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fredbassettTitle : Fear in a Handful of Dust, Part 2 of 2
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : Ryan/Ethan
Characters : 15
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 8.100, in two parts.
Summary : Badly injured and left for dead, Ryan finds unexpected help. Or rather unexpected help finds him.
A/N: Started for Ethan Week on 52 Weeks of Primeval and finished for Gentlemen of Primeval Week. I wouldn’t mind being stuck through an anomaly with either of these two!
“Roast gopher?” Ethan held out a long stick taken from the thorny bush. Skewered on it was a lump of greyish meat.
“Sounds good.” Ryan accepted the stick and blew on the slightly charred meat to cool it down.
To prevent them placing too much reliance on the ration packs and power bars, Ethan has used up a few rounds of their precious ammunition to acquire some fresh food. The burrowing creatures made a reasonably tasty roast dinner and by now, the seventh day after he’d dragged Ryan from an early grave, the soldier could keep solid food down, and had managed to walk a few steps away from their makeshift shelter unaided. Ethan had left him cradling one of the automatic rifles on his knees during the daily trip to replenish their water bottles. They hadn’t had to do more than fire a couple of warning shots in the last few days, but there was no point in being caught unprepared.
From their vantage point on the hillside, they’d watched a herd of large, lumbering herbivores make their way along the valley. For once, the big predators had kept their distance. One of those beasties would have kept them in meat for a very long time, but the carcase would attract too many scavengers, so they would just have to make do with the gophers.
The soldier was an undemanding companion. After a slightly false start, he made no attempt to pry into Ethan’s past. They’d talked briefly about Ryan’s various tours of duty in Northern Ireland, and his time in Bosnia and the Middle East. In return, Ethan had given some brief details of his time in Russia. He’d taught Ryan the Russian for eat shit and die (zhri govno i zdohni) and in return he’d learned how to call someone a walrus’s cock (hooy morzhovy). Now he just needed the chance to practice that one.
Ethan had been surprised to discover that the government now knew about the gateways – or anomalies, as Ryan called them – but he was less surprised to learn that they were doing all they could to keep the news from the public. Keep people in the dark and feed them shit. What could possibly go wrong?
Ryan seemed to have a fair bit of time for the man called Cutter who had left him for dead. When Ethan had offered his blunt opinion of the man’s actions, the soldier had just shrugged and said that Cutter was an academic, not a medic. But he had considerably less time for the man’s missus, describing her as a poisonous bitch who he wouldn’t piss on if she was on fire.
Ethan grinned. That was a sentiment he held about a lot of people.
The three weeks he’d spent in Ryan’s company, had been the longest he’d spent with one person since he’d been thrust into the horror of the camouflage beasts’ world. Even during his time in Russia and Belfast, he’d avoided spending much – if any – time alone with other people. All too easy to get tripped up in a lie, and all too easy to betray his own ignorance and end up the object of suspicion. He’d quickly learned how much people feared and distrusted strangers, especially ones who spoke a different language. But with Ryan it was different. They’d been thrown together by force of circumstance and trust had inevitably followed. Ryan had had no choice other than to trust the man who held his life in his hands and gradually, Ethan had realised that he could afford to trust Ryan in return.
The first time he let his guard down had been accidental. He’d simply fallen asleep one night and had woken up to find Ryan sitting propped up against the rock, a rifle cradled across his knees. As Ethan had started to scramble to his feet, disturbed by the roar of something large and almost certainly deadly, Ryan had just calmly told him to go back to sleep and, much to Ethan’s own surprise, he’d been able to settle back down and do exactly that.
He’d returned the favour at dawn, taking over the watch. Ryan had tucked himself into the shade as far as possible and had curled up, his head pillowed on one arm and had promptly fallen asleep.
After that, they’d established a routine, taking watch in turn. Ryan still wasn’t recovered enough to walk more than a few halting steps away from their shelter, but he was good at remaining alert and on watch. He still needed a lot of sleep, and they accommodated that by Ryan being on guard for two hours and then following that with four hours of rest. It seemed to work well, although it did mean that they spent very little time in conversation. Ethan told himself that didn’t matter, but there were some days when he craved a more active companionship.
Ethan wiped sweat from his face with his dusty shirtsleeve. The era he now knew to be the Permian was not exactly his idea of fun. He’d visited numerous different time periods in his years beyond the gateways, but he’d known very little about any of them. He’d learned to take tentative steps at first and to retreat quickly if the air was difficult to breathe or if the world in which he found himself seemed inhospitable. He’d walked away from worlds of fire and worlds of ice and most things in between.
He shifted uncomfortably in the relentless heat. The pressure on his bladder was gradually increasing and wouldn’t improve unless he did something about it, but he was reluctant to leave the meagre shelter they’d been able to rig up using the now-tattered foil blanket.
Eventually, Ethan gave in and went for a piss then sat down with his back against the rock again. They had enough water for half a day, so he could afford to let Ryan get some rest after spending most of the night on watch. Ryan’s long eyelashes lay against cheeks darkened by wind and sun. despite their crude shelter, the sun still found its way through, and Ryan’s short blond hair had been bleached even lighter, but by contrast, his cheeks were dark with the stubble that had grown into a short beard.
The soldier was an attractive man. Ethan had tried to tell himself that wasn’t the reason he’d stuck around, and for a while he’d even believed himself. But it was getting harder to convince himself of that now. He found himself wondering what Ryan’s hair would feel like to the touch, what his beard would be like against his cheek, and what his cock would feel like in his hands.
