Le Connor Temple and Rambo

by Borealis_Writes

Summary:

An AU where Johnson tries to take the ARC once more—this time by siege. Now everyone's been locked up; but at least Connor and Becker are stuck together. Great, right? If Becker didn't have a concussion. And Connor was confident in his ability to save the ARC.

Notes:

Hi everyone! This is my first published fanfic for AO3. After binging Primeval I knew that I needed more Becker & Connor bromance. Thus this will be the first in a series I'm starting called "Two Are Better Than One." Enjoy. :3

~ Borealis <3

Chapter 1: Locked Up Tight

Becker stumbled into the holding cell, followed shortly by Connor. Before either of them could react, the man slammed the door shut, the lock clicking into place. Turning, Becker slammed his hands into the door, letting out an aggravated cry. Behind him, Connor stood frozen, still struggling to process what had happened.

Becker paced a moment before leaning back against the wall, panting slightly.

That snapped Connor out of his shock. “What, aren’t you gonna break us out or somethin’?” He asked, motioning between Becker and the door.

“Can’t,” Becker said with a heavy sigh. “It’s a padlock. Without tools or something, we’re stuck here.”

“No, no, no. We can’t be stuck. The others need us. We—we gotta break out somehow.” Connor began to pace, mumbling to himself as he sorted through various ideas.

As he did that, Becker slowly slid down the wall until he sat against it, resting his arms on his knees.

“If we could get into a ventilation shaft, I could crawl out of here…” Connor paused, studying the cell. “Okay… no vents. That’s fine. We could…” he paused, rifling through his pockets for anything of use. 

Turning to Becker, he nodded to him. “Oy, you sure you don’t have anything useful in there? I mean you’ve got a million pockets, there’s gotta be at least one they missed.”

”What—you think I’ve got a gun in each?” Becker said, smiling faintly.

“I—well—maybe,” Connor stammered.

Becker let out a faint laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you, but they searched every pocket.” Even as he said it, a puzzled look crossed his face. But before he could speak again he winced, a hand moving to his temple.

“We’ll just have to think of something else then. Was there anyone who isn’t here? A friend, an ally…” Connor continued his pace, his voice rising as panic seeped into his frantic words.

“Can you keep it down?” Becker said, an expression of pain flashing across his face. “There’s enough noise in here without you jabbering.”

Connor stilled in his tracks, his eyes turning to Becker. “What?” What was Becker on about? The cell was completely quiet—other than their speaking and movements, of course.

“I said quiet down,” he repeated, glaring past his hand. After a beat he added, “please,” a pleading look in his eyes. 

Connor’s eyes widened. “Mate—it’s silent in here.”

Then he watched in horror as a trail of blood leaked down past Becker’s hand where it was pressed to his head. Becker winced, but barely seemed to notice the trickle of blood skating down the side of his face.

Of course. When Johnson’s men had taken down Becker, the man had been knocked back into the lockers—hard. He must’ve hit his head.

Panic renewed itself within Connor. He has a concussion. What could he do? He tried to remember what they had done when he got his own head hurt distracting that giganotosaurus. 

Licking his lips, he stepped forward, crouching down in front of Becker.

“Becker? How you feeling mate?”

Becker turned his head towards Connor and started, as if surprised to see Connor so close.

“Connor, what happened to personal space?” He began to lean away from him, but Connor grabbed his shoulders and brought him right back in his space.

“How you feeling?” Connor repeated, studying Becker’s eyes. If only I had my penlight. He leaned back a hair, letting the light fall into Becker’s eyes, and—oh goodness gracious, one of his pupils is bigger than the other.

“Could be better,” Becker replied, attempting to push Connor away—with much less force than usual. Though it was enough to tip Connor back.

Connor let out a grunt as his tailbone hit the ground, but ignored it. “Oh, mate, this is bad…”

Becker scoffed, waving him off. “What? Being locked up, or—” he trailed off as his gaze landed on the blood gently dripping from his fingers. “Oh.”

Now it was Connor’s turn to scoff. “‘Oh?’ Mate, you’re hurt. You’ve got a concussion, by the looks of it, and—” and I don’t know what to do about it.

