London. We had managed several dates and the memories of more innocent times had, I believe, lulled me into a false sense of happiness when I asked her to marry me. I think - hope - that I had honestly wanted to settle down with the woman I believed I loved, but I soon realised I had made a terrible mistake. How could I be honest with her when my career involved all sorts of shady, if not black, operations and my hands were red with blood? Not that I had meant to lie to Sally, but not being able to share things with her led to the breakdown of our marriage. It had all been my fault, maybe if I had been honest - or at least, as honest as I could be - maybe we would still have been together and I could have been a proper father to my children.
I sometimes think that I could - should - have tried harder and kept in touch with Sally and the boys, but I hadn't. No, at the time I had firmly believed that my life and my deeds had destroyed any chance I had at happiness and I knew I had not tried to save my marriage, believing that they would be better off without my in their lives. It was something I had come to regret, but I knew I could do nothing about it now, I had lost contact with my family and I doubted they would welcome me back into their lives.
I sighed deeply. Even if my family had, by some miracle, wanted me back, I wasn't sure I would go. I might have walked away from my previous life but its soul-deep strain had never left me. How could it, when my hands were red with blood, of both the guilty and the innocent I had failed to save. I still woke in the night in a cold sweat, my heart hammering in my chest, and the memory of my last mission as clear as if it had just happened. So many innocents lost on my watch and I still remembered their screams. I was almost happier to dream of being hunted down by Leek's bloody predator, its claws digging into my flesh, its jaws closing in until I woke with its rank breath in my nostrils and its teeth ripping my face off.
I shivered as my thoughts started to turn to that memory - of how I had failed to kill the man I had been sent to kill and innocent people had paid with their lives and their pain. I could still hear the tortured sound of metal twisting and tearing, of the screams of the maimed and injured. Oh, I could blame the shoddy intelligence and the fact that someone had betrayed us, but it had still been my fault. If only I had been faster, if only... I shook my head, madness lay that way.
That mission changed me forever and I had returned home to England, injured and haunted by nightmares every night, my resignation - what a joke, I knew I couldn't resign - burning a hole in my pocket. Not that my boss had liked that, but he also hadn't pressed me to stay. No, he was much too canny for that and instead insisted that I took some time off, to rest and see my family. What family? My parents were long dead and my divorce had been finalised while I was away. I'd seen the solicitor's letter on my return, along with Sally's own, in which she clearly stated she and the boys wanted nothing more to do with me and for that I could not blame them. Even though I missed having the sanity of Sally and boys to come home to, missed the normality of a life I had never known, I had felt I was far too damaged by my work and I had no wish to taint them with my presence. They'd be better off if they forgot I ever existed, but it was hard to return home to an empty flat each night with only my thoughts and memories for company.
Instead I spent my days fighting my recalcitrant body as I attempted to regain my fitness and complete the paperwork my boss so kindly dumped on me. I pushed myself harder than my doctors advised in the hope of falling into exhausted and dream-free sleep. It didn't work and I spent my nights sitting at home until the empty flat and my haunted thoughts drove me out first to drink and then to shag in a desperate attempt to drown out the screams that woke me in a cold sweat every night. It didn't help to know that my boss would call me in once I was fit and 'offer' me a new job, a new target to be eliminated.
Thus it hadn't come as a surprise when a few months later, when I was once more fit - at least physically - to be summoned to report in for my new role. What had surprised me was being told to report to the Home Office, not my normal line of work and I had to wonder what my boss was plotting. It turned out to be a little task to look into and deal with while I considered my future. I read the mission briefing very carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when I realised it was not a kill order. Even then, I knew I had little choice but to accept the job and do as I had been 'requested', it might not have been one of my usual tasks but I could spot my boss' hand and knew it had been instigated by him. It was clear to me that his highly paid psychiatrists had warned him that I was unstable and unfit for active duty, it was also clear to me that he had no intention of losing my valuable skill set. This job was merely to keep me busy and in his sphere of influence until I came to terms with my last mission. Even knowing it was a ploy, the thought of not being responsible for life and death decisions appealed to me and, after all, it had to be better than the bloody paperwork I was drowning in.
