Hope For The Future (2/3) - Secret Santa for TLI
Title: Hope For The Future (2/3)
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 2106 out of 5473
Characters: James Lester, Stephan Hart, (Hilary Becker, Jenny Lewis, Jess Parker)
Rating: 12
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For TLI's secret santa and her prompts: 1) Coming home for Christmas; 2) 'X' marks the spot; 3) Movie night and 4) Anything set post series. Hope you're having a wonderful Christmas.
A/N 2: Thanks go to the wonderful Fififolle for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
I woke with a groan, every muscle seemed to ache and my head was pounding. I swallowed my nausea and tried to remember. The last thing I remembered... I grabbed at my chest, fingers searching for the injury I must have, but I found nothing. What the hell had happened? I forced my eyes open and tried to rise, only for the world to tilt in a rather alarming manner when I attempted to move to quickly. Nausea still threatened and I allowed myself to collapse back onto the surprising comfortable floor. I reasoned that as nothing had tried to eat me whilst I'd been unconscious, it was unlikely anything would in the next... Oh, however long it took me to manage to move while the room remained stationary.
At least, I mused as I made myself as comfortable as I could in my new accommodation, I had time to relax for the first time in... I had no idea how long. I hadn't had a moment's rest since Convergence, between hospital appointments and the demands from the minister (mostly to find a way to fix the ADD), the media demanding answers, bloody hoax calls now we were officially a 999 emergency service and the number of committees I'd been called before to explain the actions of myself and my team over the years we'd been dealing with the anomalies. I'd been lucky to have time to still run the ARC and grab a bare handful of hours sleep a day. Not that any sleep I'd managed had been restful, not once Anderson had informed me of his 'visitor' and the news we might not have stopped the end of the world after all.
Bloody hell! I might not know who had rescued me but I had a bloody good idea, even if she was supposed to be dead. Not that I'd believe that until I saw her cold, dead body for myself, and even then, I'd wonder about clones. It had to be Helen, she was always manipulating people, events and time itself, it was obvious she was responsible for bringing me here in the first place. Especially as I do not believe in coincidences and two anomalies opening in my garage was one too many (or, to be precise, two too many) for me to believe they had happened by chance. Still, I'd be a fool to ignore the opportunity of meeting Helen, for if anyone knew what had caused the end of the world, it would be her. The question was, would she be willing to help? The last time I'd seen her, she had kidnapped Johnson and stolen the Artefact, and before that, she'd tried to blow up the ARC and kill her ex-husband. Not to mention trying to destroy humanity at Site 333...
Helen obviously wanted something from me, why else would she bring me here? Maybe I could make a deal with her, a deal with the devil maybe, but if it saved the world...What I did know was that this was giving me a headache and was the reason I had experts.
***
Once the room cooperated, I checked every inch of my new accommodation and found it to be far more secure than I would have liked. I'd been in worse... although, depending on what Helen wanted, I knew that could change if I didn't cooperate with her. I let myself slide down a wall and my eyes drifted closed, knowing I could do nothing but wait for Helen to make a dramatic entrance and inform me of why I was here.
Indeed, I was dozing when I heard the sound of the lock turning, and looked towards the door. I struggled to my feet, trying to make it look as if I didn't need the wall's support to remain standing, and pasted my best fake smile on my face. I had the perfect snarky comment ready for her but instead my eyes widened without my permission as I stared at the dead man standing before me. I blame my recent experiences and exhaustion for my inexcusable gaping at him for a moment as he spoke to me. I couldn't recall his words, although I did register the gun he had pointing at my chest.
Damn! It appeared Hart was still under the impression I was the traitor. Not surprising, as he had apparently gone to his death believing that. At least I felt I had a chance to convince him of his mistake, considering he had - presumably - rescued me from the toxic outside and the future predator, had treated my injuries and hadn't shot me... I eyed the gun and added, yet. A part of my brain chose that moment to remind me I didn't know he had done any of those things. After all, if a dead man stood before me, I wouldn't be surprised if Helen appeared at some point.
Added to that, and considering Helen's clones and Anderson's doppelgänger, I wasn't about to drop my guard around Hart for a moment, not when the Hart I had known as dead and buried, what was left of him, anyway. Still, it would have been churlish to be ungrateful and I carefully nodded my head in greeting, my voice rusty as I managed a somewhat curt, “Hart,” before succumbing to a coughing fit.
I felt an arm around my shoulders and something pressed to my lips, the scent of water filling my nostrils and I eagerly drank. Shamefully moaning when the water was pulled away and I heard Hart admonish me to drink it slower before returning the water to my lips. As much as I wanted to gulp the water and quench my thirst, common sense had me obeying Hart's advice - both as he had been one of my experts and as I feared he would remove the water from my reach if I did not.