Becker’s face twisted, and he cursed under his breath. “Sod’s law at work, it seems,” he muttered as he attempted to brush the blood off on his vest.

A small chuckle escaped Connor’s lips.“Sod’s law indeed,” he said, sitting back up. ”Now—I’ve gotta do something about your head.”

Becker looked up at Connor, a mildly amused look in his eyes. “Do you know how to wrap a head wound?”

Connor opened his mouth to reply, then paused. “Well—I’ve seen it done.” In movies, that is.

Now Becker smiled, shaking his head a moment before pausing, hissing in pain. “Hand me your scarf.” He said, holding his hand out.

“My—my scarf?” Connor’s hands instinctively moved to it. “Well—you see—this was my grandmum’s, and she—”

“Fine, your shirt then,” Becker said, rolling his eyes.

Connor glanced at his layered shirts. Now that he could do. It was rather unfortunate, but his white long sleeve had already been stained beyond repair by the chaos of the day. What more harm could blood do?

Besides, then I can see how badly he’s bleeding, he thought grimly.

It took him a moment to wriggle out of it—rather awkwardly, he was ashamed to admit—but he finally got it off, handing the dirtied shirt over to his friend. 

“Thank you,” Becker said, letting out a sigh of relief. Taking the shirt in his hands, he gently wrapped it around his head, wincing as he tightened and tied it off.

Connor held in a snort. The effect of the shirt wrapped around Becker’s head was akin to Rambo. Come to think of it, they had a lot in common…

Becker glared at Connor, a look sharp enough to cut him in two.

Guess his snort wasn’t so well concealed after all.

For a long moment they both sat there, Connor bouncing on his feet and Becker’s gaze fixed on the door.

“So… what now?” Connor asked, breaking the silence.

Becker shifted on the ground, moving a hand up his vest absentmindedly. “Now, we wait.”

Connor scoffed. “What, just sit here while they no doubt hurt our friends?” He shivered at the thought of what might be happening beyond their reach. The last time the ARC had been seized… Cutter hadn’t made it out. 

Let’s just say Connor was antsier than usual for a good reason.

Becker went to speak but paused, his hand settling on one of his many pockets. He frowned, a puzzled look on his face as he silently reached under the vest and pulled out a small multitool, along with his ID card.

Connor looked at Becker for a long moment, bewildered. “I thought you said they searched every pocket?” He said, incredulous.

“They did,” Becker said as he examined the multitool, his brow creased. “I must’ve forgotten I had it on me.”

Connor’s blood ran cold at his friend’s words. Before he could comment, however, Becker was pushing himself to his feet.

“Hey, maybe you should sit a little longer,” Connor said, moving to his feet as well as Becker leaned heavily against the wall, wavering in place. “‘Cause if you forgot about that, your head may be worse than we thought.”

Becker shook his head, his eyes shutting a moment as he swallowed. “Not when our team needs us,” he answered. He opened his eyes again, determination clear in them. Connor knew in that instant he wouldn’t be able to keep Becker still if he tried.

“Fine,” Connor said, raising his hands in surrender. “But I do the escaping, eh?” He let out a small laugh, a smile on his face. “Yeah; it’ll be a true jail break. Le Connor Temple and his mate, Captain Becker.” 

Becker snorted but said nothing, holding the multitool out to Connor.

Connor snatched it up in an instant, stepping up to the door. Studying the lock a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. Months before when they had been forced to rebuild the ARC after Helen’s disastrous siege, he’d had the misfortune of getting stuck working from the hall while they fixed his lab. Now that seemed to be a stroke of good luck, as he had watched them assemble the lock whilst bored. He knew just how to remove it.

Dropping to his knees, he pulled out a a flat-head screwdriver from the multitool and wedged it under the face of the lock. Once he had enough leverage, he popped the face off so he could see underneath. A jumble of wires clung to the inside of the lock, hiding two screws underneath. The wires were only needed to secure the lock in case of a power outage. And unless Johnson had found the override (which he highly doubted), they didn’t need to worry about it.

Pushing aside the wires, he began working at the screws. He felt a presence just behind him, and glancing over his shoulder saw that Becker was watching him as he worked, enraptured.

