#Aparajita Khan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nehswritesstuffs · 3 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part LVI

...and so it begins...

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

The polling places haven’t been closed for more than twelve hours and Kate has already gotten a summons... [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

A trip into Switzerland was more stressful than a lot of people would let on, Kate decided. For one: this particular instance was much more rushed than what any tourist would likely experience, let alone regular—though still frantic—people wasting the scenery and cosmopolitan culture of a Geneva outing on something as dull as business. She had gotten the call in the dead of night, waking up not only herself, but the rest of her family as well as they sat around the television set in the family room, passed out in their respective spots as they attempted to stay up and see the votes results as they started to come in. Malcolm had jolted completely upright from his spot using her lap as a pillow, Conall had fallen off the arm chair, and Fiona roused from being slumped over on the coffee table, napping nearly atop her laptop computer. Their stomachs dropped when they saw the caller ID: Geneva.

Fuck.

There was no time to vocalize any foul language, however—she had answered immediately. “Fuck, lov—!” Malcolm got her free hand covering his mouth—shut the fuck up.

“Stewart speaking.”

“I take it you’ve been watching the reports.” She had froze for just a tic too long. “Report to HQ at oh-nine-hundred hours. Local time.”

No introduction, no explanation, no anything; just orders.

Shit in a shovel—she had been summoned to UNIT’s Geneva HQ.

Thus started a panicked rush to get everything in place for her to head over to Switzerland for maybe one day, maybe four—who the fuck knew? She was bleary-eyed and completely knackered after no more additional sleep by the time Malcolm drove them back into the elevated carpark for the Mainframe before the sun rose, an email coming through on her mobile as they reached the roof.

“What the absolute hell is going on?” It was Bambera, and she did not have to be there in person to let it be known that she was livid.

A bit of attempting a slight bit of damage control later (because most people, yes, would understandably flip the fuck out if their boss arrived to work sixteen hours early after a potentially life-changing national vote), Kate stepped onto a plane, accompanied by a small detail. Malcolm had wanted to come along, be there for her when she needed to duck into a cupboard and get some frustration out, yet she forbade it—who else would she trust to run the show if she was detained for a week or more? Instead it was her son, along with Aparajita, an Osgood, Ji-Yu, and Dr. Shaw; with most of her departments and the Tripartite being represented, she was at least confident with the image she was presenting. Kate Stewart was taking this summons very seriously.

For two: there were not necessarily that many people that could go and say they were being dragged to Switzerland to be bollocked, of all things.

“I don’t like this, Mum,” Gordon frowned. He was in his dress kit, looking as though he was about ready to pass out in fear. UNIT Headquarters was positively swarming with soldiers, many armed to the teeth, making it clear that it was not just a bunch of international diplomats and scientists at-play. Ji-Yu and Osgood had wandered off in the crowd, leaving the four to linger by the lobby wall while waiting for them to catch up. “This is not sitting well.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Aparajita scowled. She was texting furiously on her mobile, trying to give direction to Shaw the Lesser from a distance so that the tit didn’t commit suicide-by-Tucker. “If this summons were any clearer, we would have been told to bring a belt or cane of our choosing with which to beat us.”

“It’s not that bad,” Gordon claimed. He looked at Kate, whose deadpan expression was all he needed. “It is that bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s very, very bad,” Dr. Shaw affirmed. “In my experience, it should be the grand retirements you get called to the central command for, not because some children got pissy over having the same passports as the French.” She leaned against the wall and shrugged as indifferently as possible. “We’re not here for cake and party crackers, that’s for certain.”

Stomach dropping, Kate could feel the stares of the other higher-ranking UNIT members wandering around, going about their business. It was likely that they were going to all reconvene later, after her admonishment for something that she had no control over whatsoever, and pick up the pieces that she was about to be forced to drop. All thirty-one other Mainframe Heads were likely off in a conference room somewhere, starting a betting pool over the what, when, where, and how of her eventual demise. Even amongst Old Guard, not many had as much riding on the meeting as she did… shit, even Gordon had a chance of escaping this alive, career intact after a transfer, but her…? Everything she ever was or would be depended on it.

“Sorry about that,” Ji-Yu said as she and Osgood approached the group again. “I saw one of my old classmates from uni and needed to introduce Osgood to him—whiz at quantum mechanics. He’s working over in Tanja at the moment; they're here to answer for the Referendum as well.”

“Something tells me that Tanja’s fate and ours are going to be two completely different things,” Kate reminded her. She then took a calming breath—they could do this. “Are we ready?”

“If I were any more ready, I’d’ve taken up nicotine patches in lieu of smoking,” Aparajita quipped. Kate rolled her eyes and began the walk over towards their designated bollocking-session. It was too early, too soon after the vote, and too knee-jerk a reaction, in her opinion. Let the chips finish falling before allowing the gulls to come over and raid the bounty.