Ethan had known he fancied men from the age of 14. He’d not had the chance to act on his feelings until his time in Russia, and even then, there had been no more than a few snatched moments with one of the anarchists he’d spent time with. The man was married with a young daughter, but that hadn’t stopped him from fucking Ethan against a wall in a dark alley. It hadn’t been the way Ethan would have picked to lose his virginity, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The rough hand-job he’d been given in return had more than made up for the pain in his arse from a pounding with no more than spit to ease the passage of the man’s cock. It had been enough to leave him craving more. But letting his guard down was hard and most of the time he’d had to be content with his own hand on his cock.
Talk o’ the devil. His cock had seemingly developed a mind of its own and started to harden. Thinking about sex wasn’t the best way to spend a hot morning, especially when there was bugger all chance of him being able to do anything about it. Ethan did his best to will away the inconvenient erection. His cock took no notice. Ethan shifted position and tried surreptitiously to adjust his underwear.
At exactly that moment, Ryan turned over and opened his eyes.
Ethan’s hand flew guiltily away from his crotch to grip the stock of the rifle lying alongside his thigh.
“Don’t mind me if you need a wank,” Ryan said, closing his eyes and settling back down to sleep.
The age-old lie about just scratching an itch came to mind, but Ethan kept the words to himself. They’d been forced to listen to each other piss and crap, so he didn’t see why he should have to feel embarrassed for having a hard-on. He tried to tell himself that his mam had been right when she’d kept intoning the annoying phrase ‘least said. soonest mended’, usually in the face of some petty row between Ethan and his brother that had got out of hand.
He closed his eyes and relied on his hearing to alert him to the approach of anything they didn’t want to meet. A light breeze rustled the thin fabric about his head. The air was hot and heavy inside their shelter, rank with the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies. Water was too scare a commodity to be used for anything other than drinking. He’d so far relied on antiseptic wipes scavenged from the dead soldiers’ packs to keep Ryan’s wounds clean. To his surprise, none of the deep cuts had turned nasty and they were finally starting to draw together and heal. Maybe the hot, dry air helped. Ethan didn’t know. He had no medical training, although he did know that wounds had to be kept clean, and preferably dry. He’d been able to draw some of the gashes together with the small strips he’d found in one of the field dressing backs and that seemed to have helped. But despite his best efforts, the wounds would scar.
The roar of a hunting predator shattered the fragile silence, too close for comfort. Ethan snatched up the rifle, the jolt of adrenaline causing his damned cock to harden even more.
Ryan opened his eyes and sat up, reaching for his own weapon.
Neither of the men wanted to attract attention to themselves by speaking, but they were both aware that the large carnivores hunted as much by smell as they did by sight and hearing.
Moving slowly and as soundlessly as possible, the two men manoeuvred themselves into a crouch and waited. Ryan pulled one of the packs containing their spare weapons and ammunition to him and drew out something short and tubular. Ethan recognised it at once. He’d seen one used once in Belfast during the Troubles, when a patrol had gone in to clear a house they believed was being used to house the snipers who had been taking potshots at them over the past week. The noise had been deafening, even from his hiding place on the far side of the street. He heard later that the soldiers had been SAS, the same regiment as Ryan, and he later learned that it had been one of the first times the non-lethal stun grenades had been used in action.
“Gorgonopsid,” Ryan murmured.
It was one of the few creatures they knew by name. It was also one of the ones they feared the most. The fuckers were huge and would be a nightmare to stop. The small calibre rifles they had weren’t designed to bring something like that to a halt. The M4s were anti-people weapons not anti-prehistoric fucking tank weapons.
“Wind’s blowing away from us and towards the fucker,” Ethan said, matching his voice to Ryan’s in volume.
“It fucking would be. If it gets too close I’m clucking the flash-bang. On my count of three, keep your mouth open so your eardrums don’t pop and shut your eyes.”
Ethan kept his breathing slow and steady, hoping the fucking thing wouldn’t pick up their scent, but the pair of them were probably rank enough to smell a mile off.
They heard the creature’s roars before it finally came into view. It swung its head from side to side, the full-throated roars sometimes subsiding to a rumbling growl. Heavy feet thumped down into the black sand as it came closer. Ethan felt the warm rush of adrenaline through his body as he fought the instinctive urge to get up and run. His palms were sweating and itching but his mouth was bone dry. He was suddenly conscious of the hot, try air tickling the hairs inside his nose and felt a growing, overwhelming urge to sneeze creeping up on him. He clamped one hand over his nose and mouth, doing his best to stifle the noise.
He failed. OK, the noise wasn’t as bad as it might have been but it was still too fucking loud. Ryan turned startled eyes on him, but a heartbeat later, the soldier was back in full combat mode, eyes trained on the gorgonopsid, measuring distance, assessing the threat level.
The threat level that had just rocketed off the fucking scale thanks to his sodding sneeze…
The gorgonopsid swung its huge head towards their shelter and opened its mouth wide to roar a challenge. The noise was ear-shattering. Thick ivory-coloured teeth packed the wide jaws, its canines so thick they looked like tusks. He’d seen those jaws slice smaller opponents in half with frightening ease while the beast trampled others underfoot. They wouldn’t stand a fucking chance if it got too close. It was a long time since he’d prayed to any god, but now didn’t seem like a bad time to consider starting again.
“One… Two…”
Ethan opened his mouth and closed his eyes.