I soon came to doubt the wisdom of my decision as I read the files I had been given. My eyebrow quirked in a mixture of disbelief and disdain as I read about dinosaurs and holes in time. What the hell was my boss playing at? I almost wondered if this was his idea of a joke, except, my boss was one of the most cheerless men I had ever encountered, it certainly wasn't his style. But still, joke or no joke, I knew I was stuck with my new task unless I agreed to return to active duty and I was not sure if I ever would be, the thought of pulling the trigger on another human left me shaking and sick. Of course, I had a few other options, I could make a run for it - I could probably survive for several years hiding from my boss but it would be no life and I knew he would have no compunction about using Sally and my boys against me - or I could really hand my notice in and hope whoever was assigned to kill me made it clean, or I could take my own life - quick, clean and painlessly. As I was not suicidal, none of those options appealed to me and so I saw no choice but to take on my new task.
Re-reading the files I had been given, I even wondered if this project might be my redemption, a way to... not remove the blood from my hands but maybe, somehow, balance all the deaths I hadn't prevented against those lives I would be involved in saving from the menace of dinosaurs.
***
Of course, I had almost reconsidered accepting active service when I had discovered exactly who my so-called expert team was. I had been even more tempted to do so after I had met them, except I had woken the previous night in a sweat-soaked bed, shivering hard enough to rattle my teeth before I had almost fallen out of bed in my haste to throw up. The screams from my nightmare still echoed in my ears and I knew then that I had to make amends. I had to hope that my first impressions would be proven wrong... although I knew I wouldn't be that lucky and it had not taken long for my worst fears to be proven correct.
My second-in-command, one Oliver Leek, was just the sort of man who had all my instincts screaming not to trust him, he reminded me of far too many men I had met in my previous career - men who would sell their own mothers if it would benefit them. Not that my explorations of Leek's files or records had revealed anything useful to me and... well, it was difficult to do too much digging when one wasn't following procedure in the first place. I had considered an illegal wiretap... but that would probably have got back to my boss and, well, I had no wish to give him more of a hold on me. No, I had been forced to accept that Leek was just the type of man who came over as a slimy sycophant who was always brown-nosing and it wasn't a secret I despised the man. I also never fully trusted him and vowed to keep as much of an eye on him as possible.
Nick Cutter, well, what could I say about the man? He was a maverick, stubborn and a pain-in-the arse. He was so convinced that he was right that he never doubted himself and that reminded me of myself, at least before my last terrible mission. It thus didn't surprise me that most of our conversations were arguments. He was obviously the type of man who didn't understand that sometimes to save the many, you had to be prepared to lose a few. Unfortunately for me, Cutter did appear to be the best man for the job.
Stephen Hart, bloody hell, now he was a disaster waiting to happen. I couldn't imagine the professor, who had apparently set his late wife up on a pedestal, would have been happy to learn that his best friend had screwed her and never told him about it, even when she had become missing, presumed dead. I knew how guilt could get people to do stupid and reckless things, but even I considered that Hart had taken his martyrdom complex too far. I had little doubt that, if left unresolved, it would cause his death and all I could hope for was that he didn't take anyone else with him.
Connor Temple. Oh god, someone save me from idealistic idiots like Temple. I could easily believe the boy had never met a conspiracy theory he didn't like. On the more positive side, he had a knack with computers and the ADD was proving to be useful in getting our team to the anomalies earlier and thus saving lives as well as helping to keep the secret safe. I might think Temple was an idiot when it came to most aspects of life, but I had quickly come to the conclusion that he was essential to the project if I wanted to limit the injures and deaths the anomalies caused.
Abby Maitland, now she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, apart from keeping that damned lizard. She might not want to kill any of the creatures but at least she understood that sometimes it was necessary. She might even be able to rein in the wilder ideas Temple came up with as the boy was certainly smitten with her.
The new PR woman, one Jenny Lewis, was proving to be good as her job but something was off about her. I wouldn't put it past my boss to put someone in to keep an eye on me. Lorraine had been my first suspect, what with her being ex-MI5, and she was still a strong contender... but Jenny just got all my instincts screaming that there was more to her than met the eye. Cutter's ramblings about her, that she should have been someone else and that we had changed the time line somehow, certainly didn't help. Actually, listening to the mad professor's rants, I would have gladly traded Leek in for this Claudia Brown, especially if I could keep Jenny as well.
