In The Heat Of The Night Chapter 5

[talliw]

Title: In The Heat Of The Night Chapter 5
Author: TalliW
Characters: James Lester/Connor Temple
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Primeval is the property of Impossible Pictures. I write just for fun.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to the wonderful Fredbassett for beta duty.
Summary: Lester and Connor have to fight for survival in a future where a climatic catastrophe has drastically changed the world.

Stretching out first his right arm then his left leg, Lester ascertained that his extremities were still attached. Although every move was painful he wiggled his toes and raised an arm up in the air out of simple joy that his body parts were obeying him again.

"The vaccine is a bitch, huh?" Beacher muttered from a few feet away, telling Lester that he must have made it back to Beacher's house somehow.

"Be glad it was just this and not Nurotwix. The remedy is said to be ten times worse than the vaccine. Add that to the pain of dozen of inflammations in your body and you know how your boy is feeling right now."

"He's still not better?"

"Not from the look of it. The remedy should have started counteracting the inflammation by now. Instead he's still in full primary stage. The only time I've seen such a heavy course of the disease in spite of the remedy was in my childhood. The girl next door hadn't received the initial immunisation due to some religious nonsense her parents believed in."

Fear gripped Lester's heart. "Initial immunisation?" he asked hoarsely.

"Oh shit, please don't tell me that he never has been vaccinated against Twixton. No wonder he's in so much pain. What parents in their right mind gamble with their child's life out of misguided belief or just to spare the £200?" Beacher said outraged.

"Shall I get the doctor," Mattie offered. He was pale, his movements slow and the almost ever-present smile on his face was missing. The booster shot he'd been given had taken its toll on him too.

"You won't go anywhere but back into bed to rest some more. The company won't pay for another day of laziness. Hop off to bed with you! Tomorrow you have to be fit for work again. The same applies to you," he added as Lester tried to get on his feet. "You rest and I will go and fetch the doctor."

When Beacher was gone, Mattie helped Lester into a sitting position and began massaging his stiff extremities.

"That will help against the side effects of the initial immunisation," he said quietly. "I'm right, am I? That was your first jab and not a booster shot. You have never been vaccinated against the plague just like Connor. You were just lucky not to get infected. I reckon the vaccination wasn't necessary where you really come from. I just wish you had trusted me. I could have arranged something with the doctor. Then I wouldn't have to watch my best friend curling up in excruciating pain."

"It's all my fault," Lester mumbled to himself, too distressed to realise that Mattie knew about their secret. "I shouldn't have agreed with Sarah's plan. The whole rescue mission for Quinn was an idiotic idea from the start. And once again Connor pays the price."

Mattie didn't understand what Lester was talking about. But he sensed the guilt radiating from the normally composed man. So he put an arm around Lester's shoulder and told him that it was no ones fault and that everything would be all right.

Carefully, Lester trickled some of the browny-yellow solution into Connor's mouth, pleased when Connor reflexively began to swallow without him having to force him this time.

Lester had repeated this procedure every 20 minutes for the last six hours and finally Connor's condition was improving.

Connor, who had been writhing in pain whilst emitting little noises of anguish for the most part of the day now lay calmly on his bed. He still was in pain but it seemed to have decreased to a tolerable level.

Silently, Lester thanked Quack Timmy for coming up with his folk medicine after Doctor Carter had failed so spectacularly.

All Doctor Carter had done was offer to put Connor to sleep to spare him the agony of a slow, painful death, claiming that was the the best he could do for the poor lad because without the initial immunisation it would take too long until the remedy started working and Connor wouldn't survive the strain all the inflammations would put on his heart.

Quack Timmy had been honest about his opinion that he didn't believe that Connor could be saved either, but he'd told Lester about a method that reportedly had helped in a similar case in France.

He'd  launched into a long explanation about Boswellic acids that had made even less sense to Lester than Connor's techno-babble had always done. All Lester had understand was that the alleged panacea entailed ingredients that had highly efficient anti-inflammatory effects.

That Quack Timmy had the substance easily to hand and was willing to sell it to Lester at a reasonable price had, of course, raised suspicion within Lester. But at the time he was ready to clutch at straws and had paid the exorbitant price without batting an eyelid.

By now Lester was more than glad he'd ignored his inner voice that had told him not to trust the charlatan. The remedy had been worth every penny.

Connor opened his eyes to see Lester looming above him. For hours every cell in his body had ached. Now the sharp stabbing pain had dulled to a slow and steady throb that left him exhausted and depleted.

"I've always feared," Connor whispered, "...that something from the anomalies would kill me someday. But I thought it would be huge with big teeth and not..."

"You won't die," Lester said forcefully whilst he gently dabbed his wetted hanky over Connor's swear-covered forehead. "The worst is over. The Nurotwix has started working."