A second roar split the air. Ethan fought for control of his guts as they churned uncomfortably. The sneeze had been bad enough. He couldn’t risk losing control at the other end as well. He dragged in a shallow breath, eyes still closed, wondering when the fuck Ryan was going to reach the end of his count and chuck the grenade.
He heard the heavy feet pounding the sand, and he expected the creature to come crashing into their shelter any second. He didn’t know what the hell Ryan was waiting for. Ethan opened his eyes, fully expecting to stare death in the face but unable to remain quiescent any longer.
The gorgonopsid was facing away from them, head thrown back, bellowing anger and defiance. A second creature, almost as large, slammed into it clamping down with strong jaws onto an exposed shoulder. The first creature bucked and turned, its own jaws coming into play. The battle was joined.
“Close your mouth,” Ryan said. “No point in chucking this yet.”
“Sorry about the sneeze,” Ethan offered.
Ryan grinned. “Knew a bloke once who farted so loud on a stakeout that they heard him in the next county. Shit happens.”
“It nearly did,” he admitted. “Still might.”
“They’ve got more on the minds than us. If we’re lucky, they’ll have short memories.”
“If they haven’t?”
“Then I chuck the flashbang.”
Their conversation belied the twisting fear in Ethan’s guts. He’d learned to survive beyond the anomalies by shutting his emotions away in a box and slamming down the lid, but the huge predators evoke a visceral terror that even he was finding hard to suppress. Without Ryan, there was no way he would have stayed in one place so long, and certainly not somewhere as inhospitable as the Permian. He’d always preferred to stay on the move. Maybe one day he’d even find somewhere he could regard as home, but it had been so long since he’d had a home that he couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like.
The gorgonopsids were ripping chunks off each other, jaws and teeth painted red now, too enraged to bellow. The beasts were beyond the stage of posturing. This was a fight to death. They were well-matched in size and weight and even if he’d been a betting man, he wouldn’t have put so much as the smell off his shit on the outcome.
On cue, Ryan said, “Fiver on the one with the scarred arse to win.”
“Fresh out of fivers, mate,” Ethan said, trying to keep his tone light.
“You could always play a forfeit…”
Ethan rolled his eyes.
The gorgonopsid with the scarred arse shook off its opponent and promptly charged, knocking the other to the ground.
At Ethan’s side, Ryan drew in a sharp breath.
“What’s the problem? Your boy looks like coming out on top.” The banter was helping him stay calm and focussed, so he was happy to play the game.
“Anomaly,” Ryan said. “A hundred metres away.” The soldier pointed to his left, out of Ethan’s line of sight.
Ethan leaned out, staying out of Ryan’s field of fire. In the shimmering heat haze of the midday sun, an anomaly hung in the air, bright and alluring. The only problem was that it was out in the open and uphill, further away than Ryan had been able to walk. He’d done what he could to exercise in the confines of their shelter and behind the rock pile, but the soldier was still weak from his injuries.
“Take a rifle and a pack and go,” Ryan said. “I’ll follow you if it looks better than here.”
“We go together, soldier boy,” Ethan shot back.
“I’ll slow you down.”
“Wasting time, you muppet.” Ethan grabbed hold of one of the backpacks that they kept ready to move at a moment’s notice and slung it over his shoulder in the confines of the shelter. A spare rifle was strapped to the webbing and the pack contained half of what was left of what they’d scavenged from Ryan’s dead comrades. He picked up the second pack and shoved it at Ryan. “Get it on your back and start moving. If they follow us, chuck the magic stick.”
“You’ll regret this, bog boy.” Ryan slipped the pack onto his belt and hauled himself to his feet. With the rifle strapped across his chest and the stun grenade in his hand, the soldier looked as ready as he would ever be.
Ethan cast a quick eye around their shelter, but there was nothing left behind. They had both got into the habit of being ready to move at a moment’s notice, even when Ryan had been too weak to do more that struggle behind the rock they used as a toilet.
The gorgonopsids were locked together, jaws clamped onto leathery hides, blood mixed with black sand. Ryan’s prediction had been right; the one with the scarred arse seemed to be winning. It had the other pinned to the ground now and was ripping at its flesh.
Limping heavily, Ryan started to make his way towards the anomaly. Ethan hung back, knowing he could catch up easily, if needed, but wanting to make sure he could keep watch on the battle for dominance being played out on the stark hillside. If one of the creatures broke away, they needed to know.
Ethan followed, the rifle clutched hard in his hands. Ryan’s progress was painfully slow and Ethan knew what the effort would be costing him, but the anomaly represented the chance of moving on. He just hoped it would lead to somewhere better than the drab, harsh world he’d been stuck in for longer than he cared to think about. When Ryan had covered half of the distance to the spinning shards of time, Ethan put on a spurt and passed him.
“I’ll check it out,” he said, panting from exertion under the full glare of the sun. “Keep moving.”
Ryan grimaced. “Wasn’t planning on stopping for a fucking picnic.”
Ethan made straight for the anomaly and ran through, hoping he wasn’t going to end up in even deeper shit.
He abruptly exchanged sunshine for shade. Tall trees shaded a woodland glade. The ground was soft underfoot but firmer than the black sand and the air was perfectly breathable. That was all he needed to know. He dived back through the anomaly to find Ryan was still struggling up the slope while below him, the gorgonopsids were still locked together, intent on tearing each other to shreds.