***
Convincing Hart I was not the traitor took considerably more time that I was willing to spend - although considering I was in the future, was time really meaningful any more? I shook my head, dismissing that thought, and turned my attention back to the 'Hart problem'. The man - whether clone or, somehow, the original (and I didn't want to even consider the possibility of an alternative universe version - Cutter was more than enough) - still didn't want to believe me, even after I told him what Helen had done and tried to do to the ARC, her ex and to humanity.
I knew the question I wanted an answer to could - and I feared would - backfire on me, if anything could make my current situation worse, but I had to know... “Why?” I asked before I could think of anything better.
“Why what?” Hart looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.
I paused, wondering if I should continue but I was no coward. “If you think I'm the traitor, why did you save me?”
“Because I'm not a bloody monster!” Hart cried as he stood, hands curled into fists at his side.
“And I am?” I had to ask, before shaking my head. “I will never understand why you or Cutter thought I was the traitor.”
“Oh?”
I would be a fool to ignore an opening like that. “I'm in charge of the ARC, Dr Hart. Why would I want to shut it down?” I bit off a sigh before continuing, “And if I wanted to run an experiment...”
“Yes?” Hart asked, leaning forward with an eager expression on his face, as if I was about to reveal my deepest, darkest secrets to him.
I rubbed my aching chest before unbuttoning my shirt, tugging it open to reveal the still red scars which criss-crossed my torso. “I hardly think I'd chose the bloody future predators, do you?” I pulled my shirt closed, fumbling slightly with the buttons when I caught the expression on Hart's face, I didn't need his pity.
***
In the end, I became exasperated with Hart's stubborn refusal to believe in my innocence, and snapped at him, “And I thought you called yourself a scientist? Where's your proof? And I mean more than Helen's word and your distrust of the government.”
Hart hadn't had an answer to that and we fell into an uneasy truce. He kept his gun but I was allowed access to the rest of the base. No doubt he thought I was merely a government hatchet-man with no or little idea about the science of time travel. He should have realised I hadn't got where I was today without knowing I had to understand the work I was involved in, at least the basics. Beside, it wasn't hard to realise I had entered Helen's personal laboratory, I almost turned around but anything I could learn about Helen might be useful, even if she was definitely dead. Hopefully.
I was pottering around the laboratory when Hart found me, I looked up at the sound of his cleared throat to find the muzzle of his gun pointing at my chest. I quirked an eyebrow at him and turned back to looking through Helen's papers, ignoring the rather poor quality disapproving glare Hart was directing at me. “You're making the place look untidy, Hart,” I told him before I almost smiled when I spotted Helen's journal. I had no idea if it was the original or a copy, but it would contain the evidence I needed to prove my innocence to Hart. Yes, Helen would damn herself with her own words and I would be gracious in victory. I handed Hart the journal and told him to read it, watching as his expression changed from an eagerness to prove my guilt to shock and horror as he reached the end of the journal. Pages I knew spoke of Helen's plans for Site 333 and for her husband. What I hadn't read, until Hart gave me the journal back, was that this Hart was the original, rescued by Helen barely in time from the cage room.
Now I had to accept Hart wasn't a clone, it brought up other worrying ideas. That others I had believed dead might return as well, although that would depend if someone had rescued them as Helen had saved Hart. I had to admit I would welcome most back, if not with open arms, others... well, them being legally dead gave me several options.
With little to do until the right anomaly opened for me to return home, I spent my time reading Helen's journal, wanting insight into her, even if I was almost certain she was dead. Hart wandered by from time to time and we fell into idle chit-chat out of boredom, before discussing the state of the world and Helen's journal. I steered clear of any mention of his affair with Helen, it seemed churlish to rake over those painful wounds when I was finally close to an understanding with the man.
Every entry convincing me that Helen might have started off as a brilliant mind, but travelling thou through the anomalies had twisted that brilliance until she was insane. I had to wonder if long term anomaly exposure drove everyone mad... if Ms Merchant or Anderson would turn out to be as mad as she... Another reason to return home, but only once I knew how to prevent the world ending.
My eyes blurred with tiredness, even after I rubbed at them, and I passed the journal over to Hart when he asked for it. As he read, I let my eyes close and mused over how I'd make up my absence to my children. I woke with a start when Hart cried out and I glared at him as he gestured wildly, almost too overcome to communicate in anything resembling English. It reminded me of listening to Temple when he had one of his wilder ideas. “Hart, do remember to breath before you try to speak.”
Hart shot me a glare before following my advice. “It's here!”
“What is?” I asked, wondering what revelation Helen had made which could have caused Hart's reaction. I rather doubted it was a declaration of her undying love for him.
“The answer!”
I had obviously been over-exposed to Temple, for my first thoughts at that comment was to reply '42'. Common sense and a sense of decorum reined that impulse in and instead I enquired, “The answer to what? Please do try and be more specific.”
