Title: "Locked out"
Fandom: Primeval
Genre: Friendship
prompt: Summer Challenge Paekche 2 - "Scenario: Locked out"
Pairing: Connor and Becker (Friendship, but one could more helpful if you would like:)
Rating: PG 12
Word Count: 1,190 words.
Summary: on lost and new friends.
A / N: Inspired by the episode 104 with the Dodos.
Disclaimer: Primeval is the property of Impossible Pictures.
Beta: Ungebetat.
"Locked out"
It was deathly quiet in the ARC and the corridors had with her eerily sparse lighting. Becker sighed and picked up his bag. He had time left with a shower and was actually the last of his team, who left the locker room. On days like today, he wondered why he had chosen the military as a career and how he had come for God's will on the idea of making it a career. He shook his head as if he is from these tedious wanted to free thought. It was a simple answer to all these questions: Because he was good at what he did.
He reached the solid support of his pocket and ran down the hall. Before a closed door, he stopped. The label on the frame was "Lab 3" Becker looked curious and the faint light that fell from the interior of the room into the hall.
Softly he knocked, but no one came forward. Once again, cracked his knuckles against the wood, but it was still. He turned the handle and discovered that the room was not locked. He cautiously opened the door and entered. He had not really thus expected someone to be found on the other side. The probability that they had just forgotten to turn off the light was, as already obvious. But to his surprise, a figure sitting at the little table, which occupied the right side of the laboratory. With a glance he saw Connor, who depended more on the table, as he was sitting. Before him stood a glass flask with a transparent liquid.
"Connor?" Said Becker stepped closer.
The boy did not respond.
"Connor?" Said Becker, now louder. But this time it does not lifted his head. With two rapid Steps he was with him and grabbed his shoulder.
"Connor?" He asked a third time with a significant concern in his voice.
Connor looked puzzled and Becker went to air. Although only a small desk lamp illuminated the room, Becker was clear that he had been crying. His eyes were swollen and red, and traces of dried tears were still visible on his cheeks.
"Go away!" Murmured Connor and tried to push Becker's hand from his shoulder.
"Connor, what ..." began the Captain and stopped when his acrid odor of alcohol in the nose rose. Suspicious, he eyed the glass bulb and lifted him. He sniffed it and found his suspicions confirmed. Selbtsgebrannter, as far as he could tell, and pretty high percentage. With a faint tinkle of the alcohol he put back on the table.
"How much did you drink it?" He asked, letting go strictly Connors shoulder. This looked at him from glassy eyes.
"niche enough," he replied.
Becker shook his head in wonder.
"Why?" He asked further and dropped on the adjacent chair.
"Because forlorn manner m'n Schlusssel have," said the dinosaur expert easily babbling as he raised the flask in order to pour another drink. With uncoordinated movements, he lowered from the vessel, and cracked the neck on his glass. Becker frowned and reached for. It did not require much strength, Connor to take the glass jar, with the result that the dark-haired researcher insulted him stared. But to make instead of the piston to the side, gave Becker a him, but that nothing was broken or half of the precious water went wrong. Connor looked at the drink, then back to the Captain. He nodded gratefully and raised his glass to his lips before he emptied it in a train.
"Hejhejhej ..." said Becker, and laid his hand on Connor's arm raised. "More and slow."
Instead of answering, Connor pushed his glass again to Becker and this gave a hesitant. This time, however, only half full. Then he looked around and spotted what he was looking for. Without saying a word he got up and picked up one of the glasses which were at the rear back wall of the laboratory.
"No one should drink alone, "he said, and poured himself two fingers wide. Connor grinned.
"Captain Baker," stammered he, "not gehallen'd sporadically for NEN drinkers."
Becker grinned and toasted him. "Ditto," he replied, his eyes sparkled just amused.
you sat together in silence. Becker knew that Connor, which is also always tormented him by would say something. And if not, then at least he was sure to bring the boy home safely. He cleared his throat softly, and drained his glass. When he shuts off, he noted Connors eye. He replied calmly.
"I've lost my key," the researchers repeated what he had said at the beginning of their non-guided interview.
Becker nodded in silence.
"American've never m'n bowl forlorn," he said.
"What about Abby? It has no spare key? "
Connor shook his head. "That's what not." He replied with a surprisingly clear voice. Becker looked
him searchingly. "What then?"
"To Tom and Duncan."
"To whom?" Becker asked back. The name came to him dare familiar, but he could not remember for the life of any employee in the ARC, which were called so and he had seen together with Connor.
"Tom always had my spare key." Connor continued, as if he had not heard Becker's question. "I've never used it, but I always knew where he was." He emptied his glass.
Becker zermaterte the brain. "Tom, Tom, Tom ... a friend of Connor ..." and then it occurred to him like scales from their eyes. All at once he knew where he knew the name.
Soon after he started at the ARC, he had studied all the files of past cases to better prepare for possible scenarios. He was also encountered in this case. If he remembered correctly, it had gone to this Dodos. In itself not a bloodthirsty species that have a mangled the sole sight. But nevertheless deadly. The Dodos unknown parasites carried in to the Tom was attacked. The disease had a massive personality disorder to order and Tom had almost killed Abby, before the team could take him to Captain Ryan. At that time he had to the fact that this is about friends Connors, paid little attention, but now that he knew the boy, he was aware of the scope of the whole.
thought, he ran his finger along the rim, while Connor the remaining alcohol in the flask eyed. Becker saw it and told the rest. He knew exactly how Connor felt, knew the moments where things came back, thought you forgot. They came from nothing and overcame one. Memories of scenes that would supplant the one who had not thought of that one long years. And then one night we lay in bed or was in the shower or bought bread and suddenly everything was back again, as clearly as if it were only yesterday. There were moments, he knew only too well and where there was not much that helped.
With a firm grip, he raised his glass and looked at Connor. "On Friends," he said, and drank a toast to the boy.
His eyes were blank and he raised his arm to toast. "On Friends," he repeated, before the Contents of the glass slid down his throat.
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