knitekat

Title: Broken Wings (8/17)
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 1742 (of ~27300)
Characters: Tom Ryan, James Lester, team and OC soldiers.
Pairing: James Lester/Tom Ryan, various.
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace. The OCs belong to Fred and Luka. 'Broken Wings' is a song by Mr Mister.
A/N: For Fred and her prompt of Lester/Ryan and Technical Hitch. Thanks go to Luka for looking at it and to the wonderful Fifi for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
A/N2: Continues from Part 7 and continues in Part 9.
Warning (for all parts): Timey-wimey AU: death!fic, dark!fic, dub!con, hurt/comfort, angst, slash, het, OOC-ness.

The next six anomalies had been to various past times and Ryan hadn't wasted much time in any of them. He had added several notes to Helen's journal, it had just seemed to be the right thing to do. Oh, he knew they wouldn't measure up to any scientist's standards, but he felt the need to add his observations. To say he had been there, seen it, survived it.

Ryan was beginning to feel he'd never find another parallel when he stepped through into one. It felt more like autumn on this world, a bitter snap in the air that foretold of a hard winter. The high-voltage power-lines and telephone cables told Ryan he was at least in the right century. A flapping notice stuck to one of the telegraph poles caught his attention and Ryan jogged across the field towards it. Hopefully it would tell him where he was, if he was lucky, even the rough date. He had almost reached it when the sound of approaching vehicles had him diving for cover, spitting leaves out as he sprawled in the dirt of a ditch, the dampness of the soil slowly soaking into his combats as he carefully peered over the edge.

As he watched the ARC team going about their business, Ryan decided this world seemed more promising. The soldiers were competent, professional men and Ryan had found himself forced to move away from the anomaly or risk capture. Ryan pulled out his binoculars and studied the team, everyone who should have been in the field had been there. As an added bonus, Ryan could see no sign of himself, even though he knew the version of him from this reality might never have been assigned to the ARC. Now, all he had to do was find out if James was alive here. Alive and available to him.

He quickly but quietly made his way along the ditch until he could squirm through a hedge and set off, hopefully, in the direction of civilisation. He was walking in roughly the direction he assumed the ARC team had come from, although he had to change his route several times to avoid discovery. The first town or village he found would tell him where he was and how far from London. He would also hopefully find a local paper and learn about the state of the world.

A cluster of roofs had Ryan smile as he imagined his first proper cooked grub washed down by beer in a proper English pub in what seemed a lifetime. He could almost taste it and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. With a rueful smile, Ryan found a position he could dig in and observe the village and its inhabitants from. If his years soldiering had taught him anything, it was never to assume the natives were friendly, even if these natives wore the faces of his friends. Ryan felt hope in his heart, this seemed just like home, maybe this world would be the one, maybe James would be waiting for him. Ryan took a deep breath and mentally sat on his hopes, after all this time travelling, he knew better than make assumptions from just a few observations.

A sudden burst of gunfire had Ryan flattening himself to the ground. Automatic weapons had no place in an English village and Ryan guessed that a creature had beaten him through. He could hear shouting and watched as a young boy ran down the street towards him. Even from this distance, Ryan could see the fear etched on the boy's face. He must have met the creature and be running for his life. Ryan reached for his pistol, he couldn't let the boy be killed in front of him, even if it risked Ryan's own mission.

Ryan breathed a sigh of relief when the ARC convoy turned the corner and rolled towards the boy. He could leave the rescue to them and remain safely hidden until he knew more about this world and whether he wanted to stay in it.

Ryan frowned when the boy paled and slipped as he tried to dart down a side street, away from the ARC soldiers and safety. He really must have been scared out of his mind to run from someone who would rescue him.

He watched from his vantage point as the team stepped out of their vehicles and heard the professor's strident Scottish tones as he called out to the boy, “Come here, boy.”

The boy shook his head and scrambled backwards as he tried to get to his feet. His face was a mask of terror and Ryan decided he must have seen someone killed to be that scared. What else could he be so terrified of?

“I said, come here.” The professor scowled when the boy still refused to obey him and turned to motion at Connor. “Get him.”

