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Title: Let It Snow
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Abby/Connor
Rating: PG13
Author's Notes: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aithine for the beta services.
Written forcadhla as a last minute treat for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
yuletide 2008. She said she needed the Abby/Connor love, and you know I'm always willing to provide that.
Summary: Some times you find your own wonder in the winter land.
oh, the weather outside is frightful
The snow is falling, thick and fast, turning the landscape white before Abby's very eyes. Under other circumstances, it might be beautiful, but right now it's running down her neck and blowing into her eyes, so that she has to blink the snowflakes away from her lashes and - when that doesn't work - scrub at her face with gloves that are already cold and wet.
Abby scowls. She's all for picturesque scenery, but she prefers it when it's actually in a picture, not blowing into her face with a bitter and icy edge.
It's growing dim and that's not just because the days are getting ridiculously short. The storm isn't helping, and she eyes the horizon warily, watching the grey clouds marching across the darkening sky.
The sky itself is washed out, grey instead of blue. It's only two thirty - they should have at least an hour of light left before night starts to fall, but it looks like they might be running out of luck. The smart thing to do would be to turn back, and Abby doesn't think of herself as being particularly stupid. However, the smart thing also means that they'll have to abandon the hunt for whatever it was that left the tracks they found in the snow left by the first flurries.
It was a small, reptilian thing, if the tracks were anything to go by, and Abby can't help but think of Rex, of what could have happened to Rex if first Ben and then she hadn't found him. She's not stupid enough to think that this might be another Rex - there are so many things it could be just from blurred and melting tracks - but even so... She hates the thought of it being stranded here, hurt and lost. She's not sentimental, but there's something horrific in the idea of something from the past being so far out of its time.
"We should turn back," says Connor, coming up behind her. He pushes a branch out of his way so that he can move to stand right next to her, and the snow on it falls loose, landing icily on her neck and sliding down under her collar.
"Sorry," he says, looking suitably chastened even before she has a chance to tear him a new one. The apology doesn't do much to improve her mood, not when she's cold and now wet, but then he gives her an apologetic smile as well, all lopsided with an expression on his face like a wince, and she huffs, deciding that she'll kill him once she can feel her fingers again.
She continues to eye the horizon, trying to dismiss him from her thoughts, which isn't easy when he insists on standing so close to her that she can almost feel the heat rising from him. He's still wearing his hat and his gloves and his scarf, but for once they're actually suited to the conditions rather than an affectation, and she steals another glance, rather envious of his warmth and wishing she'd had the sense to put on more than just her leather jacket.
And Connor, of course, is oblivious. Stephen would at least lend her his coat, she thinks. She'd like to think so anyway, and it's not a particularly happy thought because, in her heart, she knows it isn't being fair to Connor. She hunches her shoulders a little morosely, and shakes the moisture out of her hair. Connor can be a bit dense sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. If she asked for his coat, he'd give it to her - he'd probably complain about it all the while, but he really would and he wouldn't resent her for it. Or maybe he'd suggest they'd share it. Abby smiles, because that she can picture quite easily.
Besides, even if Stephen did offer her his coat, he'd probably also give her an amused look and suggest she wore something more suitable next time and then he'd go home to his girlfriend, Alison or whatever her name was. Connor, to give him his dues, is unwavering in his interest in Abby.
"I said," says Connor again, more loudly this time, "we should probably turn back."
"I heard you the first time, Connor."
Her voice is sharper than she intended, and he pulls a face, kicking at a pile of snow that's formed at the foot of the trees. If he causes more snow to fall on top of her, she is going to kill him, whether her fingers are numb or not. And then she'll take his coat. And his gloves. Maybe even his hat.
"We're not going to find it," he says, but he's not looking at her, not at first. He's staring out over the same white vista as she is, and it takes him several seconds before he steals a look in her direction, his face caught halfway between stubborn and pleading. "We haven't seen any tracks for ages."
