Primeval fic: Fixed Single, Open Return (Stephen/Ryan)
Title: Fixed single, Open return
Word count: 1000
Pairing: Tom Ryan/Stephen Hart
Rating: Gen
Trope Bingo: Cretaceous
A very slightly delayed ‘Happy Birthday’ to goldarrow and a tiny Ryan/Stephen ficlet in lieu of cake. This fills the Cretaceous square on my bingo card.
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FIXED SINGLE, OPEN RETURN
Time travel was over-rated.
It wasn’t Ryan’s first experience of being stranded at the wrong end of evolution and it probably wouldn’t be his last. Their last. He was with Stephen Hart.
It still sucked. But it could have been worse. Much worse.
Both partner and location were as good as circumstances could allow. Stephen was a highly skilled hunter. That alone would be a bonus out here, but add to that his period knowledge and Stephen was pretty much the ideal companion.
But then pretty and ideal were both words that Ryan had long associated with Cutter’s assistant.
He’d wanted to spend time with Stephen. Had even thought of various ways they could be alone but had been too cautious to act on them. What if things went wrong? They still had to work together. See each other every day.
Careful what you wish for.
They were in the early Cretaceous. Cretaceous meaning chalk. At least that’s what Stephen said. He could have said crustacean meaning tasty as far as Ryan was concerned. The salient point was a hundred million years away from home and no reliable means of return. When pressed, Stephen had elaborated with a description of likely plants and animals. Ryan let the details flow over him and concentrated on the main theme. After a few minutes Stephen noticed his lack of interest and fell silent.
“Dinosaurs,” said Ryan, succinctly.
“Big ones,” agreed Stephen with a grin.
Ryan couldn’t help grinning back. Stephen’s blue eyes were alight with the challenge of survival. Ryan was used to admiring Stephen as one might desire a rare object but now he felt a sudden, unexpected feeling of kinship with the other man. They worked together but they weren’t a team. Now they would have to be.
It was just the two of them. Alone. Together.
Hunger and thirst would not be a problem. They were near a lake, which meant an easy source of fresh water and of food. There were no obvious shelters but both Ryan and Stephen agreed that it was necessary to stay as close as possible to the anomaly site. When it did open every second might count.
They had not been expecting to be trapped. The anomaly was one of the intermittent types that were impossible to fully predict. However, it had never previously opened for less than an hour and all assessments had calculated this as a minimum. Ryan and Stephen had been taking a netted bird - Stephen referred to it as a Confuciusornis and Ryan thought of it as a large prehistoric crow - back to its own world when the anomaly had snapped shut. Re-opening was likely, but based on previous patterns, this could be in three hours or three months. Or, if they were really unlucky, three years.
“Fancy some camping?” asked Ryan. “See nature at its finest.” Brooding would achieve nothing.
Stephen matched his lightness of tone. “Sounds good to me. At least here Lester can’t nag about his reports.”
Ryan gave a chuckle. This was probably as much conversation as he’d had with Stephen in six months. They were both private people. Ryan was naturally reticent. Stephen repelled with dry humour. The method was different but the effect was the same. Perhaps now the barriers would come down.
Following this thought without conscious intent, Ryan mused aloud, “It’s not without its attractions as a romantic getaway.”
Stephen, who had been unhooking the small hunting knife he kept strapped to his belt, looked up. “You know, Tom, you only had to ask.”
Was that real or more of Stephen’s habitual deflection? But now was not the time to question. More important was shelter for when night fell. It was already late afternoon.
They had found a mixture of animal prints. Some small and some….not. With the need to remain close to the anomaly site the best plan was to keep to the rocky, more inhospitable, part of the lakeside. Ryan built a rudimentary shelter out of branches and ferns. Stephen went around their camp and set up a series of traps. Like the shelter, these were basic but would provide some warning.
Ryan’s face was flushed with exertion by the time they finished, blood pounding, skin damp with sweat. Perspiration tangled Stephen’s hair leaving it in spikey points. Ryan tried not stare. Tried harder not to touch.
When all their preparations were complete they stopped and took turns to drink from the large water bottle that Ryan carried in his pack and shared a survival bar. Dusk came quickly. The land that had been largely silent now echoed with the calls and movement of animals. The air cooled. They drew close to their fire for warmth and safety.
“Now for the long wait,” said Ryan.
“Or the romantic interlude,” countered Stephen.
“Good thinking. The glass is always better half-full.”
“Any regrets?” asked Stephen, shuffling on the flat stone serving him as a seat.
“I should have had a bigger breakfast.”
Stephen snorted. “Things you did or didn’t do.”
“Life’s too short,” said Ryan, then added, “That’s not true. I’ve lots of regrets. Things I should have done but didn’t.”
It was too dark see Stephen’s expression. His voice was quiet. “Or things done best left alone.” Silence fell between them. Then Stephen spoke again. “Are you afraid?”
“No.”
“You know that if the worst happens you can rely on me to shoot you.”
Ryan poked the fire with a stick. “I never doubted that. You’ll do the right thing.”
“You think so?” There was bitterness in Stephen’s voice.
“I know so.”
Perhaps one day Stephen would explain. Or not. It didn’t matter.
Finally, the words came.
“You. Here. Now,” said Ryan, “That’s not one of my regrets.”
Other times and other places seemed very far away. The fire provided a flickering light. One by one, stars came out. After a while Ryan reached across and touched Stephen’s hand. Stephen took his fingers and laced them with his own.
*