Fic, Jinxed, Becker/Ethan, 12
Dec. 30th, 2022 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Jinxed
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Becker/Ethan, Danny, Connor, Abby
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 7,200
Summary : Just when Becker thinks his bad day can’t get any worse, of course it does. Then it keeps on getting worse.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eriah211 for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial Secret Santa for the title prompt. I hope you enjoy this!
“ETA two minutes,” Becker declared, taking a corner at a highly illegal speed.
“Yes, Captain, you do have a GPS tracker in your vehicle, remember,” Amrit said over the shared comms, in the exasperated tone of someone who had made the same observation on numerous occasions, and expected to make it on numerous more. “I always know exactly where you are and exactly how many speed cameras you’ve triggered. Today and yesterday.”
“And the day before,” Connor muttered from the front seat.
Amrit’s laugh was audible to everyone in the Range Rover, and in the other vehicles. The duty technician in the control room at the ARC took a dim view of Becker’s speeding tickets. As did Lester.
The Range Rover took another corner in a way that would have made Becker’s advanced driving instructor wince as it scythed through a deep puddle sending muddy water splashing in a wide arc, soaking a woman who had wisely taken refuge in a field gate when she’d heard the sound of several vehicles being driven at speed down the narrow lane.
Becker, intent on reaching the anomaly as quickly as possible, barely registered her presence.
Ethan, in the rear passenger seat, turned his head and gave the woman an apologetic glance just in time to catch sight of her right hand weaving a rapid pattern in the air just before Becker took a third sharp bend equally fast and she disappeared from his sight.
“Amrit, Cupcake owes someone a cleaning bill and a bunch of flowers,” Ethan remarked, earning himself a glare in the rear-view mirror.
“Caught on the dashcam,” Amrit acknowledged. “I’m on the case. It’s a small village, the vicar will know who she is. Becker, final warning for today or Lester says the next ticket is coming out of your wages!”
“Whatever,” Becker muttered, displaying all his usual single-mindedness on a shout.
Behind them, still standing in the gateway, the woman watched the convoy disappear into the distance, hidden by the high hedges flanking the lane, a slight smile on her lips as she shook the water drops from her coat.
****
The shout turned out to be one of the simpler ones they’d had to contend with that week.
They arrived to find nothing more menacing than two extremely large prehistoric armadillos doing their best to mate in the middle of a field of curious black and white cows, all standing in a ring and staring at the interlopers.
Abby promptly took charge, declaring the cows to be more of a health and safety risk than the overgrown, oversexed woodlice, as one of Becker’s security team labelled the interlopers. While a cordon was being set up around the anomaly and Connor was setting up the locking device, Abby politely but firmly encouraged the cows to move into the next field. Once that potential problem was out of the way, she turned her attention to the glyptodons
“Let the poor buggers finish!” one of Becker’s team called, laughing when Abby flipped a finger in his direction, a grin on her face.
Becker was less tolerant. “If you want a free show, use Porn Hub like everyone else!” The captain gestured irritably with his EMD at the source of their difficulties. “Stop gawping and get those two back through the anomaly so Connor can get it locked.”
“On it, boss!”
Half an hour later, the security team finally succeeded in bundling two extremely disgruntled glyptodons back through the anomaly to the Pleistocene, where they promptly restarted their previous amorous activity.
Trying to stifle his amusement at the report from the two men who’d seen them safely back home, Connor flipped the switch on the locking device and … nothing happened. Not a spark, not even a bang. Just nothing.
The anomaly glittered and twisted, bright with malice.
Something half the size of the other two and twice as fast barrelled out of the anomaly and headbutted Becker behind the knees, sending him flying into the mud.
For the next two hours, as fast as one young glyptodon was repatriated to its own time, another dashed through.
Tempers rapidly frayed.
The security team got increasingly filthy.
Connor became increasingly puzzled. He checked and rechecked every component of the locking device. All his checks came up clear. The sodding thing just wouldn’t damn well work. Eventually, he gave up and told Becker his men would just have to set up a more effective cordon.
“What do you think we’re doing?” Becker demanded, wiping his face with the back of his hand, smearing mud even more liberally across skin that already looked like a rookie soldier’s inexpert application of night camouflage.
“Setting up knitting circle, from the look of it,” Ethan said, picking up a small glyptodon and untangling it from the shredded netting before repatriating it with a smooth underarm throw that would have taken a wicket at a county cricket match. The creature, having tucked itself into a tight ball, landed in the mud and rolled through the shards of light.
Becker threw him a narrow-eyed glare.
Ethan’s answering smile wouldn’t have looked out of place in a tank of piranhas.
“Get that bloody thing operational, Connor,” Becker snapped.
“Yeah, sorry, mate, I’ll just finish crocheting this teapot cover for your Christmas present then I’ll see what I can do …”
Becker stared at Connor in amazement.
“That was sarcasm, Mr Grumpy,” Abby said. “Just in case you really think he’s crocheting you a teapot cover.”
Three hours later, the anomaly finally deigned to close.
After another hour, Connor declared the odds on it reopening were satisfactorily low as the magnetic field had completely dissipated.
The science contingent and the security team promptly vied with each other to win the race to the vehicles.
Becker made one last check of the field to ensure nothing had been left behind then trudged through the mud back to his Range Rover, unsurprised to find that both Connor and Ethan had cadged a ride with someone else. To be frank, he couldn’t say he blamed them. He knew perfectly well he’d been in a foul mood all day. Staying up until 4am working on budget reports for Lester hadn’t been one of his wisest decisions, but he’d just wanted the damn things off his desk. He’d caught a meagre three hours sleep in one of the rest rooms before being woken up by the latest anomaly shout and had been suffering from a splitting headache ever since.
The flat offside tyre that greeted him was just the smelly brown icing on a particularly shitty cake.
He pulled his radio out of his jacket pocket to be greeted by nothing more than an unpromising static crackle.
The lack of any mobile phone signal came as no bloody surprise, either.
Then it started raining.
Heavily.
****
One flat tyre quickly turned into three flat tyres.
Becker eventually flagged down a passing tractor in the hope of a lift to somewhere with a mobile signal.
The farmer had asked – with a decidedly knowing look – whether the big sparkly thing had decided to do the decent thing and bugger orf. He’d then produced a phone several models newer than the one Becker had just spent a long time cursing in three different languages and had immediately obtained a perfect signal. Becker had called the ARC and asked Amrit to arrange recovery.
Two hours later, a tow truck arrived but the message to send a low loader had got scrambled somewhere between the ARC and the government approved contractors. The completely useless government approved contractors whose security clearance considerably exceeded their combined IQs. Their only saving grace was their ability to communicate with the outside world. Two hours six minutes and 45 seconds later, a different set of entirely brainless government approved contractors arrived with a low loader, having driven first to a village of an entirely different name in the neighbouring county. By then, Becker was freezing cold as well as soaking wet and had run out of both coffee, snacks and painkillers.
Eventually, he arrived back at the ARC and then had to spend a further half hour stripping the Range Rover of any response team kit and checking his weapons back into the armoury. The night staff took pity on him and rustled up hot drinks and had a microwaved lasagne ready for him when he finally emerged from the shower, slightly warmer and in a marginally better temper. By then, it was 4am and fat flakes of snow had started to drift down from a leaden sky and temperatures outside plummeted.
As Becker was wolfing down the lasagne, Amrit appeared in the door of the break room, an anxious frown on his face.
“Sorry, Becker, I was up to my eyes in a software problem when you got back. A message came in while you were out …”
From the look on the young man’s face, Becker knew he wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to hear. “I never shoot the messenger. But if Lester wants a report by first thing tomorrow morning, I might shoot him. I’m off shift tomorrow.”
Amrit grinned. “Not a jury in the world would convict you, mate. No, it’s not Lester. Your landlord left a message with Ms Wickes this afternoon. There’s a problem with the heating in your block. They’ve got some of the flats sorted, but not yours. They’ve had to turn the water off and drain the system down, so he’s asked if you’re OK to stay somewhere else for a couple of days while they get it fixed. Ethan said you’re welcome to his spare room, if you want.”
Becker manfully resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. He’d been intending to spend the following day in bed with a good book. “Thanks, Amrit. I’ll just bunk down in one of the rest rooms for the night. Just don’t tell anyone I’m still here. I’ll get the sodding report done from my laptop then bugger off before anyone notices tomorrow morning and I’ll have a word with Jack at the Black Swan to see if he’s got a room free.”
“Wouldn’t advise kippin’ ‘ere, laddie,” a dour voice intoned from the doorway. “Boiler’s out ‘ere, too. Them up there’s at it again.” He waved his hand vaguely at the ceiling and stomped off, muttering about sodding seraphim and chuffin’ cherubim.
Becker, keen to avoid a theological discussion on the ARC’s notoriously temperamental heating system, just nodded and exchanged eye rolls with Amrit.
“Won’t be rollin’ yer eyes if I can’t be gettin’ any sense out o’ them daft buggers in Lambeth!” Norman called as he stomped off, the tread of his heavy boots echoing down the corridor.
“Didn’t know the archbishop did boiler repairs in his spare time,” Amrit muttered.
Becker grinned. “Watch it. Them up there probably have us under surveillance.”
