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fredbassettTitle : London Bridge Is Broken Down
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Lester (/Becker), Ryan (/Stephen)
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 1,888
Summary : Lester and Ryan stand on the walls of the Tower of London in the midst of a ruined world and discuss poetry. And parrots.
A/N : 1) Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial monthly challenge for July, for the poetry prompt 2) With thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bigtitch who first came up with this head-canon for Becker’s army background.
The sound of the explosion filled the night, blotting out the noise of conflict in other areas of the city, and even drowning out the bad-tempered grumbles of thunder that had persisted for most of the night. The bomb-flash lit up the river in a vivid burst of orange and red. If he’d been using his night-vision goggles, the result would have been eye-wateringly unpleasant.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down
“The boy does like his pyrotechnics,” Lester said, doing his best to ignore the nagging feeling of unease in his guts.
“He’ll make it back, sir,” Ryan said.
The captain’s presence at his side helped to ground Lester, reminding him that not everything in this wretched world was unutterably grim. The anomalies had taken so much away from him – and everyone else – but they had also given back Captain Tom Ryan, the man who was now ordering the defence of England’s beleaguered former capital.
Ryan had arrived back through one of the rips in time, filthy, bloodied and lacking an eye. They had no idea if he was ‘their’ Ryan, or a clone, or a refugee from an alternative timeline, but none of that mattered. He was back, and they needed him. That was all any of them cared about. The survivors of man’s greatest miscalculation had long since leaned to count their blessings.
Lester turned and did his best to muster a slight smile, despite the presence of an intrusive anaconda that seemed to have taken up residence inside him and was doing its best to make itself comfortable. “I don’t know if I’ve told you this before, Ryan, but that eye-patch suits you. Most piratical.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m thinking of acquiring a parrot.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s preferable to a wooden leg.”
“That’s what Stephen says, but I think he’s just trying to stop me grumbling about this.” Ryan stamped his foot on the stone walkway running around the walls of London’s oldest fortress.
The captain’s leg was currently encased in a light cast, which is why he wasn’t out risking his neck with Becker’s squad or Lyle’s. A bad brush with a three predators and their handler had resulted in two deaths and Ryan’s broken leg. Their long-suffering medic had patched him up, found him a pair of crutches and told him to stay out of trouble. In the wreckage of London, that was a hard instruction to obey.
“How much longer can we hold out here, Ryan?” Lester asked.
“A while yet,” Ryan said. “But not indefinitely.”
The soldier was saved the need to elaborate by another explosion, accompanied by a dramatic – and perfectly timed – roll of thunder. Lightning leaped out of the heavy grey cloud that had wreathed the city all day and joined with the flash from the bomb blast to create a display even more dramatic than Becker’s earlier effort.
“The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London town. The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more.” Lester spoke the words quietly but with feeling. That had been one poem he hadn’t minded learning by heart. “GK Chesterton,” he added, for Ryan’s benefit.
“He wrote The Rolling English Road, didn’t he, sir?” Ryan said, as though there was nothing even remotely odd about standing on the battlements of the Tower of London in the middle of an apocalypse, discussing poetry. “One of my sergeants at Sandhurst liked to quote him…. usually when we’d got hopelessly fucking lost on a map-reading exercise.”
“The night you went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands?” Lester enquired.
Another flash of lightning leaped from the sky, but was harmlessly channelled to earth by the conductor on the top of the White Tower.
Ryan’s grin only increased the piratical effect of the black eye-patch. “Something like that, sir.”
“Are you ever going to call me James?”
“Probably not, sir.”
Lester sighed, mainly in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that Becker’s team still hadn’t made their way back to base. He imagined Ryan was feeling much the same about Lyle’s lads. Stephen had gone with them to provide the benefit of his sniping skills. They weren’t overdue yet, but Lyle wasn’t known for his time-keeping. Their objective had been to destroy Millennium Bridge. From one of the noises they’d heard a little while ago, he’d probably been successful, but Ryan had ordered a comms blackout except in dire emergency, so they couldn’t be sure.
The predators probably didn’t possess hearing in the conventional sense, but their handlers certainly did.
“Do you think we could try distracting the wretched things with the Crown jewels, Ryan?”
