fredbassett | Fic, The Fall, Becker & Others, 15

Title : The Fall
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker, Stephen & others
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary :
A/N : 1) Written for the very lovely

kristen_mara’s birthday. I hope you like this, sweetie! You expressed interest a while ago in seeing more of this scenario. 2) This picks up and runs with the AU I introduced a couple of years ago in this drabble, First Disobedience. 3) Thank you to

lukadreaming for another very last minute beta.

Becker fumbled with the webbing hoops that held his last few shotgun shells, even though he knew it was a pointless gesture. His Mossberg was mangled beyond repair and so was he.

He’d taken a predator-assisted fall from a rooftop, bringing down enough masonry to trap his assailant, but that had been scant consolation, as the same boulder-sized chunks of stone had crushed his legs, shattering his kneecaps and pinning the red ruins of flesh and bone to the ground.

And to make matters worse – if that was even possible – another predator was advancing on him, drool dripping from its strong jaws as it snuffled and searched for him, using a combination of sound and scent in place of sight. The creature picked its way over the wreckage of the building as Becker squinted into the harsh sunlight that illuminated a landscape as twisted and wrecked as his body.

Pain was starting to set in now. He could also feel the icy tendrils of shock taking hold of his body and his mind. Becker’s numb fingers managed to prise one shotgun cartridge out of its holder but he only succeeded in dropping it onto the mass of rock and rubble that had already been deposited in his lap. In stubborn desperation, he freed another one and clawed at the Mossberg, trying to rack the slide and chamber the round, but it was in no better shape than he was.

Becker drew in a shuddering breath and forced himself to look death in the face as it knuckled over to him, moving like an obscenely anorexic great ape.

The creature hesitated, tilting its head upwards towards the sky. Becker wondered if it was about to encounter the giant flying insects he’d seen on his first visit to the wrecked world of the future, but whatever it was would be too late for him. Even if something drew the predator away from him, there was no way he was going anywhere in a hurry, not even if the anomaly that had stranded him here miraculously opened.

A dark shadow blotted out the sun and to Becker’s surprise, the predator cowered down rather than striking upwards with its claws. A moment later, it snarled like a cornered dog, so close that he could smell the stink of carrion on its breath, but instead of tearing into his exposed flesh, it turned and loped hurriedly away.

Becker looked up, now shrouded in darkness. Two raven-black wings hovered over him but what manner of creature they belonged to was hidden from view by the man staring down at him, concern written clearly in a pair of very blue eyes staring down at him out of a hauntingly familiar face.

Becker blinked. He must have died without realising it. That was the possible only explanation for the fact that Stephen Hart was standing in front of him, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a white, open-necked teeshirt. He’d only seen pictures of the man. They’d never met, as Hart had died before Becker joined the team. In fact, in a roundabout way, he had Hart to thank for the fact that he was dying – or had already died – in a god-forsaken city somewhere in a ruined future. Becker had been brought onto the team to prevent anyone else dying in a similar manner. Ironic really that he’d ended up being the one to do the dying.

“Behind you,” he said as loudly as he could, feeling his breath catch in a throat that felt as if it was lined with sandpaper and had been lubricated only with drain cleaner for the past month.

A frown drew two dark eyebrows together. The man turned… and the wings turned with him, giving Becker an uninterrupted view of how they protruded from rips in the white teeshirt and seemed to be growing out of Hart’s shoulders and back.

Something suspiciously like a giggle forced its way between Becker’s lips. “Must play fucking havoc with your clothes,” he said before slipping beyond the reach of pain and fear.

* * * * *

With a wry smile on his face, Stephen stared down at the body of the unconscious soldier. “Yes, it does,” he commented, talking to himself as he knew Becker couldn’t hear his words. “But clothes are easier to deal with than you’re going to be.”

He looked around, checking that the predators had been sensible enough to scarper, before furling his wings and going down on one knee beside the man still crushed beneath some very sizeable chunks of masonry. Once he was satisfied that Becker was actually still alive, albeit barely, Stephen took one of the man’s hands in his and concentrated on steadying what was left of his life force. He felt it flickering like a small flame, weak and liable to be snuffed out by the merest breath of wind. Stephen pictured his own hands cupped around that small but seemingly determined representation of Becker’s will to survive.