Amrit looked up at the ceiling. “They probably bloody well have. Norman knows everything that goes on in this place. Lucky for us he isn’t on speaking terms with most of the angels, but I bet the ones he does natter to snitch on us.”
“Either that or he’s got the place bugged.”
“Norman’s got eyes in the back of his head and surround sound ears. The old sod doesn’t need bugs.”
Becker finished his meal and went back to the same single sleeping quarters he’d crawled out of far too long ago. Norman was right. The small, white-walled room was even colder and more unwelcoming than the inside of Becker’s fridge, but without the yellowing vegetables and the slightly off smell. He did no more than toe his trainers off before getting under the duvet fully dressed and wrapping it around him like a cocoon. He’d slept in colder places, and at least in the ARC no one was actually trying to kill him. Not yet, anyway …
Although after the way he’d behaved to the team during the day, he’d be slightly surprised if they weren’t already drawing lots for the privilege.
Despite the cold, sleep quickly claimed him.
****
Amrit rubbed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and doing his best to stretch the kinks out of his back and shoulders. His shift ended in five minutes, and he’d already done his handover notes for Connor. He’d be bloody glad to get home to warm up in a hot bath. Norman had only ended his latest wrangle with the Heavenly Host an hour ago and the building was still freezing.
A mug of coffee appeared in front of him. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.” Danny’s brother was gradually lightening up around the team, but it was clear being sociable was still an effort for the man and he usually went around with his own personal thundercloud hovering over his head.
“You make the best damn coffee in the place,” Amrit said and meant it.
“Flattery.” But a smile tugged at the corners of Ethan’s mouth. “Where did Cupcake end up last night?”
“I passed on the message, but he said he’d stay over here.”
“Stubborn sod. It’s as cold as a witch’s tit in here. Has Norman finished feuding with that lot?” Ethan cast his eyes upwards in the cavernous atrium just as all the lights in the building flickered ominously.
Amrit swore in a way that would have brought his grandmother’s wrath down on his head if she hadn’t been sunning herself in the Maldives, then swivelled back to the ADD.
“Clearly not,” Ethan remarked, answering his own question. “I’ll commit an act of kindness and take Cupcake a coffee.”
Ten minutes later, Amrit had finally satisfied himself that the final salvo in Norman’s latest theological debate hadn’t caused any problems with the systems and handed over to Connor, who’d skidded in, hair standing up like a badly blow-dried guineapig, complaining that his alarm hadn’t gone off.
Amrit grabbed his shoulder bag and headed for the car park.
Ethan was standing there, coffee mug in hand, staring thoughtfully at Becker’s ancient Range Rover.
“He rejected your coffee?” Amrit unlocked his own even more ancient Skoda. “I’ll take it off your hands…”
Ethan handed it over. “He wasn’t in the room. Do me a favour, mate, will you check the CCTV?”
Amrit gulped down the cooling coffee. “What the fuck for?”
“His clothes are still in the room.”
“He’s on leave for the next couple of days. He probably had a change of stuff with him and just left the rest behind.”
“Becker wouldn’t just leave yesterday’s keks lying around. You know what he’s like.”
Amrit did. They all did. Becker was obsessively neat when it came to his both his work kit and his ordinary clothes.
“The bed isn’t made; his clothes are still in it under the duvet and his rucksack is still in the room with a change of clothes in there.”
“He might have taken other stuff from his locker.”
“I checked. He hasn’t. There’s another set of clothes in there.”
“He keeps it locked.”
Ethan grinned disarmingly. “Misspent youth.”
“So, you just want to know if our Head of Security wandered out of the building stark bollock naked without anyone noticing?”
“Something like that.”
Amrit stuck the coffee mug down on a concrete bollard and slid into the back seat of his car. “If anyone asks why I was checking the CCTV logs when I’m off shift, you’re taking the fall for this one.”
Five minutes later, the technician stared at the screen and shrugged. “Unless he decided to take a leaf out of Danny’s book and go for a tour of the service vents starkers, he’s still in the building.”
“Check the perimeter footage.”
“And what’s the magic word?”
“That’s what I might have to find out.”
Something in Ethan’s dark eyes caught Amrit’s attention. Puzzlement mixed with just a hint of concern. Without waiting to be asked again, he checked the cameras around the perimeter. Unless Becker had tunnelled out, he hadn’t left the grounds, either. Amrit clicked through to the internal coverage. The ARC had suffered from its fair share of nutters in the past, so the staff had come to accept the ever-present cameras as part of their working life. The internal set up was by no means as extensive but did cover all the main corridors and the various ways in and out of the building, including the numerous fire exits. The place hadn’t been designed as a fortress and it showed. Amrit checked the cameras covering each one.
They were all working.
They saw various members of staff catching sneaky fag breaks, quickly flicked over one of the new scientists snogging one of the – married – support staff and saw one of the cleaners with what looked like a kitten held firmly in her hands.
Ethan commented that he hadn’t realised Lester had agreed to a Bring Your Pet to Work day.
Amrit finally closed his laptop. “Sorry, there’s nowhere else to look. He can’t have gone too far, mate.”
Ethan nodded. “Thanks for the help.”
Amrit watched him go, feeling almost as puzzled as Ethan looked.
Becker clearly didn’t want to be found. He’d probably turn up later, with a long list of security flaws.
The guy really needed to take up a hobby or get laid. And if Becker played his cards right, it looked like Mr Short, Dark and Broody might be up for a shag.
****
“You’re a feisty one,” Ethan heard Dot croon, as she did her best to soothe the mewling kitten.
“Where did you find that?” he asked, leaning against the door of the cleaners’ room, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
“Tomas found the poor little thing stuck behind one of the walls. He had to take off a vent cover to get it out.” At that moment, the so-called poor little thing appeared to be getting ready to claw Dot’s face off.
Ethan promptly grabbed the spitting ball of black fur by the scruff of the neck and felt the little animal go limp in his hand. “Where’s Tomas?
“Gone to the medical bay to get his scratches seen to.”
“Do me a favour, Dot. Grab one of the small animal carriers from the stock room. I’ll sort this one out before it puts anyone else in the infirmary.”
“Thanks, Mr Dobrowski. Someone’ll be looking for the wee thing, I’m sure.”
As she hurried out, Ethan eyed the kitten with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You’ve got some apologising to do, sunshine. And keep those bloody claws to yourself!”
When Dot came back with one of the carriers, she lifted the grill so he could lob the furious kitten inside, then slammed it shut so the bundle of black fury couldn’t escape.
“Do me another favour, Dot. Tell Danny I’ve got a splitting headache and I’m going back home. And before he asks, no, I wasn’t on the lash last night. Don’t tell him, but I’m going to get this one checked over by a vet and see if it’s chipped.”
Dot patted his arm. “Your secret’s safe with me, love. You’ve got a kind heart.”
Ethan smiled the same smile he’d always used to charm his nan when he’d just nicked most of the cakes she’d spent the afternoon baking. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
The smile she gave him in return was just as knowing as the one he’d always got from his nan.
As he hurried down the corridor carrying the animal carrier, he muttered, “Shut the fuck up or ask the vet to whip your nadgers off as well as your claws.”
A small paw, claws extended, shot out of the mesh but failed to do any damage.
****
Two hours later, Ethan pushed opened the door of his flat and heaved the pet carrier inside, along with a bag containing a litter tray, cat food and assorted other paraphernalia that the woman in the pet store insisted he’d need.
As expected, an obliging local vet had confirmed the kitten wasn’t microchipped. She’d given the fluffy little hellspawn a thorough examination and had proclaimed the ball of black fury to be a healthy, unneutered male, about eight weeks old. She’d advised Ethan to make an appointment to have him microchipped and neutered as soon as possible. He’d nodded and thanked her for her help.
The kitten had yowled all the way back to the flat.
Ethan spent half an hour checking that there was nowhere the kitten could use as an escape route before he opened the door of the animal carrier.
The kitten promptly shot out and disappeared under the sofa, hissing like a King Cobra.
Ethan ignored the disappearing act in favour of setting the litter tray up in a corner of the toilet, then tossing the cat basket down in the living room and putting bowls of food and water out in the kitchen.
His mobile vibrated in his pocket.
His brother.
“Dot said you’ve got a headache.”
“Migraine,” Ethan amended.
“Have you taken anything for it?”
“Codeine. I’m going to bed to sleep it off.”
“Do you need anything?”
“I’ll call if I do.” He hesitated, then added awkwardly, “Thanks for ringing.”
They were still finding their feet around each other but had at least established a reasonable working relationship. Ethan’s knowledge of the anomalies had been useful to the team and to his own surprise, he’d settled back into the 21st century with something akin to relief.
With an unexpected afternoon to himself, he microwaved some pasta left over from the previous night then settled down on the sofa to catch up with the lunchtime news. That morphed into the usual diet of Homes Under the Hammer, A Place in the Sun and assorted cookery programmes, all of which allowed him to studiously ignore the small black kitten who had finally appeared from behind the sofa and was now tentatively exploring its new environment.
“There’s food in the kitchen,” Ethan told it. “And make sure you use the litter tray. If you crap on the carpet, I’m definitely de-nadgering you.” There’s an elastic band in the kitchen drawer
The kitten threw him a venomous glance and sharpened its claws on the door frame.
Ethan went back to ignoring it.