Hart just smiled at me. “To how we stop the end of the world.”
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 2106 out of 5473
Characters: James Lester, Stephan Hart, (Hilary Becker, Jenny Lewis, Jess Parker)
Rating: 12
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For TLI's secret santa and her prompts: 1) Coming home for Christmas; 2) 'X' marks the spot; 3) Movie night and 4) Anything set post series. Hope you're having a wonderful Christmas.
A/N 2: Thanks go to the wonderful Fififolle for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
I woke with a groan, every muscle seemed to ache and my head was pounding. I swallowed my nausea and tried to remember. The last thing I remembered... I grabbed at my chest, fingers searching for the injury I must have, but I found nothing. What the hell had happened? I forced my eyes open and tried to rise, only for the world to tilt in a rather alarming manner when I attempted to move to quickly. Nausea still threatened and I allowed myself to collapse back onto the surprising comfortable floor. I reasoned that as nothing had tried to eat me whilst I'd been unconscious, it was unlikely anything would in the next... Oh, however long it took me to manage to move while the room remained stationary.
At least, I mused as I made myself as comfortable as I could in my new accommodation, I had time to relax for the first time in... I had no idea how long. I hadn't had a moment's rest since Convergence, between hospital appointments and the demands from the minister (mostly to find a way to fix the ADD), the media demanding answers, bloody hoax calls now we were officially a 999 emergency service and the number of committees I'd been called before to explain the actions of myself and my team over the years we'd been dealing with the anomalies. I'd been lucky to have time to still run the ARC and grab a bare handful of hours sleep a day. Not that any sleep I'd managed had been restful, not once Anderson had informed me of his 'visitor' and the news we might not have stopped the end of the world after all.
Bloody hell! I might not know who had rescued me but I had a bloody good idea, even if she was supposed to be dead. Not that I'd believe that until I saw her cold, dead body for myself, and even then, I'd wonder about clones. It had to be Helen, she was always manipulating people, events and time itself, it was obvious she was responsible for bringing me here in the first place. Especially as I do not believe in coincidences and two anomalies opening in my garage was one too many (or, to be precise, two too many) for me to believe they had happened by chance. Still, I'd be a fool to ignore the opportunity of meeting Helen, for if anyone knew what had caused the end of the world, it would be her. The question was, would she be willing to help? The last time I'd seen her, she had kidnapped Johnson and stolen the Artefact, and before that, she'd tried to blow up the ARC and kill her ex-husband. Not to mention trying to destroy humanity at Site 333...
Helen obviously wanted something from me, why else would she bring me here? Maybe I could make a deal with her, a deal with the devil maybe, but if it saved the world...What I did know was that this was giving me a headache and was the reason I had experts.
***
Once the room cooperated, I checked every inch of my new accommodation and found it to be far more secure than I would have liked. I'd been in worse... although, depending on what Helen wanted, I knew that could change if I didn't cooperate with her. I let myself slide down a wall and my eyes drifted closed, knowing I could do nothing but wait for Helen to make a dramatic entrance and inform me of why I was here.
Indeed, I was dozing when I heard the sound of the lock turning, and looked towards the door. I struggled to my feet, trying to make it look as if I didn't need the wall's support to remain standing, and pasted my best fake smile on my face. I had the perfect snarky comment ready for her but instead my eyes widened without my permission as I stared at the dead man standing before me. I blame my recent experiences and exhaustion for my inexcusable gaping at him for a moment as he spoke to me. I couldn't recall his words, although I did register the gun he had pointing at my chest.
Damn! It appeared Hart was still under the impression I was the traitor. Not surprising, as he had apparently gone to his death believing that. At least I felt I had a chance to convince him of his mistake, considering he had - presumably - rescued me from the toxic outside and the future predator, had treated my injuries and hadn't shot me... I eyed the gun and added, yet. A part of my brain chose that moment to remind me I didn't know he had done any of those things. After all, if a dead man stood before me, I wouldn't be surprised if Helen appeared at some point.
Added to that, and considering Helen's clones and Anderson's doppelgänger, I wasn't about to drop my guard around Hart for a moment, not when the Hart I had known as dead and buried, what was left of him, anyway. Still, it would have been churlish to be ungrateful and I carefully nodded my head in greeting, my voice rusty as I managed a somewhat curt, “Hart,” before succumbing to a coughing fit.
I felt an arm around my shoulders and something pressed to my lips, the scent of water filling my nostrils and I eagerly drank. Shamefully moaning when the water was pulled away and I heard Hart admonish me to drink it slower before returning the water to my lips. As much as I wanted to gulp the water and quench my thirst, common sense had me obeying Hart's advice - both as he had been one of my experts and as I feared he would remove the water from my reach if I did not.