As he watched, the flame grew almost imperceptibly stronger. Stephen smiled and started to lend it strength from his own essence. Fire was an easy thing for him to deal with; he was well-acquainted with it, after all. And if anyone happened to be spying on him, that acquaintanceship would get even closer. Once he was sure the flame was strong enough to be left untended for a few minutes, he held the image in his mind while he went to work with his hands on a different level and started hefting masonry off Becker’s mangled legs.

The soldier was still clutching his shotgun like a teddy bear, cradling it on his hips, which fortunately seemed uninjured, but from the thighs downward, the damage was extensive. More extensive that Stephen had realised. To heal this was going to cost him dearly, possibly more dearly than he could afford, but now he’d embarked on this course of action, Stephen was damned if he was going to give up,

Actually, if truth be told, he was damned already, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. For now, he needed to get Becker patched up and back to his own time, even though that was likely to be easier said than done. He could worry about the consequences of his actions later.

* * * * *

Becker felt an uncomfortable itch nagging at his nerve-endings and knew that pain was hovering on the edge of his consciousness, waiting to mug him with an iron bar as soon as he came to his senses. He tried to let his mind go blank, to simply accept the pain, but it was too much, driving him out of the stupor that had claimed him. Gathering what was left of his courage, Becker opened eyes that felt like someone had thrown a shovel full of grit into them, but instead of staring down at shattered bone and torn flesh poking out of the wreckage of his black uniform trousers, he found himself looking at skin that seemed remarkably whole, albeit somewhat bloodstained.

“I decided not to waste my time and effort on your trousers,” a voice said. “I imagine there’s plenty more where they came from, but I’m not sure the same can be said for your legs.”

Becker blinked. He hurt everywhere. It didn’t seem like the right time to be worrying about his clothing.

“Can you move your toes?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Becker retorted. If he was dead, he didn’t think he should have to be worrying about things like that, either. Why the fuck wouldn’t Stephen I’m-So-Fucking-Heroic Hart just leave him alone to be dead in peace?

“You’re not dead,” Hart said, and to Becker’s irritation he even sounded amused.

“I can’t hurt this fucking much and still be alive,” Becker said, not even bothering to keep the petulance out of his voice.

“Wrong. And in case you think being dead is the softer option, take it from me, it isn’t. You could definitely hurt that fucking much and still be dead,” Hart said. “But you’re not dead, you’re alive. I can either make the pain go away, or I can do my best to get you back to your own time. I haven’t got the power to do both, so it’s your choice, soldier boy.”

“Don’t call me soldier boy,” Becker retorted. It wasn’t exactly an original line, but it was the best he could muster in the circumstances.

“Ryan never minded me calling him soldier boy,” Stephen commented and Becker say an expression that could only be described as wistful pass across the man’s handsome face.

“Captain Ryan is dead,” Becker said. He was doing his best to keep some sort of hold on reality but Hart wasn’t being much help. “And so are you,” he added.

Hart grinned. “I’m not arguing with you on that score, mate. Yes, I’m definitely dead, and so is Ryan. In fact it would be a fuck sight easier if he just turned up and gave me a hand here. This sort of think is meant to be his job, not mine.” Hart looked around but when he saw no one, he turned back to Becker and shrugged a pair of strong shoulders that only a few minutes previously had been sprouting a pair of the largest and blackest wings Becker had ever seen. “But he’s probably doing his best to save Cutter’s arse at the moment, so you’re out of luck. You get me instead. And I’m already in a shitload of trouble for not letting that predator get to you, so come on, let’s get out of here before anyone else on my side of things turns up to finish the job for me.”

Becker gripped the hand that was being held down to him and let Hart haul him to his feet. Becker’s legs felt as wobbly as a newborn foal and he would have ended up straight back down on his backside if it hadn’t been for the strong arm that looped around his waist

“My shotgun,” Becker said stubbornly. “We might need it.”

“Don’t want to leave your teddy bear behind?” The tone was teasing, but with a flick of his fingers, Hart made the mangled weapon fly up off the ground, and when Becker grabbed it, the Mossberg appeared undamaged.

To test his theory, Becker inserted a cartridge, gripped the slide in his right hand and pumped the shell into the breach. The familiar sound was comforting amongst all the fucking madness around him and he even felt the pain start to recede slightly.