The conference room they were ushered into was hushed and grim, a distinct difference from the last time Kate was there. The only other summons she had for this particular chamber, it was for her appointment to head Mainframe UK. Now… it was grim, with a distinct chill in the air that had been absent before. A collection of forty-three varying policy-makers and career soldiers were already there, preparing for the session in their tiered seating, some staring as the newcomers walked into the room. The group from Mainframe UK sat down at the tables opposite their jury and judges, prepared for the worst.

“Everyone seems so serious,” Kate said, her tone attempting to lighten the mood slightly. General Bambera, who was at the front of the group, frowned grimly.

“Everyone merely knows the implications that have been raised with the recent vote,” she replied. She glanced to her right, where a sour-faced man was shuffling through some papers. “Mister Secretary?”

“Brigadier-Director Stewart, we cannot overlook this situation we have staring back at us from the United Kingdom,” he stated. “Polling numbers are coming in that are tipping the scale towards a Leave vote. The best-case scenario is going to be that there is a referendum of the referendum, nullifying and making this whole fuss moot before any motion was officially filed.”

“…and none of us here are fool enough to think that would ever be the case,” Kate said calmly. So much for bureaucratic rigmarole to slosh through first before getting to the meat and potatoes of the occasion. “You make it sound as though I directly told people to vote Leave in order to spite everything we've fought so hard to build… to spite everything my father poured his soul into in lieu of paying attention to me as a child.”

“You don’t need to tell me your family history,” the Secretary said. “You Lethbridge-Stewarts are sneaky, popping up when I least expect them.” His attention turned towards Gordon, whom he considered carefully. “Another one? You are like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“My son is not the concern here, but the situation we have found ourselves in,” Kate said, attempting to railroad the conversation back. “You summoned me because you have a plan, or a request for a plan, or something for us over at Mainframe UK. I have complied, arrived at short-notice, and brought along representatives from much of my staff. What do you have, Mister Secretary?”

“What I have is your husband’s file,” the Secretary said, voice nearly menacing. He picked up the manila folder and jabbed it towards her before bringing it back towards him and opening it up. “Worked in Whitehall for years—three different Prime Ministers—and he seemingly operated independently of them… almost giving some orders of his own.”

“The Government is different now… the Opposition is different… he would not have the same impact as before.”

“That does not change the fact that he is a former Whitehall insider with access to many of the people who are either making decisions, or the people who have access to the people making decisions,” a woman in a back row added. “Why is Lieutenant-Colonel Tucker not here?”

“He is my second-in-command,” Kate said. “Mainframe personnel recognize him as a competent and capable substitute in my absence. He has handled multiple emergencies in my stead when I have not been available.”

“…and where were you during these emergencies?”

“We thought she was dead at least one of the times, so it’s not like she was ignoring her duty,” Aparajita said firmly. The woman looked at her, brow furrowing.

“…and who are you…?”

“Khan—I’ve been working as Tucker’s assistant for the past six years, three years with his predecessor prior to that. I know what he is capable of in a way that Director Stewart is unable to grasp due to the nature of her relationships with him. He is precisely where he belongs right now, and not because he has had to fill in for our Director’s inequities. If she has any then they are left at home. I am here because I am his second-in-command; I might not be the correct person to handle the Mainframe in her entirety, but I am more than qualified to be his additional eyes and ears in front of a council of stuffed shirts and washed-up crossing guards.”

Their jury took note, a few murmuring with one another. Few of them appreciated Aparajita’s sharp tongue, though they could not argue against her defense of her bosses, not with how clear and confidently she spoke.

“Do the rest of you echo this sentiment?” the woman asked.

“Mister Tucker is a bit unorthodox, but a professional all the same,” Osgood replied. “His leadership skills are invaluable when Director Stewart is unavailable.”

“Agreed,” Gordon echoed.

“I’ve been under the command of many different men and women,” Ji-Yu added, “and Tucker and Stewart are two of the best. Whatever brought them to the decision for him to remain at the Mainframe is sound enough reasoning for me.”

“Solid logic as any,” Bambera said.

“You also are predisposed to say so,” the Secretary replied. He frowned at the guests, though exhaled in irritation. “What about you, Dr. Shaw? Do you have a glowing review of this literal felon as well?”

“A felon…?” The scientist feigned shock and leaned forward so she could look down the table at Kate. “Living a bit on the wild side, are we?”

“Not now, Dr. Shaw…”

“Tucker is the reason I’m back at the Mainframe,” the older woman said, returning her attention to the council before them. “If you have an issue with his leadership roles, then you should have thought of that before authorizing his hiring into a role that involved… well, precisely that.”

A couple snickers came from the interrogators and the Secretary scowled. “Then I guess, as of this moment, we have little choice for the time being but to deal with the matter at-hand best we can; it still does not change the fact we need to deploy Tucker to Whitehall in order to influence policy, lest we need to upgrade the Ireland Auxiliary to the area’s Mainframe."