“I think you’ll find it’s magpies that get distracted by shiny things, sir, not those fucking hellbeasts.”
The sound of an engine being heavily gunned made both men tense and lean over the top of the wall. They saw a silver Hilux with its lights on full beam being driven at full speed towards the main gate.
Ryan thumbed the button on his hand-held radio. “Get the gate open!” he ordered. “And keep it that way until I tell you to close it.”
“Lyle’s team?” Lester said.
Ryan nodded. “Only Fiver would drive that fast at a closed gate.”
The Hilux skidded through the outer gates then the inner ones and roared into the courtyard, coming to a halt in a spray of gravel. The doors opened and Lester counted the men as they jumped out. Six. The same number that had left the Tower an hour ago. For once Lyle had run exactly to time. Lester caught sight of Stephen’s tall, spare frame, a long rifle slung over his shoulder. He smiled in the darkness, knowing the relief Ryan would be feeling at the safe return of his lover.
Lester turned away and trained his night-vision goggles on what he could see of Lower Thames Street. A moment later, he was rewarded by the flash of headlights. He let the bulky goggles hang around his neck as he concentrated on following the movement of the lights. The green effect from the goggles made him feel faintly seasick, so he only used them sparingly.
As the vehicle swerved into view, Lester saw a dark shape spring from one of the nearby buildings and cling to the top of the Range Rover. A heartbeat later, he heard the sound of a rifle shot, and the creature fell from its perch. Finn had added another kill to his already impressive tally.
“Shut the gates!” Ryan ordered, as soon as the vehicle gained the safety of the interior of London’s premier fortification. A moment later, his radio crackled in reply. Lester saw a frown appear on Ryan’s normally impassive face as the captain uttered the words that Lester had been dreading: “Is he dead?”
Lester felt the resident anaconda in this stomach coil and uncoil viciously. He gripped the stones of the battlement hard as he closed his eyes and tried to blot out the images that suddenly leaped into his mind, Images of a bloodied, broken body, ripped apart by the same skeletal claws that had torn out Ryan’s eye and left long scars on the captain’s throat and chest.
“Keep them open another five minutes.” Ryan conceded, his voice as cold and calm as the grave, but despite that, Lester took some hope from the words.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to sound as calm and detached as Ryan but no doubt failing miserably.
Another explosion from the direction of London Bridge forestalled Ryan’s response and a rumble of thunder decided to join the party. Lester concentrated on breathing slowly, trying to clear his mind of unwanted images.
“It appears part of the bridge was more stubborn than they expected. Becker told the rest of them to get the hell out of the area and make it look like they’d all gone while he stayed to finish the job.”
Lester rolled his eyes. Appearances had to be maintained, even though he felt like what was left of his world was busily falling apart around him. He took some comfort from the fact that the last explosion probably indicated that Becker had been still alive until a few moments ago.
With Ryan at his side, he stared out into the darkness. The storm had finally started to move away from them, travelling eastwards. On the other side of the river, he saw the occasional muzzle flash from a rifle. They weren’t London’s only defenders, but they were probably the most organised.
The scorching light of promises that pave the streets of hell.
Every time he left the Tower, Becker promised to return, but maybe tonight would be the night his promises finally got broken. Lester carried on gripping the rough stone and tried to empty his mind of negative thoughts. At his side, Ryan was carrying on a low, urgent conversation via the radio, doing his best to ascertain what had happened and whether there was any point in sending out a relief force looking for Becker. Down in the courtyard he could hear Lyle shouting orders as the occupants of both vehicles readied themselves to leave if Ryan gave the word.
Amidst the noise, Lester heard another sound approaching at speed. The steady beat of a horse’s hooves being ridden at speed along a tarmac road. Lester sucked in a sharp breath and leaned forwards.
A searchlight swivelled on top of the gatehouse, picking out a predator about to spring then Finn’s rifle shot blew its head apart and it topped down into the road.
The horse trampled the still-twitching body without breaking its stride. Its rider didn’t even spare a glance for the broken body on the ground. Becker’s eyes were firmly trained on the entrance to the Tower as he clung, bareback, to the animal’s smooth sides, his hands fisted in its flowing mane.
