Primeval fic: Through the fair
Title: Through the fair
Artist: clea2011
Characters: Becker/Connor, Danny, Sarah, Abby, Jenny, Lester, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 14,400 (in four parts)
Written for the Art Challenge picture prompt: Organisation props to lsellersfic
Summary: Any day that provided the opportunity for some sharp shooting, a heroic rescue and a thoroughly-slimed Danny Quinn must be a good day.
AN: Huge thanks to forfififolle sound beta advice and at least two dozen commas. Any errors and oddities were put there by me in the final rewrite. clea2011 not only did the gorgeous original art for this story but also provided the icon and story header. Clearly she rocks. I hope you enjoy the fic.
“The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.”
Lovely original art can be seen here.
***
THROUGH THE FAIR
Any day that provided the opportunity for some sharp shooting, a heroic rescue and a thoroughly-slimed Danny Quinn must be a good day. Becker shifted his hands on the wheel to accommodate a sharp turn in the road and grimaced as the sudden movement caused his soaked passengers to slide across their seats.
“Dammit, Becker!” yelled Quinn, slamming a hand on the dash to save himself from hitting the gearstick.
Connor’s “Becker!” from the backseat was altogether more subdued and accompanied by a thump and a somewhat squishy “ow” illustrating that Conn’s reactions had been much slower and rather less successful.
OK, so perhaps not a one hundred per cent unqualified good day. Pretty mixed, really. Say fifty/fifty. A bit rubbish in parts, but at least they were all alive and one small corner of the world was a safer place.
There had been long hours of anxious waiting, confusion, and downright panic at the end when it looked like the anomaly was closing on them. Connor was uncharacteristically quiet even allowing for his being held captive, almost killed and as extensively drenched in green insect entrails as Quinn. Of course, there was something more going on, but now was not the time for recriminations. They’d already had one argument.
Not wanting to more add more bruises to the collection Connor was already sporting Becker eased his foot off the accelerator, opened his window to its widest point, and resigned himself to travelling with the incredible stench of exploded beetle and a pissed off Danny Quinn for longer than anticipated and much, much longer than desired.
Eventually they hit the M40 where Friday night traffic made the journey even slower and correspondingly more frustrating. Connor fell asleep in the back and Quinn complained loudly and extensively about his goo layer solidifying before moving onto the general incompetence of other drivers in general, and Becker in particular, until Becker finally snapped that Quinn should have gone home with Abby like Becker had asked him to and switched on the radio to drown out the complaints.
“Thought you might like the company,” replied Quinn, blandly. Then he shut up as a series of pips announced the news.
They were the first item on the agenda; industrialist killed as food manufacturing facility explodes in suspected gas leak. There was no mention of anomalies, over-sized insects or murderous industrialists. Jenny’s doing no doubt. Becker took a moment to admire her professional competence, and the widespread remembered relief when Lester had managed to change her mind about resigning, as he indicated to change lanes. The news report concluded with a statement from the police that they were not looking for anyone else in connection with the case before moving on to announce an increase in the Retail Price Index for the sixth month running.
Quinn yawned and then complained that it made his face crack. He fiddled with the radio, channel hopping until he came to a rundown of the charts. Becker hated pop music. He especially hated the chart show with its perky presenters and their fake cheerful banter.
Viewed through the mirror Connor was all hunched shoulders and a tangled mess of green and brown hair. His face was turned away, resting on one bruised wrist against the window. It should be funny. It needed to be funny. Becker’s spirits drained with the day. It wasn’t really funny at all. When it came down to it, anomalies never were. Becker drove on in silence just wanting to get home.
*
Waking up with a partner was still new enough that Becker did a double take on realising he was not alone. After the first shock he lay still for a few minutes savouring the feel of warm limbs wrapped limpet-like around him and a head lying heavy on his shoulder. Connor was a cuddler.
This was a strange and new experience for Becker, whose formative examples of intimacy had consisted of firm handshakes and cheek-to-cheek kisses, and who had previously tended to follow through the family tendency to aloofness by expressing gratitude and retreating politely after sex to his own side of the bed. As a gentleman he made sure to take the wet patch. This had never seemed to be a problem. But then again Becker had never managed much in the way of long-term relationships.
