WHO: Becker and Abby WHAT: A confused SAS captain arrives in Lawrence. WHEN: Today! WHERE: Starting in Primeval!verse London and ending up in a random street In Lawrence RATING: Not too high, but spoilers for all of Primeval. STATUS: In progress
Business as usual. Aside from the fact Philip had blown himself up to finally save the world, Lester had nearly been killed and Matt still didn't seem quite right, despite his insistence that he was fine.
There was still paperwork, of course. There had been a truck lost, that meant form 15E had to be filled in, in triplicate, and signed off by Lester, who was barely able to hold his arm straight let alone hold a pen. But that was bureaucracy for you. So maybe it really was business as usual.
Becker made his way back to the locker room after a shower, his hair still wet and a towel around his waist. His dogtags hanging from a chain around his neck. Really, he was exhausted, and could have done with a few hours off to sleep, but work demanded that he function, so he would function. Opening the metal door with a sigh, his gaze flicked towards a small notebook in the deepest corner. There was only the slightest hesitation before he reached for it and flipped it open to the first page, and the first name.
Nick Cutter.
The first person he had failed to protect. Killed by Helen Cutter not longer after Becker started working at the ARC. More names followed, soldiers killed in the line of duty. Becker didn't need to have them written down to remember every single one of them, but he did it anyway.
Danny Quinn.
Maybe not officially dead any more, but who the hell knew where he was now. Stupid, reckless, loyal Danny, who rushed into things without thinking, who chased his brother through the anomaly to try to stop him from hurting anyone else.
Connor Temple, Abby Maitland.
He had so nearly crossed those names out again when they had returned, live and mostly well. There were even the indentations on the page where he had started to draw the line before he stopped. Yes, they had survived, but their year trapped in the past was still his failure. So they stayed on, the list of people he should have protected.
Sarah Page.
That name made him pause, and a feeling of grief well up inside him. The sound of her screaming his name as the Predator attacked haunted him every night. He had raced to her location as fast as he could, even hearing her dying through the comm link, and arrived too late. Predators did not leave survivors.
Losing her had nearly been the breaking point of him, and he had sworn that no more would be added to his list. But that had been a dream. And too frequently in the past few months more names were so nearly added. Connor, again. Jess more than once. Matt, Lester, Abby. And, well, himself, but Becker knew it would be rather difficult to add his name to his own list if he was dead.
Roughly, he shook himself out of dwelling on the past, shoving the notebook back inside the pocket where it belonged and getting dressed again, military black because no matter what Matt said, it did give a feeling of security to the civilians. Uniform. He was just clipping his gun back into place when the sirens began to blare out. Another anomaly. Really, didn't these forces of nature understand the concept of giving a man a break? Rude.
Getting the team together and out to the location was a seamless exercise by now. They weren't just good any more, they were extremely good. And the machines were set up, ready to seal the anomaly when a screaming mother came rushing towards them, babbling about her child having gone through. Children and mysterious shiny things, two things that should never be mixed together. Matt and Becker didn't even need to exchange words, didn't need to formulate a plan. No, it was no longer official policy to let the team through, but screw policy. Wry smirks from Abby and Connor sealed the deal though Becker did hold one finger up to pause them all.
"I am going first."
And before any of them could argue the point, he drew out his gun, stepping through the shimmering, spinning lights.
Only to have a horn blaring at him as he was forced to sidestep a car moments from hitting him. A car that looked perfectly modern. On a street that looked unfamiliar but again, modern. A frown of confusion crossed his face as he glanced over his shoulder to see no trace of the anomaly.
He nearly panicked. Nearly. But not quite. Instead he took a long breath, quickly holstering his gun before someone could notice it and potentially take issue with it. Glancing around, he tried to get his bearings, tried to figure out just how in hell he'd ended up there. As he saw a newspaper stand he headed over, ignoring the protest of someone he pushed out of the way slightly as he reached down to grab a paper.