tli_productions | Fic: Captain Becker's Guide to Jedi Mind Tricks (and Other Useful Skills)

Title: Captain Becker's Guide to Jedi Mind Tricks (and Other Useful Skills)
Fandom: Primeval

Co-author:

explodedpen

Summary: In which Becker takes his shirt off, Connor wants a ninja and there is flagrant misuse of the Force.

Characters: Becker, Connor, Danny
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1900

Authors' Notes: Garibaldis are awesome.

tli knows nothing about Star Wars. Balance in the universe is maintained. Or something. Set during series 3, minimal spoilers. Self-beta'ed.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

“At least it wasn't my head this time.”

Becker turned away from the partial view of the abandoned warehouse to look at Connor. In the ten minutes since splitting up from the rest of the team, they'd managed to hit, stumble across and flat out intercept every single possible obstacle in the name of getting somewhere that wasn't in the path of a twenty-foot tall therapod.

The life of Captain Hilary Becker: never boring, folks.

“What do you mean, it wasn't your head?” Becker stayed near his precious vantage point.

“Well there was the G-Rex at Heathrow and then the car crash in the woods.” Connor started ticking things off on his fingers. “Plus there was the fungus stuff -”

“That wasn't your head,” Becker interrupted.

Connor sent him a filthy look – literally as well as metaphorically. “I was nearly frozen to death. Hypothermia gives me headaches.”

“That was still only three times,” Becker pointed out.

“Three times too many,” Connor replied. “It's starting to become a bit of a pattern. I don't like it.”

His sentences were starting to get a bit choppy, and it was enough to pull Becker away from the view of the thankfully empty loading dock and make him head over to Connor. He had zero medical training, couldn't even remember any of the basics that had been drilled into him – probably the adrenaline, a voice in the back of his head helpfully supplied. Adrenaline from being chased by a twenty foot tall dinosaur.

Becker crouched in front of Connor. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head this time?”

“Yes, Mum.” Connor glared at him. “Where are the others?”

“Don't know,” Becker replied. “Something's interfering with the radios. They'll be all right.” He reached out to check the wound on Connor's side where the hastily applied t-shirt bandage seemed to be soaked through – although it was hard to tell how badly when the bandage in question was his own black t-shirt “Doesn't show the dirt,” Connor had said helpfully at the time.

“Don't touch it,” Connor tried to shift away from him. “Not unless you've got -” He paused to think a moment, “- mad healing ninja skills.”

“Lester wouldn't authorise the training,” Becker said. “You'll just have to make do with the t-shirt.”

“Figures.” Connor leaned heavily against the nearest vertical surface – a grimy storage container that probably hadn't seen the light of day since that gap of about three years when dinosaurs weren't roaming the Earth via anomalies.

“What about you?” Connor added, staring at Becker again. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” Becker replied automatically. Only after he'd spoken did he do a mental stock take. His weapon was intact, and he'd escaped the therapod's rampage with only a couple of bruises from trying to skid on tarmac. He'd lost his t-shirt to the reasonably good cause of not letting Connor bleed to death – and Danny had got the girls to safety. At least, that had been the case as of twenty minutes ago. And if Quinn's track record was anything to go by, they were probably all back at the ARC already, anomaly closed and situation under control, passing around tea and biscuits and taking bets on how long it would take soldier boy and the chief geek to track back eight and a half miles across London.

Becker resisted the urge to sigh, he could practically taste that cup of tea, and they had Garibaldis in the staff room. Garibaldis – last time he knew they had them he'd arrived just in time to see Quinn eat the last one. Bastard.

“Aren't you cold?” Connor asked, breaking the silence. He did sigh, and then flashed a weak smile. “You probably don't feel it, do you? Knew a guy at uni. Gave his jacket to a girl. Then told her 'real men don't get cold, they only get chills'.” He glanced at the vest Becker was wearing underneath his jacket. “Aren't you cold?” he asked again.

“No,” Becker said. Any cold Connor was feeling was probably down to the shock of the injury. “Just a few chills.”

Connor grinned, then winced. “So how're we going to raise the others if the radios aren't working?”

Becker started to reply, then stopped himself. There were noises coming from outside. Dinosaur-like noises, and just like that Becker was ready to shoot himself. Connor was bleeding. He had been trailing blood – and most prehistoric predators tracked blood. Connor was a veritable flashing neon sign of 'Fresh, injured prey! All you can eat buffet!'

Becker grabbed his gun and darted back to his vantage point. It didn't afford him much of a view, just a slip of road outside of the far exit to the loading dock. A little further out and to the west he knew the anomaly was still going strong, if the haywire movements of his compass were anything to go by.

He got closer to the doorway, trying to extend his field of vision. A dull crashing noise passed the warehouse again, faster this time and Becker knew, just knew, it was the dinosaur moving again.

“Oh,” Connor murmured behind him. “Blood. I forgot.”

That made two of them.

“Come on, Becker. We've gotta get out of here.”

