Title: "Blame it on the spring fever"
Prompt: Summerchallenge at 120_minuten, package 1 - "Spring fever"
Pairing: Connor, Abby, Danny
Word Count: 1.059 words.
Summary: There’s a reason Connor is tired. But which one?
A/N: Kind of stupid to have the warning in the header because that spoils the surprise but not everyone reads it. Although I would think this is fairly harmless. So if you want a surprise in the end ignore the spoiler under the black.
It' s an mpreg!fic. So consider yourselves warned. Usually I avoid mpreg!fics like the plague but I was in a silly mood. *gg*
Disclaimer: Primeval is the property of Impossible Pictures.
Beta: darkhorse_99 was so kind and helped.
“Blame it on the spring fever“
Connor yawned heartily and his gaze wandered to the clock. It wasn’t even twelve o’ clock and he felt like going to bed already. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked for a second time at black numbers on his screen. He tried to concentrate, but failed when he had to yawn again.
His eyes watered and instinctively he picked up his coffee mug, only to notice that it was empty. His shoulders hunched in resignation. He was still contemplating whether he should go to the kitchen or just remain at his seat when a hand touched his shoulder.
”Parted too hard yesterday?” Danny said and winked.
Connor stared at him puzzled. “Nope.”
Danny examined him closely. “You look like a ghost.” He grabbed the back of the desk chair and turned the boy to him. “Are you sure you slept at all?”
Connor yawned for the third time. “I don’t know what’s the matter,” he answered weakly. “I slept completely normal, like always. And I still could fall asleep immediately, right here and now.”
Danny nodded understandingly. “Maybe you’re just over-worked?”
Connor shook his head. ”Because of what? We haven’t seen an anomaly in weeks.” He eyed the timer in the right lower corner of the monitor. “To be precise for 6 weeks, 2 days, 7 hours, 51 minutes and 10 seconds.”
“Nice to see you haven’t lost your humour, mate” Danny grinned and took the cup from Connor’s hands. “I’ll bring you a coffee.” He offered and started to move in the direction of the kitchen.
Connor raised his brows in surprise. “How did I earn this honour?”
Danny turned around. “I’ve in a good mood.” He answered and went around the corner and out of sight.
It was silent at the ARC and the usual hectic of the day had succumbed. Abby crouched over the monitor and looked closely at the screen.
“What?” Connor barked irritated at the head of his blond ex-flat mate which appeared over his shoulder.
“Eight weeks,” she said grumpily and dropped on the chair next to Connor. “Eight damn weeks and not one single anomaly in sight.” She sighed. “If it continues like that, I’m going insane!”
Connor gave her an annoyed stare.
“And I’m obviously not the only one,” she commented dryly and looked at Connor. “You’re not in a good mood either.”
“I’m tired.” He answered short tempered and pressed his thumb and index finger against the root of his nose.
Abby patted reassuringly his arm. “Spring fever?” She suggested helplessly.
“And I’ve a headache.” He added.
She still patted his arm in an attempt to comfort him when Danny stepped over to them. “If I have to see one more folder with old reports ever again, I swear I have no idea what I will do!”
“Lester?” Abby smiled sympathetically.
Danny nodded. “Lester thinks that the 'slow period’ we have right now,” he drew quotation marks in the air. “Is an ideal opportunity to complete old reports and sort through all the papers.” He sighed theatrically. “Wonderful!”
Abby laughed while Connor rubbed his temples.
“And… what are you two up to?” Danny asked in hope of distraction.
“I’m bored out of my mind,” Abby answered and started to spin on her chair. “And ‘Mr. good mood’ here,” she nodded at Connor, “could do with a nap.”
Danny regarded the dark haired technician. “Are you still really tired?”
Connor shrugged. “It’s even worse. I could sleep 24/7. Besides that I have a splitting headache and yesterday I was nauseous the whole day.”
Concerned Danny laid the back of his hand on Connor’s forehead. “You don’t have fever,” he declared. “But maybe you're coming down with something?”
Abby looked at the two men. “How long have you felt really tired?” She asked, worried by Danny’s words.
Connor yawned. “Since a few weeks ago,” he answered.
“Since before or after the last anomaly?”
Connor thought about it. “I think since after. Why?”
Abby looked at Danny and the ex-cop understood. “Maybe you should do a check-up. Just in case,” he recommended.
Connor stared at him and suddenly it clicked. “Do you think I could have caught something?” He asked hysterically and rose to his feet. “When I crossed the anomaly last time?” He sounded worried and began to knead his hands nervously.
“I was just saying,” Danny tried to calm Connor down. “That your description sounds as if you’re on your way to becoming ill. That doesn’t need to have to do with the anomaly in the slightest.”
Connors eyes were still panic-stricken. “But it could,” he cried a little too loudly.
Abby touched Connor’s shoulder lightly to calm him. “But it doesn’t have to.”
The young man’s gaze drifted from Abby to Danny and back again.
“Oh my god…,” he mumbled hysterically, “Oh my god!”
Lester sat in his office and was working on his e-mails when his phone rang. Annoyed his routine was interrupted, he took the call. His secretary announced Doctor Spencer on the other line. He let her put her through, curious what she had to tell him.
Doctor Spencer was the ARC intern doctor who was responsible for the teams. But there hadn’t been an anomaly in eight weeks and as such, no need for her skills.
Calmly he listened to the doctor’s explanation.
“What?” he cried surprised and continued to listen in shock. “And you are absolutely certain?”
Doctor Spencer repeated her diagnosis again and Lester’s finger cramped around the receiver.
With a clipped goodbye he ended the conversation and left his office.
“I’m going to the medical ward,“ he said to his secretary, whose eyes followed him on his way out. With quick strides Lester went to the medical area they set up in the ARC, a spacious examination room decorated in light pastel colours.
Connor lay with his upper torso naked on one of the beds, an ultrasonic device pressed against his abdomen. He eyed Lester in panic when he crossed the threshold. Lester's face was a stoic mask that didn’t reveal any emotions.
Connor swallowed. “I swear,” he cried nervously, “I have no idea how this happened!”
Lester looked quietly at the doctor who wordlessly turned the monitor of the ultrasonic device to him. The ARC’s boss examined darkly the screen.
“No doubt,” Doctor Spencer confirmed, “Connor is definitely pregnant.”