“You find this interesting then?” Connor asked, an amusement in his voice as he slowly removed the screws.

“Just think it’s good to know, in case I get locked in a room again,” Becker replied.

Connor hummed in agreement. “Fair enough.” He fell into silence once more as he returned his full focus to his work, continuing to remove the layers of the deadbolt from within.

After a moment he noticed that the room had fallen silent, save the sound of steady breathing.

Connor grimaced, muttering a curse under his breath. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his suspicions confirmed; Becker lay with his head against the wall, his breathing even as he slept.

Moving a hand to his friend’s knee, he shook him gently. “Becker, stay with me, mate,” he said. He gave one more good shake before tugging on his shoulder as well. 

That did it. Becker blinked his eyes open, dazed confusion clearing from them as he locked on Connor. “Connor?” He breathed, his voice slightly slurred.

Darn it.

“Come on, Becker, please,” Connor pleaded, his voice straining. No. I can’t panic.

Becker blinked a moment before he seemed to come to himself. Sitting up, he moaned, a hand moving to his temple. For a moment he sat there, taking deep, slow breaths. Finally he laid his hand down. “Sorry,” he said, hanging his head slightly.

“S’alright,” Connor said, offering a small smile. “Just scared me is all.”

Becker humphed before returning his attention to the lock. “Are we almost through?” He asked.

Connor smiled. Good. If Becker knew what they were doing, he would be alright—for now, at least. “Almost,” he echoed, turning his gaze back to the hollowed out deadbolt. “I just.. need to...” He trailed off as he pulled the last of its frame from the door. “Done.”

Becker smiled at him, relief clear in his face. “Good.” Pushing to his feet, he leaned against the wall a moment before forcing himself upright. “Let’s go find the others then.”

Connor rose to his feet as well, concern worming its way through his chest once more. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay here?” He asked. “I’d hate for—”

“I’m coming,” Becker spat, cutting him off. “You’re not going alone.”

Connor nodded, his lips pursed. “Alright then,” he conceded. Setting the pieces of the lock aside, he handed the multitool back to his friend. “Thanks for the loan,” he said, his nose wrinkled as he smiled.

“Just glad it could come in handy,” Becker remarked. Taking the multitool, he slipped it back into its hidden compartment before nodding towards the door. “Shall we?” He asked, motioning towards it.

At that Connor beamed. “We shall.” Reaching his hand into the half empty hole in the door, he fiddled with the metal until he heard a click. Then balling his fist up, he tugged the door open with it. 

For a moment they both held their breath, expecting a gun toting goon just outside their door. Instead, they were greeted by silence, and a dimly lit hall.

Connor stepped outside, scanning the hall a moment. No one. He let out a disdainful scoff. “What, they don’t even have the gall to guard us after chucking us in our own cell? Unbelievable…” Turning around, he trailed off as he caught sight of Becker hanging on the doorframe, a hand held to his head as he silently groaned.

“Stupid head…” Becker complained, raising his head slightly.

“Hey, don’t take it as a weakness, mate,” Connor said, hands outstretched in the slight case his friend may fall over. “They wailed on you and threw you against a metal locker. I don’t know anyone who’d still be standing after that.”

Becker sucked in a breath before righting himself. “Yeah, well, I have to.”

Stepping out of the doorframe, he seemed to hold himself straighter, all sign of his injury fading in the face of their circumstances—all save the red speckled makeshift “bandage” on his head.

“Come on,” he said, nodding towards the end of the hall. “Let’s go.”

Connor watched Becker as he walked off, stuck a moment in his confusion. After a moment he shook it off, focusing back on the situation. “Wait, but—isn’t the main room that way?”

“It is,” Becker said over his shoulder to Connor. “But the weapons room is this way. I’d like to load up before we try any heroics.”

“Fair enough,” Connor said—just as Becker turned the corner. Realizing he was going to be left behind, Connor took off after his friend. “He’s gonna do this without me, isn’t he?” He muttered as he turned the corner. “Crazy man…”

The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

An armed man stood over Becker, who now lay still on the floor. As Connor froze, the man sneered at him. “Come to join your friend?” He said, hoisting the gun up on his shoulder.