He ran to Ryan, arms flailing as he fought to keep his balance as his feet sunk in the sand. As soon as he was close enough, Ethan caught hold of Ryan’s left arm and hoisted it over his shoulder, taking as much of the soldier’s weight as possible as together they half-limped, half-ran up the slope. He could hear Ryan’s breath rasping in his throat and knew the effort it was costing the other man to push a pace like that from a body that had barely healed.
The sight of the anomaly spurred them both on. They were beyond any banter now. This was a race with their lives as the prize.
A roar of triumph split the air.
Ethan cast a quick look over his shoulder. The victorious gorgonopsid stood over the body of its opponent, blood dripping from its jaws as well as numerous lacerations on its leathery hide. The other creature lay limp at its feet, blood soaking into the sand.
The anomaly was close now, so close that Ethan could feel the magnetic pull on the rifle slung across his chest.
Neither of them hesitated. They plunged into the spinning ball of light, keeping tight hold on their weapons during the abrupt change from the sweltering heat of the Permian to the cool of a forest glade. Arms still across each other’s shoulders, they staggered across the clearing to lean against the trunk of what looked like an ancient beech tree. There was nothing in the vicinity that held a clue as to where or when they were, but it wasn’t the fucking Permian, so Ethan would count that as a win.
They stood there, fighting for breath, shoulders shaking from the effort they’d put in to get through the anomaly before the surviving predator worked out where they’d gone.
“Your forfeit,” Ryan gasped. “Told you the fucker with the scarred arse would win.”
Ethan laughed aloud, the burst of adrenaline shooting a huge high through his system. He’d tried drugs a couple of times, but nothing compared to this. Absolutely nothing. He turned to Ryan, cupping the soldier’s bearded face in both hands and kissed him.
Ryan kissed him back. There was no finesse, no give and take, just the sheer heady rush that came from still being alive. Ryan’s mouth opened and his tongue slid against Ethan’s, hot and wet, but with no hint of softness. Their bodies were pressed together, heedless of the rifles clashing against each other, not fucking caring what was happening around them. All they cared about was the long-overdue release of tension.
Ethan broke first, the warm rush of climax powering through him, leaving him limp in Ryan’s arms. The soldier carried on kissing him as though his life depended on it, then he stiffened for a moment, groaned into Ethan’s mouth, then allowed the tension drain out of him. They stayed together, arms around each other, foreheads touching, breath mingling on the cool air. It was everything that Ethan had never allowed himself to dream of.
He drew in a deep breath and leaned back against the trunk of the tree.
Before he had the chance to speak, an amused voice sounded in the silence of the forest. “Very touching.”
Ryan’s head whipped around, and Ethan realised the soldier still held the stun grenade in one hand.
A group of men – and one woman – surrounded them, each wearing black uniforms like the one Ryan still wore, but considerably less dilapidated. The business end of several rifle muzzles was pointing at them and Ethan had no doubt that they would be used if either of them made a hostile move. They’d exchanged one threat for another, but at least they were now facing a potential enemy that spoke the same language as them. That was some improvement.
The man who’d spoken was tall and slim, carrying a combat shotgun instead of a rifle. He was watching the pair of them with an amused expression that perfectly matched his tone. His dark, glossy hair looked like it had been styled in front of a mirror and he didn’t look far out of his mid-20s. He had the sort of smooth good-looks that wouldn’t have been out of place on the front cover of a fashion magazine.
“Drop your weapons,” the man said in a cool, professional tone.
“I’d rather not,” Ryan said, in an equally conversational tone of voice.
“Let’s not get off to a bad start, boys” a second voice said, much less well-tailored than the first.
Ethan felt the hot rush drain out of his system as he faced a tall, ginger-haired man with a craggy, lived-in face.
The man stared at him, his eyes wide with shock. He took a step forward, emotions that Ethan couldn’t entirely read playing out on his expressive face.
“Patrick?” Sudden hope flared in the other man’s eyes. “Patrick, is that you?”
The need to reply was curtailed by a cry of, “Incoming!” as the anomaly flared and the gorgonopid burst into the cool forest.
Before the soldiers had time to react, Ryan’s arm moved in a wide arc and he flung the stun grenade in the path of the charging creature.
Ethan closed his eyes and opened his mouth. The thunder clap was deafening, leaving his senses in tatters, even though he’d been anticipating both the bang and the flash. The gorgonopsid stopped its dash into the forest, head down, growling rather than roaring. It took a pace backwards, clearly dazed and confused, and it wasn’t the only one. It took another pace back, the anomaly expanding around it. With a roar, the creature turned and fled back to its own time.
In the silence that followed, the cultured voice said, “Welcome back, Captain Ryan.”
It looked like there were going to be a few explanations needed on both sides. Ethan’s eyes were still locked on the face of the man who had called him Patrick. That wasn’t a name he’d imagined hearing again, on anyone’s lips, least of all his own brother’s.
Maybe he really had finally found his way home.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : Ryan/Ethan
Characters : 15
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 8.100, in two parts.
Summary : Badly injured and left for dead, Ryan finds unexpected help. Or rather unexpected help finds him.
A/N: Started for Ethan Week on 52 Weeks of Primeval and finished for Gentlemen of Primeval Week. I wouldn’t mind being stuck through an anomaly with either of these two!
“Roast gopher?” Ethan held out a long stick taken from the thorny bush. Skewered on it was a lump of greyish meat.
“Sounds good.” Ryan accepted the stick and blew on the slightly charred meat to cool it down.
