Title: Fractures
Author: tromana
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jenny Lewis
Spoilers: Up to and including Series 3.
Summary: The photo remained screwed up at the bottom of her bag.
Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval either…


The photo remained screwed up at the bottom of her bag. She tried to ignore it, really she did. Leaving the ARC had been the first step, even if it was an unbelievable, exhilarating job, it was easier to leave it behind than to face facts. Yes, she'd miss Connor, Abby, hell, she'd even miss Lester. And memories of Nick… they'd be impossible to blot out.

She missed her figurative get-out-of-jail free clause. The one telephone call that would allow her to free access anywhere, regardless of who owned the building, the plot of land, whatever and what the consequences of their being there were. She had tried to forget what that was like, that everyone around her now, who seemed so carefree, were living in dangerous times. That they shouldn't be scared of bird flu, global warming, heart disease. Dinosaurs were walking alongside them, and worse, the future creatures.

Sometimes, her fingers grazed the crumpled piece of paper, usually when she was attempting to fish out a pen or something equally mundane. It always came accompanied by the thoughts of unreality, and how she simply did not exist in another reality. She hadn't believed there was such thing as the multi-verse before, but that damn photograph was hard proof that something like that had to exist. A Universe where she didn't exist and this woman, Claudia Brown, did in her place.

There was the odd memory, too. Ones she was certain wasn't hers. Fractures of memories of a disorganised gang, fighting the impossible yet somehow managing to escape more or less unscathed. Cutter, ever so slightly less reclusive, both him and Stephen reassuringly alive and Connor and Abby getting on with things like they always did.

Before Cutter died, she was fairly certain he had been warming to her, however slowly it was taking. Was that because of who she was, or who she looked like? The photograph had shown that their physical likeness was more than just a passing similarity. And were there more similarities than just looks? Now, she would never know. It was better to try and put it out of her mind, however difficult that might be, than to carry on brooding on the fact. There were more important things to think about, after all, you never knew when a Velociraptor would be walking up the street. Her old job had taught her as much. She had once heard that dinosaur was Greek for 'terrible lizard', particularly apt considering she'd lost not one but two friends to them.

Whenever she drove past certain roads, or in the direction of the ARC, she was semi-tempted to pull in, tell Lester she had been stressed when she quit and to practically beg for her job back. In reality, she knew she didn't want to be in that building without Cutter. There had been something terribly reassuring about his presence, and now he was gone, the whole atmosphere of the place had changed. Her new job may have been terribly mundane, but there was something safe about it. No questions about life, death and her very existence reared their ugly heads.

And still, the photo remained screwed up at the bottom of her bag.