Anger flared red hot within his chest. Any fear he’d held fled at the sight of his friend, unconscious and bleeding more than before. “You’re gonna pay for that,” Connor spat, his eyes roaming the space for anything he could use against this man.

The man barked a laugh. “What’re you gonna do? Quiz me?” He scoffed. “You intelligent folks are all the same. All talk, no action.” The man dropped his weapon to his side as he spoke—giving Connor an opening.

Before he could second guess himself, Connor raced forward, leaping nimbly past Becker and slamming his fist into the man’s face.

The man dropped to the ground, his gun clattering out of his hands, out cold.

Connor cheered before balking at the wave of pain that hit him. He shook out his fist, begging it to stop pulsing with pain. “I think I broke a finger,” He said in disbelief.

A groan from Becker pulled Connor from any thoughts of self-pity.

“Becker!” He cried, turning to his friend. “Are you alright mate? He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he?”

“No worse than before,” Becker moaned as he pushed himself off the ground. He tried to rise to his feet but wavered, falling back to his knees with a grimace, clutching his head with one hand while he steadied himself with another.

“Oh, no,” Connor moaned, dropping down beside him. “Please tell me you’re alright. That was just a fluke, really. I don’t know how I’m gonna stop anyone else who comes.”

“You can do it,” Becker said, blinking past the pain in his head. “I’ve seen you in action—you can wield a gun if you have to.”

Connor scoffed, sparing a glance at the abandoned weapon. “You haven’t known me that long,” he commented, the various times he had failed miserably at wielding a weapon flashing through his mind.

“Maybe not,” Becker replied. “But I don’t think I can do this alone. At least…” he paused, wincing. “Not right now.”

Even as the words left his mouth, his eyes closed and he listed to the side.

Connor’s eyes flew wide and he leapt forward, catching Becker just before he hit the ground. “Yeah, well I can’t either,” Connor said, watching with a growing pit in his stomach as Becker’s eyes fluttered, skirting the line of unconsciousness. “So you’ve gotta stay with me. Alright?”

Becker swallowed, clearing the last of the fog from his eyes. “Alright,” he echoed. “Now—help me up. And grab that weapon before our friend wakes up.”

Connor quickly did as he was told, rushing to grab the gun and rise to his feet, Becker leaning against him just as the man began to stir.

“What do I do?” Connor whispered, struggling to keep the fear out of his voice.

“Find out where the others are being kept,” Becker answered. “We can lock him up after that.”

Connor snorted. “Just not in the cell we were in,” he replied.

Becker gave him a stern look, souring his enjoyment.

The man pushed to his knees, and Connor quickly leaned Becker against a spare crate, toting the weapon at their foe. “Listen up,” he said. “I’ve got the gun now, so you’re gonna listen to me, yeah?”

The man grimaced, but stayed still. “Lotta good it’ll do you. Takes more than a silly gun to scare me.”

Connor swallowed, but forced his nerves down. “Good thing I’m not trying to scare ya,” he said. “Just tell me where my friends are. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

The man sneered. “I’m not telling you a thing. Now put the gun down before you hurt yourself.”

Connor scoffed. The man acted like he hadn’t just been dropped by his punch. “Fine then,” he said, shrugging of the insolent words. “Have it your way.” Sauntering forward, he lashed out at the man with the butt of the gun, knocking him back to the ground.

“What’d you do that for?!” Becker cried from behind him. “We need to know where they’re keeping the others, and we can’t waste time searching.”

Connor knelt down beside the unconscious man and looped the comm off of his ear, meticulously stripping the man of his comm, radio, and vest. “He wasn’t gonna say a thing. Besides, this—“ he held up the comm earpiece dangling on his finger for Becker to see—“is what we need.”

Becker frowned. “I’m not following wonderfully right now, but—I’m not sure why we’d need that.”

Rising to his feet, a wicked smile flashed across Connor’s face. “You’ll see. Now, which way to the comm room?”

Chapter 2: Interference

Connor, now decked out in his newly claimed equipment, led the way, Becker close behind him as they navigated the ARC’s winding halls. Coming to a junction, they paused, scanning the area for any of Johnson’s men. Surprisingly enough, there were none—the halls were vacant.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Becker muttered. “If she was so intent on capturing our base, then why is no one patrolling it?”

