Badlands (1/5)

[bigtitch]

Title: Badlands (1/5)
Author: bigtitch
Word Count: 19k
Rating: GEN
Characters/Pairing: Cutter, Lester, Ryan, Stephen, Connor, Elvis Harte, OCs
Author notes:After a bad anomaly event Cutter is struggling to cope. Lester forces him to take a holiday. A week fossil hunting on the Durham coast should be nice and relaxing. Unless something else is going on.

This is officially a crossover with Our Girl. Basically I wanted to play with Elvis. However, he only makes a cameo appearance in this fic. There will be a sequel where I get to play with him properly.

The places in this fic are real (although some are operating under a pseudonym). The people are most definitely not real and any resemblance to a real person alive or dead is completely coincidental.

Massive thanks to fififolle for the beta. All mistakes you find are entirely down to me. Also thanks to fredbassett for huge encouragement to start writing again.




Chapter 1

It had clearly been the local kids’ shortcut for years. A path behind the housing estate, through the tussocky grass and under the wire fence to the old industrial estate. Factories half demolished and all abandoned. You'd get yelled at if an adult spotted you, but you'd wriggle under the fence via the gap that was a push for the pre-teens and you'd be gone with the grownups unable to follow.

When something scaly and clawed had come out of a shining ball of light and started chasing the local kids, that's what they'd done. Run for safety under the wire fence. Only the theropods were slim and lithe and had no problems slipping under to follow the running children.

The ARC team found it more difficult.

Cutter had been on years of shouts and had never seen the SF guys so desperate. Ditzy was calling in an air ambulance even though he couldn't even see the children. There were just their screams as Ryan and Kermit scaled eight feet of wire fence topped with barbed wire as though pain was something that happened to other people. Finn and Blade half cut, half tore open the fence. And then they were through and running across the pitted tarmac to the first building, desperate to get there even when they knew it was hopeless.

The screaming had stopped.

They killed the raptors, but it was too late for the children.

Cutter was thankful that he only had to identify the species of dinosaur. It wouldn't be his job to tell the parents that their children wouldn't be coming home. And could we have hair for DNA or dental records. No, sir, you don't need to come and identify the bodies. Just remember your little girl as she was. There's no need to see what a 75-million-year-old jump-predator can do to a human body. Leave that to the professionals.

Cutter stared into the bottom of one of several whisky glasses that night and wished he had professionals he could leave it to.

++++

Cutter stared at the full coffee pot without seeing it. His empty mug dangled from his hand. He had filled the coffee filter and let the process start, but it didn't seem important anymore. He tried to think of anything that was important anymore. There were reports to write. There were some bones and biological detritus to supervise being catalogued from the latest batch of dinosaur poo Connor had found. Well, stepped in. Stephen was excited by it. He would have been excited about it too, but not now.

Now he felt old. He tried to think of the last time he felt not young, but just enthusiastic. It had gone in the midst of time somewhere between realising his wife had not just left him to go wandering through anomalies, but had also slept with her students on a regular basis. That revelation had shocked both him and Stephen. And the realisation of the daily grind of trying to protect the general public from an increasing menace of anomalies.

Trying and failing.

The two dead girls were only the latest in a series of deaths and injuries, a particularly egregious example, but far from alone. They put looking for early mammal bones in archaeopteryx droppings into perspective. Why did they even bother with the science when they couldn't publish what they found?

His, Stephen's and all the ARC scientists' academic careers were on hold while they worked on this project. And with precious few guarantees that they would ever get recognition for this work. It was too much to ask, surely. And yet, the other task he had to do was go through twenty applications from bright young hopefuls to one of the research jobs.

Exciting job opportunity for bright, self-starting research assistant. First degree in biology or palaeobiology essential. Experience in dealing with big cats, crocodiles or birds of prey an advantage. Must be prepared to put career on hold. Survival not guaranteed. Excellent healthcare and funeral plan.

Would this be easier if those girls had lived? Or was he always going to get to this grey place sooner or later anyway?

What had happened to the bright eighteen-year-old down from Glasgow, brandishing his good Highers' grades like a banner, full of enthusiasm for his chosen path? He'd been so sure his life's purpose was to gather information from the past. To delve into the rocks and drag out answers of life's origins into the present.

