aelfgyfu_mead (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aelfgyfu_mead) wrote2010-08-03 12:39 pm
aelfgyfu_mead) wrote2010-08-03 12:39 pm
New Tracks, Part 6
"New Tracks" by Aelfgyfu
PARTS: 20 plus epilogue
RATING: FRT (fan-rated teen: violence, occasional bad language)
CATEGORIES: Drama, angst, hurt/discomfort, some humour; AU, fix-it
SUMMARY: Noel Miller tries to find his place on Nick Cutter's team; Stephen Hart tries to find his way back onto the team; and Nick has to deal with them, creatures from the past, and his own stubbornness.
SPOILERS: Everything through 2.07 and my own story "Fresh Scars"
WARNINGS: Some tasteless humour, some medical detail
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Brilliant Husband (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dudethemath), kristen_mara, and lukadreaming, all of whom acted as betas and made many helpful suggestions and corrections. All remaining errors, infelicities, and poor judgement are my own.
DISCLAIMER: Primeval and its characters are owned by Impossible Pictures, ITV Productions, M6 Films, Pro 7, and possibly other entities I couldn't easily find on IMDb. No copyright infringement is intended, and indeed the story probably won't make sense unless you've watched. So watch the show, buy the DVDs, etc. I do not profit from fic except insofar as comments make me happy.
Additional notes and links to all posted parts at this story's launch page
Additional author's notes for this part: Connor's "what-if" scenarios were inspired byfredbassett's Virtual Series 3 episode 4 and deinonychus_1's "Everything Changes".
previous part (Part 5)
The images from the rover ended abruptly, and Stephen sighed and set the laptop down on the coffee table. Of course Connor hadn't thought to call him again when they were wrapping things up. Stephen could probably safely assume they were returning the jerboas to the other side of the anomaly. Everything would be fine. Someone would ring if they needed help. He ought to get one of those little headsets so he could have his hands free while he talked on his mobile, he decided.
Stephen looked at the remains of the lunch he'd reheated while his team had driven out to the site. He'd eaten a little before Connor called, but then he'd set it aside. He didn't feel hungry anymore. He scraped it back into the take-away box. It would survive another reheating. He certainly wasn't going to waste almost the only food with actual flavour he'd had in four weeks.
At least the anomaly had come when he'd been at home, and not at physio, or he'd have missed the whole thing. It wasn't very exciting from home, but it was a damned sight better than sitting in a medical facility.
Everyone said he was doing well. He didn't even think he should have to stay at home this week, but the doctors had insisted. Devi Gupta had offered him a deal: if he passed muster with his physio this week, she'd examine him Monday morning, and maybe he could start working a few hours a day at the ARC.
Stephen spent the rest of the afternoon trying to fill time. He had work enough for the ARC, but it was exactly the sort of thing he'd always put off if he had anything else he could do. The contingency plans were a good idea, though; they should have made them before this. They weren't very interesting, however. Unless Connor got involved: "What should we do if a T. rex suddenly appears by the London Eye? Or in the London Eye?" the young man had asked at one point. "When the media finally do get hold of this, do you think we'll have paparazzi stalking us?"
Nick had pretty well convinced Stephen that they did need to keep the anomalies under wraps—or, rather, Leek had. Surely other dangerous people would seek to gain some advantage from the anomalies once they become public. Stephen had no doubt that they would become public eventually, unless they could work out a way to stop them, which didn't seem likely. The ARC had hired some physicists, and Connor dutifully took lots of readings for them, but the physicists seemed mystified. If the anomalies kept appearing, sooner or later there would be one that even Jenny Lewis couldn't hide. Or the death toll would simply get too high. That thought scared the hell out of Stephen, but he had no solutions.
By the time Connor rang to say that he was bringing back some Chinese, Stephen had given up all pretence of working. He briefly resorted to a game Connor had installed on his machine, but not for long. Connor must have thought defeating dinosaurs on a laptop would be helpful, somehow, but it just felt creepy, when it wasn't simply boring.
While they ate, Connor happily gave Stephen all the details of the afternoon's outing.
"You'd never have left a burrowing rodent under a bucket," Connor observed, then looked a little guilty.
"If I had my hands full of cat, I might have," Stephen said, trying to imagine the very restrained Lieutenant Miller with the struggling pet. "Why didn't anyone go outside with him?"
Connor shrugged. "I dunno. We didn't know how many were out there."
"The ones in the house were trapped. The ones outside—well, we may yet hear of unusual rodent infestations." Stephen frowned. He should have thought of that while he was on the phone to Connor.
"Well, it's not like they were trained to use a cat flap!" Connor argued. "I'm surprised two of them got out as it was."
"Good point," Stephen conceded.
Connor thought headsets for the mobiles, both Stephen's and his, were an excellent idea, and he put in a requisition through the ARC as soon as they'd cleared the table. Miller's photos had been uploaded by the end of the working day, so they reviewed those. Stephen didn't tell Connor that Miller had done a better job than most of Connor's efforts, and Connor was still too excited about the whole thing to notice.
He was glad to have Connor around, Stephen thought as he prepared for bed. He'd lived alone for long enough that he was afraid he'd be resentful, but after having all day to enjoy the quiet, if 'enjoy' was the right word for it, he found himself glad of company.
He also felt surprisingly relieved not to be alone at night. He'd get used to his flat again soon, its darkness and quiet, but for the next few days Connor would be there. If Stephen had another nightmare, he could go and listen to Connor's breathing for a bit, and he'd be all right—as long as Connor didn't wake up and freak out. It was a good thing Connor seemed to be a heavy sleeper.
***
Things didn't seem to be going too badly, Noel thought as the Thursday morning meeting drew to a close. No more jerboas had surfaced, so probably none had escaped the garden. No one seemed to be holding his mistake with the jerboa against him, including Hart, who continued sending him e-mails three or four times a day on what to read and study. Noel read them carefully, probably too carefully, for any signs of rebuke, but he found only the brief suggestions Hart had been sending him since they'd met. Was Hart using just one hand to type? Noel wondered idly. Or could he use the arm with the cast, which only covered the wrist and not the fingers?
Professor Cutter was starting to treat him a bit like the other two members of the team—greeting him in the mornings by name, sometimes even asking his opinion, and only occasionally forgetting he existed.
"And Stephen Hart has suggested that everyone go through a proper first aid course...." Lester trailed off as the chorus of groans and objections began. Noel was still adjusting to the informality of this posting; he couldn't imagine reacting audibly himself.
One grumble cut through the rest: "Just because Stephen has nothing better to do that sit at home dreaming up more work for us...."
Noel unintentionally started, and the mutters around him died down quite suddenly. He could see the moment when the professor thought through what he'd said, and the curse that followed was much louder than the original comment.