When he went into the kitchen to make some coffee, the food bowl had been licked clean and the kitten was staring pointedly at the milk container he’d just taken out of the fridge.
“No way, sunshine. Milk’ll give you the shits, that’s what nan always used to say.”
The kitten hissed and jumped up on the counter, batting at the coffee mug with its paws.
Ethan promptly removed the mug to a place of safety and put anything breakable into cupboards.
“Behave. Nadgers, remember?”
The kitten glared at him and promptly licked its balls smugly.
“Neat trick, sunshine. Enjoy it while you can.”
As the afternoon’s tedious telly wore on, the kitten explored the flat before finally returning to the living room and staring up at Ethan.
He sighed. “Not my fault you’re bored. Find a mouse to chase, or something. Or play with the toys I bought you.”
The kitten stared at him and started plucking at the carpet with needle sharp claws.
Ethan gave in and tossed it the fluffy ball that the woman in the shop had assured him would keep the furry menace entertained for hours.
The kitten shredded the toy in seven and a half minutes.
The catnip dental health chew toy lasted two minutes longer.
The feathered cloud swatter toy was treated with the disdain it deserved.
Eventually, Ethan deployed his secret weapon.
Two minutes later, the demon in furry form was busy chasing a red laser dot around the living room.
Ethan grinned. The kitten’s attempt to remain aloof had lasted as long as an unattended chocolate biscuit in the break room.
After half an hour, a very tired bundle of black fur allowed itself to be picked up and deposited in the cat basket. Within minutes, the kitten was fast asleep.
Ethan went into his bedroom and made a call to Amrit at home.
“How’s your headache?” Amrit asked, in the knowing tones of someone who wasn’t in the slightest bit fooled by Ethan’s supposed ailment.
“Painful. Did you manage to track down the woman Becker soaked yesterday?”
“Of course, I’ve already raided the petty cash for a large bouquet of flowers. Why do you want to know?”
“Cupcake wants to take her some flowers himself. Can you let me have her address?”
“Why can’t he ask me himself?”
“He’s trying to sort out the water problem in his flat.”
“I know perfectly well you’re lying.”
“Please, Amrit. Just trust me for once.”
Amrit treated him to a very theatrical sigh then gave him the address, adding, “I want the whole story.”
“I’m sure you do.” Ethan cut the call and stared thoughtfully at the sleeping kitten.
Whether Amrit would get what he wanted was another matter entirely, but the technician did have a bunch of aunties who kept him – and the rest of the ARC – well supplied with onion bhajis and other snacks ….
The kitten slept for an hour while Ethan sat at the small table in the kitchen with his laptop.
Ms Penelope Black of Rowan Cottage, Church Road, in the village of Maplethorpe appeared to have reached the age of 67 without leaving any easily discoverable trace of herself online. Quite a feat in an age where even 80-year-olds knew more about social media than Ethan did.
Eventually, he gave up and stuck a pizza and some frozen chips in the oven. If he was going to be stuck in all evening with a kitten for company, he might as well make the best of it.
The chips had no sooner come out of the oven when a small bundle of black fur skidded across the worksurface, grabbed a chip and executed a perfect wall of death run around the kitchen before taking refuge on top of the fridge and scarfing down the hot chip.
“There’s more kibble in your bowl, you little sod. Eat that.”
The kitten cocked its head on one side and stuck out a pink tongue.
Ethan rolled his eyes, blew on a chip to cool it down and chucked it into the bright pink bowl on the floor. “No more until you’ve had some kibble.”
He got halfway through his meal before the kitten strolled back in and jumped up next to him on the sofa and proceeded to treat him to big kitten eyes.
He held out steadfastly until the last slice, then gave in and ripped it into kitten-sized morsels, along with the last few chips, and let the little sod have his own way. The kitten proceeded to scoff the lot with indecent haste while Ethan squirmed under the imagined mental weight of the woman from the pet shop’s disapproval of his kitten-rearing techniques.
Idly flipping through the TV channels, a can of beer in hand, Ethan finally settled on a repeat of Die Hard. The past fortnight had been hectic, with one anomaly after another, and for once, he was happy just to chill out and let absurd thoughts continue to flit around his mind like a bunch of over-active mayflies.
By the time Hans Gruber strolled on screen, exuding arrogant charisma, Ethan had a purring black fluff ball curled up next to him. He tentatively ran his fingers over the small creature’s glossy fur, careful to smooth it down rather than ruffle it in the wrong direction. To his surprise, all four fingers and his thumb remained unmolested, and the kitten carried on purring.
They seem to have reached an accommodation.
****
The following morning, Ethan woke up and promptly sneezed.
The kitten, curled up next to him on the pillow, sprang up and made a mad dash out of the bedroom, fur standing up in shock.
“You joined me, sunshine!” Ethan called. “I bought you a nice bed of your own, remember? But no, you wanted cuddle time.”
An indignant yowl was all the reply he got.
He sighed. He was going to have to call in sick again. If this went on much longer, someone was going to be nice and pay him a visit, and then things would get awkward.
One hour, seven minutes and six seconds later, things got awkward.
Danny stared down at the black kitten clawing its way up his jeans, his craggy face slack-jawed with amazement. “Dot said you were taking the kitten to the vet’s.”
“I did. It’s not chipped.”
“So why didn’t you take it down to the animal shelter?”
Ethan sighed. “Maybe I fancied keeping a pet.”
“You’re lying.” Danny sauntered into the kitchen with the kitten now perched on his shoulder, ripping at his red and white checked shirt.
Ethan couldn’t fault its views on fashion. That checked shirt was an abomination. Much like most of his brother’s clothing.
Danny flicked the kettle on and proceeded to help himself to tea and biscuits.
Ethan left him to it and went back into the living room to await the inevitable interrogation.
“When were you going to tell me that Becker is missing?”
“What makes you think he’s missing?”
“I’ve watched the CCTV footage and talked to Jack at the Black Swan – Becks isn’t there, but I imagine you already knew that. His landlord hasn’t seen him, and he’s not gone to his parent’s country pile.”
“You’ve been busy.”
Danny’s eyes flickered over the assorted toys strewn around the room by the furry, clawed tornado. “So have you, for someone who went home with a migraine.”
“You’ve been checking up on me.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Get to the point, Danny. I have a hot date with daytime TV while I nurse my headache.”
“Your non-existent headache can wait, so can your hot date with Jeremy Kyle. Where’s Becks?”
For a fraction of a second, Ethan’s eyes flickered to the small black kitten perched on his brother’s shoulder. A suspicion, nothing more, but … “How should I feckin’ know?”
“Why did you just look at the kitten?”
“Because it’s shredding your shirt.”
“Patrick – Ethan – just trust me, for fuck’s sake.”
Ethan sighed. “Sit down and tell me what you think you know.”
“Becker bedded down in one of the overnight rooms. His clothes were laid out neatly on the bed – yeah, that boy really needs to lighten up – his grundies were still in his trousers, which is a bit odd, even by his standards, as was the fact that the duvet was still on top of them. His rucksack with a change of clothes, including clean keks, was propped up against the wall. His car keys were still in his jacket pocket. His car is still in the garage. He doesn’t appear on any of the CCTV footage, inside or outside. The only thing in the ARC that no one can account for is the kitten that Tomas found bawling its lungs out behind a vent cover. The small, black kitten that’s currently trying to claw its way through my shirt.”
“And your point is …?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re going to make me do this the hard way, aren’t you?”
Ethan shrugged, wondering quite how far his brother was going to take his line of reasoning.
“I ran over the reports from yesterday’s shout. Becks left before filing his, but I imagine you already know that.”
He didn’t, but there was no point in telling Danny that. “And?”
“Ms Penelope Black – her mother really was a stamp collector, by the way – spinster of the parish of Maplethorpe. Used to work in digital tech at GCHQ. Still does some consultancy work for them. Has a pet cat called Malkin; black, naturally.”
Ethan was starting to see where this was going. He wished he didn’t, but in his experience, wishes rarely came true.
“That would explain the lack of any online presence,” he commented.
“Yes, it would. But Amrit’s got a mate who works there as well. I asked him to make a few discreet enquiries. Know what the word on the streets is about Ms Black?”
“She’s a witch.”
Danny looked so crestfallen than Ethan almost wanted to pat him on the head and apologise for stealing his punchline. Almost, but not quite.
“How did you know?” Danny demanded.
“After Cupcake’s rally driving drenched her, I saw her making a sign in the air with her hands. I last saw it used in Trier in 1581. One minute there was a bloke standing in a lane haranguing an old woman. Next minute there was just a woman on her own looking down at a large black slug. She walked off and left it there. I saw the bloke the following day in the inn, claiming she’d bewitched him. By the time the mob got to her cottage she’d gone. I didn’t hang around either.”
“You believe in witches?”
“Can’t think of another explanation for how a bloke got turned into a slug. And no, I hadn’t been on the lash the night before. If you must know, I was behind a hedge having a piss. She didn’t see me. Nor did he.”
The kitten had stopped trying to tear Danny’s shirt apart and was listening attentively, small head cocked to one side.
“So, what do we do?” “Danny asked.
“Knock on her door, say he’s very sorry and ask her to turn him back?”
“And then Amrit phones and says Becks has walked back into work and we look prize prats.”
Ethan shrugged. “Got any better ideas, sunshine?”