"Good to hear," Connor said hoarsely as he surveyed the haggard face of the man who had saved him once again.

A feeling of immense gratitude spread through Connor's entire body as he realised the pain was dwindling more and more. Against all the odds he would survive a disease that had killed millions in this world just a few decades ago. Survive thanks to Lester, his personal guardian angel, who hadn't given up on him like everyone else.

Involuntarily, the corner of Connor's mouth quirked up into a grin as he envisaged Lester in a white nightgown with fluffy wings. Lester would probably shake his head if he told him his silly thoughts.

"Thank you, Lester," Connor whispered, hoping his expression would convey the deep gratitude he was unable to express with words.

"You're welcome. Now go to sleep."

After a last look at Lester, Connor closed obediently his eyes.

In the darkness of the night, Connor woke up, his skin cold and clammy as if he'd been put into a freezer.

The pains were completely gone and with them the fever that had heated his skin. Now his body felt bereft without that extra warmth.

Determined to go back to sleep, Connor  pulled the blanket tight around his body and up to his chin.

He slipped right back into a dream, lulled into sleep by Lester's peaceful breathing only to wake up confused and shivering soon after again.

In his state between sleep and wakefulness, instinct took over and Connor edged slowly closer to the only source of warmth in the room until he bumped into a solid body. Startled he jerked away, a string of apologies on his lips.

Suddenly Lester's arm snaked out, grasped Connor around the waist and hauled him against Lester's chest.

"Better?" a sleepy voice mumbled against Connor's neck, raising goose bumps on Connor's skin as the warm draught of Lester's breath tickled his ear.

Terrified and relieved at the same, Connor reveled in the heat of Lester's body. Lester was providing warmth. Warmth that Connor's freezing body urgently needed.

With an approving hum, Connor mentally told his racing heart to calm down and closed his eyes.

He was woken up hours later by the howling of the wake-up alarm, still cocooned in Lester's arms.

Lester was as efficient as ever in his morning routine. Something Connor was now starting to appreciate.

There was no awkward morning babble after waking up spooned together. Before Connor had even realised what exactly what was poking into his backside, Lester had got up and vanished into the bathroom.

Connor tugged the blankets back around himself and enjoyed the moment, although he couldn't help but think about what lay ahead.

He wasn't sure is he was ready for work although that was probably expected of him. He'd heard Beacher's words the other day through the fog of pain.

"Just five minutes more then I'll stand up," Connor told himself.

The next time he opened his eyes the sun was setting and next to him sat Mattie with a tray with food and enough bottles of water to sustain him for three days.

It was already getting dark outside when Lester returned.

Connor was about to stand up and go looking for the man in spite of his weak physical condition when Lester walked in, somewhat lumberingly.

Lester went straight into the bathroom, spent an exceptionally long time in there before he returned dressed only in briefs and vest, and lay down on his makeshift bed.

"Lester?" Connor whispered. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere. Go back to sleep."

Lester's voice sounded just as weary as his movements had been, thus raising all sorts of questions in Connor.

"But..."

"Connor! Sleep!"

A menacing tone had crept into Lester's voice, raising the tiny hairs at the small of Connor's back.

Connor couldn't exactly put his finger on it but he was feeling Lester had changed. Although the bureaucrat had always been an imposing man who could make people quake in their shoes and send opponents scurrying for cover with just a look or a cutting remark there was now a harder edge to him that hadn't been there the day before.

Connor turned on his side and propped his head on his arm, his eyes trying to penetrate the darkness to see Lester's reaction.

"Lester?"

"Leave it, Connor!"

There it was again. It hadn't been just a figment of his imagination. That wasn't just a harder edge that was more like a razor-sharp blade, ready to mercilessly slice everyone in half who dared to oppose the man.

It was exactly what Connor would have expected from a government hatchet man, back then, before he'd got to know Lester better. Before he'd learned that Lester cared for them all in his own way.

"Lester..." he mumbled again, his voice tinged with worry.

"Temple, I said leave it alone!"

The use of Connor's surname should have been warning enough to stop his probing and prodding but Connor had never been good in reading the signs of advancing doom.

"Lester, I just..."

Connor didn't have the chance to finish his sentence.

"Will you ever learn to respect my wishes?" Lester hissed at Connor with unconcealed anger. "Why the hell don't you just shut up for once?"

Connor couldn't suppress the shiver that went down his spine at Lester's fury. He wasn't able to see much in the growing darkness but he would swear Lester's eyes were like blazing fires. Any moment they would burn him until nothing but ashes was left behind of a geeky young man named Connor Temple. How could  Lester have changed so much in only a day?

"Are you cold?" Lester asked, his anger quickly draining from him, washed away in a flood of compassion when he noticed Connor's shiver.

Without hesitation, he opened his blanket and offered Connor the option to slip in and share bodily warmth like they had done the previous night.