As for the captain of the Special Forces assigned to the ARC, one Thomas Ryan, he was a highly competent soldier, well-respected by his men and bloody gorgeous on the eye. Under any other circumstances, I might have become friends with him and, well, I wouldn't have minded being much more to the man as I happily swung both ways. But I was determined to preserve my façade of a bureaucrat and thus I couldn't very well admit to knowing my way around either weapons or warfare. I decided it would be easier for me if I kept my distance from the captain, getting close to him would have led to temptation and to far too many questions that I never wanted to have to answer.
But somehow, my rag-tag and dysfunctional team worked. Oh, I had little control over them at times when they ignored my orders at will and did exactly what they wanted to - but they did the job and saved lives and, for that, I was thankful.
Part 2 here.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~3950 (of ~6700)
Characters: James Lester, Tom Ryan, (Christine Johnson, Team, OC)
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: Um, I'm not entirely sure what this is. Possibly a bit of Lester introspection on life? Thanks go to Fifi for the beta, cheers m'dear. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Part 2 here.
Warnings: Character and OC deaths mentioned, along with angst and dark thoughts. A little sprinkling of slash and a dash of het too.
Christine Marie Johnson had been the bane of my life but... at one point, she had also been so much more than that for me. Which was the only reason I had for being here, walking towards her grave on a grey autumnal morning. The dampness of the air slowly saturated my suit, leaving my shirt clinging to my skin by the time I stood over her final resting place and I allowed my thoughts to wander. A smile flickered across my face as I considered what my people - and Christine's - would think of me standing here, but then again, as far as I knew, they didn't know I was here and I had no reason to inform them of my visit. It would raise too many questions, ones that I had no wish to answer, but which brought back memories of a different life.
As I stared down at Christine's grave, I recalled how we had met as two young, wet-behind-the-ears agents, both keen to prove ourselves and eager to show how good we were. Blinded by glory and patriotism and stupidity, so sure we could make a difference to the world.
We had worked well together in training, forming a strong partnership, and our boss decided we should become a team once we graduated from the training program. We had also started a relationship, even if it was against regulations. One that I was fairly sure our boss had known about but had tacitly allowed, after all, it gave him a hold if either of us had stepped out of line.
As I stood over the empty grave, my thoughts wandered back over my recent encounters with Christine, after so long an absence of her in my life. Indeed, until a few months ago I believed - hoped - that she was out of my life for good. The last I had heard on the grapevine was that she had been sent to Jamaica and I had known she had been exiled for one of her many sins. Not that I cared why she had been sent, I only breathed a sigh of relief that she was half a world away from me. I had promptly forgotten about her, too caught up in containing dinosaurs and keeping their presence a secret from the public. I should have known better, I should have remembered that it was a mistake to lose track of her. A mistake that had come back to bite me when I had read her name as the new military liaison for the ARC. I had been so shocked that I had to read her name several times to make sure that my eyes hadn't been playing tricks on me. I firmly believe it was the shock of seeing her again that allowed her to wrong foot me the first time we met after so many years, leaving me stuttering like a schoolboy in front of their first crush. It had been then that I realised I had been wilfully blind for many years and had the nasty, distasteful realisation that I still had feelings for her. Feelings I had known she would use mercilessly against me if she ever found out about them and the bitch had - even worse, she had taken the ARC from me.
I smiled as I recalled the rush of pleasure I had felt when I had listened to the recording Becker had made. However, I just couldn't believe Christine could have made such an elementary error in talking about such things in an insecure location and to a man she knew had been loyal to me. It just didn't make sense to me and so I had hesitated for several long moments as I tried to figure out how she could have forgotten so much of the training drilled into our heads all those years ago. All I could think was that she believed Becker was only interested in promotion and how she could help him climb through the ranks. In the end, I had taken the risk and played it to the minister, it had felt so good to watch his face, knowing I was not the only one who had fallen for Christine's dubious charms. I really had hoped that would be the last I would ever hear from her, but she had bounced back to twist the minister around her little finger as she lead him around by his dick. Christine always had excelled in Honey Traps, which was a rather sobering thought when I thought about it. Had she ever truly loved me?
