fredbassett | Fic, Falls the Shadow, Part 13, Stephen/Ryan Series, 18

Title : Falls the Shadow, Part 13
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Ryan, Claudia, Amanda, Kermit, Lester & others
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine (except Amanda, Kermit & some of the others), no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None.
Summary : There’s nothing worse than waiting.
A/N : The remainder of this series can be found here

The house and yard no longer resembled an abattoir. The policewoman’s body had been taken away in an ambulance and Finn had found the energy from somewhere to hose the worst of the blood and guts off the grey flags of the yard after they’d piled up the bodies of the troodons into a horse box, awaiting disposal.

Fifteen adults had been involved in the attack on the house. Yet more evidence for Connor’s theory that therapods hunted in packs.

The student lay in a loose-limbed sprawl across a settee in the Thornton’s lounge, wondering exactly when it was that he’d started to enjoy quite this much sugar in his coffee. He felt a fraud, lying there without any injuries, but the slow creep of adrenaline fatigue couldn’t be denied, and he doubted that he’d manage to walk in a straight line across the room even with the aid of a stick.

Kermit had taken the worst damage of all of them, but he’d refused to stay in hospital over night. The injured soldier was keeping himself occupied by limping around in the kitchen, proving surprisingly adept at using his one good arm to help Claudia make yet more hot drinks. She limped as well, but at least still had the use of both arms.

Amanda Thornton appeared in the doorway, hair damp from the shower. “Get some rest, Claudia. I’ll take over here.”

The dark haired woman shook her head, stubbornly. “You sound like Nick. I’m fine, really. If I sit down, this bloody leg will just stiffen up.”

“Didn’t Ditzy tell you to rest?”

Claudia’s dismissive sniff adequately conveyed her views on the subject of rest. “Where’s Ryan?”

“With Greg, in Vicky’s room. Tom looks like grim death and it’s not just about Jon, is it?”

Claudia looked down at the teapot as though it had just grown an extra spout. “He’s worried sick about all of them. From what that farmer told Nick, all the anomalies round here are losing their grip. God only knows if that one will open again, and if it doesn’t, there’s no predicting what chance they have of getting back.”

“I’m not bloody stupid, you know. Stephen’s his boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Claudia mashed the teabag hard with a spoon, wondering desperately how to change the subject.

The arrival of Kermit, carrying three empty mugs one-handed provided a momentary distraction, but it was clear from the wary look on the soldier’s face that he’d overheard the question.

His captain’s ex-wife fixed him with a stare that could easily have given a troodon pause for thought and demanded. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

The young soldier shuffled uncomfortably. “Not for me to say, ma’am.”

Amanda Thornton sighed. “You make a lousy liar, Kermit,” but the look in her blue eyes was softer than the words. “Tom’s going to need something stronger than coffee to get him through tonight. There’s a bottle of brandy in the drinks cupboard next to you, Claudia. Stick a hefty slug in both of those two teas and I’ll take them upstairs. Then the next trick’s going to be getting some food down him. That might be harder, so I’m open to constructive suggestions.”

With that, she picked up the drinks with one hand, grabbed the brandy bottle with the other and went back upstairs.

Claudia looked at Kermit and gave something that closely resembled a helpless shrug.

The young soldier grinned. “The same goes for Lester, miss. Do you think Mrs. Thornton’d be willing to tackle him as well?”

It was Claudia’s turn to sigh. “See if you can find something resembling a deep fat fryer. I’ve never met a man yet who’d turn down a chip butty at midnight, not even Sir James Lester.”

Kermit glanced at the kitchen clock. “It’s 3.30am, ma’am.”

“Still sounds like a good idea to me,” commented Lester, from behind him. “Did I hear a mention of brandy as well?”

“It’s a well-stocked drinks cupboard, I imagine there’ll be a second bottle. Then after that you need food and sleep, James, and no argument, or I’ll get Ditzy to do something about the lot of you.”

“He’s already tried,” said Lester, absently. “That’s why I came to watch the tea being made, in case the sod decided to try and slip me some of his knock-out drops. Do I take it that the estimable Mrs. Thornton has taken the news of her ex-husband’s relationship somewhat more calmly than one might have expected?”

“Looks like it,” said Kermit, cheerfully. “Unless she was intending to bash him with that bottle.”

* * * * *

Maneuvering the door handle down with her elbow, Amanda entered her daughter’s bedroom as quietly as possible.

Vicky lay curled on her side, a blue fleece blanket decorated with horse’s heads tucked round her shoulders, one small hand holding it tightly up to her face. Her blonde hair, clean now and free from tangles for the first time in what, for her, had been ten days, fanned out on the pillow.

Ryan lay next to her on the bed, one arm carefully cradling his daughter’s body as she pressed back against him through the duvet.

Greg Thornton sat on the floor next to the bed, head pillowed on one arm, asleep, but still holding his step-daughter’s hand.

Amanda pushed the door closed. From the look of naked exhaustion on her ex-husband’s face, it seemed likely that at the moment he needed sleep more than he needed food.

Ryan opened his eyes. Grey eyes, wary and pain filled, met blue. And found sympathy, not hostility.

“Can you move without waking her up?”

Ryan carefully shifted up into a sitting position and accepted the mug she held out to him. “They’re both out for the count. Ditzy wasn’t taking any chances with nightmares tonight. Not after what she’s been through. I tried to get Greg to lie down properly, but there wasn’t room for all of us.”