But when Connor didn’t make any move to follow the invitation, Lester turned his back to him, apparently not willing to wait until Connor had found his tongue again.

For a while Connor listened to Lester's erratic breathing, his mind frantically searching for a way to find access to the closed off man. Then he just scooted closer and spooned up behind him.

Lester gave a painful yelp as Connor wrapped an arm around his waist then an exasperated huff as Connor's finger scraped against his side as Connor withdrew his hand, alarmed.

"Lester, what happened to you?"

Connor tried to keep his tone soft and undemanding as he asked but he didn't hold much hope that he would get an answer.

But finally, after long minutes of silence, Lester mumbled, "Kyle happened."

"What did he do?"

"Oh, just making a last desperate attempt to woo me," Lester said with bitter humour.

"How?"

"He was waiting for me after the shift with a new knife and another one in reserve. You might almost think he was one of Blade's descendants."

"He attacked you with a knife in broad daylight? In front of the others?"

"Not exactly. It was already getting dark."

"You’ve changed shift?"

"Something like that."

Getting answers out of Lester was like pulling teeth but at least he was talking now.

"How bad did he injure you?"

"I will live, he won’t. Is your perverse curiosity satisfied now?"

Connor took a deep breath. Now Lester's behaviour made perfect sense. Lester had accidentally killed Kyle in self-defense. That would disturb any normal person.

As if Lester had heard Connor's thoughts he whispered, "It wasn't an accident. I had already overpowered him."

"It happened in the heat of the moment. The adrenaline..."

"No, I was completely calm. I looked him in the eyes for several minutes and realised he was a danger to us as long he lived. He would keep trying and one day he would have been successful. I couldn't allow that."

Connor didn't know what to say to this confession. He was convinced Lester had got it all wrong. Everything went so fast in a fight that you couldn't say for sure what really had occurred. Lester might be a hard-nosed bureaucrat but he wasn't a cold-blooded killer. He had proven often enough that he valued life.

"You were right," Lester murmured so quietly Connor had difficulties in understanding him. "I would have fitted in into Johnson's gang quite well."

"No, you wouldn't have. You aren't a monster," Connor declared steadfastly.

Praying that Lester wasn't hurt anywhere else, Connor wound his arm around Lester's chest.

When Lester tried to pull away he grasped the hem of Lester's vest and crumpled it in his fist, his chin pressing hard into Lester's shoulder blade, until Lester got the hint and stopped struggling.

Lester didn't really relax but after a while he leaned back against Connor as if he needed the contact to assure himself that he was indeed still human and not a monster.

This time it was Connor who woke up first. Enjoying the peace and quiet in the early morning hours he snuggled his face in Lester's neck and inhaled the musky scent of Lester's skin.

Waking up like this was nice. In fact more than nice.

All at once the steady heartbeat under Connor's palm accelerated to a wild hammering and to his utter shock Connor noticed that he'd started rubbing his palm over the coarse hair peaking out of Lester's vest whilst his thumb was playing gently with Lester's left nipple.

As though he’d been burned by the heat of Lester's skin, Connor pulled away, afraid of Lester would say about Connor molesting him in his sleep.

Lester didn't say anything. He just stood up and after a short trip to the bathroom busied himself in front of his locker, apparently inspecting the state of his clothes.

They had bought underwear and socks in the camp's clothing shop the first time they had received their wages, sparing them the chore of rinsing their only set every evening. The following week they had added a shirt each. They hadn't bothered with buying new trousers. They were too expensive and not half the quality of their current ones.

Besides, Connor rather liked the black jeans he was wearing and he had his doubts that parting Lester from a piece of his suit was even humanly possible.

At first Connor had shaken his head over Lester still preferring to wear his entire suit. Connor himself had forgone any additional layer of clothing after the third day he had suffered in the heat. But it was easy to recognize that the fine, made-to-measure suit was some sort of armour for the man.

Before they had become stranded in this world, Connor had hardly ever seen Lester without a suit. But he knew Lester owned some casual clothing.

Back then, when he was living in Lester's city flat, Sid had found a way into Lester's wardrobe and taken a fancy to a blue cashmere sweater whereas Nancy had felt inclined to shredder some tee-shirts and had made a nest out of the jeans the curious diictodons had discovered in there.

But Lester seemed to prefer wearing his suits as long Connor was around, giving Connor the impression he never relaxed completely except in sleep.

The first morning he'd seen Lester in his pyjamas it had been almost an epiphany. So the rigid guy was actually a normal human man.

Lazily, Connor watched how Lester donned his spare shirt and the black suit trousers. His relaxed expression turned into a frown when Lester didn't make any attempt to slip into his jacket. Somehow Connor sensed this small change had a profound meaning.

