Word count: 1430
Notes: Crossover with ‘Allo ‘Allo
Notes (2): Fits my Primeval Bingo (November card) square ‘Courtship rituals’.
Becker leaned out from the side of the building, looking cautiously around at the quaint little village square that the anomaly had left them in. Keeping his hand on the weapon he carried, he edged out, signalling for the others to stay back. When he glanced back, however, Connor was already following him, gawking around like a tourist.
Their arrival here was a mistake. They had gone through an anomaly to return a baby raptor – against Becker’s wishes; he’d protested at length about rescing one of the little buggers but Abby had somehow persuaded Lester to give the rescue-mission the go-ahead. It had all been going smoothly until the adult creatures had shown up. The three raptors chasing them, they might have noticed that a second anomaly had opened up just a short distance down the hillside from where the original one had been. The one that would have taken them home and back to the nice, safe ARC instead of… wherever-the-hell this was.
“It looks peaceful enough,” Connor commented happily, oblivious to the exasperated glare that Becker was casting his way. “At least there are no raptors.”
His smile dropped when he noticed the two armed German soldiers who were walking in their direction.
“Um, Becker? We might have a bit of a problem.”
Becker had already seen them and dragged Connor by the back of his jacket back out of sight, keeping an eye on the soldiers and indicating for Abby to stay quiet.
“Connor, do you want to draw their attention?” Becker snapped in a low voice. “Looking at their uniforms, I’d say that we’re about 80-90 years in the past- what?”
Connor tugged on his sleeve again and pointed to something behind Becker.
“It’s not them I’m worried about.”
A strange, dark haired woman in a long beige coat and a navy blue beret was pointing a gun at them. When she spoke, Connor frowned.
“That’s French. I though the blokes out there were in German uniforms?”
Becker sighed. “Think about it, Connor. My guess is that we’re in France, during the occupation.”
He turned to the woman. “Please don’t shoot,” he said, ignoring the surprised looks from the others when he said it in perfect French. “We’re friends.”
She didn’t look convinced, but at least she didn’t pull the trigger.
The following day, Becker, Abby and Connor sat around a table in the little café, dressed in borrowed clothing which had been chosen to make them blend in with the locals. At first, the café owner, Rene, had objected rather loudly about their presence, grumbling about having to put up with more English idiots when he ‘hadn’t managed to get rid of the last two yet’.
What he hadn’t realised, and what Michelle – the odd woman who had found them hiding in the square and brought them in here at gunpoint – hadn’t bothered to inform him, was that both Becker and Abby spoke passable French and were listening to every word.
“We can leave on our own; we won’t need your help with that,” Abby informed him, enjoying the look of surprise on his face. “We just need somewhere to lay low until the… until our exit comes back. It’s hard to explain.”
Rene had looked around at Michelle, his wife and two waitresses, all watching him with pleading expressions, hoping for some backup and finding none. He sighed.
“Fine! Who cares what I think? I only own this café that you seem to think is a refuge for stranded British Airmen and any other oddballs who wander in off the street…”
He was still complaining as Edith, his wife, led them all upstairs to find them something different to wear, something that wouldn’t make them stand out quite as much.
Hence the fact they were now sitting in the café, at a table in the corner, trying to keep a low profile until the anomaly reappeared.
“Any idea how long it’s going to be?” Becker asked as Connor checked the electronic gizmo in his hand once more.
Connor shrugged his shoulders. “It could be a few days. Or weeks. I only got a quick reading from it before it vanished and the data-”
“If you don’t have a clue, then just say that.”
Connor sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Abby took another sip of the wine that they’d been served. “Well, at least we’ve got food, drink, somewhere safe and warm to wait, and allies. It could be worse.”
“You’re kidding, right? We’re in occupied France in the middle of World War 2, being aided and abetted by a crazy woman who claims to work for the Resistance, two waitresses, a café owner who is quite obviously shagging said waitresses, and his wife, who seems oblivious to that fact. Oh, I forgot the two English numpties who, for reasons I don’t even care to find out, are hiding in a dustbin in the back yard at present.”
Connor sniggered as Abby rolled her eyes. “Well, when you put it like that…”
By mid day, Connor was bored. He wanted something to do; he wasn’t used to just sitting around without his usual array of electronic distractions. Aside from his anomaly detector, he didn’t have anything with him. Not that he could have sat there playing on his laptop or listening to his ipod as it would have drawn unwanted attention to them, but that didn’t keep him from wishing he had them.
He was almost glad when the bell over the door chimed, until he saw the German uniforms on the new arrivals that was.
Glancing nervously at Rene, he saw that the café owner didn’t seem bothered by the two men. In fact, he seemed to be on friendly terms with them, smiling at them in greeting as his wife showed them to a table.
One of the German officers, however, had other ideas. Connor saw his eyes light up as he noticed Becker and he made a beeline for the team’s table where he fluttered around for a moment before sitting in the empty seat next to Becker.
Rene frowned, coming to stand by Connor at the bar, watching Becker smile at something that the man had said.
“Huh.” Rene looked slightly put out. “I thought he fancied me.” When he noticed Connor turn to look at him curiously, not understanding a word, he sighed, heading for Abby. She was watching in amusement as Becker and Gruber chatted in French.
“You probably should warn your friend that Lt. Gruber seems to have taken a shine to him,” he told her.
“He must have noticed: Gruber’s laying it on pretty thick,” Abby mused.
“What are they talking about?” Connor asked in a low voice. Not that it mattered, as Becker was paying more attention to Gruber than to the rest of them.
“He’s just offered to show Becker something he calls ‘his little tank’,” Abby said. “I’m really hoping that isn’t just a bad euphemism.”
She turned to Rene to get his reaction and he nodded. “He does love that little tank.”
“A tank? Becker would do anything for a tank.” He leaned over the table. “Becker? Can we have a word?”
Becker just waved them away.
Again he was ignored. Becker’s smile grew wider as Gruber said something else and he nodded eagerly, also ignoring Abby when she tried to get his attention.
As an afterthought, Becker turned to the others. “I’ll be back soon. He says he’ll let me drive the tank!”
“Becker, maybe you should stay-”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry; I won’t be long.”
“Do you think he realises that he was getting hit on?” Abby wondered aloud when the pair left the café, Gruber leading the way. Rene followed Abby and Connor to the window where they watched Becker and Gruber walk over to the small tank that was parked in the street outside. The two men talked animatedly for a moment before Gruber opened the door to let Becker climb inside.
“Well, if he hasn’t realised, he’s going to get a nasty surprise in a minute,” Rene commented.
Moments later, the tank drove away down the street.
Four hours later, the sound of the tank outside made Connor and Abby look up, Rene coming back to their table. Moments later, Becker and Gruber came back into the café, both smiling happily and looking decidedly more rumpled than they had when they left earlier.