“Maybe they’re not expecting trouble,” Connor suggested. “It’s not like backup’s coming.”

Becker hummed his agreement. “Possibly. It just seems like an oversight.”

“Let me guess, you’d have the halls crawling with men?” Connor said with a snort.

Becker shook his head but smiled as well, humor shining in his eyes. “Something like that.” He nodded towards the left hallway. “Come on—this way.” He began to move along the wall, Connor following behind him. They slipped past several doors until they came to a halt beside one that hung open, darkness inside.

“This is it,” Becker said. He pursed his lips, a frown on his face before he spoke again. “What do you intend to do in there?”

“Let’s get in there first,” Connor replied. Holding up the gun, he took a steadying breath before stepping inside the dark room.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust. To his relief, there was no one inside—he was merely greeted by the exact setup he needed to pull this off.

Turning to Becker, he motioned for his friend to follow. Once Becker entered the room, he gently shut the door, clicking both locks in place before flicking on the lights.

Stretching, Connor let out a satisfied sigh as he laid out the comm earpiece on the table. “Showtime,” he said, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

Becker cast a dubious look at him, but stepped back into the corner, letting Connor take the stage.

With a flourish of his hands Connor began taking apart the comm. “Might I have that tool back?” He asked, holding a hand out to Becker.

“Be my guest,” Becker said, passing him multitool. He watched in bewilderment as Connor began to dissect the device, incorporating various elements from the nearby work stations.

“What exactly are you doing?” Becker asked, his eyes struggling to keep up with the flurry of movement.

“If I can rewire this earpiece and connect it to the PA system,” Connor said, “then I can create interference and broadcast it across the channel.” That same wicked smile returned to his face, sending a chill down Becker’s back. “Anyone with one of these in will get a blast of static in their ear, cutting off communications and distracting them.” His smile slipped from his face as he let out a wavering sigh. “Hopefully this will give the others a chance to think of something.”

“That’s quite the plan,” Becker said. He blinked, a wave of vertigo washing over him. Reaching out, he grabbed ahold of a nearby table, just keeping himself upright.

After a moment the dizziness subsided, and he blinked back into the present, the startling visage of Connor appearing before his face.

“You okay mate?” Connor asked, the hint of worry in his voice suggesting that he had repeated himself.

“I’m fine,” Becker replied, sinking back against the wall. “Just finish your machine. Once the others are fine, then we can sort out—this.” He waved vaguely towards his injured and wrapped head.

Connor’s gaze followed the movement of his hand, his eyes narrowing a moment as he studied something. “You’re bleeding more,” he noted. “That can’t be—”

“Connor,” Becker said, cutting him off. “Just finish the machine.”

Connor swallowed, but nodded, taking a step back. “Right. Machine.” Turning back to the gutted earpiece, he cast one more uncertain glance at Becker before returning to his handiwork.

Finalizing his adjustments, he carried the device over to the speaker, connecting it to a plug in the stereo. “I’m gonna draw ‘em out first. Alright?” He cast a quick glance at Becker. “Can’t have ‘em stopping the others from escaping.”

Becker grimaced. “So you’re going to tell Johnson that we’re here?”

Connor sucked in a breath. “Something like that, yeah.” Turning to Becker, he offered a forced smile. “That’s fine, innit?”

Becker’s eyes roamed the room, searching for where the gun had been laid. Spotting it across the table, he stood from his spot with a groan, taking a step closer. “Fine with me,” he said, forcing a smile as his fingers wrapped around the gun. “Let’s just hope you’re right, and the others have thought of something.”

“Yep,” Connor said, his voice quivering as he turned back to the speaker. “Yep, yep, yep.” He cleared his throat, his finger hovering above the red button. Then he pressed it.

The loudspeaker hummed as it came online, giving Connor a chance to catch his breath. Then it was gone; his turn to speak. 

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! It’s your favorite genius, Le Connor Temple, speaking. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful evening so far?”