The first time he had eased carefully out of Connor and shifted a foot sideways Connor had not similarly shuffled to his own side of the bed, but had stared wide-eyed at Becker with an expression that could best be described as crushed. Becker might not be the most emotionally aware person but he didn’t need anyone to tell him that his boyfriend not only did not understand the need for post-coital personal space, he viewed such a withdrawal as active rejection.
In theory this was one of the things they were working towards, finding a happy equilibrium between too much and too little. In practice Becker now regularly emerged from slumber with Connor draped over his chest.
Becker’s payback was making Connor, who was emphatically not a morning person, get up earlier than he was used to, or wanted to, so that there was time for both a healthy breakfast and for clearing the breakfast dishes before leaving for work. Since Becker’s chosen ‘wake-up’ call was sex he didn’t think Connor was too unhappy about the arrangement despite the numerous complaints that fell out of his mouth.
Connor was whining again now. Or possibly begging. It was hard to make the actual words out.
“Didn’t quite catch that,” said Becker, with mildly sadistic enjoyment. “Can you repeat it?”
“Just…fuck…me.” Connor gasped out the single syllables between harsh intakes of breath.
He lay on his back, hair mussed from sleep and looking a picture of sweaty debauchery against the rumpled sheets. His wrists were pinned above his head, caught firmly in Becker’s right hand, preventing any moves towards self-fulfilment.
“If you’re still capable of coherent speech than I’m clearly doing something wrong.”
Becker pushed up and flexed his slickened fingers in a move guaranteed to put a stop any further higher thought and was rewarded by a sound that definitely meant ‘please’ and ‘more’ but did not resemble any known language. Satisfied that Connor was appropriately desperate Becker gave one final twist of his wrist and withdrew his hand. He lined up his cock to Connor’s loosened hole before leaning forward and catching his lover’s mouth in a deep kiss at the same time as he pushed inwards in one steady movement. For a moment Becker was overcome with the feeling of almost too-tight heat.
“Alright?” he whispered against Connor’s lips. The answer was a shaky nod. Still Becker waited a further few seconds until he felt the body underneath his start to relax before pulling back and starting to thrust in earnest.
Early morning sex was the best way to start a day.
*
The Trent Forest anomaly was intermittent. It may have been present for years, flickering on for a few minutes or hours at a time and then disappearing. Now it was either getting stronger or the increasing sophistication of the ARC’s detectors at registering trace disturbances from dormant anomalies was starting to pay off. The ARC machines had mapped the location for reference - Connor had a theory about ley lines and compass points being able to predict future sites - but so far had done nothing further. This was a holding pattern they had established in several areas borne out of the combined necessity of limited staff numbers and the need for secrecy. The situation was hardly ideal but it was the best they could do under the circumstances.
Location maps did not provide much further information. The Trent Forest anomaly was situated in an area of woodland within which was housed a medium-sized food processing plant. Without the benefit of Connor’s most recently developed anomaly detector it may never have been known, sited as it was on private land and with no reports of any creature incursions to excite interest.
However, when Sarah started to research the surrounding area for possible historic incursions there were enough red flags to start alarm bells ringing. The production plant had once been a major employer for Trent Forest, but was now fully-automated thanks to massive investment by the grandson of the original owner, Edward Farley. Farley’s Forest Pasties (FFP) Ltd had duly changed its strapline from ‘handmade’ to ‘homemade’ while keeping the image of the original Edwardian workers pictured on its label. At the time there had been a number of protests from staff made redundant under the new regime but that was hardly an unusual occurrence and it barely caused a ripple outside of the local press. Farley had also updated the company’s traditional recipes with the result that for the first time FFP’s products were winning prizes in consumer tastings.
As his company increased in profits Edward Farley had instigated a number of privacy measures culminating in an electric fence surrounding his land. The Ramblers Association was engaged in an on-going fight to restore the access from public footpaths, so far without success; any intruders not put off by the electric fence were escorted firmly off the premises by a private security firm.
But it wasn’t electric fences or labour disputes that had sparked Sarah’s interest.