“Nice one. What are you like at producing some more ammo?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried,” Hart replied. “Come on. I need what’s left of my energy to get that anomaly to open again, and I’ve already used more than my quota on you.”

“Then we’re both stuffed,” Becker said. He nodded to his left, where the sky was being darkened by something other than Hart’s wings. “We’re about to be overrun with those sodding overgrown mossies.”

“I never did like insects.”

Neither did Becker. Especially not when the bloody things had a three metre-wide wingspan and a wicked-looking sting to match.

“Can you run?” Hart asked.

“Probably not,” Becker admitted.

“I had a nasty feeling you were going to say that. OK, do your best to stay upright and use that shotgun, but for both our sakes, avoid catching me in the blast. I’m going to see if I can scare them off.”

Hart stepped away from him. Becker swayed, but didn’t fall.

A moment later, Hart’s wings unfurled from his shoulders and back, and he gave a small shake, like a sparrow taking a dust bath, but there the resemblance to anything small and harmless ended. The wings spread out, as black as a moonless night, blotting out the sun again and casting a dark shadow over the broken ground. Even the air around him seemed to darken, but it didn’t stop the insects buzzing around him, their huge, iridescent eyes fixed on the prey.

Becker dropped to one knee and brought the Mossberg up to his shoulder, trying to bring at least two of the flying menaces into his field of fire without risking injury to the man who’d saved his life. Although from what he’d seen and heard, man wasn’t quite the right description, although the lifelong atheist in Becker was still struggling to realign his view of the world to accommodate what he’d just experienced and currently wasn’t making a very good job of it. A large part of him still believed he was either dead or dreaming, but even so, he wasn’t quite ready to stop fighting.

The wings drew together in a huge sweep, blasting dust and small stones into the air and bowling the insects over as they were caught in the back-draught. Becker tracked them with the barrel of his shotgun then took advantage of their disarray to blast two of them out of the sky and damage another badly enough to take it out of the fight. But before he could take out another flight of the things, the hairless head of one of the predators leered at him from over a boulder and Becker just had time to chamber another cartridge and blast its ugly head from its shoulders.

He had five shots left, and as it didn’t look like Hart was going to be able to manufacture any more, he was just going to have to make good use of them.

* * * * *

Stephen felt the heady rush of power as his wings beat against the air, lifting his feet from the ground and bringing him up on more of a level with the giant insects. Nothing that size had existed since the Meganeura in the Carboniferous, and the buggers that were currently buzzing around him would have dwarfed even them by comparison.

Another wing beat took him up further. He lashed out with booted feet, catching one of the creatures in the head and sending it crashing into another member of the swarm. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of fragile wings. Provided he was quick enough, he could probably keep them away from Becker, but Stephen knew his strength wouldn’t last long enough to enable the soldier to get to safety. The healing had taken too much out of him and weakened the effectiveness of the destructive power that he could employ. But he was just going to have to give it his best shot.

He kicked out again, ripping apart a front wing, and so began a deadly dance in the sky, punctuated by the occasional blast of Becker’s combat shotgun, which at least served to prove to Stephen that the soldier was still alive. But as fast as he took one of them down, another took its place, and Stephen knew that in a matter of minutes, his remaining strength would fail and he would be reduced to fighting on foot, where his wings would give him precious little advantage.

A sudden burst of light ahead of him sent a surge of hope through Stephen. An anomaly hung in the air as bright as the heaven that Stephen knew he had no chance of seeing from the inside. Not with the present incumbent in power, anyway.

“Becker! Run! I’ll cover your back!” he yelled, kicking out at another of the flying predators whilst doing his best to avoid its six long legs tearing at his wings in what had become an aerial combat zone.

“No fucking way!” Becker retorted. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m already dead, you idiot!” Stephen countered. “Just get the hell out of here, will you?”

If Stephen sustained enough damage, it would simply be a very literal case of out of the frying pan into the fire, but something made him think that wouldn’t be an argument that would find much favour with Becker. Stephen recognised a kindred spirit in the stubborn soldier and knew bloody well that there was no way Becker was going to leave him behind to face predators both in the sky and on the ground.

“Pick him up and get him out of here, Hart!” ordered a fresh voice, one that Stephen was all too familiar with.

Stephen wheeled in the air in time to see Ryan swoop down on the insect swarm like an eagle diving on its prey, golden wings outstretched. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Ryan! You know what He’ll do if He catches you helping me out.”

