I obviously still own nothing. Not Primeval and not the songs I used as inpiration. Still I hope you enjoy and leave a review.

His eyes hurt but he couldn't move them away from the uncouscious woman lying in his bed. She was back, Sarah was back. He was still unable to believe it, his mind barely able to register the fact that this was indeed real. The warmth from her embrace had left him long ago but he was content watching her sleeping. Once or twice his hand had pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and her name left his lips. He felt guilt, pain and happieness all at once. Somehow though even the strongest emotion was pushed back the moment she turned around indicating that she wasn't unconscious anymore but only sleeping. When one of her arms moved out from under the blanket and a thin long scar was revealed his thoughts caught on to the real life again. He was afraid what Sarah thought about their last mission, what she thought about his failure. Becker was so close to panic that he didn't even question how she had survived. It was all too much, he had to get out.

With blood shot eyes I watch you sleeping
The warmth I feel beside me is slowly fading
Would she hear me if I calls her name?
Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

His hands were shaking when he grabbed the sink in his bath. Still they were the only thing holding him up as he suddenly felt drained and paniced all at once. His head hung low, his breathing was uneven and his vision blurry but it didn't matter for he didn't register his surroundings anyway, all he saw was Sarahs sleeping form in his bed. A whimper escaped his lips. This was pathetic but he couldn't help but feel guitly. She could have died; he had thought that she had been dead. He had seen one scar and wondered how many more she had. He was to blame. It was all him who should have been able to safe her.

Raising his head he looked at his mirrorimage and was shoked by his looks. His eyes were wide, his hair tousled and some strands hang in his sweaty face. On autopilot he turned on the water in the shower, tossed off his clothes and went in to get soaked. Somehow lethargic he let the water run over his body until he felt nothing, then his legs gave in and he slowly slid down he shower-wall. Unable to grasp any thought running through his head he sat there. All sense of time had left him the moment he had bolted from his bedroom. The pictures of Sarah, the predator and her scar slowly fading into nothingness, the sound of the shower the only thing his mind registered anymore.

The moments died, I hear no screaming
The visions left inside me are slowly fading
Would she hear me if I calls her name?
Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

It was only when the water run cold enough to hurt that he stood up, able to think again. His breathing was normal again and he looked less paniced but still his eyes seemed empty even to him. It was the lingering fear that Sarah had only hugged him because he was the person who had been there, the fear that she hated him, the fear that it really had all been his fault. Donning a pair of black sweatpants and a dark blue shirt he walked out of the bathroom to get something to drink. As he walked towards the living-room he couldn't help but throw a look at his bed seeing Sarah sleep. Despite his fears a small smile crossed his features. She was back.

With a bottle of water in his hand he made his way towards the free space next to his couch in order to go through some combat motions. He had to do something to clear his head and there was no way he could shoot arrows in his appartment. Playing his guitar was also impossible because there was no way he would dare to wake up Sarah.

Fifteen minutes into combat-training he found himself putting too many emotions into it. He was unable to get his head in the game; rather the more he tried the less it worked. Every memory came back and as pathetic as is was he broke down again. It was a lot like the time when Sarah had died, he was utterly unable to control his emotions. Compared to the last time he had broken down not half an hour ago this was somewhat worse, he was angry at himself for standing in the middle of the room, his breath caught in his throat feeling that nothing would be alright. He should stop with the pity-party. He was a soldier and it wasn't as if Sarah had died, she had come back. Yet another thing to put on the list of his failures. He was unable to react according to the situation, he should be happy whatever her reaction would be because she was back and he had not totally failed at keeping the team alive. He should be happy because not only were Abby and Connor back but the woman he had grown exrtemly close to was back in his life making him see hope again. Needless to say he was still far too insecure and afraid though. When would this be over, when would he be able to move on?

This battered room I've seen before
The broken bones they heal no more, no more
With my last breath I'm choking
Will this ever end I'm hoping
My world is over one more time

Sarah stood at the entrance to the living-room with a worried look marring her featrues. She was watching Becker as he stood there shaking. Silent tears rolled down his face, each one piercing her heart once more for she knew he was crying them out of guilt.

She didn't know when she had moved towars him or when she had pulled him in a hug. She didn't know when they had moved over to sit on the couch cuddled together or when she had started telling him that it wasn't his fault. What she knew was that she had been the one who had left his side. He was not to blame but even though she tried so hard to tell him this he seemed s breakable she was shocked that it was her fault.

Her own eyes welled up when she saw a picture of herself standing on a bookshelf on the other side of the room. Around it stood three flowerpots with an unusual choice of flowers. Dark blue pansies and snowdrops, loyality, rememberence and hope along with a forget-me-not, combining the meanings of the other two flowers and adding a new meaning.

"It's not your fault, it's alright, we are alright. I'm here now; I'm here because I feel safe here. Don't... please. We are alright." She wasn't certain whether she tried to convince him or herself but it didn't matter as both of them seemed to calm down. Their breathing returned to a normal pace. Yet none of them seemed to be able to let go, both holding on, keeping themself together, trying to stay grounded.

They stayed huddled together like that for the rest of the night until way past the start of Beckers shift. Lying on the couch together no words were spoken but somehow among the silence of the night they had reached an agreement. They would safe eachother as long as they needed to and none was to blame for the incident a year ago. They would be alright. Somehow.

Your tears don't fall
They crash around me
Her conscience calls the guilty to come home
Your tears don't fall
They crash around me
Her conscience calls the guilty to come home

As Sarah watched him leave she saw that he stood a little straighter than the night before, he seemed to carry himself with more ease. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips when he turned to look up to her on the balcony and shot her a smile before getting in the car and driving of no doubt already awaited by a furious Lester. For a moment she allowed herself to be happy, closed her eyes and let the sun shine on her face.

Sometimes after rainstorms came the most beautiful days. She could only hope.