Primeval fanfic: Returning the Favour
Title: Returning the Favour
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm not making any money from it, it if you sue, all you'll get is maybe some gum.
Rating: G, maybe PG. But doubtful it reaches that far.
Summary: Connor and Duncan rescue Stephen, just not from dinosaurs.
A/N: This is sort of a follow-up to Losing Touch, and there continues to be no slash. Now, you don't have to read the Losing Touch one to get this, but it might help with a few details of how and why things are the way they are. That said, all you really need to know is that Duncan is working at the ARC, more or less in charge of the IT there. The sciency stuff I was just making up. So . . . there is no corollory. Also, Ankle Biters is a real . . . movie. And it really might be the worst work of film ever made. I think it's arguable, anyhow.
***************************************
Good God, but he hated these things, Stephen thought as he passed by the Christmas tree again on his way to the punch bowl. Pretentious, snobby, dull, stupid, wastes of time these things. It was some sort of snobby government meet and greet, designed so that various people in various scientific studies for the government could meet and theoretically get to know each other. Supposedly to improve interagency relations or some sort of nonsense like that. But this was like every upper crust party he'd ever been to. No one wanted to talk about anything but politics because no one dared to pretend that they might have other interests, and the scientists couldn't even talk to each other, because nearly all of them were in different areas of study with no common language between them.
Well, that wasn't entirely true, he thought, a little amused as Connor could be seen on the other side of the room, his hands gesturing at a mile a minute. The ARC's resident genius could. Connor absorbed scientific knowledge like a sponge, leaving him capable of dealing with everything from physics to paleobotany as needed. Instead of developing a single in-depth specialisation, Connor had made himself a true generalist, able to deal in any area as needed.
Stephen found himself frowning in curiosity then, because Connor had just passed something to Duncan as his geeky friend had come by, also taking something from Duncan and the two of them performing some sleight of hand involving the bag Connor had brought with him.
Wondering what was up, Stephen crossed the floor to join Duncan beside the table with the food on it, as the techie, who was there as Connor's plus one for reasons only they knew, slowly walked up the length of the table, perusing the selections. "What are you two up to?" Stephen asked. Anyone who was able to disable security, drag a taken apart VW beetle up three flights of stairs, rebuild it in a classroom and sneak back out again without noticing bore watching.
"Gah!" squawked Duncan. "Sorry," he said. "You startled me."
"What are you two up to?" Stephen repeated. He raised an eyebrow as Duncan shuffled about a little.
Finally he cracked. "So, when we were still students we didn't have so much cash to spare for food, right?" Duncan explained. "Conn came up with the idea of going to all the recruitment days and campus meet-and-greet things, and we'd bring bags and things and bring home the free food." He grinned. "They got angry with us one time, so we had to set up a sort of distract and drop thing." He looked at the table. "Ooh. Those have bacon!" he exclaimed happily. A moment later the little things were disappearing off the table with surprising subtlety into a few bags Duncan had hidden in his dinner jacket. "I think the best time we had was when Tom was dating Penelope and she was able to bring her really big bag with her."
Stephen looked down at the spread. It was pretty good.
"Do you have a spare bag?" he asked. God knew, if he was going to be stuck here, joining Connor and Duncan in stealing food would be a hell of a lot more fun that standing around waiting for the chance to escape. "I like the brown ones, over there," he said, pointing. Duncan promptly produced a self-sealing bag and handed it over.
"After a few runs," Duncan said, "You'd better take over sitting with the bag and Connor'll make a run at the dessert table. He kept us in biscuits for two weeks one time."
The bag Duncan had given him was soon full, and Stephen left Duncan looking over the options for another selection as he made his way to Connor. The brown eyes widened a moment as Stephen dropped off his little bag of food, then a bright grin overcame his face. "Welcome to the Dark Side, mate," he said, laughing. "I was wondering what you and Duncan were up to over there."
"What who was up to where?" Abby asked, coming up behind them. "God, this is awful. Who thinks this is a good idea?" she demanded. "The only people having fun are the government stooges."
Nick arrived on the heels of Abby's comment. "Of course they are. They think this sort of thing is fun," he groused. "I'd take watching one of Connor's Doctor Who marathons to this." He froze suddenly, glancing at Connor briefly, who smiled and shook his head.
"It's fine, Cutter," he said. "I know you don't like Who. Not everyone has to. Let's be frank, I feel that way about this and your golf tourneys." Then he tilted his head over, "I think Lester's having fun."
Stephen snorted. "Lester's enjoying the chance to say nasty things to people when they can't fight back or aren't even smart enough to know he's been horrible."
Nick suddenly twitched. "That's it. I'm getting out of here. If you make it to McAnally's I'll buy the first round, but this is just . . ." he trailed off and made his way to the door, bypassing Lester by using a policy analyst Stephen had had to shake off like a leech earlier in the evening as a human shield, and vanished out the door.