Abby looked first shocked and then furious, but Lester spoke again before she could say anything.
"Now Lieutenant Miller has recently had a military first aid course, so he's off the hook. He has been sentenced to spend the afternoon with Hart anyway, so that makes this afternoon an excellent time. I've scheduled a visit from an Army officer who trains medics. I'm sure it will be a valuable opportunity, and I expect you all to pay attention."
"This afternoon?" squeaked Connor.
"Why? Do you have a hot date? We'll start promptly at 2—"
"Well, no." Connor seemed still not to have mastered the art of recognising rhetorical questions. "It's just that I'm working—"
"Nothing is more important than this, Mr Temple." Lester seemed unusually serious, not even loosing his notorious sarcasm on them. "In fact, I'm taking the course myself, since we've learned that even the ARC is not immune to... incidents."
That statement ended the dissent, but Professor Cutter seemed particularly quiet for the rest of the meeting. The group broke up slowly. Noel watched them drift apart, Connor and Abby together, the professor going his own way.
Noel drove to Hart's flat a little later. Torn between excitement at seeing photographs and casts of prehistoric prints, and anxiety about showing his ignorance, Noel took a few deep breaths after he'd pulled up across the street from Hart's place.
By the time he'd got out of the car, Hart was already crossing the street towards him. Noel checked his watch; he was a few minutes early. Hart must have been waiting outside for him. A bit eager, wasn't he?
Hart greeted him with a grin and tried to wave Noel aside from opening the door for him. "I can manage, you know," he said, chucking his stick in the back easily and buckling his seatbelt with no problems.
"Glad to hear it, sir," Noel replied.
"I thought we were done with the 'sir'? And you really can't do it today. Pretend you're not military. It might raise some eyebrows. Just show your driving license when they ask for identification for the visitor's card, not your military ID." Hart seemed to have everything planned out. He must have been waiting for this outing for days. They'd been through most of it already. Noel had made certain to wear civilian clothes. "And call me by my last name. I'll call you by yours. No one will think anything of it."
"Sure, Hart," Noel said, practising.
Noel had already looked up directions, so he didn't need Hart's, and Hart quickly realised that and stopped giving them.
"So how's the cat doing?" Hart asked out of the blue.
"The cat?" Noel smiled. "The cat seems fine. Abby and I visit her every day. They want us to wear gloves and be sure not to get bitten, but all the blood tests have come back clean so far." He was glad of that; the cat was affectionate and had forgiven Noel that initial manhandling.
"I'm sure Abby will be glad of that, but she'll probably miss having her around when they send her home. Do you know what they told the family?"
Noel didn't. He had no interest in cover stories unless he really needed to know them.
"It's too bad the ARC couldn't get more data out of the jerboa bits, but I gather the cat had already made a good start on the front half. Except for the feet it threw up," Hart added with a little too much glee for Noel's taste.
"Not really my area, s– Hart."
After that, the drive was fairly quiet. Noel didn't have a lot to say. Hart occasionally asked a question or two about the ARC and how Noel was fitting in, but Noel had no doubt his former team-mates were keeping him well briefed, especially with Connor living with Hart now. Noel was pretty well briefed on Hart, too, largely thanks to Connor. When he'd first heard Connor sing Hart's praises, he'd assumed Connor had added a good measure of hyperbole, but the more reports Noel read, the more realistic Connor's descriptions seemed. Hart had been a tracker, sharpshooter, diver, swimmer... the list seemed endless. Now the man needed a walking stick. It struck Noel suddenly how much Hart had lost. Why did he not think of it that day at the park, tracking dogs? He'd brought too many preconceptions that first day, perhaps.
"I haven't been back to CMU in, oh, ages," Hart finally said, with a touch of sadness. "Ever been here before?"
Why would Noel have been to Central Metropolitan University before? "No."
"I hope the collection hasn't changed. Can't imagine it has, though."
Noel expected some reminiscence to follow, but instead Hart asked about Connor and the professor's training. Noel said what positive things he could, and Hart didn't press him.
Once they reached the university, they had a longer walk to the building than Noel expected. He hadn't realised the university was so large. Hart seemed energised despite the walk.
At their destination, they were greeted by an older woman who glanced up and then gave them a more thorough look and got to her feet. "Mr Hart! Haven't seen you in years!"
"Has it been that long, Miriam?" Hart asked with a smile. "Can't be. Months, maybe."
Miriam was obviously surprised by Hart's appearance, but he brushed off questions gently and kept moving the conversation back to her: how she looked the same as when he last saw her, how he and Cutter missed her, how he'd have to drag Cutter down here to say hello himself. Their new project was exciting, but the archivists weren't quite up to Miriam's standards. And so on. Noel mostly tuned out the details but was interested to see Hart at work. Finally he saw some of the man he'd expected. Hart smiled a lot as he introduced Noel, but soon he'd turned the conversation away from Noel. A bit of flirting and a bit of flattery later, the woman handed Noel a form to apply for a visitor's card with hardly a glance at him. Hart told no actual lies. Noel hardly got a word in, for which he was grateful.
Miriam offered to come back with Hart and help him, but Hart thanked her and told her Noel would do any heavy lifting.
Noel expected the act to drop once they were out of the archivist's sight, but Hart was still smiling a little as they walked back into rows upon rows of long metal cabinets.
"Miriam took good care of us while we were here, no matter how close to closing time we arrived," he said.
Noel found them a couple of stools, mindful of Cutter's warnings about letting Hart do too much. Then he pulled out a long metal drawer that Hart indicated. It contained large photographs of dinosaur tracks.
"I thought I'd avoid my mistake at the park, and we'd start with the big ones," Hart said, his eyes on the photos and not on Noel. "We've got a great collection here at CMU—very few actual trackways samples of our own, but one of the best collections of photographs of prehistoric prints in the world. You know, we should see if we can get permission to digitise them! The ARC could do with quick access to the collection, and Connor's database would be even better with samples like these."
The photos were amazing, and Noel thought Connor would love these, even spoiled as he'd been by seeing the real thing so many times. The photos were much safer, anyway. Connor must have seen them already, though: he'd been Cutter's student. He'd have to ask Connor later.
Hart took him through a couple drawers' worth of large photographs. Some had been taken from a distance, showing a number of tracks. Others were close-ups of a few footprints, or sometimes only one. All had markers showing scale. Hart taught him what to look for in terms of size, depth in the photos where it was clearly visible or marked with a ruler, and spacing, as well as counting toes, looking for claws, and checking for signs the creature had been injured. They kept their voices low, but the quiet didn't hide the awe in Hart's voice. Noel found himself fascinated, and what he thought might be a chore turned out to be the best afternoon he'd spent at work since...since he couldn't remember when.