Glancing back, he saw Becker raise an eyebrow. Connor shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

A radio next to him fizzed, and picking it up, he pressed the receiver. Johnson’s voice came over, clear and furious.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Temple?” She hissed.

“Oh, you know, just making some announcements,” he said, making sure his voice was heard by both the radio and speaker. “This little circus has gone on long enough, don’t ya think? Time the clowns took a lie down.” He paused. “Speaking of, one of your men is going to have a nasty headache later.”

Johnson growled, sending a shiver down Connor’s back. “You imbecile. You think you have any authority here? You’re just playing for time.”

Connor forced a laugh. “Playing for time?” He echoed. “Are you in a rush, ma’am? Do you need to do your dirty work and hurry home before the Prime Minister discovers you’ve been a bad girl?” He prayed the taunt would work, recalling the way she’d spoken to Lester during her last coup. Behind him he could see Becker purse his lips, an impressed look on his face.

There were faint shouts over the radio, most likely Johnson dispatching her men to find him. Alright. Time to reel them in.

“It’s time we talk, man to—woman,” Connor stammered, fumbling the last part. “Come find me and we can talk this out—unless you think you’re no match for Le Connor Temple.” With that he took his finger off the button and slung the radio aside.

Stepping back, he lifted his hands a moment, taking a breath. He could feel his arms tingling from adrenaline. Oh goodness. And now came the worse part.

“Now we wait a moment,” he said, glancing back at his friends, “for them to get a head start.”

Becker tilted his head, a small smile on his face. “Nice work,” he said. The smile faded slightly as he added, “she is going to kill you.”

Connor scoffed. “I bet.” He let out an agitated sigh, wriggling his hands a moment. “That was exhilarating. Ugh.”

That is precisely when they heard footsteps approaching.

“We’ve got company,” Becker said, leveling his gun with the door. “Do you think it’s time to pull your trick yet?”

Connor pursed his lips, his eyes flicking back to the comm system. “I think it is.”

“Good. Now do it.” Becker took a step closer to the door just as it thudded.

Turning back to the speaker, Connor tweaked a final piece on the device. “Ready?” He asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Becker replied.

“Good. Now—cover your ears. This is gonna be loud.” With that Connor slammed on the speaker button, broadcasting the feedback throughout the ARC—and into the ears of Johnson and her men. Instantly a wave of rowdy static cascaded over the system, blasting loudly into their space. Connor clutched at his ears, leaning against the counter. It was like a thousand gnats flying all at once, their tiny little wings creating a torrent of sound.

Behind him Becker winced and groaned, one ear covered and the gun trained on the door.

After what felt like an eternity, Connor pressed the button once more, the sound pressure releasing instantly as the static faded into nothing. Now only the comms would be affected—and hopefully it had done its damage.

Connor sunk to the ground in relief, his ears still ringing from the feedback. He would really have to work on the sound control sections in here—it had been nearly deafening.

He heard Becker let out a sigh of relief as well, and saw from the corner of his eye the gun drop down to his side for a moment.

That’s precisely when the door gave way.

Chapter 3: Team Bonding

The wood splintered as the door was forced aside. Becker quickly raised the gun, his breath catching as he winced from the movement.

Two men rushed in, one after the other, guns raised.

The space was too tight to shoot in. Stepping forward, Becker deftly knocked the first man’s weapon aside, disarming him. The man started, but quickly recovered, striking out at Becker. Becker managed to sidestep the first attack—and stepped right into the next. The man’s fist slammed into Becker’s stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Becker stumbled back, that haze from earlier returning.

“Becker!” Connor cried. The second man lashed out at Connor, forcing him to dodge. Connor just managed to knock the man’s gun aside, and seizing up some of the loose wiring he’d been working with, he jabbed out at the man, delivering a sizable shock to him. The man dropped like a fly.

The other man turned, raising his gun once more. Connor stiffened in place, fear freezing him. In the corner he saw Becker sink against the wall, his gaze distant and his breaths heavy.

This is it, he thought, his own breath picking up. We’re going to die here.

A gun clicked, and Connor closed his eyes, not wishing to see his own demise.

Then a familiar voice spoke.

“Drop it,” Danny said, “unless you want to meet God.”