Duncan arrived. "So, I assume we've got permission to try to scarper?" he asked.
"No," Lester said sharply. They all turned to look guiltily at him. "Just because Cutter has done a runner doesn't mean the rest of you are off the hook."
It was incredibly disheartening. "This is going to be like getting out of prison, isn't it?" Connor asked warily.
Abby looked a little wild-eyed, then she said, "That's it." She vanished into the crowd, and a minute later was seen looking horrible, leaning on Jenny. When Lester tried to intercept, the two women said something to him that made every woman in the vicinity glare. He backed down and reappeared a moment later, glaring at the three men left of his alpha team.
"Well, at least you three can't claim 'woman troubles'," he said, eyes narrowed.
Abby, exiting, held up two fingers, making Duncan frown and mutter, "Peace?"
"Victory," Lester said on a heavy sigh. "You people will be the death of me."
"What?" Duncan asked, still baffled by the reference from World War II. Connor led him off, gesturing at the bag Stephen was supposed to guard for them, explaining it, and causing a look of aggravation to appear on Duncan's face.
Stuck with the bag, watching Connor and Duncan start to snitch food off the dessert table, he missed the approach. "Stephen. This is a surprise."
With a lead weight suddenly in his stomach, Stephen suddenly wished Lester hadn't vanished back into the crowd. Even being pinned by him would be better than dealing with this. He turned, just barely not wincing. "Dad. Mum."
"You're looking . . . well," his mother said, her eyes flicking up and down, dismissing the suit he wore instantly as beneath her.
"Thank you," he said, trying not to run screaming into the night. "You're looking quite nice tonight as well, mum."
Without even the hint of preamble, his father launched himself into the usual infuriating nastiness. "So, I take it you are not here because you've chosen to take up working with real science in a civilised manner?"
Smiling tightly and falsely, Stephen said, "Well, the project I work on is classified. So, I'm afraid you won't be able to get any details from me on it."
"As if I cared about whatever silly little adjunct programme you've attached yourself to, Stephen," his father said. "Really, you have only yourself to blame for the appalling state of your career. Why, you would have chosen to be involved in that mummery that passes itself off as real science, I do not know."
Don't make a scene, we're in public and you'll have to deal with Lester. "Perhaps, since I've never enjoyed maths and never found it the least interesting I chose an area of concentration that did match my interests," he replied, trying not to give his father the satisfaction of knowing how much this was getting to him. He hated the superior sneers and the way his father insisted on acting as though Stephen was subnormal for not wanting the same as his father.
"Oh, Stephen, really," his socialite mother said. "You know perfectly well your father and I only want what's best for you. Why, Beatrice Witherspoon's daughter was just asking after you the other day." She remained deeply unhappy he had yet to settle down with a nice girl of his own proper class, and Stephen had, at times, gone out with girls just to get a rise out of his parents. He was over that, now, too old for that sort of stupid teenaged rebellion, but just hearing it all over again made him want to drag Abby back and introduce her and her punkette style to his mother and father just to irritate them.
Stuck as he was, he was now forced to make polite conversation. "So, what brings you out of your ivory tower?"
The slightest twitch of an eyebrow was all that indicated his father's annoyance with Stephen's characterisation of his work. "As you well know, I have been working with the National Geological Survey's NASA adjunct. I've been handling the calculations for the analysis of the Earth's magnetic fields with the new paradigms and instruments available."
Duncan showed up then, leaving Stephen both relieved to see a friendly face and not looking forward to dealing with the fallout when his father got to sneering at Duncan as well. "So . . . er . . ."
Resigning himself to the disaster, Stephen said, "Duncan, these are my parents, Geoffrey and Victoria Hart. Mum, Dad, my colleague, Duncan Matthews."
Duncan said brightly, "Nice to meet you," holding out a hand to shake.
The looks of distaste on their faces when they heard him speak and took in his inexpensive suit penetrated immediately. "Pleasure," his father said shortly, barely touching the younger man's hand. "I suppose you're one of his . . . biologist friends?"
Duncan shrank into himself a little, but rallied. "No. I'm the head of the IT department where we work, liasing with the technical lead on Stephen's team."
There was a sneer that told Stephen his father was trying to rapidly drive away the interloper so that he could get back to cutting his offspring down to size. "Ah. So you make certain the printers keep working."
"No," Duncan replied, his face getting mulish and annoyed. "I handle ensuring that the data taken in by the sensors, especially the variations in magnetic fields, are all available to everyone working with them, as well as running the calculations needed to process that information."
The elder Mr. Hart perked up at once. "Magnetic fields?" he asked. "That's precisely what I do."