Becker turned around. Using the grimy storage container as leverage, Connor was trying to work himself to his feet. His movements were jerky and uncertain, and he kept slipping to the ground.

Becker moved to help Connor steady himself. “If we go out there we're an even bigger target,” he admonished gently, trying to push Connor back to a seated position.

But Connor kept fighting him. “We can use the trail.”

“Set yourself up as bait, you mean?” Becker raised an eyebrow. Connor looked hopeful. “No.” Connor's face fell again. “You're not thinking straight,” Becker added, exerting just enough force to make Connor sit again.

“Am too.”

“Are not.”

“I so am.” Connor swayed slightly as he talked. “M'bleeding. The dinosaur's looking for me, but it's not strong or small enough to get inside this part of the warehouse. All I have to do is draw it to the anomaly and -”

“- and get snacked on en route. Answer's still no.”

“I can do this,” Connor insisted.

Becker crossed his arms. “Fine. Stand up and walk over to that door without falling flat on your face and it's a deal.”

“Fine,” Connor repeated. He looked around him carefully, then up at the side of the storage container next to him.

Then he held out a hand to Becker. “You never said I couldn't have help.”

“This is a bad idea,” Becker said, but it was too late. He was already pulling Connor to his feet, mindful of the makeshift bandage and the awkward angles, and hooking an arm around him to keep him steady.

“You're a right little ray of sunshine, anyone ever tell you that?”

Becker glanced at the determined expression of pain on Connor's face. “I can't believe I'm letting you do this.”

Connor patted his chest clumsily. “If anyone asks, I'll tell them I used the Force.”

“Never seen the films,” Becker grunted. “Doesn't count.”

“I believe,” was Connor's only response as they started taking slow, laborious steps to the door. He stopped abruptly as something occurred to him. “What do you mean you've never seen the films? Everyone's seen them!”

“I haven't.”

“Why not?”

Because he had better things to do with his time? Becker huffed. “Not my thing.”

Connor chuckled, then coughed. “Blasphemy. Next you'll be telling me you've never seen Firefly.”

“Fire what?”

“I have much to teach you, my young padawan.”

Becker chose not to dignify that with a response, instead choosing to focus on the far more important task of getting Connor the final two – no, three – steps to the door. He transferred more of Connor's weight to his shoulder and reached out to open -

- the door opened in front of him, his hand hovering over the space where the handle used to be. And standing on the other side of the door way, complete with brightly patterned shirt and Becker's spare gun slung over his shoulder in a parody, and utter farce of military posture was Danny Quinn.

He grinned widely at the both of them. “Fighting the good fight, I see.”

“Joke later,” Becker grunted. “Connor needs medical attention.”

“I noticed,” said Danny, casting a quick worried look at Connor. “Could you have left a more obvious blood trail?”

“I'll try to bleed more considerately next time.”

“There's not going to be a next time,” Becker muttered.

“For once I'm with you, Soldier Boy.” Danny reached forward and took over supporting Connor, who sagged against him, partly in relief, partly from exhaustion. “Backup's already on the way and the lorry drivers have agreed not to talk.”

Being roared at by a giant dinosaur would probably do that to a person, Becker privately agreed.

“Oh, and Becker?” Danny called back.

“Yeah?”

“Topless is a good look on you, but you'd better cover up before Lester suspects something, yeah?”

Typically, Connor chose that moment to pipe up. “He's my padawan.”

Danny grinned. “Of course he is,” he said, grinning at the top of Connor's head. “Now, how about we get to you to the nice doctors and the even nicer drugs?”

“Yeah, sounds nice.”

Becker finally gave into the urge to sigh, and zipped his jacket up.

“What were you trying to do, anyway?” Danny asked.

“I was going to be bait for the dinosaur,” Connor replied, letting his head loll against Danny's shoulder. “Becker said I could.”

“Oh, did he now?” Becker could just hear Danny's grin, and Miss Maitland's reaction when she heard Connor's version of events.

“Yeah,” Connor smiled. “I used the Force on him.”

Danny laughed. “Can't wait to see Lester's reaction to that.”

“I don't think Lester needs to hear every detail,” Becker began futilely.

“Oh no, padawan,” Danny interrupted. “I reckon Darth Sidious is the type to want to know everything that's happened on today's little dinosaur hunting excursion.”

“Who?”

“Don't worry, Becker,” Connor called back. “I always pegged Lester as more the Obi-Wan type than one of the Sith.”

“You mean the Sith Emperor,” Danny said.

Becker pinched the bridge of his nose, having long given up on any hope of understanding any of what the other two men were saying. This was going to be a long debriefing.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

reggietate.livejournal.com

“I noticed,” said Danny casting a quick worried look at Connor. “Could you have left a more obvious blood trail?”

“I'll try to bleed more considerately next time.”

Hee! So Primeval. Love the deadpan humour.

From:

thelibraniniquity

Thank you very much!

Fic: Captain Becker's Guide to Jedi Mind Tricks (and Other Useful Skills)

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