“Maybe we should work out if the kitten really is Becker?”
“And how do you suggest we do that? Line up a load of guns and ask him to pick out the Mossberg 590?”
Danny stood up, almost dislodging the kitten, and went off to rummage in a kitchen drawer. He came back carrying a black marker pen and a sheet of paper, which he proceeded to tear in half before scribbling a big YES on one part, and an equally large NO on the other.
After removing the kitten from his shoulder – not the easiest of jobs – he plonked it on the floor.
“Are you Captain Hilary Becker?”
The kitten wandered off and started playing with a toy mouse.
Danny sighed. “Best gun, Mossberg 590 or an M4? YES for the Mossberg, NO for the M4.”
The kitten promptly sat on the sheet with the YES on it.
A look of triumph flashed in Danny’s eyes, before fading a moment later when the kitten did a neat backflip and landed on the NO sheet, before promptly ripping both pieces of paper to shreds and chasing the pieces around the mat.
Ethan picked the kitten up and stared it in the face. “Remember what I said about your nadgers?”
The kitten hissed at him petulantly.
“Play nicely, you little sod.” Ethan plonked the kitten on his knee and smoothed down its fur. Almost immediately, it started purring. Casting a speculative look at his brother, Ethan ruffled the little cat’s fur the wrong way. The purr changed to a hiss of outrage in the blink of an eye.
“Conclusive,” Danny announced smugly. “Becks hates having his hair ruffled the wrong way.”
Mildly irritated by Danny’s smugness, Ethan quickly soothed the annoyed little creature, which promptly fell asleep on his lap. “So I presume we pay Ms Penny Black a visit?”
“With or without Fluffball?”
“With. But you’re putting him in the carry box.”
The kitten opened its eyes, and Ethan could have sworn it smirked.
****
An hour and a half later, Ethan set the carry box down on the gravel path and knocked on the door of Rowan Cottage, Church Lane, Maplethorpe.
The kitten had made himself a nest in an ancient rug from the back of Danny’s car and had finally fallen asleep after yowling for most of the journey. The sound of the iron knocker woke him up and they could now hear a muffled whine of disapproval.
Just as he was raising the knocker a second time, Ethan heard footsteps in the hallway, then door opened and he found himself staring into a pair of cool, amused grey eyes.
“I wondered how long it would take you. Tea?”
“We’d love some,” Danny said smiling widely. “Thanks.”
A fire was crackling merrily in a large stone fireplace that took up most of one wall of the living room. The other walls were decked with holly and winter greenery and a large, black cat sat in front of the hearth, licking one of its paws. A wooden coffee table held a tray set with three mugs, a teapot wrapped in a crotched Christmas pudding, and a plate of homemade biscuits.
“You knew we were coming?” Danny sounded impressed, looking around the room with what Ethan had come to recognise as a copper’s eye for detail.
Ms Black nodded and waved to a battered sofa covered with a brightly coloured patchwork throw. “Do sit down, gentlemen. No, Mr Quinn, you won’t find a crystal ball cunningly disguised as a paperweight.”
“You hacked the traffic cameras and set them to flag up any government registered vehicles,” Ethan hazarded, suspecting something more prosaic than scrying.
“More specific than that,” Ms Black said. “I was tracking any vehicles from your agency. You came up on my radar, so to speak, half an hour ago. That gave me plenty of time to finish off the biscuits.”
“What do you know about our agency, Ms Black?” Danny asked, suddenly all business.
“Do call me Penny, Mr Quinn.” She favoured him with a slight smile. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Milk, two sugars, please,” Danny said automatically.
A sudden yowl from the pet carrier attracted Malkin’s attention and the large cat prowled over to the crate. A small, pink nose peeked out and Malkin swatted it with his newly cleaned paw.
“Feel free to let him out,” Penny Black said.
“He’s here to apologise,” Ethan said.
Penny Black laughed. “What on earth do you think I’ve done, gentleman? Surely you don’t think I’ve turned your missing Head of Security into a kitten? That would be fanciful, even for members of an organisation who hunt dinosaurs as a day job.”
“I saw the sigil you traced in the air,” Ethan said, cutting in before Danny could start blustering. “I last saw it used in Trier in 1581.”
“You’ve led an interesting life, Mr Dobrowski. You must tell me that story sometime.”
“Too feckin’ interesting at times,” Ethan muttered, lifting the front of the crate. “Can you turn him back?”
The kitten ventured out, took one look at Malkin and his owner and promptly shot up Ethan’s leg to crouch in his lap, fluffed up like a furry lump of coal.
“No.”
Ethan’s hand rested protectively on the kitten. “Harsh.”
Penny Black laughed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, drink your tea before it gets cold and have a biscuit while they’re still warm. He’ll return to normal after three days.” She held her hand out to the kitten, who cautiously hopped onto the arm of her chair and allowed himself to be petted.
“Looks like soldier boy’s going to be using up some of his annual leave,” Ethan commented, helping himself to several buttery shortbread biscuits.
“So are you, sunshine,” Danny said. “Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”
“Are you sure I can’t just take him down to the animal shelter?”
The kitten jumped onto the carpet and hissed.
Malkin promptly took hold of the little creature by the scruff of the neck and dropped him back onto Ethan’s lap.
“I don’t make a habit of turning people into animals,” Penny Black commented. “But your captain was wound up so tight he was in danger of breaking.” She fixed Danny with a hard stare. “When did he last take more than two days off at once?”
Danny looked shifty. “A couple of months ago?”
Ethan sighed. “You’re onto a loser, Danny. She’ll have hacked the personnel files. Soldier boy thinks he’s indispensable. And he’s got a protective streak a mile wide.”
“Then he needs some rest and relaxation before he gets himself – and someone else – killed.”
The kitten, purring loudly, appeared to agree.
“So I’ve modified the spell. Unless he takes all his annual leave by the end of the year, he might well find himself following the scent of catnip again.” Behind the kitten’s back, she gave a broad wink to both Ethan and Danny.
After drinking copious amounts of tea and eating almost their own body weight in biscuits, they said an amicable goodbye to Penny Black and headed back to Ethan’s flat, both wondering what it said about their lives that the strangest thing they’d encountered in the past week wasn’t rips in time disgorging dinosaurs.
****
A day later, Ethan wasn’t sure he’d win any prizes for his kitten parenting skills, but the furry black menace was still alive, still in possession of his nadgers and still in Ethan’s flat.
The visit to Ms Penny Black had removed the knot of tension from Ethan’s stomach and he’d even started to enjoy the kitten’s company, although it would take an afternoon of waterboarding to drag that admission out of him.
The kitten – Becker – had played with his toys, kipped on Ethan’s lap and then demanded a game of Chase the Red Dot before finally settling down on the sofa with him and doing his best to swipe chunks of the fish and chips Danny had delivered for his supper. Ethan finally relented and put a small portion in the kitten’s bowl. That largesse earned him contented purring from the usually hyperactive black fluff ball for the rest of the night. Becker finally seemed to be learning how to relax.
“Sleep well, Fluffy,” Ethan murmured, depositing the little cat in the fleecy basket, before settling down in bed for an early night.
He woke up briefly several hours later to find that the kitten had found its way into the bedroom again and burrowed under the duvet to curl up pressed against Ethan’s stomach.
****
With the chill winter sunshine on his face, he woke up again, this time with his arm draped across something equally furry but considerably larger.
Becker’s chest.
Ethan snatched his arm away.
If Becker didn’t remember what had happened, this was going to get spectacularly awkward very quickly.
Then something that sounded suspiciously like a purr rumbled deep in Becker’s chest and a strong hand caught hold of his and a moment later Ethan found himself with an armful of surprisingly affectionate special forces captain.
Becker had clearly come to terms with his inner kitten.
And if he started to get too wound up again, Ethan wouldn’t hesitate to deploy the Red Dot of Doom. But he might have to warn the security team to disable the laser sights on their rifles …
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Becker/Ethan, Danny, Connor, Abby
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 7,200
Summary : Just when Becker thinks his bad day can’t get any worse, of course it does. Then it keeps on getting worse.
A/N : Written for
eriah211 for the primeval_denial Secret Santa for the title prompt. I hope you enjoy this!“ETA two minutes,” Becker declared, taking a corner at a highly illegal speed.
“Yes, Captain, you do have a GPS tracker in your vehicle, remember,” Amrit said over the shared comms, in the exasperated tone of someone who had made the same observation on numerous occasions, and expected to make it on numerous more. “I always know exactly where you are and exactly how many speed cameras you’ve triggered. Today and yesterday.”
“And the day before,” Connor muttered from the front seat.
Amrit’s laugh was audible to everyone in the Range Rover, and in the other vehicles. The duty technician in the control room at the ARC took a dim view of Becker’s speeding tickets. As did Lester.
The Range Rover took another corner in a way that would have made Becker’s advanced driving instructor wince as it scythed through a deep puddle sending muddy water splashing in a wide arc, soaking a woman who had wisely taken refuge in a field gate when she’d heard the sound of several vehicles being driven at speed down the narrow lane.
Becker, intent on reaching the anomaly as quickly as possible, barely registered her presence.
Ethan, in the rear passenger seat, turned his head and gave the woman an apologetic glance just in time to catch sight of her right hand weaving a rapid pattern in the air just before Becker took a third sharp bend equally fast and she disappeared from his sight.