She doesn't answer him. Instead she kicks at the snow herself, even though she knows it's childish. It's on the tip of her tongue to point out that Stephen would have been able to follow the tracks, but that's not fair. It's not Connor's fault that she's cold or wet. Okay, maybe some of the cold and wet is Connor's fault, but he's turning out to be a good friend if nothing else.
She sighs, and Connor nudges her with his shoulder, rocking her lightly on her feet. His head is ducked, and he's eyeing her with that expression on his face like he's a puppy, not a grown man, and it's stupid to find it endearing when, really, she's a lizard girl.
but the fire is so delightful
"Want to make a snowman?" Connor asks her eventually, after they've trudged through the snow for a while. When she looks at him, sidelong, he gives her another one of those smiles, still hopeful but with something in there that's uniquely Connor. "We could even make a snow lizard if you want."
That gets her spluttering with laughter. Only a little, but Connor's answering grin is delighted and she has to nudge him back, her hands stuck deep into her pockets.
Her feet are numb now, too, and she's starting to think that Connor's right for once, even though he's stopped whining about it and has been following her, matching her step for step. It's not fair to drag him around after her, when all he's got under his belt is a morning of the Duke of Edinburgh's Award. It is time they got back. Cutter and Stephen are probably already waiting at the rendezvous point, and maybe they'll have had better luck in tracking down their errant visitor. Besides which, there's a pub back there, with a fire even.
If they're out here much longer, Claudia will probably send a search party after them, and that's the last thing Abby needs. It would be hideously embarrassing and sometimes Abby thinks that the only reason they're still on the project is because Lester thinks it would be more effort than it's worth to get shot of them.
She stops in the middle of the track, only marked by a dip in the snow, which stretches out before them, pristine white. "We should go back," she says, as though Connor hasn't been saying the same thing for the last thirty minutes. "Before it gets dark."
She's half-expecting a sarcastic comment but when she turns around Connor's not looking at her. Instead, he's staring down at something in the snow, his face shadowed by his hat.
"Connor?"
He moves to the side, turning to look at her as she moves towards him, her steps speeding up when she registers his unnatural silence, his stillness. And then she sees it, something small, brown and green against the snow, but it's not the earth peeking through. Whatever it is, it's ungainly in death. She stares down at it for a long moment, Connor a quiet presence by her side, and then she sighs.
"I think it might be something like Eoraptor," Connor says, his voice subdued. "It's about the right size."
She nods, still staring down at something that should have died millions of years ago but instead died here, in the English countryside. And then she unzips her jacket, taking it off to wrap around the corpse. There's no way they can leave it here, to be found by anyone else.
There's no way she'd leave it here, even if they could.
When she straightens up again, the leather clutched to her chest and the small creature cradled inside limp and cold, Connor is holding out his coat.
and since we've got no place to go
It's a long walk back to the pub car park, or it seems that way anyway. It's fairly easy to track their steps back - the snow has stopped falling, and they'd stuck to whatever paths they could see - but they're quiet the whole way down. Abby's conscious of the weight in her arms; the Eoraptor, if Connor's right about the identification, is heavier than it looks. She's conscious, as well, of the feel of Connor's coat around her shoulders. She's warmed up nicely, with the walk, and the heat from her body means that his scent is rising from the fabric, mingling with hers. It's... nice, and she never thought she'd ever think that.
She has no idea why Connor is so quiet. Maybe it's because he's cold, but when she steals a look at him, he doesn't seem to be shaking or complaining. He's just concentrating on watching where he's going, his face thoughtful.
"You okay?" she asks, and he looks up, startled.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, and then he seems to register her completely and takes a hasty step forward. "You okay?" he asks. "Do you need me to carry... it?"
She shifts the weight in her arms, which are starting to ache, and thinks about it. Normally she wouldn't even dream of taking up the offer, too conscious of the need to pull her own weight at work and resisting anything that might cast her as 'the girl'. But she's never felt like that with Connor, even though there's no doubt that Connor's perfectly aware of her gender. It's probably because if she could take him if it came down to it, and that she's a much better shot. Or maybe it's because her being a girl is the one thing that is pretty much guaranteed to reduce Connor to speechlessness.