“Tucker has been in active political games against most of the people currently within Whitehall,” Kate reminded them. She kept a mask of calm, not wanting to betray the fact she was absolutely mortified at the idea of UNIT pulling the entire Mainframe out of the UK, where they were needed. It was not as though Ireland was without want, but their auxiliary more than handled the island, where as the Mainframe itself… it was simply imperative it stayed put for more reasons than her vanity. “I doubt they’d be willing to have a friendly chat with him when the last time they spoke, he threatened to eviscerate them and spread their entrails across several ridings should a policy go awry.”

“I thought you said he was a professional,” another military woman said. “Professionals don’t threaten violence like that.”

“Have you ever tried getting a politician to get their head out of their own arse for long enough to function properly?” Kate posited. “It occasionally takes some strong language and vivid details in regards to the consequences, let alone making it clear there might be consequences at all. Threats can be the same as love letters in that line of work.”

“As someone who used to deal with some of their lot as their incompetence was ripening,” Dr. Shaw added, “the Brigadier-Director is being kind in her assessment.”

“So then he cannot aide UNIT in gaining favorable positions within Brexit negotiations?”

“We’ll be lucky if he can make it in past the Number 10 cat, let alone to anyone with a position that can lead to policy molding,” Kate said. “The crowd in power has no fealty to, nor fear of, him like other Governments did.”

“Pity.” The Secretary closed the file folder in irritation. “Then why, pray tell, did we authorize commuting a decades-long prison sentence, allowing him to walk free with the assumption that he would help keep the British government in line?”

“Sir,” Aparajita interrupted, “that was done under a coalition government, completely different than the one we currently have in place. Demographics within the British Government and Opposition have shifted and the political landscape is no longer like it was when Mister Tucker was released.”

“She is correct,” Kate added. “To think that he has the same effect in a different environment is to completely ignore the politicking that got us a Leave vote to begin with.”

“They have a point,” an American shrugged. “It’d be like siccing him on whomever gets to move into the White House next year; you can do it, sure, but I don’t know how well it’ll work.”

“The Yank has spoken,” an Indian man joked. A couple others snickered in response.

“I’m all for cussing more, but I’m just saying,” the American replied. “Why didn’t we summon Tucker as well, if you wanted to grill him so hard?”

“I shouldn’t need to request individuals when it’s clear the highest in command persons are needed,” the Secretary said. “Do you have a plan in place, Stewart? You clearly have had time to think about the possible outcomes.”

“We were prepared to formulate plans starting today, adjusting as the climate changed,” Kate said. “We have the barebones already, and are merely preparing to add the details, since we don’t know how negotiations with the EU are going to be approached.”

“Then you have three months to report back on your contingency plans,” the Secretary ordered. “We need you to be as thorough as possible.”

“What happens if there is not enough to go on that would constitute the makings of a plan?” Gordon wondered.

“You better come additionally prepared,” the Secretary decided. “Now leave, and hope that we don’t need to put in a few thousand transfer notices in a few months.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kate stood and, without making sure the others were following, left the conference room. She went down corridors until she found an empty hall, slipping in to give herself a moment. When she turned back towards the door, she saw that her coworkers had followed, and that Ji-Yu was working on locking the door behind them.

“Jesus fuck,” she shivered. Kate’s whole body began to shake and she started to feel weak-kneed. Gordon sat her down in one of the chairs and watched as she began to crumble. “This is not going to be pretty.”

“No one ever said it was going to be pretty, whether the Referendum passed or not,” Aparajita said.

“It’s ascended past ‘not pretty’ and gone straight towards ‘total disaster’,” Ji-Yu frowned.

“That’s putting it nicely,” Osgood said through clenched teeth.

“Just SHUT UP!” Kate snapped, raising her voice. “We get the bloody point!”

“Mum, please…”

“We are both on-duty—it’s Brigadier-Director,” she fired back. “I am not about to lay down and let everything that our predecessors fought and bled for to just die, just because a bunch of racist, Thatcherite cunts were able to find a scapegoat for the fact that half the bloody world is no longer ours to exploit at their leisure! We’re not perfect, but that doesn’t mean we deserve to eliminate all that hard work!”

“…but Granddad…”

“…is not here right now!” Her fingers could not stop twitching as her world was crashing down all around her. “He’s not here, and at the first available opportunity, those fucking wankers are ready to piss on his grave and dismantle everything he and the rest of the Old Guard did! The only reason UNIT as a whole exists in the form it does is because of them! Because of him! Fuck!” She let the tears flow from her eyes as she sunk down to fold her arms on the table, resting her forehead on them. Every bit of her felt wobbly and angry, like she needed to be sick all over the mockingly-standardized office rug beneath her. “They’re pathetic.”

The others all glanced at one another, not entirely certain how to approach not only their Director, but their mother, friend, and reminder of those already gone. She was grieving all over again, making her nerves more raw and exposed than they'd seen in a long time, if ever, especially since she was very clearly channeling her husband. A chill washed over Kate and she visibly shivered. “Let’s get out of here before I get sick.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Gordon agreed. “How about it ladies? Osgood? I think we all could use a bit of a rest before heading back to the mainframe.”