Over a three year period there had been five unsolved cases of missing children within a fifteen mile radius. The most recent, dating from 2007, involved a trio of boys who had last been seen waiting to catch a bus from their school in the centre of town. CCTV showed the grainy images of the three, still wearing their school blazers, as they walked along the high street. It was presumed that there had been some sort of accident involving the nearby canal or one of the shafts from the now-closed collieries, but extensive searching had failed to yield either bodies or clues.
Sarah tapped a button and the haunted face of one of the missing children’s mothers stared out from a news report published at the time. Kevin, Shane and Ian had been just 12 years old. The gap between the cases, the fact that the earlier two incidents involved slightly older girls, and the relatively wide radius of the children’s homes, coupled with the complete lack of physical evidence had meant that the individual cases had never been linked up.
“I think we should go down and investigate,” she announced in her forthright fashion. “There’s something very peculiar happening with that anomaly. I just know that all these things are linked up and just because we haven’t heard of a creature outbreak it doesn’t mean that one hasn’t happened.”
“And do exactly what?” The height of Lester’s eyebrows indicated exactly what he thought of this plan, but just in case, he laid it out clearly. “There are plenty of good old-fashioned evil people in this world who are quite capable of abducting and killing children for their own sick reasons. That’s why we have the police force. This isn’t the Scooby-Doo show and we are not private detectives. It’s one thing to go and close an active anomaly and quite another to break into private property where, as far we know, no creature incursions have ever taken place and no crime has ever been committed. Furthermore, there’s no apparent pattern to the openings. We have enough trouble on our own account without going looking for more.”
“No, because it would so much better to wait for a few more children to go missing so we can be confident that we’re not wasting our time and treading on police toes,” replied Sarah, her voice rising in anger.
Lester did not respond but the look he gave her was enough to cause her to mutter “Sorry.” and start fiddling awkwardly with her pen.
“But suppose we just happened to be around and the anomaly was to open?” mused Becker, innocently. Like Sarah he felt the number of disappearances too high to be coincidental. Even with their limited resources it seemed imperative to do something. “It doesn’t appear entirely predictable but there is a certain frequency to the appearances on the ADD.”
“Did you not pay attention to what I just said? Have I become invisible or has everyone suddenly gone deaf?” Lester waved a hand dramatically in front of his face before falling into his habitual stress gesture of fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The springs of his executive chair creaked slightly with the motion. “I really don’t know why I bother. You people refuse to be managed.”
“The breaking in will be easy,” said Quinn, getting a speculative look on his face. “We can be in and out in a morning and no one the wiser. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the anomaly will open and we can shut it just for general safekeeping with no harm done either side. It’ll be a good training exercise. What say you, Becker?”
The question was accompanied by a hearty elbow to Becker’s ribs that made Becker long to give into the childish and highly unprofessional urge of shoving Danny Quinn right back. He didn’t. Quinn’s grin was infuriating and suggested that he had read Becker’s mind and was struggling not to laugh despite the topic of conversation.
“We can send a small team down to have a look around without the need for trespass,” said Becker resolutely ignoring his aching ribs and addressing his remark to Lester.
“Spoilsport,” muttered Quinn, before adding at normal volume. “Trespassing’s the fun bit.”
Lester sighed, recognising when he was defeated. “Whatever. Danny, you take Abby and Connor and see if there’s anything untoward happening. Becker, assign two of your more discreet and less trigger-happy men to go with them. Just ask questions and look around the town or something. At least try not to get into trouble.” He added, half to himself, in a tone of long-suffering, “I could have been something high ranking in the Foreign Office and had a nice air-conditioned office somewhere civilised like Azerbaijan. It would have been a lot easier. But, no, here I am marooned in the wilds of Zone 2. I just know that something is going to go explosively wrong.”
*
Something had gone wrong.
*
Becker had kept up-to-date with the happenings in Trent Forest by way of the official check-ins and from Connor’s rather less professional messages and accompanying image attachments. There was a picture of the brightly painted town sign - a silhouette of a pit engine, a pie, and a canal boat - one of the canal, and then one of a bakery. This last was followed in quick succession by an unflattering picture of Quinn eating one of the award-winning Farley’s Forest pasties, and a similar even less flattering self-portrait of Connor doing the same with crumbs sprinkled around his mouth and on his gloves. The set was completed by Abby scrunching up her features in disgust and holding a hand up in front of her mouth. Becker laughed, pushed his phone back into his pocket, and returned to writing his reports. At least someone was having fun.