To prevent them placing too much reliance on the ration packs and power bars, Ethan has used up a few rounds of their precious ammunition to acquire some fresh food. The burrowing creatures made a reasonably tasty roast dinner and by now, the seventh day after he’d dragged Ryan from an early grave, the soldier could keep solid food down, and had managed to walk a few steps away from their makeshift shelter unaided. Ethan had left him cradling one of the automatic rifles on his knees during the daily trip to replenish their water bottles. They hadn’t had to do more than fire a couple of warning shots in the last few days, but there was no point in being caught unprepared.
From their vantage point on the hillside, they’d watched a herd of large, lumbering herbivores make their way along the valley. For once, the big predators had kept their distance. One of those beasties would have kept them in meat for a very long time, but the carcase would attract too many scavengers, so they would just have to make do with the gophers.
The soldier was an undemanding companion. After a slightly false start, he made no attempt to pry into Ethan’s past. They’d talked briefly about Ryan’s various tours of duty in Northern Ireland, and his time in Bosnia and the Middle East. In return, Ethan had given some brief details of his time in Russia. He’d taught Ryan the Russian for eat shit and die (zhri govno i zdohni) and in return he’d learned how to call someone a walrus’s cock (hooy morzhovy). Now he just needed the chance to practice that one.
Ethan had been surprised to discover that the government now knew about the gateways – or anomalies, as Ryan called them – but he was less surprised to learn that they were doing all they could to keep the news from the public. Keep people in the dark and feed them shit. What could possibly go wrong?
Ryan seemed to have a fair bit of time for the man called Cutter who had left him for dead. When Ethan had offered his blunt opinion of the man’s actions, the soldier had just shrugged and said that Cutter was an academic, not a medic. But he had considerably less time for the man’s missus, describing her as a poisonous bitch who he wouldn’t piss on if she was on fire.
Ethan grinned. That was a sentiment he held about a lot of people.
The three weeks he’d spent in Ryan’s company, had been the longest he’d spent with one person since he’d been thrust into the horror of the camouflage beasts’ world. Even during his time in Russia and Belfast, he’d avoided spending much – if any – time alone with other people. All too easy to get tripped up in a lie, and all too easy to betray his own ignorance and end up the object of suspicion. He’d quickly learned how much people feared and distrusted strangers, especially ones who spoke a different language. But with Ryan it was different. They’d been thrown together by force of circumstance and trust had inevitably followed. Ryan had had no choice other than to trust the man who held his life in his hands and gradually, Ethan had realised that he could afford to trust Ryan in return.
The first time he let his guard down had been accidental. He’d simply fallen asleep one night and had woken up to find Ryan sitting propped up against the rock, a rifle cradled across his knees. As Ethan had started to scramble to his feet, disturbed by the roar of something large and almost certainly deadly, Ryan had just calmly told him to go back to sleep and, much to Ethan’s own surprise, he’d been able to settle back down and do exactly that.
He’d returned the favour at dawn, taking over the watch. Ryan had tucked himself into the shade as far as possible and had curled up, his head pillowed on one arm and had promptly fallen asleep.
After that, they’d established a routine, taking watch in turn. Ryan still wasn’t recovered enough to walk more than a few halting steps away from their shelter, but he was good at remaining alert and on watch. He still needed a lot of sleep, and they accommodated that by Ryan being on guard for two hours and then following that with four hours of rest. It seemed to work well, although it did mean that they spent very little time in conversation. Ethan told himself that didn’t matter, but there were some days when he craved a more active companionship.
Ethan wiped sweat from his face with his dusty shirtsleeve. The era he now knew to be the Permian was not exactly his idea of fun. He’d visited numerous different time periods in his years beyond the gateways, but he’d known very little about any of them. He’d learned to take tentative steps at first and to retreat quickly if the air was difficult to breathe or if the world in which he found himself seemed inhospitable. He’d walked away from worlds of fire and worlds of ice and most things in between.
He shifted uncomfortably in the relentless heat. The pressure on his bladder was gradually increasing and wouldn’t improve unless he did something about it, but he was reluctant to leave the meagre shelter they’d been able to rig up using the now-tattered foil blanket.
Eventually, Ethan gave in and went for a piss then sat down with his back against the rock again. They had enough water for half a day, so he could afford to let Ryan get some rest after spending most of the night on watch. Ryan’s long eyelashes lay against cheeks darkened by wind and sun. despite their crude shelter, the sun still found its way through, and Ryan’s short blond hair had been bleached even lighter, but by contrast, his cheeks were dark with the stubble that had grown into a short beard.
The soldier was an attractive man. Ethan had tried to tell himself that wasn’t the reason he’d stuck around, and for a while he’d even believed himself. But it was getting harder to convince himself of that now. He found himself wondering what Ryan’s hair would feel like to the touch, what his beard would be like against his cheek, and what his cock would feel like in his hands.
Ethan had known he fancied men from the age of 14. He’d not had the chance to act on his feelings until his time in Russia, and even then, there had been no more than a few snatched moments with one of the anarchists he’d spent time with. The man was married with a young daughter, but that hadn’t stopped him from fucking Ethan against a wall in a dark alley. It hadn’t been the way Ethan would have picked to lose his virginity, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The rough hand-job he’d been given in return had more than made up for the pain in his arse from a pounding with no more than spit to ease the passage of the man’s cock. It had been enough to leave him craving more. But letting his guard down was hard and most of the time he’d had to be content with his own hand on his cock.