"Stephen Hart!" a loud voice suddenly came from the end of a row, and Hart jumped a little. "Miriam told me you were here, and I said she must be mistaken! Cutter doesn't let you out on your own enough!"
Noel automatically stood to greet the new arrival, a very blond man a few inches shorter than he was and a little paunchy.
"Tony!" Hart slid slowly off his stool."I didn't expect to see you here! How've you been?"
"But what happened to you?" The man walked right up to Stephen, ignoring Noel, and looked him up and down with a frown.
"Got a little too close to something unfriendly." Hart shrugged. "This is Noel Miller," he said, offering no further explanation. "Tony Jensen. We were both postgraduates here."
Jensen nodded to Noel and turned right back to Hart. "You never did finish that PhD, did you?"
Hart shrugged again. "Happier doing fieldwork."
"Doesn't look like fieldwork has been treating you too well, though!" Jensen looked concerned, but something about him didn't feel right.
Hart smiled. "I've had worse." Now that was an outright lie, Noel was pretty sure.
Jensen seemed dubious too. "Really? I must have missed that. Seriously, what has Cutter got you doing? He was always against shooting things; didn't recognise that sometimes in fieldwork, you have to look out for yourself! Was that what happened?"
Hart shifted uncomfortably. "No, no. Just... bad luck, some poor judgement on my part. So what have you been up to?"
"Oh, the usual! Giving papers, publishing. Quite busy. I haven't seen you or Nick on the conference circuit in a while. Got something big under wraps, or has he...?" Jensen wiggled his fingers near his head.
Stephen frowned. "Nick's still hard at work. He's got several things he's working on." The frown eased. "You know him and his perfectionism. Might be a while before you get to see them."
Jensen smiled again. "Yeah. He should be publishing more! You've got to push him, Stephen—especially if you want to get ahead, too." Then Jensen turned more serious. "Are you sure you're doing all right? You look... you've done a lot of fieldwork, and I've never seen you like this before. An arm and a leg?"
Stephen shrugged again. "Could have been worse. Really. You don't want to know. How's your wife?"
Noel had been thinking this man a practiced liar? He couldn't even change topic without being obvious. The picture Noel had constructed from what he heard of Hart and the two Cutters when he first arrived at the ARC had been embarrassingly inaccurate. The only redeeming thing about Noel's judgements was that he had not voiced them aloud.
Some discussion of a woman Hart and Jensen both knew followed, and Noel's attention drifted from the words to the body language. Hart didn't seem concerned; he kept standing but didn't look particularly tense. Jensen leaned too far forward, putting himself into Hart's personal space. Hart moved back, probably unconsciously.
Breaking up the conversation seemed far outside Noel's duties, but he was itching to get back to those photographs. That feeling only increased when suddenly Jensen decided to include him in the conversation.
"So, Noel Miller, right? Are you one of Cutter's students too, or does he not have students on this big grant that got him away from the university?"
"Oh, he has his students still," Stephen said with a hint of amusement, probably thinking of Connor. "Noel's fairly new, and I thought I'd show him the ropes around here."
"Excellent!" Jensen was now in Noel's space, and Noel couldn't move any farther from him with drawer handles already digging into his back. "And how are you finding it?"
This conversation could turn at any moment to what Noel's field or plans were, and Noel didn't know how to get out of that. Flash would have been great at escaping. Wait: Connor had a way of sidetracking conversations when he wasn't even trying. Noel decided to channel Connor.
"This collection is amazing!" Noel told him, letting his genuine enthusiasm show. "I've never seen anything quite like it. I didn't even know it was here until recently! I feel privileged to be able to see it." No, too thick—he'd better cut back. "I'm sure you know the feeling, sir, since you're coming back to see it."
Jensen's laugh brought him up short. "'Sir'? Are you sure he's Cutter's student, Hart?"
Hart raised an eyebrow. "Now haven't you always known me to be polite?"
"Honestly, Stephen, I think Cutter ruined you. He made you all snarky and sarcastic." Jensen sighed dramatically. "Ah, the good old days. Department gatherings here were more... exciting than those in my new department." He smiled too broadly. "Of course, there are advantages to a quieter place." He looked back and forth between Noel and Hart. Neither answered.
"Well, Stephen, I wish you luck on your recovery," he said, clapping Hart lightly on the shoulder. Hart flinched ever so slightly. "And good luck to you, Noel." Jensen shook Noel's hand again as he left. "Tell Cutter I said hi!"
Hart nodded.
"Well, that was nice of him," Hart said absently as Jensen disappeared and they settled on their stools again.
"It was?" Noel asked, regretting it immediately, but he'd expected some of the sarcasm Jensen had mentioned once the man was out of earshot.
Hart looked at him curiously. "I didn't think he and Nick got on all that well. I haven't seen him in years. It was nice of him to show some concern for me."
Noel frowned. It was none of his business. Yet it bothered him to see Jensen possibly putting one over on Hart, even if he wasn't sure what.
"No," he said finally, "I don't think it was nice. I don't think it was all concern for you. I felt like..." Noel fumbled a little to interpret what he'd seen, finally concluding "...like he wanted something from you."
Hart frowned. "Like what?"
Noel could only shrug. "I don't know the man. He didn't have much to say about Professor Cutter, though."
Hart snorted. "He doesn't like Cutter. Nick's a bit of an acquired taste, you've got to admit."
Noel nodded. "I—I just... sorry, si—um, Hart. None of my business."
Hart gave him a sharp look. "Now that you mention it, he wasn't exactly friendly towards you. Until, suddenly, he was. That might possibly make it your business." After a dry chuckle, he added, "And it has been pointed out to me that I'm a bit clueless when it comes to dealing with people, so if you have some clues, please—feel free to share them."
Well, that was the first time anyone had ever said that to Noel.
They spent the entire afternoon in the archives, most of it bent over photographs. Then at the end they moved to an even more climate-controlled room, with some plaster casts of real dinosaur trackways. Noel could finally truly see the depth of some prints, although, as Hart noted, those would vary greatly with the hardness or softness of the ground, not just the creature's weight. They had a few footprints from a dimetrodon, and a hadrosaur (much clearer than he'd found in his real life encounter with them), and even one from a T. rex. Awe enveloped Noel. Hart looked around, then told him quietly to touch it, very gently.
"Surely I'm not supposed to touch!" Noel replied, sticking his hands in his pockets reflexively, the way he'd do in a shop full of crystal.
"Well, no," Hart answered in a low tone. "But you'll remember better if you do. And if it's a choice between the plaster lasting a few more years and you learning something that will save lives...."
Very gingerly, Noel put his fingers into the tracks, trying to memorise the texture, the depth, everything. He realised he'd closed his eyes only when he opened them to find Hart grinning at him.
"There's nothing like it, is there?" Hart asked with longing. "Except the real thing." The grin faded to a very faint smile.