When Lester faced him, Connor could see the small red stain on Lester's side, shimmering through the white shirt from the soiled vest and pointing out the spot Kyle's blade must have stabbed Lester.

The thought that Lester could have died whilst he had cosily dined and chatted with Mattie gave him the chills.

Connor's eyes drifted slowly over Lester's body, checking him for more injuries. There was a thin red line at the side of Lester's neck and a bruise under his left eye but otherwise he seemed to be fine.

A small cough caught Connor's attention. Lester apparently had noticed him staring.

"The wound on my side is the only injury I received," Lester declared calmly. "He didn't even nick the skin of my neck."

Connor exhaled forcefully, glad that Lester hadn't drawn the wrong conclusions about why he had been checking him out.

"Do you think you can work with that wound? Maybe you should take a break."

"I'm fine. It stopped bleeding a long time ago. Besides we have already used up our entitlement of free days for this quarter. Either I go to work or there won't be food."

Connor gave Lester an enquiring look. If Lester had used up all his free days then Connor must have exceeded his long since. Still there had been a tray as full of food as usual. It couldn't have been Lester's ration. The foreman wouldn't have allowed Lester to work on without food in his stomach.

So where was the food coming from? Did Beacher and Mattie have a hand in this?

Determined, Connor shoved the blanket away and got to his feet.

"You stay here and rest," Lester commanded.

"Don't be silly. I’ve had enough rest. I'm as fit as a fiddle."

To prove his claim, Connor spun around in a circle. He even managed to grin although he already felt like he’d been sitting in one of those children’s aeroplanes that had always made him sick.

He certainly wasn't as fit as a fiddle, not even fit enough to stand properly on his own. But he would accompany Lester to work regardless. If Lester was be able to work despite his stab wound then he could do it too.

Connor didn't know how he had made it through the day. He had functioned on autopilot except for the few times he’d had to pause and take deep breaths to fight against his nausea.

Mattie, and occasionally Lester, had rushed to his side to help whenever Connor's strength was waning.

Still it was blatantly obvious that Connor wasn't be able to fulfill his daily work load.

In the locker room after work, Connor could hear them whispering, blaming him for depriving them of their bonus and giving Lester a hard time for bringing him back onto their shift.

Even Ben and Lem who had treated him fairly before were now speaking against him and demanding that Connor should apply for the less strenuous jobs at Garrard and Sotheby’s from next week onwards.

With an almost hate-filled voice, Ben had declared that he didn't want someone in his vicinity who'd willingly endangered them all by not mentioning that he'd been unvaccinated.

About what happened with Kyle, no one had said a word, though. But maybe there wasn't anything to say.

According to the three men from the evening shift who had witnessed the fight, it had been an accident. In a life and death struggle Lester had managed to push the blade away from his throat and straight into Kyle's neck. What Lester had thought had been minutes had in reality just been a fraction of a second.

"Mattie told me. What were you thinking?" Connor began furiously.

Hearing that Lester had cheated death with Kyle a second time had been bad enough but learning that he'd risked his life voluntarily for a tray of food was bringing all of Connor's fears to the surface and his simmering rage about this horrible world to a boil.

"Damn it Lester. There's a reason why no on else does double shifts. It's a wonder you didn't collapse."

"I worked morning and evening shift. Therefore I had adequate time for recovery between the shifts."

Lester's stoic response angered Connor to the point where he wanted to grasp Lester by the shoulders and shake him until he saw reason over how reckless his actions had been.

"It was necessary. You needed food and I didn't have enough money to buy it for you. I assure you there wasn't any danger. I know my limits," Lester added as he noticed that his previous explanation had only agitated Connor even more.

"Oh, of course. You know your limits," Connor muttered tauntingly. "And how would you have reacted if our situation had been reversed and I had given you such a flimsy excuse?”

With a slight tilt of his head, Lester acknowledged that Connor had made a point there.

"I thought the reward was worth the risk. I still think so."

"And I'd rather starve than see you dice with death again," Connor shouted.

As soon Connor had said it, he realised he meant it with every fiber of his body. He couldn't bear to loose Lester. He'd seen too much death lately and Lester's would be one too many.

Lester eyed Connor curiously. "I see," he said in a tone that deflated Connor's anger and made him feel self-conscious.

"I mean with Johnson's gang still on my back I probably wouldn't last long once you were gone," Connor added hastily. "So if you put yourself at risk then my life is at stake as well."

A small smile danced in Lester's eyes as he said, "Well, then I will keep that in mind the next time I try to save your arse."

"See that you do," Connor replied straightfaced, fighting hard not to return the smile.

When the bathroom door closed behind Lester, Connor heaved a sigh of relief and gave into the temptation to grin like a loon.

It was the first time he had won an argument with Lester. That had been well worth the roller-coaster of emotions he had experienced during the talk.