Talk o’ the devil. His cock had seemingly developed a mind of its own and started to harden. Thinking about sex wasn’t the best way to spend a hot morning, especially when there was bugger all chance of him being able to do anything about it. Ethan did his best to will away the inconvenient erection. His cock took no notice. Ethan shifted position and tried surreptitiously to adjust his underwear.
At exactly that moment, Ryan turned over and opened his eyes.
Ethan’s hand flew guiltily away from his crotch to grip the stock of the rifle lying alongside his thigh.
“Don’t mind me if you need a wank,” Ryan said, closing his eyes and settling back down to sleep.
The age-old lie about just scratching an itch came to mind, but Ethan kept the words to himself. They’d been forced to listen to each other piss and crap, so he didn’t see why he should have to feel embarrassed for having a hard-on. He tried to tell himself that his mam had been right when she’d kept intoning the annoying phrase ‘least said. soonest mended’, usually in the face of some petty row between Ethan and his brother that had got out of hand.
He closed his eyes and relied on his hearing to alert him to the approach of anything they didn’t want to meet. A light breeze rustled the thin fabric about his head. The air was hot and heavy inside their shelter, rank with the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies. Water was too scare a commodity to be used for anything other than drinking. He’d so far relied on antiseptic wipes scavenged from the dead soldiers’ packs to keep Ryan’s wounds clean. To his surprise, none of the deep cuts had turned nasty and they were finally starting to draw together and heal. Maybe the hot, dry air helped. Ethan didn’t know. He had no medical training, although he did know that wounds had to be kept clean, and preferably dry. He’d been able to draw some of the gashes together with the small strips he’d found in one of the field dressing backs and that seemed to have helped. But despite his best efforts, the wounds would scar.
The roar of a hunting predator shattered the fragile silence, too close for comfort. Ethan snatched up the rifle, the jolt of adrenaline causing his damned cock to harden even more.
Ryan opened his eyes and sat up, reaching for his own weapon.
Neither of the men wanted to attract attention to themselves by speaking, but they were both aware that the large carnivores hunted as much by smell as they did by sight and hearing.
Moving slowly and as soundlessly as possible, the two men manoeuvred themselves into a crouch and waited. Ryan pulled one of the packs containing their spare weapons and ammunition to him and drew out something short and tubular. Ethan recognised it at once. He’d seen one used once in Belfast during the Troubles, when a patrol had gone in to clear a house they believed was being used to house the snipers who had been taking potshots at them over the past week. The noise had been deafening, even from his hiding place on the far side of the street. He heard later that the soldiers had been SAS, the same regiment as Ryan, and he later learned that it had been one of the first times the non-lethal stun grenades had been used in action.
“Gorgonopsid,” Ryan murmured.
It was one of the few creatures they knew by name. It was also one of the ones they feared the most. The fuckers were huge and would be a nightmare to stop. The small calibre rifles they had weren’t designed to bring something like that to a halt. The M4s were anti-people weapons not anti-prehistoric fucking tank weapons.
“Wind’s blowing away from us and towards the fucker,” Ethan said, matching his voice to Ryan’s in volume.
“It fucking would be. If it gets too close I’m clucking the flash-bang. On my count of three, keep your mouth open so your eardrums don’t pop and shut your eyes.”
Ethan kept his breathing slow and steady, hoping the fucking thing wouldn’t pick up their scent, but the pair of them were probably rank enough to smell a mile off.
They heard the creature’s roars before it finally came into view. It swung its head from side to side, the full-throated roars sometimes subsiding to a rumbling growl. Heavy feet thumped down into the black sand as it came closer. Ethan felt the warm rush of adrenaline through his body as he fought the instinctive urge to get up and run. His palms were sweating and itching but his mouth was bone dry. He was suddenly conscious of the hot, try air tickling the hairs inside his nose and felt a growing, overwhelming urge to sneeze creeping up on him. He clamped one hand over his nose and mouth, doing his best to stifle the noise.
He failed. OK, the noise wasn’t as bad as it might have been but it was still too fucking loud. Ryan turned startled eyes on him, but a heartbeat later, the soldier was back in full combat mode, eyes trained on the gorgonopsid, measuring distance, assessing the threat level.
The threat level that had just rocketed off the fucking scale thanks to his sodding sneeze…
The gorgonopsid swung its huge head towards their shelter and opened its mouth wide to roar a challenge. The noise was ear-shattering. Thick ivory-coloured teeth packed the wide jaws, its canines so thick they looked like tusks. He’d seen those jaws slice smaller opponents in half with frightening ease while the beast trampled others underfoot. They wouldn’t stand a fucking chance if it got too close. It was a long time since he’d prayed to any god, but now didn’t seem like a bad time to consider starting again.
“One… Two…”
Ethan opened his mouth and closed his eyes.
A second roar split the air. Ethan fought for control of his guts as they churned uncomfortably. The sneeze had been bad enough. He couldn’t risk losing control at the other end as well. He dragged in a shallow breath, eyes still closed, wondering when the fuck Ryan was going to reach the end of his count and chuck the grenade.
He heard the heavy feet pounding the sand, and he expected the creature to come crashing into their shelter any second. He didn’t know what the hell Ryan was waiting for. Ethan opened his eyes, fully expecting to stare death in the face but unable to remain quiescent any longer.