Connor heard the sound of a gun clattering as it hit the floor. Peeking an eye open, he watched as Danny pressed a handgun to the side of the man’s head, that familiar smirk on his face. “Good.” He nodded towards the hallway. “Come out the way you came—and no sudden moves.”

Hands raised, the man was escorted out of the room.

Connor sidestepped the unconscious man and peered out the door—and was greeted by the sight of Johnson and her men, surrounded by his team. A smile spread on his face as he took count of who was there—everyone was present, no worse for wear.

“You did it!” He cried, barely containing his excitement. “Thank goodness, I wasn’t too sure it’d work. Or if you’d have enough time. I—”

“Yes, yes, much appreciated, Temple,” Lester remarked, that same tired expression on his face as he pointed his weapon at Johnson. “Now would you help Captain Becker? It seems he’s not escaped this disaster unscathed.”

Right. Becker. Connor turned his head and gaped. Becker lay against the wall, barely conscious, the shirt tied around his head nearly red. At the mention of his name, Becker’s eyes blinked open. Hissing, he forced himself upright, taking in the situation.

“Sir,” he said, addressing Lester. “I assume the crisis is over?”

“Indeed it is, Captain,” Lester said with a grim smile.

“It’s not the end of this,” Johnson hissed, fury clear in her eyes even as her hands were raised in surrender.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not,” Lester said tiredly. “Now come on. Off to the Prime Minister for you.” With a nod of his head he, Danny, and Becker’s men escorted Johnson and her men away. Connor just caught sight of the startled expression on her face at the mention of the Prime Minister—it was priceless.

Becker.

Connor nearly cursed himself, his attention returning to his injured friend. “Hey, Becker,” he said, struggling to keep his voice nonchalant. He came around the counter and grabbed ahold of his friend’s arms, steadying him.

“Connor,” Becker replied, blinking slow and breathing deep as he swayed on his feet.

“Come on mate,” Connor said, nodding towards the door. “Let’s get you some help now, yeah?”

Becker blinked rapidly as if clearing his vision and nodded. “Thank goodness it’s over,” he said, letting out a small chuckle.

Connor chuckled as well, gently guiding Becker towards the door. “Yeah. Good thing we got stuck together, innit? Don’t think I could’ve pulled this off on my own.”

“We make a good team,” Becker agreed, a smile on his face.

As they stepped out into the hallway, Becker raised a hand to cover his face, letting out a low moan. The others quickly gathered around them, speaking all at once.

“Becker! What happened to you?” Abby cried, her eyes wide with concern.

“Here—let me see,” Sarah said, reaching towards Becker’s head.

“It’s fine, I promise,” he said, moving his head aside to avoid her prying hands. Though his words were slurred.

Sarah tutted. “Well you don’t look it,” she said, frowning at him.

Becker opened his mouth to reply when his eyes fluttered, and he listed to the side.

Connor swooped in, catching him just before he could hit the floor. Abby jumped in as well, helping Connor hold him up. Becker had lost the battle for consciousness at last, it seemed.

“We need to get him to a doctor,” Sarah said, her words curt and trim.

“Ugh—you can say that,” Connor agreed, struggling to keep his friend up. “Beck here took two hits to the head—surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“Two?!” Abby and Sarah cried in unison.

“Well—yeah,” Connor answered, his voice wavering at their sudden outburst. “One when he hit the locker and two when he fought a guard—and lost.”

Abby tutted, disapproval written clearly on her face as Sarah balked at his answer.

“Follow me,” she said, marching off down the hallway. Abby and Connor wavered for a second, still figuring out the best hold for their unconscious friend. “Well? Bring him!” Sarah cried. Finally she let out a huff and came back, grabbing on to Becker as well.

Finding a rhythm, they began carting him down the hall just as he began to stir.

Becker’s eyes fluttered open, and he came back to himself somewhat, stumbling along with them. “What’s…”

“No time, Becker,” Sarah said. “We’ve got to get you to the medbay.”

Becker frowned, but let the moment pass. The hallway shimmered and shifted before him, the light strong and jarring. Voices sounded around him, he could feel them moving… but the darkness lulling him was stronger. He faded away into sleep just as they reached the doors.