I would never know the answer to that question, not that it looked as if I'd get my wish now... maybe. I knew Becker had reported that she'd been dragged through an anomaly - kicking and screaming - by a bloody future predator, but... I knew she'd survived tighter situations than that, after all, I'd been in several of them with her. I shook my head and knew that until I saw her bloodied and lifeless body for myself that I wouldn't truly believe she was really dead, and even then, I would still wonder. After encountering Helen Cutter and her bloody clones, I'd be a fool not to consider the possibility.
It was an odd feeling to know, or at least suspect, that I'd never see Christine again, for she had been part of my life for so long. We had clashed when we had first met, both vying to be top of the class, and we had never really stopped fighting and competing over who was the best... even in bed. She had been a thorn in my side long before she'd tried to wrestle the ARC from me. I grimaced at that thought, my hand absently rubbing my side as I recalled that she had shot me once, I still bore the scar and it should have served as a reminder to never underestimate Christine.
I sighed again as I looked down at Christine's empty grave and felt the conflicting emotions I felt for her churn inside me. Love and hate, two sides of the same coin, and as much as I had come to loathe Christine, that hadn't always been the case.
Training had been an experience, I had learnt how to behave in various social situations, how to gamble - both to win and to lose convincingly - and a hundred other social mores at the same time I had been taught how to break-and-enter, how to hack computers and set explosives and a hundred different ways to kill - from using my bare hands to knives to guns to bad sushi.
It was then, when I had been partnered with Christine and we had been cramming our courses, that we had started our relationship, one based on lust. No, that was a lie, for I was sure that I had loved Christine once - the love I had once felt for her was the only reason I could have felt drawn to come here, to stand over her grave, especially on such a miserable morning. I had slept with her, and while no one would ever call us friends, it had created a bond between us and we could almost anticipate what the other would do in a situation.
I smiled, the sex had certainly been bloody good and... I smiled as I recalled how bloody amazing those interrogation techniques had felt when turned into games that, I had to admit, no sane person would ever consider playing and, truthfully, we only played them after especially trying missions. Even then, we were careful and knew exactly how much pressure to use in breath control and the like, but the thrill of danger had heightened every orgasm. It had been dangerous and could have had us sanctioned, but we hadn't cared as it had provided a release from all the tension and fear we felt but couldn't show.
Not that the reason for our risky games mattered in the end, what did was that it had changed me in ways that scared me. I found myself craving the excitement and the risk of death, finding everything else lacking in some way and I was sure it affected Christine in the same way. We both courted death far too casually in those days and I was not so far gone that I hadn't realised I had to stop.
Our split had been amicable on the whole, certainly separate postings - and I'm sure our boss had his hand in that, not willing for two of his best assets to clash - had probably helped as being on different continents made sneaking off for sex somewhat of a logistical nightmare. Oh, we could have done it and I will admit that the need to do so had been hard to resist after a particularly difficult operation, but I had been determined not to succumb to her charms once more. She was an addiction and like any addiction, she would end up killing me. Instead I fell into a pattern of anonymous one night stands, male or female, I didn't care, I just needed the touch of another human, no matter how briefly, to remind me that I was still one of them.
I had to wonder, in those few moments I allowed myself to be introspective, whether being with Christine had ruined me for a normal relationship. My marriage had certainly faltered, although I had to admit that the lies I told about my work and the odd and unexplained absences and injuries certainly hadn't helped. I sometimes wondered if I had been running from the darkness of my life back then when I met my old girlfriend on one of my infrequent returns to London. We had managed several dates and the memories of more innocent times had, I believe, lulled me into a false sense of happiness when I asked her to marry me. I think - hope - that I had honestly wanted to settle down with the woman I believed I loved, but I soon realised I had made a terrible mistake. How could I be honest with her when my career involved all sorts of shady, if not black, operations and my hands were red with blood? Not that I had meant to lie to Sally, but not being able to share things with her led to the breakdown of our marriage. It had all been my fault, maybe if I had been honest - or at least, as honest as I could be - maybe we would still have been together and I could have been a proper father to my children.
I sometimes think that I could - should - have tried harder and kept in touch with Sally and the boys, but I hadn't. No, at the time I had firmly believed that my life and my deeds had destroyed any chance I had at happiness and I knew I had not tried to save my marriage, believing that they would be better off without my in their lives. It was something I had come to regret, but I knew I could do nothing about it now, I had lost contact with my family and I doubted they would welcome me back into their lives.