Of course, it could be because they've been trekking for a while now, and it's only now that it occurs to Connor to offer assistance. It's both irritating and reassuring both at the same time.
She shifts the weight in her arms again, and Connor seems to take that as a 'yes', moving in to lift it out of her arms. She lets go, and watches him try and balance it, his face creased in concentration. The head flops loose, and she tucks it back under cover, which means she moves closer to Connor, and he flushes, fumbling with it again.
It's strange how that makes her smile.
"So," and he sounds a little breathless, so maybe it's heavier than she thought, "is it much further?"
She snorts and starts to move off again, trusting in him to follow her. He does, matching her step for step, and there's something reassuring in that as well. So reassuring, that she lets him get a few steps ahead of her.
Later, she'll blame the fact that the stars are starting to rise in the sky, the moon on the horizon even though it's still not fully dark. Or maybe it's something to do with the reminder of imminent mortality the pair of them are carrying between them. But whatever the reason, the snowball she throws hits its target, dead on.
She blinks innocently at him as he stares down at it, and then looks at her, his expression torn between amused and outraged.
She was right about being the better shot.
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
They're both cold and wet when they make it back and hand the body over to Cutter, who is far too excited by the idea of examining something that shouldn't be here. Claudia looks vaguely repulsed and fascinated, both at once, as Cutter starts to explain to her what it all means. Stephen just looks at the pair of them, with snow in their hair and sticking to their clothes, his expression amused. It doesn't bother her, and the reason for that isn't difficult to find, not when it's within reach.
She drags Connor closer to the fire, where Claudia brings them hot drinks from the bar, looking like she's torn between chiding and indulging them before she returns to the huddled lecture going on in the corner.
They'll join them later, when her feet have thawed and the snow has melted from Connor's hair. But for now, she's content to sit by the fire, Connor right next to her, and enjoy the feeling of being warm, and being alive.
And being with Connor.
The End
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Abby/Connor
Rating: PG13
Author's Notes: Thank you to
aithine for the beta services.Written for
cadhla as a last minute treat for yuletide 2008. She said she needed the Abby/Connor love, and you know I'm always willing to provide that.Summary: Some times you find your own wonder in the winter land.
oh, the weather outside is frightful
The snow is falling, thick and fast, turning the landscape white before Abby's very eyes. Under other circumstances, it might be beautiful, but right now it's running down her neck and blowing into her eyes, so that she has to blink the snowflakes away from her lashes and - when that doesn't work - scrub at her face with gloves that are already cold and wet.
Abby scowls. She's all for picturesque scenery, but she prefers it when it's actually in a picture, not blowing into her face with a bitter and icy edge.
It's growing dim and that's not just because the days are getting ridiculously short. The storm isn't helping, and she eyes the horizon warily, watching the grey clouds marching across the darkening sky.
The sky itself is washed out, grey instead of blue. It's only two thirty - they should have at least an hour of light left before night starts to fall, but it looks like they might be running out of luck. The smart thing to do would be to turn back, and Abby doesn't think of herself as being particularly stupid. However, the smart thing also means that they'll have to abandon the hunt for whatever it was that left the tracks they found in the snow left by the first flurries.
It was a small, reptilian thing, if the tracks were anything to go by, and Abby can't help but think of Rex, of what could have happened to Rex if first Ben and then she hadn't found him. She's not stupid enough to think that this might be another Rex - there are so many things it could be just from blurred and melting tracks - but even so... She hates the thought of it being stranded here, hurt and lost. She's not sentimental, but there's something horrific in the idea of something from the past being so far out of its time.
"We should turn back," says Connor, coming up behind her. He pushes a branch out of his way so that he can move to stand right next to her, and the snow on it falls loose, landing icily on her neck and sliding down under her collar.
"Sorry," he says, looking suitably chastened even before she has a chance to tear him a new one. The apology doesn't do much to improve her mood, not when she's cold and now wet, but then he gives her an apologetic smile as well, all lopsided with an expression on his face like a wince, and she huffs, deciding that she'll kill him once she can feel her fingers again.