And what did he have?

The ability to identify the precise species of theropod that had chased two terrified children across an abandoned factory yard. And he could write a paper on the hunt tactics that had left the girls shattered and torn on the ground. He could even make an educated guess on their feeding patterns. Although that research had been abruptly cut short when Ryan and Kermit had opened fire.

All very useful information. And the part of him he hated said, 'Yes, it is. We should document it, so it's not wasted, although it was hard won.'

Helen wouldn't even hesitate. In fact she might even have stopped Ryan and Kermit so that she could watch the raptors feed, seeing as the children were already dead.

Cutter closed his eyes as if that would stop the mental image of Helen doing just that. The sad thing was, he wasn't really doing her an injustice. Not the way he had last seen her.

++++

'Are you conducting some kind of psychic experiment, Professor?' Lester appeared at the doorway to the kitchen.

Cutter shook his head to clear it of the grey wool that had surrounded his brain.

'What?'

'When I went past five minutes ago you were staring at the coffee pot. Now I come back and you are still staring at it. I was wondering if you were trying to move the coffee to your cup by telekinesis.'

Lester walked into the kitchen. Pulled a coffee mug from the rack and poured himself a cup from the coffee pot. He held the pot out to Cutter. Cutter held out his empty cup and let Lester fill it.

'Thanks.'

'Not your fault, Nick.' Lester might have been reading out a boring headline, but his eyes held only sympathy in them.

'But…'

'Not your fault. The mission report, the public inquest, the private inquest and an audit by some decidedly unfriendly civil servants all agree. The ARC did all it could. The procedures were sound. We got there as quickly as humanly possible. It was just bad luck.'

'Bad luck! Two girls were mauled to death!'

'Fate, then. If you prefer. We can't win them all.'

'We should have.'

'Would you expect the ambulance service to save all traffic accident victims?'

'No, but…'

'Would you expect the fire service to rescue everyone?'

'No.'

'The police?'

Cutter hung his head. He could see where this was going. 'No.'

'Then why us?'

'We're not one of the emergency services!'

'Aren't we?'

'Well we're…' Cutter tried to marshal his arguments against Lester's logic, but failed.

Lester went on, gently relentless. 'Just because we're secret and have a niche remit, doesn't mean we're not an emergency service. Our procedures are certainly based on the existing services. I know, because Lorraine did the copying and pasting. We have the same duty of care, but that means we face the same realities. We can't win them all. Give yourself the same break that you'd give the police or the paramedics. It wasn't your fault.'

Cutter admitted defeat. 'I'll try.'

'Good. Why don't you try murdering some inoffensive paper target on the firing range? It's what Ryan and co have been doing since they got back from that shout.'

Lester left before Cutter could give that suggestion the reply it deserved.

Cutter took a drink from his coffee and walked out of the kitchen. Halfway to his office he stopped, thinking. Maybe shooting holes in something wasn't such a bad idea after all. He turned back and headed to the armoury. Keeping his skills up was important. And it was better than dinosaur poo.

++++

'This won't hurt,' Helen said as she started to push her fountain pen through his biceps.

Cutter, standing in front of the ADD in the ARC atrium, found that it didn't. It was cold and he felt the ink tickling as it ran down his arm, but it wasn't pain. The biros stuck through his forearms moved unpleasantly under his skin as he sharpened the pencil, but it wasn't pain. He handed the sharp pencil to Helen and she took it with a smile.

'Now for the last,' she said and took hold of his lips with her left hand and brought the pencil point up to them with her right.

'No,' Cutter said. 'It's not right.'

Helen held her head on one side. 'But if you won't write, we have to do something.'

'Not this.'

'It doesn't matter. Let me show you.'

Helen let go of him and started to push the pencil through her own lips. She smiled and her mouth widened, splitting her cheeks apart, revealing teeth and bones in a hideous permanent grin. Cutter could hear the little girls screaming.