“He’s a good man, Tom. I’m happy with him.”

Ryan held her gaze, but said nothing, unsure of how fragile the apparent truce might turn out to be.

“We married too soon, Tom, didn’t we? And it was a mistake to think that having a baby was going to solve our problems. You were still married to the bloody job and I still hated you because of it. Greg puts me first, he always has. That’s not something you could ever do, was it?”

“No,” said Ryan, quietly. “It wasn’t. And I hated myself for it, as well. Then by the time I realised I was ready to put Vicky first, it was too late.”

“But you kept writing, and sending presents, and she kept wanting to know when she’d see her Daddy again, and that just made me hate you even more. She makes up stories about you, Tom, about her Daddy who’s away all the time on secret missions. And Greg tells her bed-time stories about you as well, and he thinks I don’t know about it. He loves her like she’s his own, but he still manages to make up stories to tell her about her other Daddy.”

Ryan took a mouthful of the brandy-laced tea, not trusting himself to speak. When he finally met his ex-wife’s eyes, there were tears in his own.

“You’re right, Mandy, he’s a good man. And he’s a bloody brave one. It didn’t matter a damn to him how many of those sods we faced on that fell. They were between him and his daughter, and that was all that mattered. I’m not going to come between them either. I promise you that. I’ll carry on sending the cards, and Greg can still make stuff up for her and ………….”

“And you’re still a bloody fool, Tom Ryan!” The words were quietly spoken, but delivered with the force of a high powered round. “If you try and drop out of Vicky’s life now, you’ll have me to answer to, and that’s a promise, not a threat. Look at her, you idiot. If she’s got room in her heart for two daddies then we can sodding well find a way of making this work and if you do anything to break her heart, I’ll bloody well kill you myself. Your lad told you what I did to those damned things with Greg’s shotgun, so if you don’t want the same treatment, you’ll do as you’re bloody well told for once in your monumentally stubborn life.”

“When did you start swearing so much?” asked her ex-husband, dragging a sleeve across wet, and somewhat surprised eyes.

“When I realised that only a few pots and pans were standing between me and a flock of psychotic and distinctly over-grown chickens, if you must know.”

“Talking of psychotic, I also heard what you and Claudia were apparently doing to Helen Cutter ……..”

“We wouldn’t really have let her get eaten, even if she did deserve it, and don’t change the bloody subject, Tom.”

Ryan grinned, albeit somewhat half heartedly. It was a familiar refrain from the old days, but on this occasion at least it had been delivered without the usual accompanying venom.

“According to Ditzy, the look on Cutter’s face when he heard you talking to her through the door had to be seen to be believed.”

“So did the look on her face when the first thing he did was kiss the lovely Claudia Brown.”

“I’d like to have seen that,” mused Ryan, a introspective look in his tired grey eyes. “It’s a grudge match between me and the ex-Mrs Cutter right now and I reckon we’ve just reached the stage of a score draw.”

“So how long have you and Stephen Hart been together?”

The abrupt change of subject left Ryan hung out to dry, and he knew it. “Six months, give or take a couple of weeks. He’s a good man, Mandy.”

She laughed and there were tears in her own eyes now. “And he makes you happy. It’s time you found someone who can do that, Tom.”

“When did you guess?”

“When I saw the look you traded with James Lester after you’d told him about Jon. I was bringing the pair of you coffee, but you didn’t notice. You both looked like men who’d seen every hope they’d ever had ripped to shreds in front of their eyes. You looked like that the last time you saw Vicky and I don’t ever want to see that look again as long as I live.” She reached out and stroked his hand and he held onto her fingers like a climber clinging to one last safe hold. “And I don’t need telling that him and Jon are an item as well. Christ, what are they putting in the water in Hereford these days?” She ran her other hand gently down the stubble on his cheek. “We’ll get them back, Tom. Believe it. And if I have to personally pursue that bloody woman to the ends of the earth, through whatever bloody eras of the past she tries to take refuge in, then I will do. And when I find her, she’ll tell us the fucking truth, or I really will rip her up and feed her to the mad chickens. Now lie down and go to sleep and don’t move out of here until Vicky wakes up. She’s going to find both of her fathers here when she wakes up, and if another bunch of jumped up hens comes on a package tour from the past, then I’ll use the spare pans, and I won’t need any help from you.”

And after delivering the longest speech that Ryan had heard from her, outside of a courtroom, in the last four years, Amanda Thornton leant forward, kissed her ex-husband lightly on the lips and walked out of the bedroom, with tears running unheeded down her pale face.

Ryan scrubbed his own face dry with a corner of the horse’s head blanket, pressed a kiss into his sleeping daughter’s hair, and within five minutes the brandy had taken effect, and he’d slipped into a deep, but unfortunately not dreamless sleep.

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From:

deinonychus-1.livejournal.com

Awwwwwwww. That was both sad and sweet at the same time. *huggles hurt and vulnerable Ryan*

Although i love Amanda's comment about what they're putting in the water at Hereford!

Helen should probably feel quite scared right now. There appears to be a particularly angry mob forming, and it's only a question of which one of them gets to her first that decides how much it's going to hurt before she dies.

From:

Fic, Falls the Shadow, Part 13, Stephen/Ryan Series, 18

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