***
Convincing Hart I was not the traitor took considerably more time that I was willing to spend - although considering I was in the future, was time really meaningful any more? I shook my head, dismissing that thought, and turned my attention back to the 'Hart problem'. The man - whether clone or, somehow, the original (and I didn't want to even consider the possibility of an alternative universe version - Cutter was more than enough) - still didn't want to believe me, even after I told him what Helen had done and tried to do to the ARC, her ex and to humanity.
I knew the question I wanted an answer to could - and I feared would - backfire on me, if anything could make my current situation worse, but I had to know... “Why?” I asked before I could think of anything better.
“Why what?” Hart looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.
I paused, wondering if I should continue but I was no coward. “If you think I'm the traitor, why did you save me?”
“Because I'm not a bloody monster!” Hart cried as he stood, hands curled into fists at his side.
“And I am?” I had to ask, before shaking my head. “I will never understand why you or Cutter thought I was the traitor.”
“Oh?”
I would be a fool to ignore an opening like that. “I'm in charge of the ARC, Dr Hart. Why would I want to shut it down?” I bit off a sigh before continuing, “And if I wanted to run an experiment...”
“Yes?” Hart asked, leaning forward with an eager expression on his face, as if I was about to reveal my deepest, darkest secrets to him.
I rubbed my aching chest before unbuttoning my shirt, tugging it open to reveal the still red scars which criss-crossed my torso. “I hardly think I'd chose the bloody future predators, do you?” I pulled my shirt closed, fumbling slightly with the buttons when I caught the expression on Hart's face, I didn't need his pity.
***
In the end, I became exasperated with Hart's stubborn refusal to believe in my innocence, and snapped at him, “And I thought you called yourself a scientist? Where's your proof? And I mean more than Helen's word and your distrust of the government.”
Hart hadn't had an answer to that and we fell into an uneasy truce. He kept his gun but I was allowed access to the rest of the base. No doubt he thought I was merely a government hatchet-man with no or little idea about the science of time travel. He should have realised I hadn't got where I was today without knowing I had to understand the work I was involved in, at least the basics. Beside, it wasn't hard to realise I had entered Helen's personal laboratory, I almost turned around but anything I could learn about Helen might be useful, even if she was definitely dead. Hopefully.
I was pottering around the laboratory when Hart found me, I looked up at the sound of his cleared throat to find the muzzle of his gun pointing at my chest. I quirked an eyebrow at him and turned back to looking through Helen's papers, ignoring the rather poor quality disapproving glare Hart was directing at me. “You're making the place look untidy, Hart,” I told him before I almost smiled when I spotted Helen's journal. I had no idea if it was the original or a copy, but it would contain the evidence I needed to prove my innocence to Hart. Yes, Helen would damn herself with her own words and I would be gracious in victory. I handed Hart the journal and told him to read it, watching as his expression changed from an eagerness to prove my guilt to shock and horror as he reached the end of the journal. Pages I knew spoke of Helen's plans for Site 333 and for her husband. What I hadn't read, until Hart gave me the journal back, was that this Hart was the original, rescued by Helen barely in time from the cage room.
Now I had to accept Hart wasn't a clone, it brought up other worrying ideas. That others I had believed dead might return as well, although that would depend if someone had rescued them as Helen had saved Hart. I had to admit I would welcome most back, if not with open arms, others... well, them being legally dead gave me several options.
With little to do until the right anomaly opened for me to return home, I spent my time reading Helen's journal, wanting insight into her, even if I was almost certain she was dead. Hart wandered by from time to time and we fell into idle chit-chat out of boredom, before discussing the state of the world and Helen's journal. I steered clear of any mention of his affair with Helen, it seemed churlish to rake over those painful wounds when I was finally close to an understanding with the man.
Every entry convincing me that Helen might have started off as a brilliant mind, but travelling thou through the anomalies had twisted that brilliance until she was insane. I had to wonder if long term anomaly exposure drove everyone mad... if Ms Merchant or Anderson would turn out to be as mad as she... Another reason to return home, but only once I knew how to prevent the world ending.
My eyes blurred with tiredness, even after I rubbed at them, and I passed the journal over to Hart when he asked for it. As he read, I let my eyes close and mused over how I'd make up my absence to my children. I woke with a start when Hart cried out and I glared at him as he gestured wildly, almost too overcome to communicate in anything resembling English. It reminded me of listening to Temple when he had one of his wilder ideas. “Hart, do remember to breath before you try to speak.”
Hart shot me a glare before following my advice. “It's here!”
“What is?” I asked, wondering what revelation Helen had made which could have caused Hart's reaction. I rather doubted it was a declaration of her undying love for him.
“The answer!”
I had obviously been over-exposed to Temple, for my first thoughts at that comment was to reply '42'. Common sense and a sense of decorum reined that impulse in and instead I enquired, “The answer to what? Please do try and be more specific.”
Hart just smiled at me. “To how we stop the end of the world.”
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3