Fic, Aftermath, Nick/Lester, 12
Feb. 11th, 2018 01:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Aftermath
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Nick/Lester, Stephen
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Stephen is alive. Nick is exhausted. Lester is patient.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tarlanx fpr Fandom Stocking. Sorry it’s so late! This is also an offering for Fix-It Month
The rhythmic bleep from the monitor burned itself ever deeper into Nick’s brain until he felt that time itself was being measured by the machine and that if it stopped, he would be plunged into an even worse hell than the one in which he now found himself.
He was sitting by the bedside of the man he’d once counted as his closest friend while he wavered between life and death. Stephen had spent eight long hours on an operating table while a team of surgeons worked to repair the damage done to him in the cage room. Nick shivered at the memory of what he’d seen though the round window in the heavy metal door. Blood, there’d been so much blood. Bright red, coating muzzles, staining fur and hide, making the creatures slip and slide in their eagerness to be in at the kill.
Rescue, when it came, had been brutally efficient. The special forces team called in by Lester when it became clear a heavy-weight response was needed had blown the lock off the door and piled in, dispatching anything that was circling around Stephen’s body or actively engaged in tearing flesh and breaking bone. When anything even remotely threatening was dead, they’d stretchered Stephen out at a run, ignoring Nick’s desperate shouts. Stephen was beyond their help. All the medics had just hoped to keep him alive until he reached the operating theatre.
The medics had succeeded, and Stephen became the responsibility of assorted doctors, nurses, and surgeons. They’d been reluctant to allow Nick into the intensive care unit – or whatever they called it now – but Scottish stubbornness had won the day, and he’d settled in for what was likely to be a long haul. Nick had heard more acronyms in the last few hours than in the last umpteen years put together, but now he was largely ignored.
The blue plastic chair was uncomfortable, probably to dissuade visitors from overstaying their welcome. The room was too warm and smelt of disinfectant. Nick had already drunk a half jug of warm water and a cup of lukewarm, insipid, over-milked tea.
“Go home, Professor Cutter.” The young doctor in the crumpled blue scrubs sounded as tired as Nick felt. “Get some proper rest. We’ll call you if anything changes, I promise you.”
Nick blinked back tears. “I can’t. What if…”
“Go home. We’ve done all we can for the moment. Now we just have to wait.”
Nick wanted to argue, wanted to tell the man that he was going to wait until Stephen woke up, but he knew that was impractical. He was exhausted and, if he was being honest with himself, the bleeping was grating on his nerves and he craved to suck a breath of cold, fresh air into his lungs.
He stood up, feeling the ache in his back from the chair and from leaning forward too much.
Stephen’s long eyelashes were a dark smudge on unnaturally pale cheeks. A cut on his forehead was held together by butterfly strips. The arms that lay outside the crisp white sheet were both heavily bandaged, with assorted clips and cannulas attached to each hand.
Nick reached out, wanting to touch Stephen but finding it hard to know where would be appropriate. He settled for resting his fingertips against Stephen’s cheek for a moment. He wanted to say something, but no words came. I’m sorry seemed wholly inadequate. Thank you sounded trite.
“If you ever do anything like that again…” he murmured, his voice trailing off. “If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll be really fucking furious.”
“That’s better,” The doctor smiled wryly. “Come back tomorrow. He’s as stable as we could hope for right now.”
Nick nodded and made his way slowly out of the unit. A line of chairs against one wall were empty apart from one man, bent at the waist with his head pillowed in cupped hands, held up by elbows on the knees of his expensive suit. The noise of the door drew the man’s attention and Nick realised he was staring at Lester.
Lester came jerkily to his feet. “Is he…?”
“Alive.” The word felt rough in Nick’s mouth, his throat tight with emotion. He closed his eyes, trying to force away images he knew he’d take to his grave.
Lester’s hands settled on his shoulders, gripping hard, dragging him back to the too-warm, white, synthetic-smelling corridor. “That’s good.”
Nick met his eyes, not caring if Lester saw the tears hovering too close to the surface. “I need some air. Can you find your way out of here? I needed a guide to get this far.”
“Possibly, although I swear I saw Elvis Presley and the Lost Tribe of Israel on the way in.”
Ten minutes later, they walked out of the main entrance and made their way across the tarmac to a carpark. After the bright lights of the hospital, the relative darkness, lit only by the softer yellow glow of the outside lamps was soothing to Nick’s tired eyes. Lester led the way to his black Mercedes.
Nick leaned against the car door, drawing the cool air deeply into his lungs, letting it cleanse his lungs as he did his best to empty his mind of the horrors of the day. Silent tears tracked down his cheeks, drying on his face as Nick made no move the dash them away. He was beyond caring whether Lester saw him cry or not. Eventually, the tears dried on his face.
“He’s alive, Nick. We’re all alive. Let that be enough for the moment. We can worry about anything else later.”