I sighed deeply. Even if my family had, by some miracle, wanted me back, I wasn't sure I would go. I might have walked away from my previous life but its soul-deep strain had never left me. How could it, when my hands were red with blood, of both the guilty and the innocent I had failed to save. I still woke in the night in a cold sweat, my heart hammering in my chest, and the memory of my last mission as clear as if it had just happened. So many innocents lost on my watch and I still remembered their screams. I was almost happier to dream of being hunted down by Leek's bloody predator, its claws digging into my flesh, its jaws closing in until I woke with its rank breath in my nostrils and its teeth ripping my face off.
I shivered as my thoughts started to turn to that memory - of how I had failed to kill the man I had been sent to kill and innocent people had paid with their lives and their pain. I could still hear the tortured sound of metal twisting and tearing, of the screams of the maimed and injured. Oh, I could blame the shoddy intelligence and the fact that someone had betrayed us, but it had still been my fault. If only I had been faster, if only... I shook my head, madness lay that way.
That mission changed me forever and I had returned home to England, injured and haunted by nightmares every night, my resignation - what a joke, I knew I couldn't resign - burning a hole in my pocket. Not that my boss had liked that, but he also hadn't pressed me to stay. No, he was much too canny for that and instead insisted that I took some time off, to rest and see my family. What family? My parents were long dead and my divorce had been finalised while I was away. I'd seen the solicitor's letter on my return, along with Sally's own, in which she clearly stated she and the boys wanted nothing more to do with me and for that I could not blame them. Even though I missed having the sanity of Sally and boys to come home to, missed the normality of a life I had never known, I had felt I was far too damaged by my work and I had no wish to taint them with my presence. They'd be better off if they forgot I ever existed, but it was hard to return home to an empty flat each night with only my thoughts and memories for company.
Instead I spent my days fighting my recalcitrant body as I attempted to regain my fitness and complete the paperwork my boss so kindly dumped on me. I pushed myself harder than my doctors advised in the hope of falling into exhausted and dream-free sleep. It didn't work and I spent my nights sitting at home until the empty flat and my haunted thoughts drove me out first to drink and then to shag in a desperate attempt to drown out the screams that woke me in a cold sweat every night. It didn't help to know that my boss would call me in once I was fit and 'offer' me a new job, a new target to be eliminated.
Thus it hadn't come as a surprise when a few months later, when I was once more fit - at least physically - to be summoned to report in for my new role. What had surprised me was being told to report to the Home Office, not my normal line of work and I had to wonder what my boss was plotting. It turned out to be a little task to look into and deal with while I considered my future. I read the mission briefing very carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when I realised it was not a kill order. Even then, I knew I had little choice but to accept the job and do as I had been 'requested', it might not have been one of my usual tasks but I could spot my boss' hand and knew it had been instigated by him. It was clear to me that his highly paid psychiatrists had warned him that I was unstable and unfit for active duty, it was also clear to me that he had no intention of losing my valuable skill set. This job was merely to keep me busy and in his sphere of influence until I came to terms with my last mission. Even knowing it was a ploy, the thought of not being responsible for life and death decisions appealed to me and, after all, it had to be better than the bloody paperwork I was drowning in.
I soon came to doubt the wisdom of my decision as I read the files I had been given. My eyebrow quirked in a mixture of disbelief and disdain as I read about dinosaurs and holes in time. What the hell was my boss playing at? I almost wondered if this was his idea of a joke, except, my boss was one of the most cheerless men I had ever encountered, it certainly wasn't his style. But still, joke or no joke, I knew I was stuck with my new task unless I agreed to return to active duty and I was not sure if I ever would be, the thought of pulling the trigger on another human left me shaking and sick. Of course, I had a few other options, I could make a run for it - I could probably survive for several years hiding from my boss but it would be no life and I knew he would have no compunction about using Sally and my boys against me - or I could really hand my notice in and hope whoever was assigned to kill me made it clean, or I could take my own life - quick, clean and painlessly. As I was not suicidal, none of those options appealed to me and so I saw no choice but to take on my new task.