Noel realised only when they left that Hart was moving quite slowly. He'd been so wrapped up in the trackways he'd failed to notice or inquire. Hart shrugged off Noel's attempted apology.
"It's worth it," he said, "to have a whole afternoon here again."
***
After his afternoon outing, Stephen had a little time alone before Connor came back to the flat. It was Connor's last night at Stephen's. Stephen hadn't truly needed Connor for anything. He could hardly justify keeping his friend on the sofa when he found himself taking over the cooking and cleaning because Connor, much as he wanted to help, wasn't a very good cook and didn't know where anything was supposed to go. Connor seemed eager to return to Abby's flat. Stephen wasn't entirely sure how eager Abby would be to have him back, but as long as he didn't do the cooking or the dishes, she probably wouldn't mind.
"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder," Connor said as he packed his things up on Friday morning. "You know, Abby said it wasn't the same without me around!"
Stephen smiled and barely restrained himself from advising Connor yet again to ask Abby out on a proper date. "You might want to say you missed her too, and not make a big fuss over Rex instead."
Connor looked surprised, and Stephen suspected that was exactly how things would have played out otherwise. Now maybe there was some hope for Connor.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" the young man asked, concern suddenly flashing across his face.
Stephen nodded. "I've been fine during the days, and it's not like I need help at night." He couldn't explain that simply having Connor there sleeping helped. Connor slept like a log, night after night. Stephen had envied him a little, but he felt wrong creeping out to listen to Connor breathing when he'd had nightmares or trouble sleeping.
Nick came for dinner on Friday night, which gave Stephen a chance to break the news to Nick that he'd be coming to the ARC that coming Monday for a physical—and if he passed it, he'd start working a few hours a day there.
He'd braced himself for the look of horror that crossed Nick's face as the news sank in.
"I'm doing very well with the physio," Stephen continued calmly, pretending he hadn't noticed and giving Nick a chance to get himself under control. "I work from here, but it's boring. I end up calling you all several times a day, waiting because my Internet connection isn't as fast as being on a computer at the ARC, and generally wasting my time."
Nick had pulled himself together but now looked ready to object.
"Besides, you'll be able to keep a closer watch on me there." Stephen smirked at him deliberately.
It worked; Nick laughed. "And maybe you'll stop suggesting things for Lester to do to us when you might have to take part yourself?"
Stephen gave him a querying look.
"That first aid course we had was basic as anything and dull as dishwater! Abby could have taught it. Didn't she tell you so?"
"Yes, but she passed the message via Connor, which was a good deal easier on me." Abby had been none too pleased about it, that much was clear.
Nick fidgeted with the cutlery.
"It'll be fine, Nick," Stephen tried to reassure him. "After hospital and physio, the ARC will be easy."
Nick blew out a surprised breath. "Well, now you've gone and jinxed it all, haven't you?"
Stephen wasn't worried.
When Cutter left, he insisted, "Keep your mobile by your bed, and don't hesitate to phone me tonight if you need anything. Or any night. It seems awfully soon for you to be on your own again."
Stephen promised he'd keep the mobile by the bed, and turned on, and he did. He still wasn't worried. It seemed none too soon to him.
Of course, by about 1.00 am, he had changed his mind on that, and several other things. Stephen had had little trouble falling asleep most nights that Connor had been there, but now when he turned out the lights, he saw snatches of things he didn't want to remember.
He finally turned a bathroom light on and fell asleep that way, waking up from time to time but free of nightmares, as far as he could recall. It was normal to be anxious, Dr Jacobs had said, even as Stephen had insisted he wasn't anxious. Returning to normality could be stressful in itself. It would get better. He kept repeating it to himself whenever he woke up, and he got through the night.
A Saturday with no physiotherapy and no visitors seemed daunting, but Stephen had told each of the members of the team he needed some quiet time, and it was true. The visits from soldiers had trailed off since he left the hospital and stopped entirely since he had moved back to his flat, although a couple of them had called to ask him how he was. His teammates, however, were nearly as persistent as ever.
Mostly, Stephen wanted to stop them thinking of him as an invalid. He took a longer walk than usual in the hope that it would make him tired enough to sleep well, then regretted it when he had to climb the stairs back to his flat. Well, he'd take it easy on Sunday so that he was ready for Dr Gupta to examine him on Monday.
Tonight, he decided, he'd sleep with the lights off. Even if it took a while, he needed to get used to it.
***
Nick hadn't realised that Stephen had made certain that none of them were visiting on Saturday until Abby called him to see if he was seeing Stephen that evening, and if he knew if Stephen had been all right the previous night. Of course he didn't know anything. For all he knew, Stephen had fallen in the shower and cracked his skull. As soon as he had finished speaking to her, he phoned Stephen.
"You don't have to do everything alone, you know!"
"And hello to you, too, Cutter!" Stephen answered with annoying cheer. "Should I ask Lester to schedule lessons on phone etiquette—"
"Don't be a smart-arse."
"But I learnt from the best!" Stephen replied.
"You've been taking Lester lessons?"
"I suppose you're right: Lester does have you beaten."
Nick took a deep breath and managed not to snap at Stephen again. "The point stands. You don't have to be completely alone, you know."
"I know, and I do appreciate it," Stephen said, more seriously. "But it's the first time I've been completely alone since—in almost a month now. I'm used to spending time alone. I'm not used to having people constantly ask how I'm doing, if I need help, if it hurts yet—oh, sorry, that would be the physio, not you."
So much for seriousness.
"I'll keep the phone on my bedside table again, I promise. Look, I'm crossing my heart."
Nick knew when he had lost. "Fine. Have it your way."
***
Jessica smiled at Noel over the dinner table. "What are you thinking?"
He smiled back. "I'm thinking that I must have been crazy to be disappointed when I didn't get posted to Afghanistan with my mates. Getting my off-duty nights with you? How'd I get so lucky?"
"It wasn't luck," she told him with pride. "Someone wanted the best new officer."
Noel didn't believe her, but he must have been not half bad to pass muster with James Lester, he reckoned.
"I do wish you could talk about it, though," she said after a sip of wine. "I'd like to hear about he people you work with, or where you go?"
"I spend most of my time in one office or another," he told her. "The people I work with...." That would be safe, wouldn't it? He wasn't sure how comprehensible any of them would be outside of their jobs, though. Come to that, he wasn't sure how comprehensible any of them were at their jobs. There must be bits he could tell her. "I do work with some characters," he admitted at last. "It might take a while to tell, though, and some of the funny bits might not be funny without context."
"That's all right," Jessica said. "We've got all night."
"Assuming I don't get any calls!" he warned her hastily. Then he took a sip of his own wine and lowered his voice. "But if we don't...I can think of better things to do than talk about the people I work with."