“Amrit, Cupcake owes someone a cleaning bill and a bunch of flowers,” Ethan remarked, earning himself a glare in the rear-view mirror.
“Caught on the dashcam,” Amrit acknowledged. “I’m on the case. It’s a small village, the vicar will know who she is. Becker, final warning for today or Lester says the next ticket is coming out of your wages!”
“Whatever,” Becker muttered, displaying all his usual single-mindedness on a shout.
Behind them, still standing in the gateway, the woman watched the convoy disappear into the distance, hidden by the high hedges flanking the lane, a slight smile on her lips as she shook the water drops from her coat.
****
The shout turned out to be one of the simpler ones they’d had to contend with that week.
They arrived to find nothing more menacing than two extremely large prehistoric armadillos doing their best to mate in the middle of a field of curious black and white cows, all standing in a ring and staring at the interlopers.
Abby promptly took charge, declaring the cows to be more of a health and safety risk than the overgrown, oversexed woodlice, as one of Becker’s security team labelled the interlopers. While a cordon was being set up around the anomaly and Connor was setting up the locking device, Abby politely but firmly encouraged the cows to move into the next field. Once that potential problem was out of the way, she turned her attention to the glyptodons
“Let the poor buggers finish!” one of Becker’s team called, laughing when Abby flipped a finger in his direction, a grin on her face.
Becker was less tolerant. “If you want a free show, use Porn Hub like everyone else!” The captain gestured irritably with his EMD at the source of their difficulties. “Stop gawping and get those two back through the anomaly so Connor can get it locked.”
“On it, boss!”
Half an hour later, the security team finally succeeded in bundling two extremely disgruntled glyptodons back through the anomaly to the Pleistocene, where they promptly restarted their previous amorous activity.
Trying to stifle his amusement at the report from the two men who’d seen them safely back home, Connor flipped the switch on the locking device and … nothing happened. Not a spark, not even a bang. Just nothing.
The anomaly glittered and twisted, bright with malice.
Something half the size of the other two and twice as fast barrelled out of the anomaly and headbutted Becker behind the knees, sending him flying into the mud.
For the next two hours, as fast as one young glyptodon was repatriated to its own time, another dashed through.
Tempers rapidly frayed.
The security team got increasingly filthy.
Connor became increasingly puzzled. He checked and rechecked every component of the locking device. All his checks came up clear. The sodding thing just wouldn’t damn well work. Eventually, he gave up and told Becker his men would just have to set up a more effective cordon.
“What do you think we’re doing?” Becker demanded, wiping his face with the back of his hand, smearing mud even more liberally across skin that already looked like a rookie soldier’s inexpert application of night camouflage.
“Setting up knitting circle, from the look of it,” Ethan said, picking up a small glyptodon and untangling it from the shredded netting before repatriating it with a smooth underarm throw that would have taken a wicket at a county cricket match. The creature, having tucked itself into a tight ball, landed in the mud and rolled through the shards of light.
Becker threw him a narrow-eyed glare.
Ethan’s answering smile wouldn’t have looked out of place in a tank of piranhas.
“Get that bloody thing operational, Connor,” Becker snapped.
“Yeah, sorry, mate, I’ll just finish crocheting this teapot cover for your Christmas present then I’ll see what I can do …”
Becker stared at Connor in amazement.
“That was sarcasm, Mr Grumpy,” Abby said. “Just in case you really think he’s crocheting you a teapot cover.”
Three hours later, the anomaly finally deigned to close.
After another hour, Connor declared the odds on it reopening were satisfactorily low as the magnetic field had completely dissipated.
The science contingent and the security team promptly vied with each other to win the race to the vehicles.
Becker made one last check of the field to ensure nothing had been left behind then trudged through the mud back to his Range Rover, unsurprised to find that both Connor and Ethan had cadged a ride with someone else. To be frank, he couldn’t say he blamed them. He knew perfectly well he’d been in a foul mood all day. Staying up until 4am working on budget reports for Lester hadn’t been one of his wisest decisions, but he’d just wanted the damn things off his desk. He’d caught a meagre three hours sleep in one of the rest rooms before being woken up by the latest anomaly shout and had been suffering from a splitting headache ever since.
The flat offside tyre that greeted him was just the smelly brown icing on a particularly shitty cake.
He pulled his radio out of his jacket pocket to be greeted by nothing more than an unpromising static crackle.
The lack of any mobile phone signal came as no bloody surprise, either.
Then it started raining.
Heavily.
****
One flat tyre quickly turned into three flat tyres.
Becker eventually flagged down a passing tractor in the hope of a lift to somewhere with a mobile signal.
The farmer had asked – with a decidedly knowing look – whether the big sparkly thing had decided to do the decent thing and bugger orf. He’d then produced a phone several models newer than the one Becker had just spent a long time cursing in three different languages and had immediately obtained a perfect signal. Becker had called the ARC and asked Amrit to arrange recovery.
Two hours later, a tow truck arrived but the message to send a low loader had got scrambled somewhere between the ARC and the government approved contractors. The completely useless government approved contractors whose security clearance considerably exceeded their combined IQs. Their only saving grace was their ability to communicate with the outside world. Two hours six minutes and 45 seconds later, a different set of entirely brainless government approved contractors arrived with a low loader, having driven first to a village of an entirely different name in the neighbouring county. By then, Becker was freezing cold as well as soaking wet and had run out of both coffee, snacks and painkillers.
Eventually, he arrived back at the ARC and then had to spend a further half hour stripping the Range Rover of any response team kit and checking his weapons back into the armoury. The night staff took pity on him and rustled up hot drinks and had a microwaved lasagne ready for him when he finally emerged from the shower, slightly warmer and in a marginally better temper. By then, it was 4am and fat flakes of snow had started to drift down from a leaden sky and temperatures outside plummeted.
As Becker was wolfing down the lasagne, Amrit appeared in the door of the break room, an anxious frown on his face.
“Sorry, Becker, I was up to my eyes in a software problem when you got back. A message came in while you were out …”
From the look on the young man’s face, Becker knew he wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to hear. “I never shoot the messenger. But if Lester wants a report by first thing tomorrow morning, I might shoot him. I’m off shift tomorrow.”
Amrit grinned. “Not a jury in the world would convict you, mate. No, it’s not Lester. Your landlord left a message with Ms Wickes this afternoon. There’s a problem with the heating in your block. They’ve got some of the flats sorted, but not yours. They’ve had to turn the water off and drain the system down, so he’s asked if you’re OK to stay somewhere else for a couple of days while they get it fixed. Ethan said you’re welcome to his spare room, if you want.”
Becker manfully resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. He’d been intending to spend the following day in bed with a good book. “Thanks, Amrit. I’ll just bunk down in one of the rest rooms for the night. Just don’t tell anyone I’m still here. I’ll get the sodding report done from my laptop then bugger off before anyone notices tomorrow morning and I’ll have a word with Jack at the Black Swan to see if he’s got a room free.”
“Wouldn’t advise kippin’ ‘ere, laddie,” a dour voice intoned from the doorway. “Boiler’s out ‘ere, too. Them up there’s at it again.” He waved his hand vaguely at the ceiling and stomped off, muttering about sodding seraphim and chuffin’ cherubim.
Becker, keen to avoid a theological discussion on the ARC’s notoriously temperamental heating system, just nodded and exchanged eye rolls with Amrit.
“Won’t be rollin’ yer eyes if I can’t be gettin’ any sense out o’ them daft buggers in Lambeth!” Norman called as he stomped off, the tread of his heavy boots echoing down the corridor.
“Didn’t know the archbishop did boiler repairs in his spare time,” Amrit muttered.
Becker grinned. “Watch it. Them up there probably have us under surveillance.”
Amrit looked up at the ceiling. “They probably bloody well have. Norman knows everything that goes on in this place. Lucky for us he isn’t on speaking terms with most of the angels, but I bet the ones he does natter to snitch on us.”
“Either that or he’s got the place bugged.”
“Norman’s got eyes in the back of his head and surround sound ears. The old sod doesn’t need bugs.”
Becker finished his meal and went back to the same single sleeping quarters he’d crawled out of far too long ago. Norman was right. The small, white-walled room was even colder and more unwelcoming than the inside of Becker’s fridge, but without the yellowing vegetables and the slightly off smell. He did no more than toe his trainers off before getting under the duvet fully dressed and wrapping it around him like a cocoon. He’d slept in colder places, and at least in the ARC no one was actually trying to kill him. Not yet, anyway …
Although after the way he’d behaved to the team during the day, he’d be slightly surprised if they weren’t already drawing lots for the privilege.
Despite the cold, sleep quickly claimed him.
****
Amrit rubbed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and doing his best to stretch the kinks out of his back and shoulders. His shift ended in five minutes, and he’d already done his handover notes for Connor. He’d be bloody glad to get home to warm up in a hot bath. Norman had only ended his latest wrangle with the Heavenly Host an hour ago and the building was still freezing.
A mug of coffee appeared in front of him. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.” Danny’s brother was gradually lightening up around the team, but it was clear being sociable was still an effort for the man and he usually went around with his own personal thundercloud hovering over his head.
“You make the best damn coffee in the place,” Amrit said and meant it.