“Much the same as your boss will do when he wises up to your latest antics,” Ryan pointed out. “So you let me worry about my side of things. Just get Becker through that anomaly, all right?”

Stephen hesitated. This wasn’t exactly the time or place for a theological debate – or any other sort, for that matter – but there was no way he was leaving Ryan to face a swarm of this size on his own, with more predators on the ground, ready to take advantage of any casualties.

“One out, all out,” he said implacably.

“Have it your own fucking way!” Ryan said, dropping like a stone and sending two insects into a mid-air collision. “Just get the hell out of here!”

There was no way in his current weakened state that Stephen could carry Becker, but he could at least take some of his weight as the pair of them scrambled towards the flickering anomaly and threw themselves through it in an ungainly sprawl of arms, legs and feathers. Two of the insects followed them through and as they crashed out into a woodland glade, Becker hit the ground, rolled, and managed to blast one of them out of the sky. A second gunshot cut through the air and the other creature fell to the ground in a tangle of wings and legs.

“It’s fading!” a voice yelled.

Stephen turned and tried to make his way back to the anomaly, but the flight feathers on his right wing had been damaged in their mad dash to the anomaly, leaving him unbalanced and in pain. He vaguely remembered shaking off a predator that had jumped onto his back, but it had succeeding in gouging its claws down the flesh of his back and tearing at his wing and for the moment, flight was impossible. He’d used the last of his strength in their headlong dash through time.

“Ryan! You fucking promised!” he shouted angrily.

Just as the anomaly was about to wink out of existence, the shards of time were forced apart to expand to accommodate a flash of gold. Gold liberally splattered with blood.

Ryan crashed onto the grass before Stephen could make any attempt to break his fall, but despite the damage he’d sustained, Ryan was still able to stagger to his feet without help.

“Didn’t want to add oath-breaking to my list of sins,” he commented lightly, but Stephen could see how much his interference had already cost him. The gold of Ryan’s wings had darkened slightly, no longer as sun-bright as they had been on the other side of the anomaly.

A slow hand-clap drew Stephen’s attention, and he realised somewhat belatedly that he was standing in full view of the anomaly response team with his wings unfurled, as was Ryan.

And just to add to that misfortune, Sir James Lester had chosen that particular day to accompany the team into the field, possibly to supervise the attempt to rescue his head of security.

“How very dramatic,” Lester drawled. “Mr Temple, do ensure your locking contraption is on stand-by in case the anomaly decides to grace us with its presence yet again. I rather feel we’ve all had quite enough excitement for one day.”

Connor scrambled over to a large box and promptly emptied a pile of equipment onto the ground, hampered by the fact that he was unable to take his eyes off Stephen and Ryan.

For once, even Cutter appeared to be stunned into silence.

Lester’s shrewd eyes swept over the scene in front of him. He put a hand up to smooth a single hair back into place but his game face didn’t waver for a second.

“You do realise, gentlemen, that I have absolutely no patience with anyone who attempts to bring religion into the workplace.” He turned the full force of his gaze on Cutter in a way that reminded Stephen rather forcibly of his current boss’s ability to skewer someone with his eyes. “So perhaps you would be so kind as to contact me when you have dreamed up an acceptably mundane explanation for the existence of our feathered friends, Professor.” With that, Lester turned on his heel and started to walk off in the direction of the nearby Range Rovers. As an afterthought, he turned his head and commented, “Welcome back, Captain Becker. Good afternoon, Dr Hart, Captain Ryan.”

Using his beloved shotgun as a crutch, Becker climbed to his feet and traded a somewhat helpless glance with both Stephen and Ryan.

“He doesn’t improve, does he?” Ryan remarked, looking remarkably cheerful for someone who had just fallen from grace.

“You’re right about that, lad,” commented Cutter, rolling the r like thunder. “Now let’s get the three of you patched up. We can worry about everything else later.”

And for once in his life – and death – Stephen was content to do just that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

goldarrow

âMuch the same as your boss will do when he wises up to your latest antics,â Ryan pointed out.
Oooohhh! Love it!

This is a fascinating scenario. *pokes for more*

Light and dark working together, and hopefully second chances for both! *happy dance*

From:

Fic, The Fall, Becker & Others, 15

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