Becker couldn't count the number of times over the past year he'd stood in the back of the Hub, leaning over the rail and staring at the seat at the Anomaly Detection device. He couldn't count the number of times he'd looked at that chair and imagined seeing something in it…thin shoulders, black hair he knew from experience to be impossibly soft, maybe even a fedora…

He couldn't count the number of times he'd blinked, only to open his eyes and realize he wasn't there. There were no lithe shoulders for him to sneak up behind and slip his arms around, no black hair to card his fingers through, no fedora to tip down over those rich brown eyes to win himself one of those charming little smiles.

None of that, only…Jess.

Don't get him wrong; he had no problem with Jessica. It was just seeing her in his place, in Connor's place, and being painfully reminded each time that he was gone. A part of him hated her for that.

And now, a month after Connor'd found his way back, Becker could still hardly bring himself to blink. That was Connor sitting there in that chair, where he was supposed to be. He knew logically that he was there for real, that it wasn't in his imagination, but…there was still this part of him that was afraid that if he let Connor out of his sight, he might disappear again.

"Careful, mate." A voice that Becker knew, without looking, to belong to Matt sounded beside him, loud enough to be heard by Becker but soft enough that it wouldn't reach certain people in the front of the room. "Staring at him like that. Someone might think you fancy him or something."

Becker flashed him a glare before resuming his vigil. He knew that teasing in his friend's voice, and he knew that Matt knew exactly why he was "staring at him like that." He'd made the mistake of letting loose at a pub with him one time; too many beers loosed his tongue, and he'd drunkenly confided in Matt that he didn't just fancy the then-missing young man.

He loved him.

Then he lost him.

He'd gotten drunk a lot those first few months.

Of course, this last month hadn't exactly been sober, either. With Connor back, he'd been slapped in the face with the fact that his feelings were just as strong as before. He hadn't felt so right in so long as he did when he first pulled Connor into his arms when he came through that anomaly. The feelings were there.

The only problem was, he had no idea what to do with them. There was no telling what sort of psychological effects getting trapped in the Cretaceous period could have on a person – it wasn't like Freud had ever had a chance to take a crack at it – and Becker wasn't sure how Connor felt anymore. Did he still feel the same as he had before? What if he'd changed? It seemed naïve to think he wouldn't have…he would've had to, to survive that long.

Becker just had to figure out how much and what parts.

"This isn't a spectator sport, mate. You can't just watch him from the sidelines and expect to get anywhere."

"And what would you have me do instead?" The words came out harsher than he'd meant them to; his nerves were a little raw, and Matt's cavalier attitude about this whole mess was getting on the last of them. His constant meddling…he acted like this was so simple. Like there was nothing to think about, to figure out.

In the face of Becker's terseness, Matt just shrugged. "Have ye tried talking to him, even?"

"And saying what? 'Oi, Connor, I know your year with the dinosaurs trying to eat you probably put you a little out of sorts, but I was wondering if we could just pick things up where we left off.'?"

"It'd be a start," Matt said without missing a beat. "Better than whatever you're doing now, at any rate, watching him like a bloody voyeur or something."

Becker scowled. In all fairness, he knew it was odd, just watching him like this, but he couldn't help it. Seeing Connor back, seeing him alive and, for the most part, well…he couldn't take this for granted ever again.

"You don't understand," he said, and even to his own ears, he sounded utterly miserable. Resigned.

Beside him, Matt let out a sigh. "You're right mate, I don't. But I do know a little something about over-thinking…just don't let it get in the way of doing something that'll make ye happy, yeah?"

He seemed to think he'd said all he needed to say after that, because with a small smile, he clapped Becker on the shoulder and walked away.

Becker so hated when he did that.

The worst of it was…he wasn't wrong. Self-satisfied, smug, Scottish as he was, he wasn't wrong, and that killed Becker.

It was settled, then: he needed to do something. He just didn't know what. Give him a rampaging mammoth, give him an army of man-eating t-rexes, and he'd know exactly what to do. But when it came to matters of the heart…

He was hopeless.

He was saved from another stint of self-loathing – it had kept him and his hangovers company the past year while he'd buried himself in work – by the sound of alarms and red flashing lights.

Christ, he knew his life was fucked when he was actually relieved about an anomaly.

Shoving aside all the madness in his head, Becker grabbed his vest from where he'd draped it over the rail and shrugged it on as he jogged over to the main computer. As soon as he finished zipping up his vest, he leaned over the desk, bracing one hand on the desk beside the keyboard and the other on Connor's shoulder.

It seemed even a year couldn't break some habits.

Connor jumped at the sudden contact; he'd been doing it a lot since he got back. Becker chose to take it as a good sign, though, when he felt the tension beneath his fingers relax, and Connor launched right into his usual high-speed run down.

"Got a signal down at the pub on Third. Already got people phoning it in, but so far nothing definite. I can't tell you what it is."

He actually sounded genuinely sorry.

Becker gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're fine," he said, and then he straightened up. Time to start giving orders.

As Becker moved back, Connor spun around in his chair. "How do you do that?"

Becker stopped short in his strategizing to raise an eyebrow at Connor's odd question. He didn't understand.

"Gettin' here so fast," Connor said. "Like you're reading me mind."

"Or reading over your shoulder…."

Becker turned another glare Matt's direction, and Matt shrugged innocently. Things were getting off track; he needed to focus.

And, if at all possible, stop blushing like a fool, too.

"Jess, what's the damage? Casualties?"

Jess didn't so much as look away from the wall of monitors she was sitting in front of, and her fingers kept clacking away. "None so far, but two injured, on their way to the hospital."

Becker nodded. None dead yet; that was good. It was his job now to make sure that didn't change for the worse.

"Matt, you're with me."

Matt nodded, but as they started to leave, Connor opened his mouth to protest.

Becker beat him to it. "Connor, you're staying behind."

"But—I can handle it, Becker. I'm cleared for the field, remember?"

"I remember," Becker said. Of course he remembered. "The pub's small. Too many people, and we'll just be stepping on each other's toes."

It was logical. If there were too many of them, it would be chaos, and someone would get hurt. That said, Connor looked so...depressed. Becker knew how much he wanted to be in he field, and he wasn't keeping him out because he didn't think he could handle it. He respected Connor too much for that.

"But—"

Becker held up a hand and cut him off. "Next time, Connor. I promise."

At first, Connor didn't seem to care, but then he subsided. A little bit of the pout eased out of his puppy dog eyes. "Promise?"

"So long as it's not in a broom closet, I think we can work something out," he said, and then favoured Connor with a wink and a small smile.

In return, Connor gave him a grin that Becker thought should be weaponised. Fuck Matt's guns; Connor's smile could knock any dinosaur on its ass ten times over and stupefy it to boot.

Jess's voice snapped him from his stunned silence. "Be careful," she said.

He nodded. "Of course."

"We'll be back before you know it," Matt said.

Or, at least, that had been the plan.