A picture of a dead beetle-like creature was the first intimation that everything was not as it should be. The team had given up on the town centre and were investigating the public footpaths that circumnavigated the food factory. Connor had helpfully placed a cheap plastic ballpoint pen by the insect for scale. It and the creature were roughly the same length. Becker’s experience with insects was admittedly not extensive but he was willing to bet that 15-cm beetles with bodies the size of a man’s hand were not native to the West Midlands. Their pincers looked like lobster claws.
As team leader Quinn had texted that they were splitting up to cover more ground. He and Connor were going to break through the electric fence while Abby and the soldiers continued to search the perimeter.
Sarah acknowledged the message and Becker tried not to worry. ‘Break through’ covered a lot of possibilities and although he trusted Connor’s technical skills and Quinn’s downright sneakiness there was still the possibility of accidents. His apprehension was compounded when the ADD suddenly flared back into life showing that the Trent Forest anomaly was once again active.
“At least they can close the bloody thing while they’re out there,” said Becker, his unease manifesting as irritation. He picked up a small rubber ball printed with stars that was sitting on the desk and threw it across the room. It hit a partition screen and dropped to the floor with a dull thud.
“Hey, that was mine!”
Sarah shot him a look of reproach as she tapped out keys. She didn’t want to be stuck in the office either. Becker squeezed her shoulder in silent apology and went to retrieve the toy. Inaction combined with a sense of powerlessness was the worst kind of frustration. It reminded Becker of army stakeouts and the endless wait for orders from on high. He told himself that the team were all experienced in the field, and that his men and Quinn, at least, were both confident and competent with weapons, and prepared to shoot to kill. Not that that would be necessary.
Abandoning the pretence of doing other work Becker made coffee for himself and for Sarah and joined her at the central control station. The anomaly was still open but there had been no response to Sarah’s repeated calls to either radio or personal phones. She tried again on Becker’s return from the kitchen. There was still nothing from Quinn or Connor. They had better luck with Abby. She had the equipment to close the anomaly with her but not the exact location. Plus they needed Connor to operate the machine.
Her worried voice came over the speaker. “I don’t know where they are. Everything’s quiet but we’re at least half a mile away from the anomaly site and I haven’t been able to contact Danny or Connor since they went under the fence.”
Sarah stared at the flashing ADD screen, her lips set in a thin-line before swinging around to face Becker.
He answered her silent question. “Not good. I think we need to get down there now. Instruct Jackson’s team to get kitted up and to meet me in the car park in ten minutes.” Then he spoke directly to Abby.
“Abby, you’re to stay outside the fence and remain unobtrusive until we get there. You are not to go in and try and find Connor and Danny until we know more about the situation. Do you understand?” No reply. Becker repeated the message. “Abby, do you understand? You are to stay where you are until we send reinforcements or have a definite distress message.”
Becker could sense her unwillingness as she tried a different approach. “But what about the anomaly? We should find it and get the machines set up so they’re ready for operation. That way we won’t waste any time later.”
“Forget about the anomaly for now. We know it’s not going anywhere. The important thing is to find Connor and Danny and make sure they’re safe. Getting into a potentially dangerous situation yourself is no help at all.” She didn’t reply so Becker relayed the instruction for the third time. “You’re to stay put, Abby. Do you understand?”
Again silence. This was tricky, as a civilian Abby didn’t technically work on the same management lines and Becker had no real authority to demand her compliance.
Then Lester spoke from behind him in a voice he rarely used. “That’s an order, Abigail.”
Becker could hear the reluctance as she finally assented. “Understood.”
Becker paused to throw a single grateful “thanks” at Lester before running past him towards the armoury to collect his guns.
*
Becker wasn’t naturally a patient man. He had taught himself patience over the years but it never came easy and now his instinct was to rush into an SUV and drive like hell. He didn’t. That kind of reckless behaviour never ended well - especially not when there could be lives at stake. He paused at the central atrium for a final consultation with Sarah. Abby had briefly made contact again and said they had found several more of the beetles. These were alive and, she thought, could possibly be part of a nest. So that meant a definite creature incursion. Damn, thought Becker, and only realised he had spoken aloud when Sarah echoed the sentiment.