“I think, maybe, that would be best,” Aparajita agreed. She offered Kate a hand up as she stood, noticing how truly shaky she was. “Don’t those cunts know how we’ve been operating with relative ease as of late? It's not like we’ve fallen into one of our turnover bouts.”

“Tanja’s in one, from what I hear,” Ji-Yu offered. “Maybe that’ll help us in the end.”

“We need all the advantage we can get,” Aparajita said.

She passed the Brigadier-Director over to Gordon and the group carefully went on their way towards the barracks, where they were able to rest in peace. They were careful to avoid running into anyone, or talking to old acquaintances and transferees, and were able to snatch up a trio of short-term visitors’ suites all next to one another. It was only bunks and some chairs and a table, but it was enough room for them to plop themselves down two to a room. Gordon made a sweep of the suite Kate and him were sharing and found it to his satisfaction before sinking onto his own bunk.

“Is Fiona with Conall?” he asked, trying to come up with something different—something normal—to talk about. His mother had already laid down and was staring at the ceiling. “Mum…?”

“Yeah; she’s with him.”

“Wasn’t she supposed to be at work today?”

“No.”

The young man frowned—whether it was his boss or his mum, this wasn't going to do. “You’re scaring me.” She allowed her head to fall to the side, looking at him dully. “Don’t make me bring Granddad into this again.”

“Fuck… I don’t need this… not from them, not from the council, not from you…”

“Then who from?”

Not wanting to answer that, Kate rolled over, facing the drab grey wall of the barracks, blocking him out instead. Her mind was going at hundreds of miles per hour, and all of them were shit.

“I guess I’ll get some sleep as well—the flight back’s going to need me in decent shape,” Gordon said. He laid down and ignored his mum; he was going to try again later.

Except, what he didn’t know, was that she was fighting back tears, allowing herself a more private moment. What she wanted was to simply fuck off back to Mainframe UK and get her husband in a panic room for a few hours before regrouping, but she couldn’t. Not for a few hours at the least… but those few hours were going to be hellish in the meantime.

Once she heard her son snoring quietly, Kate reached into her pocket and brought out her personal mobile, unlocking the screen and pulling up a photo of her father. More a photo of a photo, she had snapped the image from an album last time she went to visit Benton and his wife, having found the ghost of miscellaneous members of the Old Guard to be intriguing. The Elder Osgood was there, carrying a bunch of drinks over to the table at the pub, where her father was sitting along with Benton, the Doctor, Yates, and a few others from back in the 1970’s. Benton had told her it was one of the photos Jo Grant had taken during their many exploits; for her, it was a rare glimpse of the man who seemed so aloof and absent, who she only really began to understand once she began working with him. To see him mid-drink wasn’t anything new, but in such a relaxed setting while so young… it was an odd, completely foreign thing to her.

After a moment, she swiped through her pictures until she found a different photo: one of Gordon and Fiona as children, possibly around 2003 based on the length of her son’s hair. Another few photos and there was her older two with her father, with her mother, with their other siblings, at this house and that place, and she thought about everything she and her father had missed because of UNIT… all to be washed away if the council didn’t think it worth working with the UK anymore to stay where they were.

She came across a photo of Malcolm and Conall, the latter sitting atop the former’s shoulder as they watched television. Shoulder—Malcolm’s left shoulder, specifically, like a bloody parrot—why of all the places? He hadn’t sat like that before or since, meaning she was a bit glad that she had captured the moment when she did. Another picture and she found Fiona, Gordon, and Kanda at Marco’s wedding, another with the kids along with Lex and Euan… and no matter what she found, it tugged at her heart because it was all now at risk.

The mobile buzzed and Kate checked the messages—Malcolm.

‘Is there a verdict?’

She hesitated, thumbs over the keyboard.

‘We have until September to come up with multiple survival plans,’ she replied. She paused again, thinking about how to word the next part. ‘They want to force my hand.’

Minutes passed.

‘What do those fucking suits think they can force?’

‘Deploying you.’

More time passed, during which Kate began to stare at more photos. A new message came up just as she was staring at a picture of Malcolm at the bunyip farm down in the Australian bush.

‘To Whitehall, I presume?’

‘We told them it wouldn’t work.’

Another pause.

‘Do you need me to call you?’

‘What I need is YOU, here, but instead I’m in a fucking jail cell of a suite with my son sleeping on the other side of the room and a sense of dread so intense I’m getting a headache.’

Moments later and her mobile began to buzz as a call attempted to come through. It was Malcolm, though she didn’t answer. Kate knew that she didn’t need Gordon accidentally listening in on the two of them, nor did she want to risk talking about anything else. All she wanted to do was get some sleep at that point, because it was about as much as she could fucking stand. She had just barely drifted off when the mobile in her hand buzzed, jolting her back awake.

It was a voicemail… from Malcolm… that was twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, fuck. So much for her inbox space. She popped an earbud in the ear that was resting against her pillow and plugged in the headphones, wanting to be safe.