“Is there anything else to worry about?”
“Probably not. None of the creatures escaped. Abby is after looking the harmless ones. The rest are dead.”
“None of Leek’s future freaks got out?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. They’d be crap in a petting zoo.” Nick met Lester’s eyes and read concern there. Concern and compassion. And something else. Something that looked suspiciously like unease. “James?” He used Lester’s first name for only the second time.
“I was willing to send you to your death, Nick.”
Nick smiled. “Good. That wasn’t exactly the moment for an outbreak of bleeding heart liberalism.”
Lester reached out a well-manicured finger and brushed a tear off Nick’s cheek. “I had every faith in your ability to outwit that piece of slime on a donkey’s dick.”
Nick blinked. “Say that again.”
“I had every faith in your ability to outwit that piece of slime on a donkey’s dick.”
“I thought that’s what you said. You’ve been hanging around the soldiers.”
“They don’t hold the monopoly on creativity.”
“Clearly not.”
Lester’s hands settled on Nick’s waist. “I’m glad my faith wasn’t misplaced.”
Nick laughed. And there had been times that day he’d thought he would never laugh again. H met Lester’s eyes and smiled. “You did what had to be done, James. I would have done the same in your shoes.”
“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment it might have been the end of a beautiful working relationship. I have a bottle of decent Scotch at my flat and the ingredients for a spaghetti carbonara in the fridge. I’ll bring you back here in the morning.”
Nick slipped his arms around Lester’s waist and pulled the other man to him until their foreheads were touching, then Lester’s lips covered his and they were kissing. Hesitantly at first, then quickly gaining confidence.
When they finally drew apart, some of the tension had drained from Nick’s body, leaving him feeling weak and shaky. Lester opened the car door and manoeuvred him into the front seat. Nick leaned back, eyes closed, and just concentrated on breathing slowly in an out.
For once, he was just happy to let someone else take control.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Nick/Lester, Stephen
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Stephen is alive. Nick is exhausted. Lester is patient.
A/N : Written for
tarlanx fpr Fandom Stocking. Sorry it’s so late! This is also an offering for Fix-It MonthThe rhythmic bleep from the monitor burned itself ever deeper into Nick’s brain until he felt that time itself was being measured by the machine and that if it stopped, he would be plunged into an even worse hell than the one in which he now found himself.
He was sitting by the bedside of the man he’d once counted as his closest friend while he wavered between life and death. Stephen had spent eight long hours on an operating table while a team of surgeons worked to repair the damage done to him in the cage room. Nick shivered at the memory of what he’d seen though the round window in the heavy metal door. Blood, there’d been so much blood. Bright red, coating muzzles, staining fur and hide, making the creatures slip and slide in their eagerness to be in at the kill.
Rescue, when it came, had been brutally efficient. The special forces team called in by Lester when it became clear a heavy-weight response was needed had blown the lock off the door and piled in, dispatching anything that was circling around Stephen’s body or actively engaged in tearing flesh and breaking bone. When anything even remotely threatening was dead, they’d stretchered Stephen out at a run, ignoring Nick’s desperate shouts. Stephen was beyond their help. All the medics had just hoped to keep him alive until he reached the operating theatre.
The medics had succeeded, and Stephen became the responsibility of assorted doctors, nurses, and surgeons. They’d been reluctant to allow Nick into the intensive care unit – or whatever they called it now – but Scottish stubbornness had won the day, and he’d settled in for what was likely to be a long haul. Nick had heard more acronyms in the last few hours than in the last umpteen years put together, but now he was largely ignored.
The blue plastic chair was uncomfortable, probably to dissuade visitors from overstaying their welcome. The room was too warm and smelt of disinfectant. Nick had already drunk a half jug of warm water and a cup of lukewarm, insipid, over-milked tea.
“Go home, Professor Cutter.” The young doctor in the crumpled blue scrubs sounded as tired as Nick felt. “Get some proper rest. We’ll call you if anything changes, I promise you.”
Nick blinked back tears. “I can’t. What if…”
“Go home. We’ve done all we can for the moment. Now we just have to wait.”
Nick wanted to argue, wanted to tell the man that he was going to wait until Stephen woke up, but he knew that was impractical. He was exhausted and, if he was being honest with himself, the bleeping was grating on his nerves and he craved to suck a breath of cold, fresh air into his lungs.
He stood up, feeling the ache in his back from the chair and from leaning forward too much.
Stephen’s long eyelashes were a dark smudge on unnaturally pale cheeks. A cut on his forehead was held together by butterfly strips. The arms that lay outside the crisp white sheet were both heavily bandaged, with assorted clips and cannulas attached to each hand.
Nick reached out, wanting to touch Stephen but finding it hard to know where would be appropriate. He settled for resting his fingertips against Stephen’s cheek for a moment. He wanted to say something, but no words came. I’m sorry seemed wholly inadequate. Thank you sounded trite.