“Flattery.” But a smile tugged at the corners of Ethan’s mouth. “Where did Cupcake end up last night?”
“I passed on the message, but he said he’d stay over here.”
“Stubborn sod. It’s as cold as a witch’s tit in here. Has Norman finished feuding with that lot?” Ethan cast his eyes upwards in the cavernous atrium just as all the lights in the building flickered ominously.
Amrit swore in a way that would have brought his grandmother’s wrath down on his head if she hadn’t been sunning herself in the Maldives, then swivelled back to the ADD.
“Clearly not,” Ethan remarked, answering his own question. “I’ll commit an act of kindness and take Cupcake a coffee.”
Ten minutes later, Amrit had finally satisfied himself that the final salvo in Norman’s latest theological debate hadn’t caused any problems with the systems and handed over to Connor, who’d skidded in, hair standing up like a badly blow-dried guineapig, complaining that his alarm hadn’t gone off.
Amrit grabbed his shoulder bag and headed for the car park.
Ethan was standing there, coffee mug in hand, staring thoughtfully at Becker’s ancient Range Rover.
“He rejected your coffee?” Amrit unlocked his own even more ancient Skoda. “I’ll take it off your hands…”
Ethan handed it over. “He wasn’t in the room. Do me a favour, mate, will you check the CCTV?”
Amrit gulped down the cooling coffee. “What the fuck for?”
“His clothes are still in the room.”
“He’s on leave for the next couple of days. He probably had a change of stuff with him and just left the rest behind.”
“Becker wouldn’t just leave yesterday’s keks lying around. You know what he’s like.”
Amrit did. They all did. Becker was obsessively neat when it came to his both his work kit and his ordinary clothes.
“The bed isn’t made; his clothes are still in it under the duvet and his rucksack is still in the room with a change of clothes in there.”
“He might have taken other stuff from his locker.”
“I checked. He hasn’t. There’s another set of clothes in there.”
“He keeps it locked.”
Ethan grinned disarmingly. “Misspent youth.”
“So, you just want to know if our Head of Security wandered out of the building stark bollock naked without anyone noticing?”
“Something like that.”
Amrit stuck the coffee mug down on a concrete bollard and slid into the back seat of his car. “If anyone asks why I was checking the CCTV logs when I’m off shift, you’re taking the fall for this one.”
Five minutes later, the technician stared at the screen and shrugged. “Unless he decided to take a leaf out of Danny’s book and go for a tour of the service vents starkers, he’s still in the building.”
“Check the perimeter footage.”
“And what’s the magic word?”
“That’s what I might have to find out.”
Something in Ethan’s dark eyes caught Amrit’s attention. Puzzlement mixed with just a hint of concern. Without waiting to be asked again, he checked the cameras around the perimeter. Unless Becker had tunnelled out, he hadn’t left the grounds, either. Amrit clicked through to the internal coverage. The ARC had suffered from its fair share of nutters in the past, so the staff had come to accept the ever-present cameras as part of their working life. The internal set up was by no means as extensive but did cover all the main corridors and the various ways in and out of the building, including the numerous fire exits. The place hadn’t been designed as a fortress and it showed. Amrit checked the cameras covering each one.
They were all working.
They saw various members of staff catching sneaky fag breaks, quickly flicked over one of the new scientists snogging one of the – married – support staff and saw one of the cleaners with what looked like a kitten held firmly in her hands.
Ethan commented that he hadn’t realised Lester had agreed to a Bring Your Pet to Work day.
Amrit finally closed his laptop. “Sorry, there’s nowhere else to look. He can’t have gone too far, mate.”
Ethan nodded. “Thanks for the help.”
Amrit watched him go, feeling almost as puzzled as Ethan looked.
Becker clearly didn’t want to be found. He’d probably turn up later, with a long list of security flaws.
The guy really needed to take up a hobby or get laid. And if Becker played his cards right, it looked like Mr Short, Dark and Broody might be up for a shag.
****
“You’re a feisty one,” Ethan heard Dot croon, as she did her best to soothe the mewling kitten.
“Where did you find that?” he asked, leaning against the door of the cleaners’ room, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
“Tomas found the poor little thing stuck behind one of the walls. He had to take off a vent cover to get it out.” At that moment, the so-called poor little thing appeared to be getting ready to claw Dot’s face off.
Ethan promptly grabbed the spitting ball of black fur by the scruff of the neck and felt the little animal go limp in his hand. “Where’s Tomas?
“Gone to the medical bay to get his scratches seen to.”
“Do me a favour, Dot. Grab one of the small animal carriers from the stock room. I’ll sort this one out before it puts anyone else in the infirmary.”
“Thanks, Mr Dobrowski. Someone’ll be looking for the wee thing, I’m sure.”
As she hurried out, Ethan eyed the kitten with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You’ve got some apologising to do, sunshine. And keep those bloody claws to yourself!”
When Dot came back with one of the carriers, she lifted the grill so he could lob the furious kitten inside, then slammed it shut so the bundle of black fury couldn’t escape.
“Do me another favour, Dot. Tell Danny I’ve got a splitting headache and I’m going back home. And before he asks, no, I wasn’t on the lash last night. Don’t tell him, but I’m going to get this one checked over by a vet and see if it’s chipped.”
Dot patted his arm. “Your secret’s safe with me, love. You’ve got a kind heart.”
Ethan smiled the same smile he’d always used to charm his nan when he’d just nicked most of the cakes she’d spent the afternoon baking. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
The smile she gave him in return was just as knowing as the one he’d always got from his nan.
As he hurried down the corridor carrying the animal carrier, he muttered, “Shut the fuck up or ask the vet to whip your nadgers off as well as your claws.”
A small paw, claws extended, shot out of the mesh but failed to do any damage.
****
Two hours later, Ethan pushed opened the door of his flat and heaved the pet carrier inside, along with a bag containing a litter tray, cat food and assorted other paraphernalia that the woman in the pet store insisted he’d need.
As expected, an obliging local vet had confirmed the kitten wasn’t microchipped. She’d given the fluffy little hellspawn a thorough examination and had proclaimed the ball of black fury to be a healthy, unneutered male, about eight weeks old. She’d advised Ethan to make an appointment to have him microchipped and neutered as soon as possible. He’d nodded and thanked her for her help.
The kitten had yowled all the way back to the flat.
Ethan spent half an hour checking that there was nowhere the kitten could use as an escape route before he opened the door of the animal carrier.
The kitten promptly shot out and disappeared under the sofa, hissing like a King Cobra.
Ethan ignored the disappearing act in favour of setting the litter tray up in a corner of the toilet, then tossing the cat basket down in the living room and putting bowls of food and water out in the kitchen.
His mobile vibrated in his pocket.
His brother.
“Dot said you’ve got a headache.”
“Migraine,” Ethan amended.
“Have you taken anything for it?”
“Codeine. I’m going to bed to sleep it off.”
“Do you need anything?”
“I’ll call if I do.” He hesitated, then added awkwardly, “Thanks for ringing.”
They were still finding their feet around each other but had at least established a reasonable working relationship. Ethan’s knowledge of the anomalies had been useful to the team and to his own surprise, he’d settled back into the 21st century with something akin to relief.
With an unexpected afternoon to himself, he microwaved some pasta left over from the previous night then settled down on the sofa to catch up with the lunchtime news. That morphed into the usual diet of Homes Under the Hammer, A Place in the Sun and assorted cookery programmes, all of which allowed him to studiously ignore the small black kitten who had finally appeared from behind the sofa and was now tentatively exploring its new environment.
“There’s food in the kitchen,” Ethan told it. “And make sure you use the litter tray. If you crap on the carpet, I’m definitely de-nadgering you.” There’s an elastic band in the kitchen drawer
The kitten threw him a venomous glance and sharpened its claws on the door frame.
Ethan went back to ignoring it.
When he went into the kitchen to make some coffee, the food bowl had been licked clean and the kitten was staring pointedly at the milk container he’d just taken out of the fridge.
“No way, sunshine. Milk’ll give you the shits, that’s what nan always used to say.”
The kitten hissed and jumped up on the counter, batting at the coffee mug with its paws.
Ethan promptly removed the mug to a place of safety and put anything breakable into cupboards.
“Behave. Nadgers, remember?”
The kitten glared at him and promptly licked its balls smugly.
“Neat trick, sunshine. Enjoy it while you can.”
As the afternoon’s tedious telly wore on, the kitten explored the flat before finally returning to the living room and staring up at Ethan.
He sighed. “Not my fault you’re bored. Find a mouse to chase, or something. Or play with the toys I bought you.”
The kitten stared at him and started plucking at the carpet with needle sharp claws.
Ethan gave in and tossed it the fluffy ball that the woman in the shop had assured him would keep the furry menace entertained for hours.
The kitten shredded the toy in seven and a half minutes.
The catnip dental health chew toy lasted two minutes longer.
The feathered cloud swatter toy was treated with the disdain it deserved.
Eventually, Ethan deployed his secret weapon.
Two minutes later, the demon in furry form was busy chasing a red laser dot around the living room.
Ethan grinned. The kitten’s attempt to remain aloof had lasted as long as an unattended chocolate biscuit in the break room.
After half an hour, a very tired bundle of black fur allowed itself to be picked up and deposited in the cat basket. Within minutes, the kitten was fast asleep.