“Bloody horse-boys always were a showy lot,” Ryan said, allowing his relief to surface. Becker’s background in the Blues and Royals had often been the subject of some amusement, but the young captain was clearly putting his riding skills to good use now.
Becker guided the horse across the narrow bridge between the outer and inner gates and brought his mount to a halt on the grass. His hair was tousled and his handsome face was filthy but filled with a wild elation that came from having narrowly cheated death yet again. He slid to the ground and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck, burying his face in its mane for a moment, but when he looked up, a flash of distant lightning in the east showed the smile on his face; the smile that was for Lester alone.
The Horseman of Apocalypse, the Rider of the Shires.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down;
Blow the horn of Huntington from Scotland to the sea --
...Only flash of thunder-light, a flying dream of thunder-light,
Had shown under the shattered sky a people that were free.
“He’s going to want to keep it, isn’t he?” Lester said, as dryly as he could manage.
“I expect so, sir,” Ryan said, as he started to limp towards the steps down to the courtyard. “It’ll go nicely with my parrot.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time this tower has housed a menagerie, Captain, but if Lieutenant Lyle wants to keep a polar bear, the answer is no.”
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Lester (/Becker), Ryan (/Stephen)
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 1,888
Summary : Lester and Ryan stand on the walls of the Tower of London in the midst of a ruined world and discuss poetry. And parrots.
A/N : 1) Written for the
primeval_denial monthly challenge for July, for the poetry prompt 2) With thanks to bigtitch who first came up with this head-canon for Becker’s army background.The sound of the explosion filled the night, blotting out the noise of conflict in other areas of the city, and even drowning out the bad-tempered grumbles of thunder that had persisted for most of the night. The bomb-flash lit up the river in a vivid burst of orange and red. If he’d been using his night-vision goggles, the result would have been eye-wateringly unpleasant.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down
“The boy does like his pyrotechnics,” Lester said, doing his best to ignore the nagging feeling of unease in his guts.
“He’ll make it back, sir,” Ryan said.
The captain’s presence at his side helped to ground Lester, reminding him that not everything in this wretched world was unutterably grim. The anomalies had taken so much away from him – and everyone else – but they had also given back Captain Tom Ryan, the man who was now ordering the defence of England’s beleaguered former capital.
Ryan had arrived back through one of the rips in time, filthy, bloodied and lacking an eye. They had no idea if he was ‘their’ Ryan, or a clone, or a refugee from an alternative timeline, but none of that mattered. He was back, and they needed him. That was all any of them cared about. The survivors of man’s greatest miscalculation had long since leaned to count their blessings.
Lester turned and did his best to muster a slight smile, despite the presence of an intrusive anaconda that seemed to have taken up residence inside him and was doing its best to make itself comfortable. “I don’t know if I’ve told you this before, Ryan, but that eye-patch suits you. Most piratical.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m thinking of acquiring a parrot.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s preferable to a wooden leg.”
“That’s what Stephen says, but I think he’s just trying to stop me grumbling about this.” Ryan stamped his foot on the stone walkway running around the walls of London’s oldest fortress.
The captain’s leg was currently encased in a light cast, which is why he wasn’t out risking his neck with Becker’s squad or Lyle’s. A bad brush with a three predators and their handler had resulted in two deaths and Ryan’s broken leg. Their long-suffering medic had patched him up, found him a pair of crutches and told him to stay out of trouble. In the wreckage of London, that was a hard instruction to obey.
“How much longer can we hold out here, Ryan?” Lester asked.
“A while yet,” Ryan said. “But not indefinitely.”
The soldier was saved the need to elaborate by another explosion, accompanied by a dramatic – and perfectly timed – roll of thunder. Lightning leaped out of the heavy grey cloud that had wreathed the city all day and joined with the flash from the bomb blast to create a display even more dramatic than Becker’s earlier effort.
“The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London town. The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more.” Lester spoke the words quietly but with feeling. That had been one poem he hadn’t minded learning by heart. “GK Chesterton,” he added, for Ryan’s benefit.
“He wrote The Rolling English Road, didn’t he, sir?” Ryan said, as though there was nothing even remotely odd about standing on the battlements of the Tower of London in the middle of an apocalypse, discussing poetry. “One of my sergeants at Sandhurst liked to quote him…. usually when we’d got hopelessly fucking lost on a map-reading exercise.”