Chapter 4: Epilogue

Becker awoke with a sharp pain in his head. Blinking awake, he caught sight of the bright light far above his head and winced. Turning, he caught sight of Connor sat in a chair beside him, perched awkwardly atop it, sound asleep—snoring.

Frowning, he pushed himself up, trying to rise from the bed.

“Ah—not yet,” someone said. Turning, he caught sight of Sarah entering the room, a hand held out to placate him. “Doctor says you still need rest,” she continued.

“Sarah?” Becker said, confusion stirring within him. “What—”

“You may not remember what happened—serves you right, getting two knocks to the head—but you and Connor saved the day.” She motioned towards the young man who lay sound asleep. “He’s been sat here ever since the doctor gave you the all clear.”

“Really?” Becker smiled to himself. He and Connor had gotten along more often than not, yet the thought of Connor waiting for him was… touching.

“I waited for you too, of course,” Sarah added, “but, well… I got hungry.” She paused in her words, holding out a pastry bag. “Hungry?”

Becker grimaced. The thought of food made his stomach turn at the moment. “Got any tea?” He asked, hoping dearly the answer would be yes.

Sarah shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “You have to wait a bit before you have any caffeine again.” 

Becker let out an aggravated sigh, letting his head fall back against the bed frame. “Course.”

“Well, you can have company instead?” She offered, motioning towards the empty end of the bed.

“Please,” he said, waving his hand as an invitation.

She smiled, taking a seat beside him as she began to eat her pastry. An eccles cake. Too bad. He’d have to ask her for one once he was feeling better.

They sat in amiable silence for a moment. Becker rested his head against the bed frame, allowing the peace to soak in. He nearly fell back asleep—in fact, his eyes fluttered open at the sound of movement. Turning, he saw Abby slipping away, a mischevious smile on her face—and a leaf resting on Connor’s nose.

Connor jerked awake, his eyes fluttering open. The leaf skittered to the ground as he sat up. “Wha—what—” He blinked rapidly, scanning the room before seeming to realize where he was. “Oh.” He let out a sigh, looking rather deflated. “I fell asleep.”

“You did,” Becker replied, an amused smile on his face. “Seems you needed it.”

“No more than you,” Connor replied as he shifted in his seat. “But how are you? Feeling better?”

Becker frowned. He tried to think back on what had happened—how he would have felt earlier—and only came up with impressions. Sitting in the cell, Connor holding the lock pieces, moving down the hall, that horrid sound, leaning against the wall, then… nothing. “I suppose so,” he settled on.

Connor pursed his lips, a sorry look in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Becker asked, taken aback. It wasn’t like the raid of the ARC was his fault. Johnson got to claim that one.

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Connor replied, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat forward. “I was with you, I should’ve protect you, I—”

“It’s alright, Connor,” Becker said, resting a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Really.” He offered him a smile. “You did good.”

Connor’s expression softened, and he smiled as well. “Yes, well, I couldn’t have done it without the great Captain Becker.” 

Pushing to his feet, Connor stretched before stepping towards the door. “Though, If I get to be Le Connor Temple, I suppose it’s only fair you get your own nickname, Rambo.” He smirked playfully at the last part before disappearing through the door.

Rambo? The thought behind it felt familiar, but for the life of him he couldn’t place it. Glancing to his left, he saw Sarah snickering, barely containing her smile behind her pastry bag.

Whatever it was, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to live it down anytime soon.

Chapter 5: Bonus Chapter

Lester leaned back in his chair, a triumphant smile on his face. It had taken some work from the camera team, but he’d gotten it—a picture from the CCTV of Becker and Temple’s great distraction. It was truly a marvelous picture—it almost warranted a poster.

“Rambo indeed…” he muttered to himself, swirling his glass before taking a sip.

Now if only he could get the team to share half this enthusiasm at all times, they might actually get something done around here.

 

The End

… for now.

Notes:

That's it for this fanfic! I hope you all enjoyed it. <3 The daring tales of Le Connor Temple and Rambo... I like the sound of that. There shall be more to come, no worries. ;3

~ Borealis

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Two Are Better Than One