Duncan frowned, then his face cleared. "Dr. Hart who wrote the paper on magnetic stabilisation of natural phenomena?" he asked.
His father preened. "Yes," he said. "I do wish I had convinced Stephen to take up something real and worthwhile with his degree."
"Hello," Connor said.
Stephen cursed internally. Connor was still recovering from the terrible mental state he'd been in so recently. Connor was extremely sensitive. Connor, who could sometimes say anything at all might well crack under the weight of Geoffery Hart's disapproval. Already his mother had begun the process of launching scathing little bon mots at both Duncan and Connor in the pause as Duncan introduced him to the group.
"Stephen's Dad was just about to tell us all about his work," Duncan said, with a meaningful look at Connor. "In fact," his eyes darted to Stephen and back again, "I think there's some resemblance to some of Fiona's stuff."
There was a cocktail napkin on the table and calculations on it within moments. Connor was frowning as Stephen's father lorded his brilliance over all of them and the many practical ways it could be used. The longer Connor and Duncan were silent, the more snide the man got, making it quite clear just how subnormal he thought the pair of them were, and Stephen in particular for being unable to follow what he was doing.
Just when he was going to scream, Connor's face lit with a beaming smile. "Oh, that is very interesting," he said. "Why, I'd never have thought of using Van Hausen's corollory like that." His father's continued preening was cut off as Connor continued. "I mean, it's a very clever trick, and I might even think it would work if it weren't for the fact that you haven't taken into account lunar gravitational distortion on the instrumentation. But, then again, I've never been much for working in theoretical areas. I mean," he had the pen in hand, a few quick calculations skating across the abused napkin, "Look at these errors in the fundamental numbers here, and here," he said. "I think you really should have a talk with your students. I assume you've been letting them handle the grunt work?"
Since even the easiest levels of what his father did was nothing short of deeply complicated, grunt work was hardly the proper descriptor. More than that, his father had always prided himself on doing all the calculations himself, citing the old saw, "If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself." Stephen felt his lips beginning to twitch as he suppressed a smile.
"You know," Duncan said thoughtfully, "I expect that was the problem with the magnetic stabilisation paper. I knew there was a reason it didn't work out when we tried to factor it into our data."
His father tried to regroup. "I don't believe I've seen you at any of the conventions, or heard of your work, Mr. Temple."
"Oh, this?' Connor said with a grin that was so sharp it could cut glass. "This is just a little hobby for me, you know. Numbers are easy. I enjoy my work in paleontology far more. It's just so much more of a challenge." He clapped a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "Stephen's really got such a leg up on me when it comes to the microbiology, you have no idea. Of course," he added, "If you want someone reliable in the field, someone you can really trust to get you the data you need, well, that's Stephen."
"So true," Duncan said. "I mean, he's practically Indiana Jones and Alan Grant at the same time. Way cooler than just being a supergenius with five or six undergraduate masters like Connor."
Connor had been cheerfully smiling as he tore strips from Geoffrey Hart, but now his face changed to genuine glee. "Lester's distracted, Stephen. If we hurry, I bet we can catch up to Cutter, Abby and Jenny."
They half ran for the door, slipping out before Lester was able to collar them, and hopping into Duncan's car which did its best impression of peeling out of the car park. "I still can't believe you bought this," Connor said disapprovingly to Duncan.
"What? It's Rupert Giles' car," Duncan complained. "Giles is cool."
"They make fun of the car for a reason," Connor told him, rolling his eyes. "It's hardly the DeLorean."
Stephen broke up the fight as they puttered down the street and Duncan drove like an old lady because the car literally couldn't move faster. "Thank you both."
Connor's face was serious. "I owe you for what you've done for me, Stephen," he said. "You noticed when I was falling apart and you made sure that I didn't. I've been there, even if my Dad wanted me to work in a garage and thought I was stupid for going to uni, it's the same thing your mum and dad were doing to you."
Duncan nodded. "You saved my best friend's life, Stephen. It's down to you. The least we can do is help you out with that sort of thing."
"Next time, though," Connor said to Duncan, "Could you give me a better hint than Fiona? I mean, Ackerly being nasty about her biochem paper's hardly the same thing."
Protesting, Duncan complained, "I was thinking on my feet. It's not like there's a code for, 'make the berk feel stupid 'cause he's being nasty'."
Then Connor held up the bag of stolen food. "Anyway, first we need to stop off somewhere, get this in someone's fridge, and then we'll catch up with Abby, Jenny and Cutter." He looked contemplative. "Do you think we can get Abby to join us for bad film night? I've checked out Ankle Biters and that may be the worst film ever made. Abby always makes the best nasty comments."
It was such a ridiculous end to a ridiculous evening that Stephen just started laughing and couldn't stop.
Back to Primeval archive page