“The night you went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands?” Lester enquired.
Another flash of lightning leaped from the sky, but was harmlessly channelled to earth by the conductor on the top of the White Tower.
Ryan’s grin only increased the piratical effect of the black eye-patch. “Something like that, sir.”
“Are you ever going to call me James?”
“Probably not, sir.”
Lester sighed, mainly in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that Becker’s team still hadn’t made their way back to base. He imagined Ryan was feeling much the same about Lyle’s lads. Stephen had gone with them to provide the benefit of his sniping skills. They weren’t overdue yet, but Lyle wasn’t known for his time-keeping. Their objective had been to destroy Millennium Bridge. From one of the noises they’d heard a little while ago, he’d probably been successful, but Ryan had ordered a comms blackout except in dire emergency, so they couldn’t be sure.
The predators probably didn’t possess hearing in the conventional sense, but their handlers certainly did.
“Do you think we could try distracting the wretched things with the Crown jewels, Ryan?”
“I think you’ll find it’s magpies that get distracted by shiny things, sir, not those fucking hellbeasts.”
The sound of an engine being heavily gunned made both men tense and lean over the top of the wall. They saw a silver Hilux with its lights on full beam being driven at full speed towards the main gate.
Ryan thumbed the button on his hand-held radio. “Get the gate open!” he ordered. “And keep it that way until I tell you to close it.”
“Lyle’s team?” Lester said.
Ryan nodded. “Only Fiver would drive that fast at a closed gate.”
The Hilux skidded through the outer gates then the inner ones and roared into the courtyard, coming to a halt in a spray of gravel. The doors opened and Lester counted the men as they jumped out. Six. The same number that had left the Tower an hour ago. For once Lyle had run exactly to time. Lester caught sight of Stephen’s tall, spare frame, a long rifle slung over his shoulder. He smiled in the darkness, knowing the relief Ryan would be feeling at the safe return of his lover.
Lester turned away and trained his night-vision goggles on what he could see of Lower Thames Street. A moment later, he was rewarded by the flash of headlights. He let the bulky goggles hang around his neck as he concentrated on following the movement of the lights. The green effect from the goggles made him feel faintly seasick, so he only used them sparingly.
As the vehicle swerved into view, Lester saw a dark shape spring from one of the nearby buildings and cling to the top of the Range Rover. A heartbeat later, he heard the sound of a rifle shot, and the creature fell from its perch. Finn had added another kill to his already impressive tally.
“Shut the gates!” Ryan ordered, as soon as the vehicle gained the safety of the interior of London’s premier fortification. A moment later, his radio crackled in reply. Lester saw a frown appear on Ryan’s normally impassive face as the captain uttered the words that Lester had been dreading: “Is he dead?”
Lester felt the resident anaconda in this stomach coil and uncoil viciously. He gripped the stones of the battlement hard as he closed his eyes and tried to blot out the images that suddenly leaped into his mind, Images of a bloodied, broken body, ripped apart by the same skeletal claws that had torn out Ryan’s eye and left long scars on the captain’s throat and chest.
“Keep them open another five minutes.” Ryan conceded, his voice as cold and calm as the grave, but despite that, Lester took some hope from the words.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to sound as calm and detached as Ryan but no doubt failing miserably.
Another explosion from the direction of London Bridge forestalled Ryan’s response and a rumble of thunder decided to join the party. Lester concentrated on breathing slowly, trying to clear his mind of unwanted images.
“It appears part of the bridge was more stubborn than they expected. Becker told the rest of them to get the hell out of the area and make it look like they’d all gone while he stayed to finish the job.”
Lester rolled his eyes. Appearances had to be maintained, even though he felt like what was left of his world was busily falling apart around him. He took some comfort from the fact that the last explosion probably indicated that Becker had been still alive until a few moments ago.
With Ryan at his side, he stared out into the darkness. The storm had finally started to move away from them, travelling eastwards. On the other side of the river, he saw the occasional muzzle flash from a rifle. They weren’t London’s only defenders, but they were probably the most organised.
The scorching light of promises that pave the streets of hell.