Re-reading the files I had been given, I even wondered if this project might be my redemption, a way to... not remove the blood from my hands but maybe, somehow, balance all the deaths I hadn't prevented against those lives I would be involved in saving from the menace of dinosaurs.
***
Of course, I had almost reconsidered accepting active service when I had discovered exactly who my so-called expert team was. I had been even more tempted to do so after I had met them, except I had woken the previous night in a sweat-soaked bed, shivering hard enough to rattle my teeth before I had almost fallen out of bed in my haste to throw up. The screams from my nightmare still echoed in my ears and I knew then that I had to make amends. I had to hope that my first impressions would be proven wrong... although I knew I wouldn't be that lucky and it had not taken long for my worst fears to be proven correct.
My second-in-command, one Oliver Leek, was just the sort of man who had all my instincts screaming not to trust him, he reminded me of far too many men I had met in my previous career - men who would sell their own mothers if it would benefit them. Not that my explorations of Leek's files or records had revealed anything useful to me and... well, it was difficult to do too much digging when one wasn't following procedure in the first place. I had considered an illegal wiretap... but that would probably have got back to my boss and, well, I had no wish to give him more of a hold on me. No, I had been forced to accept that Leek was just the type of man who came over as a slimy sycophant who was always brown-nosing and it wasn't a secret I despised the man. I also never fully trusted him and vowed to keep as much of an eye on him as possible.
Nick Cutter, well, what could I say about the man? He was a maverick, stubborn and a pain-in-the arse. He was so convinced that he was right that he never doubted himself and that reminded me of myself, at least before my last terrible mission. It thus didn't surprise me that most of our conversations were arguments. He was obviously the type of man who didn't understand that sometimes to save the many, you had to be prepared to lose a few. Unfortunately for me, Cutter did appear to be the best man for the job.
Stephen Hart, bloody hell, now he was a disaster waiting to happen. I couldn't imagine the professor, who had apparently set his late wife up on a pedestal, would have been happy to learn that his best friend had screwed her and never told him about it, even when she had become missing, presumed dead. I knew how guilt could get people to do stupid and reckless things, but even I considered that Hart had taken his martyrdom complex too far. I had little doubt that, if left unresolved, it would cause his death and all I could hope for was that he didn't take anyone else with him.
Connor Temple. Oh god, someone save me from idealistic idiots like Temple. I could easily believe the boy had never met a conspiracy theory he didn't like. On the more positive side, he had a knack with computers and the ADD was proving to be useful in getting our team to the anomalies earlier and thus saving lives as well as helping to keep the secret safe. I might think Temple was an idiot when it came to most aspects of life, but I had quickly come to the conclusion that he was essential to the project if I wanted to limit the injures and deaths the anomalies caused.
Abby Maitland, now she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, apart from keeping that damned lizard. She might not want to kill any of the creatures but at least she understood that sometimes it was necessary. She might even be able to rein in the wilder ideas Temple came up with as the boy was certainly smitten with her.
The new PR woman, one Jenny Lewis, was proving to be good as her job but something was off about her. I wouldn't put it past my boss to put someone in to keep an eye on me. Lorraine had been my first suspect, what with her being ex-MI5, and she was still a strong contender... but Jenny just got all my instincts screaming that there was more to her than met the eye. Cutter's ramblings about her, that she should have been someone else and that we had changed the time line somehow, certainly didn't help. Actually, listening to the mad professor's rants, I would have gladly traded Leek in for this Claudia Brown, especially if I could keep Jenny as well.
As for the captain of the Special Forces assigned to the ARC, one Thomas Ryan, he was a highly competent soldier, well-respected by his men and bloody gorgeous on the eye. Under any other circumstances, I might have become friends with him and, well, I wouldn't have minded being much more to the man as I happily swung both ways. But I was determined to preserve my façade of a bureaucrat and thus I couldn't very well admit to knowing my way around either weapons or warfare. I decided it would be easier for me if I kept my distance from the captain, getting close to him would have led to temptation and to far too many questions that I never wanted to have to answer.
But somehow, my rag-tag and dysfunctional team worked. Oh, I had little control over them at times when they ignored my orders at will and did exactly what they wanted to - but they did the job and saved lives and, for that, I was thankful.
Part 2 here.