Ethan went into his bedroom and made a call to Amrit at home.
“How’s your headache?” Amrit asked, in the knowing tones of someone who wasn’t in the slightest bit fooled by Ethan’s supposed ailment.
“Painful. Did you manage to track down the woman Becker soaked yesterday?”
“Of course, I’ve already raided the petty cash for a large bouquet of flowers. Why do you want to know?”
“Cupcake wants to take her some flowers himself. Can you let me have her address?”
“Why can’t he ask me himself?”
“He’s trying to sort out the water problem in his flat.”
“I know perfectly well you’re lying.”
“Please, Amrit. Just trust me for once.”
Amrit treated him to a very theatrical sigh then gave him the address, adding, “I want the whole story.”
“I’m sure you do.” Ethan cut the call and stared thoughtfully at the sleeping kitten.
Whether Amrit would get what he wanted was another matter entirely, but the technician did have a bunch of aunties who kept him – and the rest of the ARC – well supplied with onion bhajis and other snacks ….
The kitten slept for an hour while Ethan sat at the small table in the kitchen with his laptop.
Ms Penelope Black of Rowan Cottage, Church Road, in the village of Maplethorpe appeared to have reached the age of 67 without leaving any easily discoverable trace of herself online. Quite a feat in an age where even 80-year-olds knew more about social media than Ethan did.
Eventually, he gave up and stuck a pizza and some frozen chips in the oven. If he was going to be stuck in all evening with a kitten for company, he might as well make the best of it.
The chips had no sooner come out of the oven when a small bundle of black fur skidded across the worksurface, grabbed a chip and executed a perfect wall of death run around the kitchen before taking refuge on top of the fridge and scarfing down the hot chip.
“There’s more kibble in your bowl, you little sod. Eat that.”
The kitten cocked its head on one side and stuck out a pink tongue.
Ethan rolled his eyes, blew on a chip to cool it down and chucked it into the bright pink bowl on the floor. “No more until you’ve had some kibble.”
He got halfway through his meal before the kitten strolled back in and jumped up next to him on the sofa and proceeded to treat him to big kitten eyes.
He held out steadfastly until the last slice, then gave in and ripped it into kitten-sized morsels, along with the last few chips, and let the little sod have his own way. The kitten proceeded to scoff the lot with indecent haste while Ethan squirmed under the imagined mental weight of the woman from the pet shop’s disapproval of his kitten-rearing techniques.
Idly flipping through the TV channels, a can of beer in hand, Ethan finally settled on a repeat of Die Hard. The past fortnight had been hectic, with one anomaly after another, and for once, he was happy just to chill out and let absurd thoughts continue to flit around his mind like a bunch of over-active mayflies.
By the time Hans Gruber strolled on screen, exuding arrogant charisma, Ethan had a purring black fluff ball curled up next to him. He tentatively ran his fingers over the small creature’s glossy fur, careful to smooth it down rather than ruffle it in the wrong direction. To his surprise, all four fingers and his thumb remained unmolested, and the kitten carried on purring.
They seem to have reached an accommodation.
****
The following morning, Ethan woke up and promptly sneezed.
The kitten, curled up next to him on the pillow, sprang up and made a mad dash out of the bedroom, fur standing up in shock.
“You joined me, sunshine!” Ethan called. “I bought you a nice bed of your own, remember? But no, you wanted cuddle time.”
An indignant yowl was all the reply he got.
He sighed. He was going to have to call in sick again. If this went on much longer, someone was going to be nice and pay him a visit, and then things would get awkward.
One hour, seven minutes and six seconds later, things got awkward.
Danny stared down at the black kitten clawing its way up his jeans, his craggy face slack-jawed with amazement. “Dot said you were taking the kitten to the vet’s.”
“I did. It’s not chipped.”
“So why didn’t you take it down to the animal shelter?”
Ethan sighed. “Maybe I fancied keeping a pet.”
“You’re lying.” Danny sauntered into the kitchen with the kitten now perched on his shoulder, ripping at his red and white checked shirt.
Ethan couldn’t fault its views on fashion. That checked shirt was an abomination. Much like most of his brother’s clothing.
Danny flicked the kettle on and proceeded to help himself to tea and biscuits.
Ethan left him to it and went back into the living room to await the inevitable interrogation.
“When were you going to tell me that Becker is missing?”
“What makes you think he’s missing?”
“I’ve watched the CCTV footage and talked to Jack at the Black Swan – Becks isn’t there, but I imagine you already knew that. His landlord hasn’t seen him, and he’s not gone to his parent’s country pile.”
“You’ve been busy.”
Danny’s eyes flickered over the assorted toys strewn around the room by the furry, clawed tornado. “So have you, for someone who went home with a migraine.”
“You’ve been checking up on me.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Get to the point, Danny. I have a hot date with daytime TV while I nurse my headache.”
“Your non-existent headache can wait, so can your hot date with Jeremy Kyle. Where’s Becks?”
For a fraction of a second, Ethan’s eyes flickered to the small black kitten perched on his brother’s shoulder. A suspicion, nothing more, but … “How should I feckin’ know?”
“Why did you just look at the kitten?”
“Because it’s shredding your shirt.”
“Patrick – Ethan – just trust me, for fuck’s sake.”
Ethan sighed. “Sit down and tell me what you think you know.”
“Becker bedded down in one of the overnight rooms. His clothes were laid out neatly on the bed – yeah, that boy really needs to lighten up – his grundies were still in his trousers, which is a bit odd, even by his standards, as was the fact that the duvet was still on top of them. His rucksack with a change of clothes, including clean keks, was propped up against the wall. His car keys were still in his jacket pocket. His car is still in the garage. He doesn’t appear on any of the CCTV footage, inside or outside. The only thing in the ARC that no one can account for is the kitten that Tomas found bawling its lungs out behind a vent cover. The small, black kitten that’s currently trying to claw its way through my shirt.”
“And your point is …?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re going to make me do this the hard way, aren’t you?”
Ethan shrugged, wondering quite how far his brother was going to take his line of reasoning.
“I ran over the reports from yesterday’s shout. Becks left before filing his, but I imagine you already know that.”
He didn’t, but there was no point in telling Danny that. “And?”
“Ms Penelope Black – her mother really was a stamp collector, by the way – spinster of the parish of Maplethorpe. Used to work in digital tech at GCHQ. Still does some consultancy work for them. Has a pet cat called Malkin; black, naturally.”
Ethan was starting to see where this was going. He wished he didn’t, but in his experience, wishes rarely came true.
“That would explain the lack of any online presence,” he commented.
“Yes, it would. But Amrit’s got a mate who works there as well. I asked him to make a few discreet enquiries. Know what the word on the streets is about Ms Black?”
“She’s a witch.”
Danny looked so crestfallen than Ethan almost wanted to pat him on the head and apologise for stealing his punchline. Almost, but not quite.
“How did you know?” Danny demanded.
“After Cupcake’s rally driving drenched her, I saw her making a sign in the air with her hands. I last saw it used in Trier in 1581. One minute there was a bloke standing in a lane haranguing an old woman. Next minute there was just a woman on her own looking down at a large black slug. She walked off and left it there. I saw the bloke the following day in the inn, claiming she’d bewitched him. By the time the mob got to her cottage she’d gone. I didn’t hang around either.”
“You believe in witches?”
“Can’t think of another explanation for how a bloke got turned into a slug. And no, I hadn’t been on the lash the night before. If you must know, I was behind a hedge having a piss. She didn’t see me. Nor did he.”
The kitten had stopped trying to tear Danny’s shirt apart and was listening attentively, small head cocked to one side.
“So, what do we do?” “Danny asked.
“Knock on her door, say he’s very sorry and ask her to turn him back?”
“And then Amrit phones and says Becks has walked back into work and we look prize prats.”
Ethan shrugged. “Got any better ideas, sunshine?”
“Maybe we should work out if the kitten really is Becker?”
“And how do you suggest we do that? Line up a load of guns and ask him to pick out the Mossberg 590?”
Danny stood up, almost dislodging the kitten, and went off to rummage in a kitchen drawer. He came back carrying a black marker pen and a sheet of paper, which he proceeded to tear in half before scribbling a big YES on one part, and an equally large NO on the other.
After removing the kitten from his shoulder – not the easiest of jobs – he plonked it on the floor.
“Are you Captain Hilary Becker?”
The kitten wandered off and started playing with a toy mouse.
Danny sighed. “Best gun, Mossberg 590 or an M4? YES for the Mossberg, NO for the M4.”
The kitten promptly sat on the sheet with the YES on it.
A look of triumph flashed in Danny’s eyes, before fading a moment later when the kitten did a neat backflip and landed on the NO sheet, before promptly ripping both pieces of paper to shreds and chasing the pieces around the mat.
Ethan picked the kitten up and stared it in the face. “Remember what I said about your nadgers?”
The kitten hissed at him petulantly.
“Play nicely, you little sod.” Ethan plonked the kitten on his knee and smoothed down its fur. Almost immediately, it started purring. Casting a speculative look at his brother, Ethan ruffled the little cat’s fur the wrong way. The purr changed to a hiss of outrage in the blink of an eye.
“Conclusive,” Danny announced smugly. “Becks hates having his hair ruffled the wrong way.”