She continues to eye the horizon, trying to dismiss him from her thoughts, which isn't easy when he insists on standing so close to her that she can almost feel the heat rising from him. He's still wearing his hat and his gloves and his scarf, but for once they're actually suited to the conditions rather than an affectation, and she steals another glance, rather envious of his warmth and wishing she'd had the sense to put on more than just her leather jacket.
And Connor, of course, is oblivious. Stephen would at least lend her his coat, she thinks. She'd like to think so anyway, and it's not a particularly happy thought because, in her heart, she knows it isn't being fair to Connor. She hunches her shoulders a little morosely, and shakes the moisture out of her hair. Connor can be a bit dense sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. If she asked for his coat, he'd give it to her - he'd probably complain about it all the while, but he really would and he wouldn't resent her for it. Or maybe he'd suggest they'd share it. Abby smiles, because that she can picture quite easily.
Besides, even if Stephen did offer her his coat, he'd probably also give her an amused look and suggest she wore something more suitable next time and then he'd go home to his girlfriend, Alison or whatever her name was. Connor, to give him his dues, is unwavering in his interest in Abby.
"I said," says Connor again, more loudly this time, "we should probably turn back."
"I heard you the first time, Connor."
Her voice is sharper than she intended, and he pulls a face, kicking at a pile of snow that's formed at the foot of the trees. If he causes more snow to fall on top of her, she is going to kill him, whether her fingers are numb or not. And then she'll take his coat. And his gloves. Maybe even his hat.
"We're not going to find it," he says, but he's not looking at her, not at first. He's staring out over the same white vista as she is, and it takes him several seconds before he steals a look in her direction, his face caught halfway between stubborn and pleading. "We haven't seen any tracks for ages."
She doesn't answer him. Instead she kicks at the snow herself, even though she knows it's childish. It's on the tip of her tongue to point out that Stephen would have been able to follow the tracks, but that's not fair. It's not Connor's fault that she's cold or wet. Okay, maybe some of the cold and wet is Connor's fault, but he's turning out to be a good friend if nothing else.
She sighs, and Connor nudges her with his shoulder, rocking her lightly on her feet. His head is ducked, and he's eyeing her with that expression on his face like he's a puppy, not a grown man, and it's stupid to find it endearing when, really, she's a lizard girl.
but the fire is so delightful
"Want to make a snowman?" Connor asks her eventually, after they've trudged through the snow for a while. When she looks at him, sidelong, he gives her another one of those smiles, still hopeful but with something in there that's uniquely Connor. "We could even make a snow lizard if you want."
That gets her spluttering with laughter. Only a little, but Connor's answering grin is delighted and she has to nudge him back, her hands stuck deep into her pockets.
Her feet are numb now, too, and she's starting to think that Connor's right for once, even though he's stopped whining about it and has been following her, matching her step for step. It's not fair to drag him around after her, when all he's got under his belt is a morning of the Duke of Edinburgh's Award. It is time they got back. Cutter and Stephen are probably already waiting at the rendezvous point, and maybe they'll have had better luck in tracking down their errant visitor. Besides which, there's a pub back there, with a fire even.
If they're out here much longer, Claudia will probably send a search party after them, and that's the last thing Abby needs. It would be hideously embarrassing and sometimes Abby thinks that the only reason they're still on the project is because Lester thinks it would be more effort than it's worth to get shot of them.
She stops in the middle of the track, only marked by a dip in the snow, which stretches out before them, pristine white. "We should go back," she says, as though Connor hasn't been saying the same thing for the last thirty minutes. "Before it gets dark."
She's half-expecting a sarcastic comment but when she turns around Connor's not looking at her. Instead, he's staring down at something in the snow, his face shadowed by his hat.
"Connor?"
He moves to the side, turning to look at her as she moves towards him, her steps speeding up when she registers his unnatural silence, his stillness. And then she sees it, something small, brown and green against the snow, but it's not the earth peeking through. Whatever it is, it's ungainly in death. She stares down at it for a long moment, Connor a quiet presence by her side, and then she sighs.