The gorgonopsid was facing away from them, head thrown back, bellowing anger and defiance. A second creature, almost as large, slammed into it clamping down with strong jaws onto an exposed shoulder. The first creature bucked and turned, its own jaws coming into play. The battle was joined.
“Close your mouth,” Ryan said. “No point in chucking this yet.”
“Sorry about the sneeze,” Ethan offered.
Ryan grinned. “Knew a bloke once who farted so loud on a stakeout that they heard him in the next county. Shit happens.”
“It nearly did,” he admitted. “Still might.”
“They’ve got more on the minds than us. If we’re lucky, they’ll have short memories.”
“If they haven’t?”
“Then I chuck the flashbang.”
Their conversation belied the twisting fear in Ethan’s guts. He’d learned to survive beyond the anomalies by shutting his emotions away in a box and slamming down the lid, but the huge predators evoke a visceral terror that even he was finding hard to suppress. Without Ryan, there was no way he would have stayed in one place so long, and certainly not somewhere as inhospitable as the Permian. He’d always preferred to stay on the move. Maybe one day he’d even find somewhere he could regard as home, but it had been so long since he’d had a home that he couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like.
The gorgonopsids were ripping chunks off each other, jaws and teeth painted red now, too enraged to bellow. The beasts were beyond the stage of posturing. This was a fight to death. They were well-matched in size and weight and even if he’d been a betting man, he wouldn’t have put so much as the smell off his shit on the outcome.
On cue, Ryan said, “Fiver on the one with the scarred arse to win.”
“Fresh out of fivers, mate,” Ethan said, trying to keep his tone light.
“You could always play a forfeit…”
Ethan rolled his eyes.
The gorgonopsid with the scarred arse shook off its opponent and promptly charged, knocking the other to the ground.
At Ethan’s side, Ryan drew in a sharp breath.
“What’s the problem? Your boy looks like coming out on top.” The banter was helping him stay calm and focussed, so he was happy to play the game.
“Anomaly,” Ryan said. “A hundred metres away.” The soldier pointed to his left, out of Ethan’s line of sight.
Ethan leaned out, staying out of Ryan’s field of fire. In the shimmering heat haze of the midday sun, an anomaly hung in the air, bright and alluring. The only problem was that it was out in the open and uphill, further away than Ryan had been able to walk. He’d done what he could to exercise in the confines of their shelter and behind the rock pile, but the soldier was still weak from his injuries.
“Take a rifle and a pack and go,” Ryan said. “I’ll follow you if it looks better than here.”
“We go together, soldier boy,” Ethan shot back.
“I’ll slow you down.”
“Wasting time, you muppet.” Ethan grabbed hold of one of the backpacks that they kept ready to move at a moment’s notice and slung it over his shoulder in the confines of the shelter. A spare rifle was strapped to the webbing and the pack contained half of what was left of what they’d scavenged from Ryan’s dead comrades. He picked up the second pack and shoved it at Ryan. “Get it on your back and start moving. If they follow us, chuck the magic stick.”
“You’ll regret this, bog boy.” Ryan slipped the pack onto his belt and hauled himself to his feet. With the rifle strapped across his chest and the stun grenade in his hand, the soldier looked as ready as he would ever be.
Ethan cast a quick eye around their shelter, but there was nothing left behind. They had both got into the habit of being ready to move at a moment’s notice, even when Ryan had been too weak to do more that struggle behind the rock they used as a toilet.
The gorgonopsids were locked together, jaws clamped onto leathery hides, blood mixed with black sand. Ryan’s prediction had been right; the one with the scarred arse seemed to be winning. It had the other pinned to the ground now and was ripping at its flesh.
Limping heavily, Ryan started to make his way towards the anomaly. Ethan hung back, knowing he could catch up easily, if needed, but wanting to make sure he could keep watch on the battle for dominance being played out on the stark hillside. If one of the creatures broke away, they needed to know.
Ethan followed, the rifle clutched hard in his hands. Ryan’s progress was painfully slow and Ethan knew what the effort would be costing him, but the anomaly represented the chance of moving on. He just hoped it would lead to somewhere better than the drab, harsh world he’d been stuck in for longer than he cared to think about. When Ryan had covered half of the distance to the spinning shards of time, Ethan put on a spurt and passed him.
“I’ll check it out,” he said, panting from exertion under the full glare of the sun. “Keep moving.”
Ryan grimaced. “Wasn’t planning on stopping for a fucking picnic.”
Ethan made straight for the anomaly and ran through, hoping he wasn’t going to end up in even deeper shit.
He abruptly exchanged sunshine for shade. Tall trees shaded a woodland glade. The ground was soft underfoot but firmer than the black sand and the air was perfectly breathable. That was all he needed to know. He dived back through the anomaly to find Ryan was still struggling up the slope while below him, the gorgonopsids were still locked together, intent on tearing each other to shreds.
He ran to Ryan, arms flailing as he fought to keep his balance as his feet sunk in the sand. As soon as he was close enough, Ethan caught hold of Ryan’s left arm and hoisted it over his shoulder, taking as much of the soldier’s weight as possible as together they half-limped, half-ran up the slope. He could hear Ryan’s breath rasping in his throat and knew the effort it was costing the other man to push a pace like that from a body that had barely healed.
The sight of the anomaly spurred them both on. They were beyond any banter now. This was a race with their lives as the prize.
A roar of triumph split the air.
Ethan cast a quick look over his shoulder. The victorious gorgonopsid stood over the body of its opponent, blood dripping from its jaws as well as numerous lacerations on its leathery hide. The other creature lay limp at its feet, blood soaking into the sand.