Every time he left the Tower, Becker promised to return, but maybe tonight would be the night his promises finally got broken. Lester carried on gripping the rough stone and tried to empty his mind of negative thoughts. At his side, Ryan was carrying on a low, urgent conversation via the radio, doing his best to ascertain what had happened and whether there was any point in sending out a relief force looking for Becker. Down in the courtyard he could hear Lyle shouting orders as the occupants of both vehicles readied themselves to leave if Ryan gave the word.
Amidst the noise, Lester heard another sound approaching at speed. The steady beat of a horse’s hooves being ridden at speed along a tarmac road. Lester sucked in a sharp breath and leaned forwards.
A searchlight swivelled on top of the gatehouse, picking out a predator about to spring then Finn’s rifle shot blew its head apart and it topped down into the road.
The horse trampled the still-twitching body without breaking its stride. Its rider didn’t even spare a glance for the broken body on the ground. Becker’s eyes were firmly trained on the entrance to the Tower as he clung, bareback, to the animal’s smooth sides, his hands fisted in its flowing mane.
“Bloody horse-boys always were a showy lot,” Ryan said, allowing his relief to surface. Becker’s background in the Blues and Royals had often been the subject of some amusement, but the young captain was clearly putting his riding skills to good use now.
Becker guided the horse across the narrow bridge between the outer and inner gates and brought his mount to a halt on the grass. His hair was tousled and his handsome face was filthy but filled with a wild elation that came from having narrowly cheated death yet again. He slid to the ground and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck, burying his face in its mane for a moment, but when he looked up, a flash of distant lightning in the east showed the smile on his face; the smile that was for Lester alone.
The Horseman of Apocalypse, the Rider of the Shires.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down;
Blow the horn of Huntington from Scotland to the sea --
...Only flash of thunder-light, a flying dream of thunder-light,
Had shown under the shattered sky a people that were free.
“He’s going to want to keep it, isn’t he?” Lester said, as dryly as he could manage.
“I expect so, sir,” Ryan said, as he started to limp towards the steps down to the courtyard. “It’ll go nicely with my parrot.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time this tower has housed a menagerie, Captain, but if Lieutenant Lyle wants to keep a polar bear, the answer is no.”
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no subject
Date: 2016-07-25 07:31 pm (UTC)Loved the apocalypse connection.
The predators having handlers gave me chills!
And I did laugh at the peg leg and parrot!
Not to mention Becker keeping the horse, and the idea of Lyle and a polar bear!
Although I must say that the mental picture of Becker riding hell-for-leather - Bareback! - is one I shall treasure.
Lester really does excel at hiding his feelings under snark.
Bloody brilliant entry for the challenge!
no subject
Date: 2016-07-25 09:28 pm (UTC)Thank you! I had huge fun with this, dropping in some things without explanation, like the handlers! I might develop that idea at some point....
no subject
Date: 2016-07-25 08:58 pm (UTC)The bit about Ryan and the parrot made me laugh out loud, but then I held my breath and clinged to my seat until Becker was safe. Of course he deserves to keep the horse, but he shouldn't play the hero all the time, poor Lester would suffer too much.
Awesome apocalypse fic, really loved it!
no subject
Date: 2016-07-25 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-25 08:59 pm (UTC)“Thank you, sir. I’m thinking of acquiring a parrot.”
LOL, cool future!Ryan minus eye.
Brilliantly droll ending :D
no subject
Date: 2016-07-25 09:30 pm (UTC)The ending was a last minute addition, so I'm glad it worked!
no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 01:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 06:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 06:05 am (UTC)Very tense as well. And I love Becker arriving on the horse! Our precious little cavalryman!
no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 06:15 am (UTC)When I read it, the idea just jumped straight into my head, and your backstory for him was a perfect fit.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 01:57 pm (UTC)LOL at the Tower menagerie.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-27 08:15 pm (UTC)convince Lester to let him keep itno subject
Date: 2016-07-26 08:02 pm (UTC)*Smiles winningly*
no subject
Date: 2016-07-26 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-29 06:15 am (UTC)Yay for getting Ryan back and for letting Becker keep the horse.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-29 09:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-08-10 08:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-08-11 01:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-03-10 08:37 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2023-03-10 10:12 pm (UTC)