Jessica's smile was stunning. "How'd I get so lucky?" she murmured.
Part 7
PARTS: 20 plus epilogue
RATING: FRT (fan-rated teen: violence, occasional bad language)
CATEGORIES: Drama, angst, hurt/discomfort, some humour; AU, fix-it
SUMMARY: Noel Miller tries to find his place on Nick Cutter's team; Stephen Hart tries to find his way back onto the team; and Nick has to deal with them, creatures from the past, and his own stubbornness.
SPOILERS: Everything through 2.07 and my own story "Fresh Scars"
WARNINGS: Some tasteless humour, some medical detail
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Brilliant Husband (
dudethemath), kristen_mara, and lukadreaming, all of whom acted as betas and made many helpful suggestions and corrections. All remaining errors, infelicities, and poor judgement are my own.DISCLAIMER: Primeval and its characters are owned by Impossible Pictures, ITV Productions, M6 Films, Pro 7, and possibly other entities I couldn't easily find on IMDb. No copyright infringement is intended, and indeed the story probably won't make sense unless you've watched. So watch the show, buy the DVDs, etc. I do not profit from fic except insofar as comments make me happy.
Additional notes and links to all posted parts at this story's launch page
Additional author's notes for this part: Connor's "what-if" scenarios were inspired by
fredbassett's Virtual Series 3 episode 4 and deinonychus_1's "Everything Changes". previous part (Part 5)
The images from the rover ended abruptly, and Stephen sighed and set the laptop down on the coffee table. Of course Connor hadn't thought to call him again when they were wrapping things up. Stephen could probably safely assume they were returning the jerboas to the other side of the anomaly. Everything would be fine. Someone would ring if they needed help. He ought to get one of those little headsets so he could have his hands free while he talked on his mobile, he decided.
Stephen looked at the remains of the lunch he'd reheated while his team had driven out to the site. He'd eaten a little before Connor called, but then he'd set it aside. He didn't feel hungry anymore. He scraped it back into the take-away box. It would survive another reheating. He certainly wasn't going to waste almost the only food with actual flavour he'd had in four weeks.
At least the anomaly had come when he'd been at home, and not at physio, or he'd have missed the whole thing. It wasn't very exciting from home, but it was a damned sight better than sitting in a medical facility.
Everyone said he was doing well. He didn't even think he should have to stay at home this week, but the doctors had insisted. Devi Gupta had offered him a deal: if he passed muster with his physio this week, she'd examine him Monday morning, and maybe he could start working a few hours a day at the ARC.
Stephen spent the rest of the afternoon trying to fill time. He had work enough for the ARC, but it was exactly the sort of thing he'd always put off if he had anything else he could do. The contingency plans were a good idea, though; they should have made them before this. They weren't very interesting, however. Unless Connor got involved: "What should we do if a T. rex suddenly appears by the London Eye? Or in the London Eye?" the young man had asked at one point. "When the media finally do get hold of this, do you think we'll have paparazzi stalking us?"
Nick had pretty well convinced Stephen that they did need to keep the anomalies under wraps—or, rather, Leek had. Surely other dangerous people would seek to gain some advantage from the anomalies once they become public. Stephen had no doubt that they would become public eventually, unless they could work out a way to stop them, which didn't seem likely. The ARC had hired some physicists, and Connor dutifully took lots of readings for them, but the physicists seemed mystified. If the anomalies kept appearing, sooner or later there would be one that even Jenny Lewis couldn't hide. Or the death toll would simply get too high. That thought scared the hell out of Stephen, but he had no solutions.
By the time Connor rang to say that he was bringing back some Chinese, Stephen had given up all pretence of working. He briefly resorted to a game Connor had installed on his machine, but not for long. Connor must have thought defeating dinosaurs on a laptop would be helpful, somehow, but it just felt creepy, when it wasn't simply boring.
While they ate, Connor happily gave Stephen all the details of the afternoon's outing.
"You'd never have left a burrowing rodent under a bucket," Connor observed, then looked a little guilty.
"If I had my hands full of cat, I might have," Stephen said, trying to imagine the very restrained Lieutenant Miller with the struggling pet. "Why didn't anyone go outside with him?"
Connor shrugged. "I dunno. We didn't know how many were out there."
"The ones in the house were trapped. The ones outside—well, we may yet hear of unusual rodent infestations." Stephen frowned. He should have thought of that while he was on the phone to Connor.
"Well, it's not like they were trained to use a cat flap!" Connor argued. "I'm surprised two of them got out as it was."
"Good point," Stephen conceded.
Connor thought headsets for the mobiles, both Stephen's and his, were an excellent idea, and he put in a requisition through the ARC as soon as they'd cleared the table. Miller's photos had been uploaded by the end of the working day, so they reviewed those. Stephen didn't tell Connor that Miller had done a better job than most of Connor's efforts, and Connor was still too excited about the whole thing to notice.
He was glad to have Connor around, Stephen thought as he prepared for bed. He'd lived alone for long enough that he was afraid he'd be resentful, but after having all day to enjoy the quiet, if 'enjoy' was the right word for it, he found himself glad of company.
He also felt surprisingly relieved not to be alone at night. He'd get used to his flat again soon, its darkness and quiet, but for the next few days Connor would be there. If Stephen had another nightmare, he could go and listen to Connor's breathing for a bit, and he'd be all right—as long as Connor didn't wake up and freak out. It was a good thing Connor seemed to be a heavy sleeper.
***
Things didn't seem to be going too badly, Noel thought as the Thursday morning meeting drew to a close. No more jerboas had surfaced, so probably none had escaped the garden. No one seemed to be holding his mistake with the jerboa against him, including Hart, who continued sending him e-mails three or four times a day on what to read and study. Noel read them carefully, probably too carefully, for any signs of rebuke, but he found only the brief suggestions Hart had been sending him since they'd met. Was Hart using just one hand to type? Noel wondered idly. Or could he use the arm with the cast, which only covered the wrist and not the fingers?
Professor Cutter was starting to treat him a bit like the other two members of the team—greeting him in the mornings by name, sometimes even asking his opinion, and only occasionally forgetting he existed.
"And Stephen Hart has suggested that everyone go through a proper first aid course...." Lester trailed off as the chorus of groans and objections began. Noel was still adjusting to the informality of this posting; he couldn't imagine reacting audibly himself.
One grumble cut through the rest: "Just because Stephen has nothing better to do that sit at home dreaming up more work for us...."
Noel unintentionally started, and the mutters around him died down quite suddenly. He could see the moment when the professor thought through what he'd said, and the curse that followed was much louder than the original comment.
Abby looked first shocked and then furious, but Lester spoke again before she could say anything.