“Kate? Yeah? I know you can’t talk, so I thought I’d do the talking for you. Just put the message on pause for a moment and make sure it’s clear before listening to the rest, okay? Yeah? You good? I don’t exactly want to talk dirty to you if my fucking stepson is your security detail within ear’s shot…”

She fell back asleep listening to the message, her husband’s violently explicit threats towards Geneva HQ and graphically sexual promises towards several of her body parts actually allowing her to relax better as she attempted again to get some rest.

#The Thick of UNIT #Kate Stewart #Malcolm Tucker #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #Gordon Lethbridge Stewart #Aparajita Khan #Petronella Osgood #Hwang Ji Yu #Winifred Bambera

6 notes · View notes

wikitopx · 5 years

Link

Here are the top 500 Indian Names!

[toc]

1. Top 500 Indian Names for girls

Abha — Splendor, light

Aditi — Boundless, freedom

Aisha — Alive

Aishwarya — Prosperity, wealth

Akanksha — Desire, wish

Amala — Clean, pure

Amandeep — Peace

Amardeep — Immortal, light

Amarjeet — Immortal, victory

Anima — Minuteness

Anisha — Nightless, sleepless

Anjali — Salutation

Aparajita — Unconquered

Aparna — Leafless

Apurva — New, unpreceded

Aradhana — Worship

Archana — Praisin

Aruna — Reddish brown

Arushi — Hitting, killing

Arya — Aryan, noble

Asha — Wish, desire, hope

Avani — Earth

Azra — Virgin

Bala — Young

Balwinder — Strength, might

Bhavana — Producing, manifesting.

Chanda — Fierce, hot, passionate

Chandra — Moon

Devi — Goddess

Devika — Little goddess.