Mildly irritated by Danny’s smugness, Ethan quickly soothed the annoyed little creature, which promptly fell asleep on his lap. “So I presume we pay Ms Penny Black a visit?”
“With or without Fluffball?”
“With. But you’re putting him in the carry box.”
The kitten opened its eyes, and Ethan could have sworn it smirked.
****
An hour and a half later, Ethan set the carry box down on the gravel path and knocked on the door of Rowan Cottage, Church Lane, Maplethorpe.
The kitten had made himself a nest in an ancient rug from the back of Danny’s car and had finally fallen asleep after yowling for most of the journey. The sound of the iron knocker woke him up and they could now hear a muffled whine of disapproval.
Just as he was raising the knocker a second time, Ethan heard footsteps in the hallway, then door opened and he found himself staring into a pair of cool, amused grey eyes.
“I wondered how long it would take you. Tea?”
“We’d love some,” Danny said smiling widely. “Thanks.”
A fire was crackling merrily in a large stone fireplace that took up most of one wall of the living room. The other walls were decked with holly and winter greenery and a large, black cat sat in front of the hearth, licking one of its paws. A wooden coffee table held a tray set with three mugs, a teapot wrapped in a crotched Christmas pudding, and a plate of homemade biscuits.
“You knew we were coming?” Danny sounded impressed, looking around the room with what Ethan had come to recognise as a copper’s eye for detail.
Ms Black nodded and waved to a battered sofa covered with a brightly coloured patchwork throw. “Do sit down, gentlemen. No, Mr Quinn, you won’t find a crystal ball cunningly disguised as a paperweight.”
“You hacked the traffic cameras and set them to flag up any government registered vehicles,” Ethan hazarded, suspecting something more prosaic than scrying.
“More specific than that,” Ms Black said. “I was tracking any vehicles from your agency. You came up on my radar, so to speak, half an hour ago. That gave me plenty of time to finish off the biscuits.”
“What do you know about our agency, Ms Black?” Danny asked, suddenly all business.
“Do call me Penny, Mr Quinn.” She favoured him with a slight smile. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Milk, two sugars, please,” Danny said automatically.
A sudden yowl from the pet carrier attracted Malkin’s attention and the large cat prowled over to the crate. A small, pink nose peeked out and Malkin swatted it with his newly cleaned paw.
“Feel free to let him out,” Penny Black said.
“He’s here to apologise,” Ethan said.
Penny Black laughed. “What on earth do you think I’ve done, gentleman? Surely you don’t think I’ve turned your missing Head of Security into a kitten? That would be fanciful, even for members of an organisation who hunt dinosaurs as a day job.”
“I saw the sigil you traced in the air,” Ethan said, cutting in before Danny could start blustering. “I last saw it used in Trier in 1581.”
“You’ve led an interesting life, Mr Dobrowski. You must tell me that story sometime.”
“Too feckin’ interesting at times,” Ethan muttered, lifting the front of the crate. “Can you turn him back?”
The kitten ventured out, took one look at Malkin and his owner and promptly shot up Ethan’s leg to crouch in his lap, fluffed up like a furry lump of coal.
“No.”
Ethan’s hand rested protectively on the kitten. “Harsh.”
Penny Black laughed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, drink your tea before it gets cold and have a biscuit while they’re still warm. He’ll return to normal after three days.” She held her hand out to the kitten, who cautiously hopped onto the arm of her chair and allowed himself to be petted.
“Looks like soldier boy’s going to be using up some of his annual leave,” Ethan commented, helping himself to several buttery shortbread biscuits.
“So are you, sunshine,” Danny said. “Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”
“Are you sure I can’t just take him down to the animal shelter?”
The kitten jumped onto the carpet and hissed.
Malkin promptly took hold of the little creature by the scruff of the neck and dropped him back onto Ethan’s lap.
“I don’t make a habit of turning people into animals,” Penny Black commented. “But your captain was wound up so tight he was in danger of breaking.” She fixed Danny with a hard stare. “When did he last take more than two days off at once?”
Danny looked shifty. “A couple of months ago?”
Ethan sighed. “You’re onto a loser, Danny. She’ll have hacked the personnel files. Soldier boy thinks he’s indispensable. And he’s got a protective streak a mile wide.”
“Then he needs some rest and relaxation before he gets himself – and someone else – killed.”
The kitten, purring loudly, appeared to agree.
“So I’ve modified the spell. Unless he takes all his annual leave by the end of the year, he might well find himself following the scent of catnip again.” Behind the kitten’s back, she gave a broad wink to both Ethan and Danny.
After drinking copious amounts of tea and eating almost their own body weight in biscuits, they said an amicable goodbye to Penny Black and headed back to Ethan’s flat, both wondering what it said about their lives that the strangest thing they’d encountered in the past week wasn’t rips in time disgorging dinosaurs.
****
A day later, Ethan wasn’t sure he’d win any prizes for his kitten parenting skills, but the furry black menace was still alive, still in possession of his nadgers and still in Ethan’s flat.
The visit to Ms Penny Black had removed the knot of tension from Ethan’s stomach and he’d even started to enjoy the kitten’s company, although it would take an afternoon of waterboarding to drag that admission out of him.
The kitten – Becker – had played with his toys, kipped on Ethan’s lap and then demanded a game of Chase the Red Dot before finally settling down on the sofa with him and doing his best to swipe chunks of the fish and chips Danny had delivered for his supper. Ethan finally relented and put a small portion in the kitten’s bowl. That largesse earned him contented purring from the usually hyperactive black fluff ball for the rest of the night. Becker finally seemed to be learning how to relax.
“Sleep well, Fluffy,” Ethan murmured, depositing the little cat in the fleecy basket, before settling down in bed for an early night.
He woke up briefly several hours later to find that the kitten had found its way into the bedroom again and burrowed under the duvet to curl up pressed against Ethan’s stomach.
****
With the chill winter sunshine on his face, he woke up again, this time with his arm draped across something equally furry but considerably larger.
Becker’s chest.
Ethan snatched his arm away.
If Becker didn’t remember what had happened, this was going to get spectacularly awkward very quickly.
Then something that sounded suspiciously like a purr rumbled deep in Becker’s chest and a strong hand caught hold of his and a moment later Ethan found himself with an armful of surprisingly affectionate special forces captain.
Becker had clearly come to terms with his inner kitten.
And if he started to get too wound up again, Ethan wouldn’t hesitate to deploy the Red Dot of Doom. But he might have to warn the security team to disable the laser sights on their rifles …
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no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 08:46 pm (UTC)*snorfles* at fluffy little hellspawn .
He really was. And the red laser dot is always effective!
And you are still queen of the perfect last line for a fic!
no subject
Date: 2022-12-31 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-31 07:04 pm (UTC)LOL at careless driving skills getting Becker into trouble (remember to always be polite, children, you never know when you can upset a witch!) and the whole kitten situation was adorable and totally relatable ('The kitten promptly shot out and disappeared under the sofa, hissing like a King Cobra' was the most accurate description ever of a first day with a stray kitten).
And purrs at the ending, Ethan is smart and cautious, but I think Becker won't mind *g*
Thank you very much for writing this! ^_^
no subject
Date: 2022-12-31 08:37 pm (UTC)When I saw the jinxed prompt the idea of kitten!Becker promptly jumped into my head, because who couldn't fall for a fluffy black kittem whose hair must be smoothed the right way or there will be CONSEQUENCES!
Characters turned into animals is always fun to write. *g*
no subject
Date: 2023-01-01 06:07 pm (UTC)This was oodles of fun, and so very cute! :D
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Date: 2023-01-01 08:31 pm (UTC)He does! so much so that I think there might be a sequel at some point ...
no subject
Date: 2023-01-04 09:50 am (UTC)Love the techno-witch and kitten Becker is just adorable, nada and all!
Love it!
no subject
Date: 2023-01-04 07:19 pm (UTC)It was a lot of fun to write!
no subject
Date: 2023-01-08 11:15 am (UTC)But he would have the prettiest, softest, shiniest fur of all!
Lovely idea!
no subject
Date: 2023-01-08 03:11 pm (UTC)Thank you! Yes, he would have gorgeous fur!
no subject
Date: 2023-01-17 04:03 pm (UTC)“Best gun, Mossberg 590 or an M4? YES for the Mossberg, NO for the M4.” LOL What more evidence do you need.
"Becker had clearly come to terms with his inner kitten."
LOL at the Red Dot of Doom.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-18 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-01-07 10:42 am (UTC)I love the fact they were going to track down the lady they soaked!
And the knowing farmer with the new phone was brilliant *g*
When Becker was missing, woah, that was really cool!
A kitten!!! Becker has turned into a kitten, hasn't he? I love it.
Oh my, she did it!! That woman! Ethan is very clever. I wonder why she smiled... Not to mention the hand thing but I thought she was maybe giving them a creative gesture *g*
Rowan cottage, pffft, definitely her.
Aw, kitten cuddles to Die Hard. Christmas heaven.
Aw, Danny cares about Becker too. Cute he's looking for him!
The Yes/No thing was funny, worth a try, lol.
Oh wow, she is cool. And connected, lol. Love the GCHQ angle.
Hee! He's back, yay! And hopefully they will both keep taking some down time.
A very cute, fun fic!!! Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2024-01-11 07:02 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it. This was a lot of fun to write.