He woke up. The alarm clock was screeching. He raised a hand and switched it off with a heavy movement. He slowly sat up. The final image of his dream stayed with him. It was what a raptor's claw had done to one of the girls. Split her cheek open, her white teeth shocking against the blood and flesh. Even when he wasn't reliving the moment in his dreams they were still there.

He sighed and got up. Time to start another day.

++++

Cutter was in Lorraine's office, handing in his latest expense sheets, when the ADD alarm went off. He slammed the papers on her desk and was running down the ramp into the atrium before he'd consciously decided what he was doing. From his left, he saw a black figure moving as quickly and he and Ryan arrived at the desk at the same time.

'Where?' Cutter asked.

Connor stared at the moving indicator on the map. 'Wales,' he said. The indicator slowed and then came to a stop in the north of the principality. 'Caernarfon.'

'We'll need choppers,' Ryan said. 'Can we narrow it down?'

Connor pressed a few buttons and the displayed zoomed in. 'Let me see,' he said. 'Actually it might be Anglesey.'

'Can't you tell?' Cutter leaned forward, wanting to take the keyboard away from Connor.

'It's not that easy with it being on the coast. It might be in the sea.'

Suddenly the display changed. The indicator flickered and then disappeared. The map zoomed out to show the whole of the British Isles. The red light switched off and so did the alarm.

'What's wrong with it?'

Connor tapped a few keys and then sat back in his chair. 'Nothing. The anomaly has closed. It's not there anymore.'

'Did you get a fix on it?'

'A rough one. Good enough for the local police. I'll forward it on to them and they can go and check it out.'

'No. We need to go.'

Connor turned round in his chair. 'There's no need. It was only open for seconds, really. The chance of anything getting through are really small.'

'I don't care. We have to check. What if something did come through?'

Connor looked at Ryan worriedly.

'Connor's right, Professor. The local police will get there quicker than we can. If there's need they'll let us know.'

'But they're not the ones who know what to do. Anything could happen.'

'They'll handle it. This happens every week practically. It's the process,' said Ryan.

Cutter was nearly incandescent with frustration. Why weren't people listening to him? 'I don't care about the process. That anomaly could have opened anywhere. It could have been in a school. Right now, children could be in danger. We have to get there!'

It was strange, like ripples but in reverse. Cutter suddenly became aware of standing in a pool of silence that thickened around him. He looked at his hands and found them grasping Ryan's lapels. Ryan was eyeing him warily but wasn't making any moves to brush him off. In fact, Ryan was clearly not making any sudden moves at all.

Cutter let go and dropped his hands to his sides.

'Ah, Professor. As there doesn't seem to be an emergency happening, could you come and help me with something in my office, please?' Lester's words were calm and measured, but that didn't stop them being an order.

++++

'You need a holiday, Nick.'

Lester spoke the words as soon as Cutter's backside had hit the seat of the chair.

'Look, I know I over-reacted there a bit. But…'

Lester shook his head. 'Why are you trying to argue this?' Lester clicked on something on his laptop screen. 'You have 30 days leave a year. You carried forward the maximum five from last year. It is six months into the current leave year and you have taken a grand total of four days holiday. We'd be having this conversation soon even if you hadn't had a near death experience in the atrium just now.'

'Near death? What do you mean?'

'What else would you call grabbing an SAS captain by the lapels?'

'Oh,' Cutter was in no mood to be entertained. 'I can't, though. I just can't. What if it happens again?'

'Then we will handle it. And we will handle it better with you rested and recovered from the previous incident.'

Cutter shied away from what could happen with him gone from the ARC.

He shook his head.

Lester stood up from his chair and moved to Cutter's side of the desk.

'Nick. I am trying to help you here. I don't want to start calling things PTSD when the trauma isn't that post. But you are clearly not over the deaths of those two girls. Now, I have tried giving you space, I have tried pep talks to little success. I am giving you one last chance to get yourself sorted without the use of mental health professionals. Go away from here and spend some time relaxing and not putting yourself in stressful situations.'

'And if I don't?'

'I will put you in front of Dr Miller and get you on enforced medical leave until you can prove to her you can function properly in this team again.'

Cutter looked into Lester's eyes and saw determination mixed with a certain amount of compassion.

Cutter had to admit defeat. 'OK, I'll take some time off.'