Diksha — Preparation for a religious ceremony

Dipa — Light, light

Dipali — Row of lamps

Dipti — Brightness, light

Disha — Region, direction

Divya — Divine, heavenly

Diya — lamp, light

Drishti — Sight

Durga — Unattainable

Esha — Desire, wish

Ezhil — Beauty

Fariha — Happy

Gauri — White

Gita — Song

Grishma — Summer

Gul — Flower, rose

Gulbadan — Having a body like a rose

Gulrukh — Rose faced

Gurdeep — Teacher, guru

Gurmeet — Friend

Hema — Golden

Ila — Earth, speech

Inderpal — Protector of Indra

Indira — Beauty

Indrani — Queen of Indra

Indu — Bright drop

Indumathi — Full moon

Isha — Master

Ishani — Ruling, possessing

Ishita — Supremacy

Jaswinder — Fame, praise, glory

Jaya — Victory

Jayashri — Goddess of victory

Jyoti — Light

Jyotsna — Moonlight

Kajal — Lotion for the eyes

Kala — Art form, virtue

Kali — The black one

Kalpana — Imagining, fantasy

Kalyani — Beautiful, lovely, auspicious

Kamakshi — Love, desire

Kamala — Lotus

Kamani — Desirable

Kanchana — Golden

Kanta — Desire, beautiful

Kanti — Beauty

Karishma — Miracle

Kashi — Shining

Kaur — Princess

Kavita — Poem

Khurshid — Shining sun

Khushi — Happiness

Kiran — Dust

Kirtida — One who bestows fame

Laboni — Beauty, loveliness, charm

Lakshmi — Sign, mark

Lalita — Playful, charming, desirable

Lata — Vine, creeping plant

Lavanya — Beauty, grace

Lila — Play, amusement

Lilavati — Amusing, charming, graceful

Lina — Absorbed, united

Madhu — Sweet, honey

Madhur — Sweet

Madhuri — Sweetness

Mala — Necklace

Malati— Jasmine

Malani — Fragrant

Mandeep — Mind, intellect, spirit

Manjeet — Victory, conquering

Manju — Lovely, beautiful

Manjula — Pleasing, beautiful

Manjusha — Small box, small chest

Maya — Illusion

Mina — Fish

Minali — Fish catcher

Mira — Sea, ocean

Mitra — Friend

Mohini — Infatuating

Mridula — Soft, delicate, gentle

Mukta — Liberated, set free

Nalini — Lotus

Namrata — Bowing, humility

Nandita — Joy

Nasim — breeze

Nasrin — Wild rose

Navdeep — New, fresh

Navneet — Eternal

Neha — Love, tenderness

Nida — Call, proclaim

Nikita — House, habitation

Nila — Dark blue

Nirupama — Unequaled, matchless

Nisha — Night

Nishat — Energetic, lively

Nitika — Guidance, moral conduct

Nitya — Always, eternal

Nur — Light

Padma — Lotus

Padmini — Many lotuses

Parvati — Of the mountains

Prachi — Eastern, ancient

Pratibha — Light, splendor, intelligence

Pratima — Image, likeness, reflection

Pritha — The palm of the hand

Priti — Pleasure, joy, love

Priya — Beloved

Priyanka — Agreeable, amiable

Puja — Honor, worship

Purnima — Full moon

Pushpa — Flower

Rachana — Creation, preparation

Radha — Success

Rajani — The dark one

Rajkumari — Princess

Rajni — Queen

Rani — Queen

Rashmi — Ray of sunlight

Rati — Rest, pleasure

Ratna — jewel, treasure

Reshmi — Silk

Reva — One that moves

Richa — Praise, verse, sacred text

Rina — Melted

Ritka — Movement, stream, brass

Ritu — Season, period

Riya — Singer

Roshan — Light, bright

Roshni — Light, brightness

Rupa — Shape, form

Rupinder — Greatest beauty

Sabeen — Follower of another religion

Saira — Traveler

Sakshi — Witness

Sandhya — Twilight

Sanjana — Uniting, joining

Saraswati — Possessing water

Sarita — Flowing

Savitri — Relating to the sun

Shabnam — Dew

Shahnaz — Pride of the king

Shailaja — Daughter of the mountain

Shakti — Power

Shakuntala — Bird

Shanta — Pacified, Calm

Shanti — Quiet, peace, tranquility

Sharmila — Protection, comfort, joy

Shashi — Having a hare

Shikha — Crest, peak

Shila — Conduct, disposition, character

Shivali — Beloved of Shiva

Shobha — Brilliance

Shreya — Superior, best

Shweta — White

Shyama — Dark, black, blue

Siddhi — Accomplishment, success, attainment

Sima — Boundary, limit

Sita — Furrow

Sitara — Star

Sneha — Love, tenderness

Sona — Gold

Sonal — Good color

Sonam — Virtuous

Sukhdeep — Pleasant, happy

Sulabha — Easy, simple, natural

Sultana — Ruler

Suman — Well-disposed

Sumati — Wise, good mind

Sunita — Well-conducted, wise

Suniti — Good conduct

Sushila — Good-tempered, well-disposed

Swapna — Sleep, dream

Swarna — Good color

Tanu — Slender

Tanvi — Slender woman

Tara — Star

Tejal — Brilliance, splendor

Thamarai — Lotus

Trishna — Thirst, desire

Uma — Flax

Upasana — Worship, devotion

Urvi — Wide

Uttara — North

Vaishnavi — Belonging to Vishnu

Varsha — Rain

Vasuda — Granting wealth

Vasudha — Producer of wealth

Vasundhara — Possessor of wealth

Veda — Knowledge

Vidya — Knowledge, science, learning

Vijaya — Victory

2. Top 500 Indian Names for boys

Abbas — Austere

Abdul — Servant of the powerful

Abhay — Fearless

Abhijit — Victorious

Abhilash — Desire, wish

Abhinav — Young, fresh

Abhishek — Anointing

Adil — Fair, honest

Aditya — Belonging to Aditi

Adnan — Settler

Agni — Fire

Ahmad — More commendable

Ajay — Unconquered

Ajit — Invincible

Akash — Open space

Akbar — Greater, greatest

Akhil — Whole, complete

Akshay — Undecaying

Ali — Lofty, sublime

Amandeep — Lamp, light

Amar — Immortal

Amardeep — Immortal

Amarjeet — Victory, conquering

Amin — Truthful

Amir — Commander, prince

Amit — Immeasurable, infinite

Amitabh — Immeasurable splendor