“Damn, indeed.”
Abby planned to trap and contain the beetles in sealed boxes that would either be brought back to the ARC or somehow returned through the anomaly. She favoured the latter. Becker agreed that this would be preferable but again insisted she stay put until he arrived. Two missing people were enough. At any rate, Abby sounded more resigned than rebellious with a task to get on with while waiting. There might be more nests to find now that they knew what they were looking for.
Jackson and his team were waiting in the garage when Becker arrived. Alongside the core role of medic, Becker was pleased to see ‘Jack’ had chosen five men from what Lester would no-doubt have described as the more trigger-happy contingent. Becker greeted them with a swift nod as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the SUV. Jackson took shotgun by his side. Becker tossed his phone over and Jackson quickly programmed the sat nav, relaying the coordinates to the second vehicle as he worked. As soon as they cleared the exit ramps, Becker accelerated hard, thankful that the roads were not yet jammed with school or work traffic. Lester could deal with the inevitable fines later. Right now Becker couldn’t give a toss about how many speed cameras he set off.
*
They found Abby crouching over two crates full of insects that were just beginning to awaken from a smoke-induced sleep and desire freedom. The creatures scrabbled over each other in agitation, their hard bodies making little clicking noises as they moved and their pincers opening and shutting threateningly. Becker repressed a shudder. There was something in the heaving mass of bodies with their shiny iridescent cases that seemed deeply unnatural. Insects really shouldn’t be that size.
“Any news?” he asked as Abby rose to greet him, brushing grass off her knees.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Jonas has tested the phone links around the whole of the perimeter and there’s nothing wrong with them. So either there is something inside the fence jamming them, or Danny and Connor are not there, or they’ve switched off their communicators.”
Becker considered the possibilities. Quinn was quite capable of shutting off communication if he wanted to do something borderline illegal but he wouldn’t do it without giving some sort of safety time frame. It didn’t look good. “We’ll have to go in,” he said, voicing his thoughts out loud.
“Really? Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer - give it another ten minutes for good luck?” asked Abby with heavy sarcasm. She looked like she was itching for a verbal confrontation.
Becker didn’t blame her but at the same time he had no intention of wasting any more time smoothing her ruffled feathers. She would just have to get over herself.
He spoke briskly. “You wanted action, you’re getting action. Now come on.”
Swinging up a crate into his arms, Becker hefted it to the back of a truck and placed it inside gently so as not to further upset the creatures. The second crate was placed alongside. Then the two teams piled back into their vehicles and headed back to the main road and towards the main factory gates. This time Abby sat by Becker filling him in with more details on the creatures they had found.
Trent Forest itself had looked like a typically run-down former industrial town as they had driven through. The forest area provided a welcome contrast with patches of grass and wild flowers interspersed by dense areas of oak, chestnut and silver birch that framed the road and cast dancing shadows with their overhanging branches. A roe deer standing in a pool of sunlight ran away startled by the sound of their cars. It was pretty by any standards, had Becker been in a mood to appreciate the scenery.
The explosion sounded out of nowhere as they were approaching the main factory entrance with its imposing painted sign and elaborately crafted Edwardian wrought-iron gate. Becker, who had slowed down prior approaching the rather more modern visitor’s check-in station with its push button entry phone just outside, reacted instinctively. With the after-shocks still shaking the trees around them, Becker turned the SUV round sharply and drove back the way they had come. Once he judged they were far enough he braked and turned so they were once again facing the gates. Thank god for reinforced steel, he thought, as he pressed his foot flat to the floor, driving straight towards the central point where the two edges of the metal gate met.
“Hold on!” he advised Abby without taking his eyes from his intended target. He hoped it was held by just a simple locking mechanism rather than something more heavy-duty.
The metal gave with a crash and the SUV jumped at the impact. In the back seat the newest Special Forces operative, Rob McLachlan, who was on his first mission, was cackling like a madman. This was more like it! “Fuck, yeah!” he yelled pumping his fist. Becker grinned in response to the sudden adrenaline rush. He knew he could trust his men to have his back whatever they found.
Part Two