'No. Away from here. Far away. On holiday away.'

'That's…'

Lester didn't give Cutter the chance to finish. 'Go and talk to Lorraine and she will arrange things.'

Cutter opened his mouth to object.

'My final word. Either that or Dr Miller.'

Cutter subsided. 'All right,' he said, a touch ungraciously. 'I'll talk to Lorraine.'

Lester smiled as though they had been discussing routine options for a weekend break. 'Don't let me keep you. You can take the rest of the day off, as well.'

++++

Cutter walked through the door to Lorraine's office.

She looked up and smiled at him.

'Professor. Take a seat.' She moved a file from a chair beside hers.

Cutter sat beside her. 'I suppose you know that Lester has gone all 'mother-hen' about things.'

She nodded. 'I'd seen the signs. He can be persistent when he wants to be.'

Cutter snorted at the understatement.

'So where do you want to go?'

Cutter thought and drew a blank. 'I don't know. I hadn't thought about going anywhere when I woke up this morning!'

'OK. Where do you normally go on holiday?'

'Fossil beds with students. Jurassic coast, mostly. Some trips abroad.'

'Where do you go for fun?'

'Fossil beds with students. Seriously.'

'So sun, sea and sangria is out of the question?'

Cutter shuddered. 'I can't think of anything worse.'

'UK or abroad?'

'UK, I don't want language hassles.' Cutter didn't mention that he couldn't stand the thought of not being within call.

Lorraine made a note. 'Inland or the sea?'

Cutter thought for a bit. 'Sea. I want to wake up with a view of the sea.' He thought a bit more. 'And self-catering. I want the place to myself. Could you do me a lighthouse? I don't want a kiss-me-quick resort.'

Lorraine smiled and made notes.

Cutter dropped his voice. 'And something useful to do.' He glanced towards Lester's office. 'Not chasing anomalies, but … '

Lorraine smiled. 'I'll have a word with Sarah. Maybe some suggestive local legends to chase down?'

'Yes. Something like that.'

'I'll see what I can do, Professor.'

'I don't do nothing very easily,' Cutter confessed.

'I understand. Anything else?'

Cutter shook his head.

++++

Cutter was stuffing socks into his shoes when the doorbell rang. He paused his packing and went down to answer it. Stephen was standing on the doorstep, looking a little conspiratorial.

'Hello, I wasn't expecting you.'

'I hope I'm not interrupting your packing.'

Cutter stepped aside and gestured for Stephen to come through the door. 'You are, but not badly. I don't have much to pack.'

'Don't forget your underwear.' Stephen grinned, knowingly.

'That was just the one time!' Cutter shut the door. 'Come on through.'

Cutter left Stephen in the living room and retrieved a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge.

Stephen accepted his bottle and drank gratefully. 'That's good. So you've been putting Lorraine's organisation skills to the test, I hear.'

'I'm amazed. I thought I'd given her an impossible list. A lighthouse, self-catering, fossils,' Cutter ticked the items off on his fingers. 'And some historic monsters. And she came up on all of them!'

'You're kidding! Where?'

'Lumley Hill Tower on the Durham coast. Not a lighthouse, but the next best thing, apparently.'

'Fossils?'

'Wash out of the cliffs every so often. Historic creatures supplied by the Lambton Worm of song and fable.'

'Oh, I think I know that one. Generally when exiting from folk pubs when the singing started.'

'Well, it's something to look for. And,' Cutter took a drink of beer, 'apparently an old uni friend lives close by.'

Stephen caught the implication of Cutter's words. 'Lorraine knows way too much about us.'

'It's scary.'

Stephen fished inside his jeans pocket. 'I have something else for you.' He pulled out a USB drive and handed it to Cutter. 'Courtesy of Connor, who was being a bit too secretive if you know what I mean.'

Cutter took the drive. 'What is it?'

'Extracts from the MoD UFO archives, apparently. Looks like there was some activity at local radar stations during the war that might be anomaly related.'

'That's good. Don't tell Lorraine.'

'What makes you think she doesn't know already?'

Cutter took a resigned swig of beer. 'Good point. Well made.'