“If you ever do anything like that again…” he murmured, his voice trailing off. “If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll be really fucking furious.”
“That’s better,” The doctor smiled wryly. “Come back tomorrow. He’s as stable as we could hope for right now.”
Nick nodded and made his way slowly out of the unit. A line of chairs against one wall were empty apart from one man, bent at the waist with his head pillowed in cupped hands, held up by elbows on the knees of his expensive suit. The noise of the door drew the man’s attention and Nick realised he was staring at Lester.
Lester came jerkily to his feet. “Is he…?”
“Alive.” The word felt rough in Nick’s mouth, his throat tight with emotion. He closed his eyes, trying to force away images he knew he’d take to his grave.
Lester’s hands settled on his shoulders, gripping hard, dragging him back to the too-warm, white, synthetic-smelling corridor. “That’s good.”
Nick met his eyes, not caring if Lester saw the tears hovering too close to the surface. “I need some air. Can you find your way out of here? I needed a guide to get this far.”
“Possibly, although I swear I saw Elvis Presley and the Lost Tribe of Israel on the way in.”
Ten minutes later, they walked out of the main entrance and made their way across the tarmac to a carpark. After the bright lights of the hospital, the relative darkness, lit only by the softer yellow glow of the outside lamps was soothing to Nick’s tired eyes. Lester led the way to his black Mercedes.
Nick leaned against the car door, drawing the cool air deeply into his lungs, letting it cleanse his lungs as he did his best to empty his mind of the horrors of the day. Silent tears tracked down his cheeks, drying on his face as Nick made no move the dash them away. He was beyond caring whether Lester saw him cry or not. Eventually, the tears dried on his face.
“He’s alive, Nick. We’re all alive. Let that be enough for the moment. We can worry about anything else later.”
“Is there anything else to worry about?”
“Probably not. None of the creatures escaped. Abby is after looking the harmless ones. The rest are dead.”
“None of Leek’s future freaks got out?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. They’d be crap in a petting zoo.” Nick met Lester’s eyes and read concern there. Concern and compassion. And something else. Something that looked suspiciously like unease. “James?” He used Lester’s first name for only the second time.
“I was willing to send you to your death, Nick.”
Nick smiled. “Good. That wasn’t exactly the moment for an outbreak of bleeding heart liberalism.”
Lester reached out a well-manicured finger and brushed a tear off Nick’s cheek. “I had every faith in your ability to outwit that piece of slime on a donkey’s dick.”
Nick blinked. “Say that again.”
“I had every faith in your ability to outwit that piece of slime on a donkey’s dick.”
“I thought that’s what you said. You’ve been hanging around the soldiers.”
“They don’t hold the monopoly on creativity.”
“Clearly not.”
Lester’s hands settled on Nick’s waist. “I’m glad my faith wasn’t misplaced.”
Nick laughed. And there had been times that day he’d thought he would never laugh again. H met Lester’s eyes and smiled. “You did what had to be done, James. I would have done the same in your shoes.”
“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment it might have been the end of a beautiful working relationship. I have a bottle of decent Scotch at my flat and the ingredients for a spaghetti carbonara in the fridge. I’ll bring you back here in the morning.”
Nick slipped his arms around Lester’s waist and pulled the other man to him until their foreheads were touching, then Lester’s lips covered his and they were kissing. Hesitantly at first, then quickly gaining confidence.
When they finally drew apart, some of the tension had drained from Nick’s body, leaving him feeling weak and shaky. Lester opened the car door and manoeuvred him into the front seat. Nick leaned back, eyes closed, and just concentrated on breathing slowly in an out.
For once, he was just happy to let someone else take control.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 01:19 pm (UTC)PS: Italics formatting has gone a bit haywire!
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Date: 2018-02-11 01:24 pm (UTC)And thanks for the heads up re the italics. Fixed now.
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Date: 2018-02-11 01:24 pm (UTC)The descriptions of the hospital and how Stephen got there were spot-on, and Nick's emotions came across beautifully.
And a nice surprise for me at the end, since I didn't actually take in the pairing!
PS - the end-italic code after Nick's "I'm sorry ... Thank you" didn't work, it says /a rather than /i
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Date: 2018-02-11 01:28 pm (UTC)Fixed hope, I hope.
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Date: 2018-02-11 01:31 pm (UTC)Yep, fixed.
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Date: 2018-02-11 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 08:58 pm (UTC)And sorry for the delay. My first fandom stocking turned unexpectedly into a 9k epic, which rather put me behind a little!
no subject
Date: 2018-02-11 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-12 11:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-14 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-14 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-18 08:19 am (UTC)Hey, this was great. So many fab moments, love the crack about the predators being crap in a petting zoo *g*
Incredible atmostphere created in the hospital, bravo.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-18 12:14 pm (UTC)