Ryan felt the tightness in his chest relax. Connor was a kid himself, no doubt he'd get the boy to trust them and then...

Oh, fuck! Ryan shook his head in disbelief when Connor pulled the boy to his feet and punched him in the stomach. As the boy crumpled to the ground, Connor kicked him hard in the ribs before pulling a pistol. Ryan flinched when the man he considered one of the good guys yanked the boy to his knees and pressed the barrel of his gun against the pleading boy's head. Ryan held his breath and almost missed the crack as Connor pulled the trigger. He watched horrified as the boy's head exploded in a mess of blood and brains.

Ryan felt sick as he caught the expression of glee and lust on Connor's face. Fuck! Connor was getting off on killing a defenceless kid. He felt even sicker when Abby pulled Connor in for a kiss and grope.

What sort of world was this? Where casual murder was acceptable... Ryan shuddered as he remembered Connor's (his Connor's) words: that every possible world could exist. Ryan remembered grinning when the professor had rolled his eyes at Connor's intoned 'The good, the bad and the ugly”. It was clear to Ryan he had found the 'bad', although watching the sickening sight of Abby and Connor rutting next to the dead boy's corpse, Ryan was tempted to call this hell-hole 'the ugly'.

Ryan knew this was not the world for him. Not when Connor's killing of a young boy was acceptable. No, more than acceptable as he watched the rest of the team laugh and call out obscene suggestions to Abby and Connor. He needed to leave now, before he was discovered. He had the feeling he'd never escape if he was captured.

He carefully slipped away, using all of his training to remain concealed as he circled around to avoid being seen by anyone. He was bloody glad he had when he spotted the road block and armed men before they spotted him. He had no identity documents on him, none, at least that anyone from this world was likely to recognise. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he was captured. The memory of interrogations in foreign lands came to Ryan, this was definitely not home. It was a fucking mess-up police state.

He needed to get to an anomaly, any anomaly, and out of this world. Even if James was alive here, Ryan didn't want to know him. He didn't want to see what his lover would have become in a world like this. He just hoped the next anomaly would take him to a better world, maybe one where he could finally be with James. He hoped it wouldn't be to another world as bad as this one, but knew human nature far too well to believe it.

But which anomaly? How the hell was he supposed to find one and get there before the ARC? He slapped his head as he muttered, “Bloody idiot.” The Forest of Dean kept reopening in his world, he would just have to hope it did here... and that he could get to it. First things first, Ryan would have to find out exactly where he was and then figure out how to get to the Forest, unseen and unnoticed.

Ryan spent long, hard and difficult days making his way south-west. He travelled by night, slowly and carefully, ducking into cover whenever he even suspected someone was around. By day he dug in and snatched sleep when he could; too highly strung to gain any real benefit from his rest.

Luckily, the weather remained rather damp and Ryan managed to avoid both settlements and anyone wandering the countryside. Equally luckily, there was plenty of food around – fruit and various ripening crops – and the rain kept people at home. He was tempted by a loose chicken but didn't want to risk a fire, assuming he could even start one in this miserable weather.

Ryan circled past several road checkpoints, watching the armed guards check the identity papers and boots of all the cars that passed through. He couldn't help wondering what had happened in this world, what had gone so wrong? Avoiding the checkpoints took Ryan out of his way as he stuck to the hedgerows and woods. Ryan lived on his nerves as the days stretched into weeks, he knew every day he remained here increased the chance he'd be discovered.

One day as Ryan was dug into his daytime hide-out, he was roused from his fitful doze by the barking of a dog. He strained his ears to listen and swore softly as the barking sounded closer. If there was a dog out there, there would also be its owner. He held his breath, if they stumbled across him, his trek might be over. All for nothing. He couldn't fail. His hand rested on his pistol, if he had to... Ryan shook his head. He would not become like the inhabitants of this world. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer. If being human resulted in his capture.... well, he'd escape somehow.

He could hear the shouts of the owner, even if the words were lost in the distance. They were coming closer and Ryan pressed back into his hollow, barely even breathing. He saw a flash of brown and white in the field and then the dog was upon him. Barking and snuffling. This was it.