Amrit — Immortal

Anand — Happiness, bliss

Anbu — Love

Anik — Army

Aniket — Homeless

Anil — Air, wind

Aniruddha — Unobstructed, Ungovernable

Anish — Supreme, paramount

Ankit — Marked

Ankur — Sapling

Anuj — Born later, younger

Anup — Watery

Anupam — Incomparable, matchless

Apurva — Upreceded, new

Aravind — Lotus

Arif — Learned, expert

Arijit — Conquering enemies

Aritra — Propelling

Aruna — Reddish brown

Arya — Aryan, noble

Asad — Lion

Ashwin — Possessed of horses

Asim — Boundless, limitless

Aswathi — Sacred fig tree

Avinash — Indestructible

Azad — Free

Azhar — Shining, bright

Aziz — Powerful, respected, beloved

Babur — Tiger

Bala — Young

Balakrishna — Strength, might

Balwinder — Strength, might

Bilal — Wetting, moistening

Chanda — Fierce, hot, passionate

Chandan — Sandalwood

Chandra — Moon

Chandrakant — Beloved by the moon

Chetan — Visible, conscious, soul

Chiranjvi — Long-lived

Darshan — Seeing, observing, understanding

Dayaram — Compassion of Rama

Dev — God

Devadas — Servant of the gods

Dhananjay — Winning wealth

Dharma — Law, duty, virtue

Dhaval — Dazzling white

Durai — Chief, leader

Durga — Unattainable

Eshil — Beauty

Farhan — Happy, cheerful

Farid — Unique, precious

Ghulam — Servant boy

Govinda — Cow finder

Gul — Flower, rose

Gurdeep — Teacher, guru

Gurmeet — Teacher, guru

Hardeep — Lamp, light

Hari — Brown, yellow, tawny

Harsha — Happiness

Harshad — Happiness

Harshal — Happiness

Hasan — Handsome

Hassan — Improver

Imtiyaz — Distinction

Inderpal — Protector of Indra

Indra — Possessing drops of rain

Indrajit — Conquerer of Indra

Isha — Master, lord

Jagit — World, universe

Jahangir — World conqueror

Jaswinder — Fame, praise, glory

Javed — Eternal

Jaya — Victory

Jayanta — Victorious

Jayendra — Lord of victory

Jayesh — Lord of victory

Jaywant — Possessing victory

Jitendra — Conqueror of Indra

Jyoti — Light

Kailash — Crystal

Kali — The black one

Kalyan — Beautiful, lovely, auspicious

Kamala — Lotus

Kanta — Desired, beautiful

Kanti — Beauty

Karan — Clever, skillful

Kavi — Wise man, sage, poet

Khan — King, ruler

Khurshd — Shining sun

Kiran — Dust, thread, sunbeam

Kishor — Colt

Krishna — Black, dark

Kshitij — Born of the earth

Kuldeep — Lamp, light

Lakshmi — Sign, mark

Lal — Boy

Lochan — The eye

Madhu — Sweet, honey

Madhukar — Bee, honey-maker

Madhur — Sweet

Mahendra — Great

Mahmud — Praiseworthy

Mamun — Trustworthy

Manas — Mind, intellect, spirit

Mandeep — Mind, intellect, spirit

Mani — Jewel

Maninder — Mind, intellect, spirit

Manish — Thought, wisdom

Manjeet — Mind, intellect, spirit

Manu — Thinking, wise

Maqsud — Intention, aim

Maruf — Favor, kindness

Mayur — Peacock

Mitra — Friend

Mitul — Measured

Mohandas — Servant of Mohana

Muhammad — Praiseworthy

Mukul — Bud, blossom

Murad — Wish, desire

Murali – Flute

Murugan — Youth

Nadim — Drinking companion

Nagendra — Lord of snakes

Nanda — Joy

Narayana — Path of man

Narendra — Lord of men

Nasim — Breeze

Navdeep — Lamp, light

Navin — New

Navneet — New, fresh

Nikhil — Whole, entire

Nilam — Dark blue, sapphire

Ninad — Sound, hum

Niraj — Water-born

Nirav — Quiet, silent

Nirmal — Clean, pure

Nishant — Night’s end, dawn

Nishat — Energetic, lively

Nitin — Guidance, moral conduct

Nitya — Always, eternal

Nur — Light

Padma — Lotus

Pallav — Budding leaf

Parminder — Highest, best

Partha — Son of Pritha

Prabhat — Shining forth, morning

Prabhu — Mighty, powerful, master

Prabodh — Awakening

Pradip — Light, lantern

Prakash — Light, bright, shining

Pran — Breath

Pranay — Leader, guidance, love

Prasad — Brightness, clearness, graciousness

Prasanna — Clear, bright, tranquil

Prasenjit — Conqueror of an expert army

Pratap — Heat, splendor, glory

Pratik — Look, appearance

Pravin — Skilled

Prem — Love, affection

Punit — Cleaned, purified

Qasim — Share, Divide

Radha — Success

Rafiq — Friend, gentle

Raghu — Swift

Rahul — Able, efficient

Raj — Empire, royalty

Raja — King, ruler

Rajani — The dark one

Rajendra — Lord of kings

Rajesh — Ruler of kings

Rajib — Striped

Rajnish — Lord of the night

Rakesh — Lord of the full moon

Rama — Pleasing, beautiful

Ramachandra — Moon

Rana — King

Ranjit — Colored, pleased, delighted

Rashmi — Ray of sunlight, rope

Ratna — Jewel, treasure

Ravi — Sun

Ravindra — Lord of the sun

Rishi — Sage, poet

Rohan — Ascending

Rohit — Red

Roshan — Light, bright

Rupinder — Greatest beauty

Sachin — True, real

Samir — Wind, air

Sandip — Blazing

Sanjit — Complete victory

Sanjiv — Living, reviving

Saral — Straight

Sardar — Chief, leader

Sarvesh — Ruler of all

Shahid — Witness

Shahjahan — King of the world

Shahnaz — Pride of the king

Shahzad — Prince

Shakti — Power

Shandar — Fabulous

Shantanu — Wholesome

Sharif — Eminent, virtous

Sharma — Protection, comfort, joy

Shashi — Having a hare

Shekar — Crest, peak

Sher — Lion

Shiva — Benign, kind, auspicious

Shresth — Most excellent, best

Shrinivas — The abode of Shri

Shrivatsa — Beloved of Shri

Shyama — Dark, black, blue

Shyamal — Dark, black, blue

Siddhartha — One who has accomplished a goal

Singh — Lion

Sonam — Virtuous

Subhash — Eloquent