"Now Lieutenant Miller has recently had a military first aid course, so he's off the hook. He has been sentenced to spend the afternoon with Hart anyway, so that makes this afternoon an excellent time. I've scheduled a visit from an Army officer who trains medics. I'm sure it will be a valuable opportunity, and I expect you all to pay attention."
"This afternoon?" squeaked Connor.
"Why? Do you have a hot date? We'll start promptly at 2—"
"Well, no." Connor seemed still not to have mastered the art of recognising rhetorical questions. "It's just that I'm working—"
"Nothing is more important than this, Mr Temple." Lester seemed unusually serious, not even loosing his notorious sarcasm on them. "In fact, I'm taking the course myself, since we've learned that even the ARC is not immune to... incidents."
That statement ended the dissent, but Professor Cutter seemed particularly quiet for the rest of the meeting. The group broke up slowly. Noel watched them drift apart, Connor and Abby together, the professor going his own way.
Noel drove to Hart's flat a little later. Torn between excitement at seeing photographs and casts of prehistoric prints, and anxiety about showing his ignorance, Noel took a few deep breaths after he'd pulled up across the street from Hart's place.
By the time he'd got out of the car, Hart was already crossing the street towards him. Noel checked his watch; he was a few minutes early. Hart must have been waiting outside for him. A bit eager, wasn't he?
Hart greeted him with a grin and tried to wave Noel aside from opening the door for him. "I can manage, you know," he said, chucking his stick in the back easily and buckling his seatbelt with no problems.
"Glad to hear it, sir," Noel replied.
"I thought we were done with the 'sir'? And you really can't do it today. Pretend you're not military. It might raise some eyebrows. Just show your driving license when they ask for identification for the visitor's card, not your military ID." Hart seemed to have everything planned out. He must have been waiting for this outing for days. They'd been through most of it already. Noel had made certain to wear civilian clothes. "And call me by my last name. I'll call you by yours. No one will think anything of it."
"Sure, Hart," Noel said, practising.
Noel had already looked up directions, so he didn't need Hart's, and Hart quickly realised that and stopped giving them.
"So how's the cat doing?" Hart asked out of the blue.
"The cat?" Noel smiled. "The cat seems fine. Abby and I visit her every day. They want us to wear gloves and be sure not to get bitten, but all the blood tests have come back clean so far." He was glad of that; the cat was affectionate and had forgiven Noel that initial manhandling.
"I'm sure Abby will be glad of that, but she'll probably miss having her around when they send her home. Do you know what they told the family?"
Noel didn't. He had no interest in cover stories unless he really needed to know them.
"It's too bad the ARC couldn't get more data out of the jerboa bits, but I gather the cat had already made a good start on the front half. Except for the feet it threw up," Hart added with a little too much glee for Noel's taste.
"Not really my area, s– Hart."
After that, the drive was fairly quiet. Noel didn't have a lot to say. Hart occasionally asked a question or two about the ARC and how Noel was fitting in, but Noel had no doubt his former team-mates were keeping him well briefed, especially with Connor living with Hart now. Noel was pretty well briefed on Hart, too, largely thanks to Connor. When he'd first heard Connor sing Hart's praises, he'd assumed Connor had added a good measure of hyperbole, but the more reports Noel read, the more realistic Connor's descriptions seemed. Hart had been a tracker, sharpshooter, diver, swimmer... the list seemed endless. Now the man needed a walking stick. It struck Noel suddenly how much Hart had lost. Why did he not think of it that day at the park, tracking dogs? He'd brought too many preconceptions that first day, perhaps.
"I haven't been back to CMU in, oh, ages," Hart finally said, with a touch of sadness. "Ever been here before?"
Why would Noel have been to Central Metropolitan University before? "No."
"I hope the collection hasn't changed. Can't imagine it has, though."
Noel expected some reminiscence to follow, but instead Hart asked about Connor and the professor's training. Noel said what positive things he could, and Hart didn't press him.
Once they reached the university, they had a longer walk to the building than Noel expected. He hadn't realised the university was so large. Hart seemed energised despite the walk.
At their destination, they were greeted by an older woman who glanced up and then gave them a more thorough look and got to her feet. "Mr Hart! Haven't seen you in years!"
"Has it been that long, Miriam?" Hart asked with a smile. "Can't be. Months, maybe."
Miriam was obviously surprised by Hart's appearance, but he brushed off questions gently and kept moving the conversation back to her: how she looked the same as when he last saw her, how he and Cutter missed her, how he'd have to drag Cutter down here to say hello himself. Their new project was exciting, but the archivists weren't quite up to Miriam's standards. And so on. Noel mostly tuned out the details but was interested to see Hart at work. Finally he saw some of the man he'd expected. Hart smiled a lot as he introduced Noel, but soon he'd turned the conversation away from Noel. A bit of flirting and a bit of flattery later, the woman handed Noel a form to apply for a visitor's card with hardly a glance at him. Hart told no actual lies. Noel hardly got a word in, for which he was grateful.
Miriam offered to come back with Hart and help him, but Hart thanked her and told her Noel would do any heavy lifting.
Noel expected the act to drop once they were out of the archivist's sight, but Hart was still smiling a little as they walked back into rows upon rows of long metal cabinets.
"Miriam took good care of us while we were here, no matter how close to closing time we arrived," he said.
Noel found them a couple of stools, mindful of Cutter's warnings about letting Hart do too much. Then he pulled out a long metal drawer that Hart indicated. It contained large photographs of dinosaur tracks.
"I thought I'd avoid my mistake at the park, and we'd start with the big ones," Hart said, his eyes on the photos and not on Noel. "We've got a great collection here at CMU—very few actual trackways samples of our own, but one of the best collections of photographs of prehistoric prints in the world. You know, we should see if we can get permission to digitise them! The ARC could do with quick access to the collection, and Connor's database would be even better with samples like these."
The photos were amazing, and Noel thought Connor would love these, even spoiled as he'd been by seeing the real thing so many times. The photos were much safer, anyway. Connor must have seen them already, though: he'd been Cutter's student. He'd have to ask Connor later.
Hart took him through a couple drawers' worth of large photographs. Some had been taken from a distance, showing a number of tracks. Others were close-ups of a few footprints, or sometimes only one. All had markers showing scale. Hart taught him what to look for in terms of size, depth in the photos where it was clearly visible or marked with a ruler, and spacing, as well as counting toes, looking for claws, and checking for signs the creature had been injured. They kept their voices low, but the quiet didn't hide the awe in Hart's voice. Noel found himself fascinated, and what he thought might be a chore turned out to be the best afternoon he'd spent at work since...since he couldn't remember when.
"Stephen Hart!" a loud voice suddenly came from the end of a row, and Hart jumped a little. "Miriam told me you were here, and I said she must be mistaken! Cutter doesn't let you out on your own enough!"