"I think it might be something like Eoraptor," Connor says, his voice subdued. "It's about the right size."
She nods, still staring down at something that should have died millions of years ago but instead died here, in the English countryside. And then she unzips her jacket, taking it off to wrap around the corpse. There's no way they can leave it here, to be found by anyone else.
There's no way she'd leave it here, even if they could.
When she straightens up again, the leather clutched to her chest and the small creature cradled inside limp and cold, Connor is holding out his coat.
and since we've got no place to go
It's a long walk back to the pub car park, or it seems that way anyway. It's fairly easy to track their steps back - the snow has stopped falling, and they'd stuck to whatever paths they could see - but they're quiet the whole way down. Abby's conscious of the weight in her arms; the Eoraptor, if Connor's right about the identification, is heavier than it looks. She's conscious, as well, of the feel of Connor's coat around her shoulders. She's warmed up nicely, with the walk, and the heat from her body means that his scent is rising from the fabric, mingling with hers. It's... nice, and she never thought she'd ever think that.
She has no idea why Connor is so quiet. Maybe it's because he's cold, but when she steals a look at him, he doesn't seem to be shaking or complaining. He's just concentrating on watching where he's going, his face thoughtful.
"You okay?" she asks, and he looks up, startled.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, and then he seems to register her completely and takes a hasty step forward. "You okay?" he asks. "Do you need me to carry... it?"
She shifts the weight in her arms, which are starting to ache, and thinks about it. Normally she wouldn't even dream of taking up the offer, too conscious of the need to pull her own weight at work and resisting anything that might cast her as 'the girl'. But she's never felt like that with Connor, even though there's no doubt that Connor's perfectly aware of her gender. It's probably because if she could take him if it came down to it, and that she's a much better shot. Or maybe it's because her being a girl is the one thing that is pretty much guaranteed to reduce Connor to speechlessness.
Of course, it could be because they've been trekking for a while now, and it's only now that it occurs to Connor to offer assistance. It's both irritating and reassuring both at the same time.
She shifts the weight in her arms again, and Connor seems to take that as a 'yes', moving in to lift it out of her arms. She lets go, and watches him try and balance it, his face creased in concentration. The head flops loose, and she tucks it back under cover, which means she moves closer to Connor, and he flushes, fumbling with it again.
It's strange how that makes her smile.
"So," and he sounds a little breathless, so maybe it's heavier than she thought, "is it much further?"
She snorts and starts to move off again, trusting in him to follow her. He does, matching her step for step, and there's something reassuring in that as well. So reassuring, that she lets him get a few steps ahead of her.
Later, she'll blame the fact that the stars are starting to rise in the sky, the moon on the horizon even though it's still not fully dark. Or maybe it's something to do with the reminder of imminent mortality the pair of them are carrying between them. But whatever the reason, the snowball she throws hits its target, dead on.
She blinks innocently at him as he stares down at it, and then looks at her, his expression torn between amused and outraged.
She was right about being the better shot.
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
They're both cold and wet when they make it back and hand the body over to Cutter, who is far too excited by the idea of examining something that shouldn't be here. Claudia looks vaguely repulsed and fascinated, both at once, as Cutter starts to explain to her what it all means. Stephen just looks at the pair of them, with snow in their hair and sticking to their clothes, his expression amused. It doesn't bother her, and the reason for that isn't difficult to find, not when it's within reach.
She drags Connor closer to the fire, where Claudia brings them hot drinks from the bar, looking like she's torn between chiding and indulging them before she returns to the huddled lecture going on in the corner.
They'll join them later, when her feet have thawed and the snow has melted from Connor's hair. But for now, she's content to sit by the fire, Connor right next to her, and enjoy the feeling of being warm, and being alive.
And being with Connor.
The End
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I guess I should go and announce this places, I suppose ::g::
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link here:
http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/339228.html#cutid1
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This made me smile: When she straightens up again... Connor is holding out his coat.
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