The anomaly was close now, so close that Ethan could feel the magnetic pull on the rifle slung across his chest.
Neither of them hesitated. They plunged into the spinning ball of light, keeping tight hold on their weapons during the abrupt change from the sweltering heat of the Permian to the cool of a forest glade. Arms still across each other’s shoulders, they staggered across the clearing to lean against the trunk of what looked like an ancient beech tree. There was nothing in the vicinity that held a clue as to where or when they were, but it wasn’t the fucking Permian, so Ethan would count that as a win.
They stood there, fighting for breath, shoulders shaking from the effort they’d put in to get through the anomaly before the surviving predator worked out where they’d gone.
“Your forfeit,” Ryan gasped. “Told you the fucker with the scarred arse would win.”
Ethan laughed aloud, the burst of adrenaline shooting a huge high through his system. He’d tried drugs a couple of times, but nothing compared to this. Absolutely nothing. He turned to Ryan, cupping the soldier’s bearded face in both hands and kissed him.
Ryan kissed him back. There was no finesse, no give and take, just the sheer heady rush that came from still being alive. Ryan’s mouth opened and his tongue slid against Ethan’s, hot and wet, but with no hint of softness. Their bodies were pressed together, heedless of the rifles clashing against each other, not fucking caring what was happening around them. All they cared about was the long-overdue release of tension.
Ethan broke first, the warm rush of climax powering through him, leaving him limp in Ryan’s arms. The soldier carried on kissing him as though his life depended on it, then he stiffened for a moment, groaned into Ethan’s mouth, then allowed the tension drain out of him. They stayed together, arms around each other, foreheads touching, breath mingling on the cool air. It was everything that Ethan had never allowed himself to dream of.
He drew in a deep breath and leaned back against the trunk of the tree.
Before he had the chance to speak, an amused voice sounded in the silence of the forest. “Very touching.”
Ryan’s head whipped around, and Ethan realised the soldier still held the stun grenade in one hand.
A group of men – and one woman – surrounded them, each wearing black uniforms like the one Ryan still wore, but considerably less dilapidated. The business end of several rifle muzzles was pointing at them and Ethan had no doubt that they would be used if either of them made a hostile move. They’d exchanged one threat for another, but at least they were now facing a potential enemy that spoke the same language as them. That was some improvement.
The man who’d spoken was tall and slim, carrying a combat shotgun instead of a rifle. He was watching the pair of them with an amused expression that perfectly matched his tone. His dark, glossy hair looked like it had been styled in front of a mirror and he didn’t look far out of his mid-20s. He had the sort of smooth good-looks that wouldn’t have been out of place on the front cover of a fashion magazine.
“Drop your weapons,” the man said in a cool, professional tone.
“I’d rather not,” Ryan said, in an equally conversational tone of voice.
“Let’s not get off to a bad start, boys” a second voice said, much less well-tailored than the first.
Ethan felt the hot rush drain out of his system as he faced a tall, ginger-haired man with a craggy, lived-in face.
The man stared at him, his eyes wide with shock. He took a step forward, emotions that Ethan couldn’t entirely read playing out on his expressive face.
“Patrick?” Sudden hope flared in the other man’s eyes. “Patrick, is that you?”
The need to reply was curtailed by a cry of, “Incoming!” as the anomaly flared and the gorgonopid burst into the cool forest.
Before the soldiers had time to react, Ryan’s arm moved in a wide arc and he flung the stun grenade in the path of the charging creature.
Ethan closed his eyes and opened his mouth. The thunder clap was deafening, leaving his senses in tatters, even though he’d been anticipating both the bang and the flash. The gorgonopsid stopped its dash into the forest, head down, growling rather than roaring. It took a pace backwards, clearly dazed and confused, and it wasn’t the only one. It took another pace back, the anomaly expanding around it. With a roar, the creature turned and fled back to its own time.
In the silence that followed, the cultured voice said, “Welcome back, Captain Ryan.”
It looked like there were going to be a few explanations needed on both sides. Ethan’s eyes were still locked on the face of the man who had called him Patrick. That wasn’t a name he’d imagined hearing again, on anyone’s lips, least of all his own brother’s.
Maybe he really had finally found his way home.
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no subject
Date: 2017-11-06 08:52 am (UTC)Wow, scary, tense, hot-hot-hot and a happy ending!!!!
I was on the edge of my seat during the gorgonipsid fight. That was super!
And of course the frottage was lovely. :D
Though I think they'll be riding to the ARC in the back of the trucks...
no subject
Date: 2017-11-06 09:01 am (UTC)I imagine a shower is high on their priority list.
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Date: 2017-11-06 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-07 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-06 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-07 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-06 11:12 pm (UTC)Terrific fight between the gorgonipsids.
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Date: 2017-11-07 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-08 10:27 pm (UTC)Plus it was great to see a happy ending for both of them. I always felt it was a bit of a mistake to write Ryan out of the actual series so early on - I think I'd have preferred it if he'd just been injured then he could have come back later on (maybe S4/5) - it would have been fantastic to see how he would have got on with Becker.
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Date: 2017-11-09 07:31 am (UTC)Yes, I think there would have been less of a pissing contest between Ryan and Ethan than there was between Becker and Ethan.
So glad you liked it after I'd been promising it for so long!
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Date: 2017-11-14 06:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-14 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-06 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-07 08:24 pm (UTC)