Noel automatically stood to greet the new arrival, a very blond man a few inches shorter than he was and a little paunchy.
"Tony!" Hart slid slowly off his stool."I didn't expect to see you here! How've you been?"
"But what happened to you?" The man walked right up to Stephen, ignoring Noel, and looked him up and down with a frown.
"Got a little too close to something unfriendly." Hart shrugged. "This is Noel Miller," he said, offering no further explanation. "Tony Jensen. We were both postgraduates here."
Jensen nodded to Noel and turned right back to Hart. "You never did finish that PhD, did you?"
Hart shrugged again. "Happier doing fieldwork."
"Doesn't look like fieldwork has been treating you too well, though!" Jensen looked concerned, but something about him didn't feel right.
Hart smiled. "I've had worse." Now that was an outright lie, Noel was pretty sure.
Jensen seemed dubious too. "Really? I must have missed that. Seriously, what has Cutter got you doing? He was always against shooting things; didn't recognise that sometimes in fieldwork, you have to look out for yourself! Was that what happened?"
Hart shifted uncomfortably. "No, no. Just... bad luck, some poor judgement on my part. So what have you been up to?"
"Oh, the usual! Giving papers, publishing. Quite busy. I haven't seen you or Nick on the conference circuit in a while. Got something big under wraps, or has he...?" Jensen wiggled his fingers near his head.
Stephen frowned. "Nick's still hard at work. He's got several things he's working on." The frown eased. "You know him and his perfectionism. Might be a while before you get to see them."
Jensen smiled again. "Yeah. He should be publishing more! You've got to push him, Stephen—especially if you want to get ahead, too." Then Jensen turned more serious. "Are you sure you're doing all right? You look... you've done a lot of fieldwork, and I've never seen you like this before. An arm and a leg?"
Stephen shrugged again. "Could have been worse. Really. You don't want to know. How's your wife?"
Noel had been thinking this man a practiced liar? He couldn't even change topic without being obvious. The picture Noel had constructed from what he heard of Hart and the two Cutters when he first arrived at the ARC had been embarrassingly inaccurate. The only redeeming thing about Noel's judgements was that he had not voiced them aloud.
Some discussion of a woman Hart and Jensen both knew followed, and Noel's attention drifted from the words to the body language. Hart didn't seem concerned; he kept standing but didn't look particularly tense. Jensen leaned too far forward, putting himself into Hart's personal space. Hart moved back, probably unconsciously.
Breaking up the conversation seemed far outside Noel's duties, but he was itching to get back to those photographs. That feeling only increased when suddenly Jensen decided to include him in the conversation.
"So, Noel Miller, right? Are you one of Cutter's students too, or does he not have students on this big grant that got him away from the university?"
"Oh, he has his students still," Stephen said with a hint of amusement, probably thinking of Connor. "Noel's fairly new, and I thought I'd show him the ropes around here."
"Excellent!" Jensen was now in Noel's space, and Noel couldn't move any farther from him with drawer handles already digging into his back. "And how are you finding it?"
This conversation could turn at any moment to what Noel's field or plans were, and Noel didn't know how to get out of that. Flash would have been great at escaping. Wait: Connor had a way of sidetracking conversations when he wasn't even trying. Noel decided to channel Connor.
"This collection is amazing!" Noel told him, letting his genuine enthusiasm show. "I've never seen anything quite like it. I didn't even know it was here until recently! I feel privileged to be able to see it." No, too thick—he'd better cut back. "I'm sure you know the feeling, sir, since you're coming back to see it."
Jensen's laugh brought him up short. "'Sir'? Are you sure he's Cutter's student, Hart?"
Hart raised an eyebrow. "Now haven't you always known me to be polite?"
"Honestly, Stephen, I think Cutter ruined you. He made you all snarky and sarcastic." Jensen sighed dramatically. "Ah, the good old days. Department gatherings here were more... exciting than those in my new department." He smiled too broadly. "Of course, there are advantages to a quieter place." He looked back and forth between Noel and Hart. Neither answered.
"Well, Stephen, I wish you luck on your recovery," he said, clapping Hart lightly on the shoulder. Hart flinched ever so slightly. "And good luck to you, Noel." Jensen shook Noel's hand again as he left. "Tell Cutter I said hi!"
Hart nodded.
"Well, that was nice of him," Hart said absently as Jensen disappeared and they settled on their stools again.
"It was?" Noel asked, regretting it immediately, but he'd expected some of the sarcasm Jensen had mentioned once the man was out of earshot.
Hart looked at him curiously. "I didn't think he and Nick got on all that well. I haven't seen him in years. It was nice of him to show some concern for me."
Noel frowned. It was none of his business. Yet it bothered him to see Jensen possibly putting one over on Hart, even if he wasn't sure what.
"No," he said finally, "I don't think it was nice. I don't think it was all concern for you. I felt like..." Noel fumbled a little to interpret what he'd seen, finally concluding "...like he wanted something from you."
Hart frowned. "Like what?"
Noel could only shrug. "I don't know the man. He didn't have much to say about Professor Cutter, though."
Hart snorted. "He doesn't like Cutter. Nick's a bit of an acquired taste, you've got to admit."
Noel nodded. "I—I just... sorry, si—um, Hart. None of my business."
Hart gave him a sharp look. "Now that you mention it, he wasn't exactly friendly towards you. Until, suddenly, he was. That might possibly make it your business." After a dry chuckle, he added, "And it has been pointed out to me that I'm a bit clueless when it comes to dealing with people, so if you have some clues, please—feel free to share them."
Well, that was the first time anyone had ever said that to Noel.
They spent the entire afternoon in the archives, most of it bent over photographs. Then at the end they moved to an even more climate-controlled room, with some plaster casts of real dinosaur trackways. Noel could finally truly see the depth of some prints, although, as Hart noted, those would vary greatly with the hardness or softness of the ground, not just the creature's weight. They had a few footprints from a dimetrodon, and a hadrosaur (much clearer than he'd found in his real life encounter with them), and even one from a T. rex. Awe enveloped Noel. Hart looked around, then told him quietly to touch it, very gently.
"Surely I'm not supposed to touch!" Noel replied, sticking his hands in his pockets reflexively, the way he'd do in a shop full of crystal.
"Well, no," Hart answered in a low tone. "But you'll remember better if you do. And if it's a choice between the plaster lasting a few more years and you learning something that will save lives...."
Very gingerly, Noel put his fingers into the tracks, trying to memorise the texture, the depth, everything. He realised he'd closed his eyes only when he opened them to find Hart grinning at him.
"There's nothing like it, is there?" Hart asked with longing. "Except the real thing." The grin faded to a very faint smile.
Noel realised only when they left that Hart was moving quite slowly. He'd been so wrapped up in the trackways he'd failed to notice or inquire. Hart shrugged off Noel's attempted apology.
"It's worth it," he said, "to have a whole afternoon here again."
***
After his afternoon outing, Stephen had a little time alone before Connor came back to the flat. It was Connor's last night at Stephen's. Stephen hadn't truly needed Connor for anything. He could hardly justify keeping his friend on the sofa when he found himself taking over the cooking and cleaning because Connor, much as he wanted to help, wasn't a very good cook and didn't know where anything was supposed to go. Connor seemed eager to return to Abby's flat. Stephen wasn't entirely sure how eager Abby would be to have him back, but as long as he didn't do the cooking or the dishes, she probably wouldn't mind.
"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder," Connor said as he packed his things up on Friday morning. "You know, Abby said it wasn't the same without me around!"
Stephen smiled and barely restrained himself from advising Connor yet again to ask Abby out on a proper date. "You might want to say you missed her too, and not make a big fuss over Rex instead."
Connor looked surprised, and Stephen suspected that was exactly how things would have played out otherwise. Now maybe there was some hope for Connor.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" the young man asked, concern suddenly flashing across his face.
Stephen nodded. "I've been fine during the days, and it's not like I need help at night." He couldn't explain that simply having Connor there sleeping helped. Connor slept like a log, night after night. Stephen had envied him a little, but he felt wrong creeping out to listen to Connor breathing when he'd had nightmares or trouble sleeping.
Nick came for dinner on Friday night, which gave Stephen a chance to break the news to Nick that he'd be coming to the ARC that coming Monday for a physical—and if he passed it, he'd start working a few hours a day there.
He'd braced himself for the look of horror that crossed Nick's face as the news sank in.
"I'm doing very well with the physio," Stephen continued calmly, pretending he hadn't noticed and giving Nick a chance to get himself under control. "I work from here, but it's boring. I end up calling you all several times a day, waiting because my Internet connection isn't as fast as being on a computer at the ARC, and generally wasting my time."
Nick had pulled himself together but now looked ready to object.
"Besides, you'll be able to keep a closer watch on me there." Stephen smirked at him deliberately.
It worked; Nick laughed. "And maybe you'll stop suggesting things for Lester to do to us when you might have to take part yourself?"
Stephen gave him a querying look.
"That first aid course we had was basic as anything and dull as dishwater! Abby could have taught it. Didn't she tell you so?"
"Yes, but she passed the message via Connor, which was a good deal easier on me." Abby had been none too pleased about it, that much was clear.
Nick fidgeted with the cutlery.
"It'll be fine, Nick," Stephen tried to reassure him. "After hospital and physio, the ARC will be easy."
Nick blew out a surprised breath. "Well, now you've gone and jinxed it all, haven't you?"
Stephen wasn't worried.
When Cutter left, he insisted, "Keep your mobile by your bed, and don't hesitate to phone me tonight if you need anything. Or any night. It seems awfully soon for you to be on your own again."
Stephen promised he'd keep the mobile by the bed, and turned on, and he did. He still wasn't worried. It seemed none too soon to him.
Of course, by about 1.00 am, he had changed his mind on that, and several other things. Stephen had had little trouble falling asleep most nights that Connor had been there, but now when he turned out the lights, he saw snatches of things he didn't want to remember.
He finally turned a bathroom light on and fell asleep that way, waking up from time to time but free of nightmares, as far as he could recall. It was normal to be anxious, Dr Jacobs had said, even as Stephen had insisted he wasn't anxious. Returning to normality could be stressful in itself. It would get better. He kept repeating it to himself whenever he woke up, and he got through the night.
A Saturday with no physiotherapy and no visitors seemed daunting, but Stephen had told each of the members of the team he needed some quiet time, and it was true. The visits from soldiers had trailed off since he left the hospital and stopped entirely since he had moved back to his flat, although a couple of them had called to ask him how he was. His teammates, however, were nearly as persistent as ever.
Mostly, Stephen wanted to stop them thinking of him as an invalid. He took a longer walk than usual in the hope that it would make him tired enough to sleep well, then regretted it when he had to climb the stairs back to his flat. Well, he'd take it easy on Sunday so that he was ready for Dr Gupta to examine him on Monday.
Tonight, he decided, he'd sleep with the lights off. Even if it took a while, he needed to get used to it.
***
Nick hadn't realised that Stephen had made certain that none of them were visiting on Saturday until Abby called him to see if he was seeing Stephen that evening, and if he knew if Stephen had been all right the previous night. Of course he didn't know anything. For all he knew, Stephen had fallen in the shower and cracked his skull. As soon as he had finished speaking to her, he phoned Stephen.
"You don't have to do everything alone, you know!"
"And hello to you, too, Cutter!" Stephen answered with annoying cheer. "Should I ask Lester to schedule lessons on phone etiquette—"
"Don't be a smart-arse."
"But I learnt from the best!" Stephen replied.
"You've been taking Lester lessons?"
"I suppose you're right: Lester does have you beaten."
Nick took a deep breath and managed not to snap at Stephen again. "The point stands. You don't have to be completely alone, you know."
"I know, and I do appreciate it," Stephen said, more seriously. "But it's the first time I've been completely alone since—in almost a month now. I'm used to spending time alone. I'm not used to having people constantly ask how I'm doing, if I need help, if it hurts yet—oh, sorry, that would be the physio, not you."
So much for seriousness.
"I'll keep the phone on my bedside table again, I promise. Look, I'm crossing my heart."
Nick knew when he had lost. "Fine. Have it your way."
***
Jessica smiled at Noel over the dinner table. "What are you thinking?"
He smiled back. "I'm thinking that I must have been crazy to be disappointed when I didn't get posted to Afghanistan with my mates. Getting my off-duty nights with you? How'd I get so lucky?"
"It wasn't luck," she told him with pride. "Someone wanted the best new officer."
Noel didn't believe her, but he must have been not half bad to pass muster with James Lester, he reckoned.
"I do wish you could talk about it, though," she said after a sip of wine. "I'd like to hear about he people you work with, or where you go?"
"I spend most of my time in one office or another," he told her. "The people I work with...." That would be safe, wouldn't it? He wasn't sure how comprehensible any of them would be outside of their jobs, though. Come to that, he wasn't sure how comprehensible any of them were at their jobs. There must be bits he could tell her. "I do work with some characters," he admitted at last. "It might take a while to tell, though, and some of the funny bits might not be funny without context."
"That's all right," Jessica said. "We've got all night."
"Assuming I don't get any calls!" he warned her hastily. Then he took a sip of his own wine and lowered his voice. "But if we don't...I can think of better things to do than talk about the people I work with."
Jessica's smile was stunning. "How'd I get so lucky?" she murmured.
Part 7