Subrahmanya — Good

Sudarshan — Beautiful, good-looking

Sudhir — Good

Suahil — Level, even

Sujay — Great victory

Sukhbir — Pleasant, happy

Sukhdeep — Pleasant, happy

Sultan — Ruler, king

Suman — Well-disposed

Sumantra — Following good advice

Sumit — Well measured

Sunil — Good

Suraj — Sun

Surendra — Lord of gods

Surya — Sun

Sushila — Good-tempered

Swapan — Sleeping, dreaming

Swapnil — Sleep, dream

Swarna — Good color

Tamanna — Wish, desire

Tushar — Cold, frost, snow

Uttara — North

Vasu — Bright, excellent

Vijaya — Victory

Vimal — Clean, pure, spotless

Vinay — Leading, guidance, modesty

Vipin — Forest

Vipul — Large, extensive, plenty

Vishal — Wide, broad, spacious

Vishnu — All-pervasive

Vivek — Wisdom, distinction

Yash — Fame, praise, glory

Yasir — To be rich

Zafar — Victory

Zahid — Pious, devout

Zahir — Helper, supporter

Zaman — Time, age, era

Zawar — Pilgrim, visitor

More ideals for you: Top 100 Korean Names

From : https://wikitopx.com/name-meanings/top-500-indian-names-712009.html

#Wikitopx #Wikitopx - Feed

2 notes · View notes

yahooin-feature · 6 years

Text

YONO SBI 20under20 all set to recognize young achievers

India’s largest bank, the State Bank of India launched its new-age digital bank YONO, in November 2017. YONO has since, emerged as a one stop solution for banking and lifestyle needs, and is a one-of-a-kind comprehensive digital banking platform. YONO represents the legacy bank’s move to be more fluid and in tandem with a new audience that likes to bank on the go at their own convenience on digital platforms.

To celebrate a year of YONO and to connect with a new generation of influencers from all walks of life who have found success and inspiration at a young age; SBI has introduced the concept of YONO SBI 20under20.

20 top young achievers (male and female) under the age of 20 are all set to be awarded for their exceptional contributions in the following categories: Student Achiever, Actor, Sports Champion, Art & Literature, Entrepreneur & Innovator, Social Media Influencer, Performing Artist, Disability Champion, Global Indian and Sustainability Pioneer. These nominees have been curated by knowledge partners, KPMG and YONO SBI 20under20 award has been co-curated by The Network, India’s leading influencer engagement and content agency.

The process validators include well-known names such as Arjuna Awardee, Kamlesh Mehta, social enterprise maven Aparajita Agarwal, Oxford scholar Ashish Jaiswal, senior entertainment journalist, Mark Manuel, educationist and Narsee Monjee Trustee, Sujay Jairaj, Founder of BETiC – Biomedical Engineering and Technology (incubation) Centre, IIT Bombay , Prof B Ravi, digital analytics and audience measurement professional Lavin Mirchandani and Arman Ali, who heads National Centre for Promotion of Employment for Disabled People (NCPEDP), the apex body for disability consultations in India.

This was followed by an exhaustive round of jury deliberations by a high-profile jury on 22nd Nov 2018. The Jury comprised Dilip Asbe, Head of National Payments Corporation of India, Sashi Sreedharan, Managing Director, Microsoft India, Anand Chandrasekaran, former- Director Facebook, Palo Alto, Soha Ali Khan, actor, author, Dia Mirza, United Nations goodwill ambassador for environment, Mallika Dua, social media influencer and Boria Majumdar, sports journalist and author.

Through a multi-level deliberation, the jury ideated to churn out a unique perspective to shortlist 60 final nominations; comprising six nominees, three male and three female in each of the 10 categories. The final winners will be chosen by public voting.

India’s most inspiring young, will be awarded at a glittering ceremony which is set to take place on 4th Feb in Bengaluru.

youtube

#SBI

8 notes · View notes

foreignflicks · 6 years

Video

youtube

Film: Iti Srikanta (2004) Language: Bengali Subtitles: English

Director: Anjan Das Producer: Shantasree Sarkar Writer: Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay (Based on Srikant) Screenplay: Rajarshi Roy, Shantasree Sarkar Cast: Adil Hussain, Soha Ali Khan, Reema Sen Music: Bikram Ghosh Cinematography: Shirsha Roy Editor: Sanjib Datta

Production: Beyond Reels Distributor: Shemaroo

Description: Iti Srikanta (Your Truly, Srikanta) is a 2004 Bengali period drama film directed by Anjan Das. This film is based on novelist Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay's novel, Srikanta (1917).

This was actor Soha Ali Khan's debut film, and also of actors, Aparajita Ghosh Das and Bengali film debut of lead actor, Adil Hussain, whose voice was dubbed in the film by Sujan Mukhopadhyay. The film was part of the Indian panorama section at the IFFI in 2004. At the 2004 Anandalok Awards, Anjan Das won the award for Best Director.

The film is a love triangle between a young man Srikanta (Adil Hussain) and two women in his life, Rajalakshmi (Reema Sen) a rich courtesan and Kamalata (Soha Ali Khan), a vaishnavite living in an ashram. The movie depicts Srikanta’s inner conflict and turmoil over the two women in his life, torn between a baiji and a vaishnavi.

#iti srikanta #srikanta #anjan das #Bengali Cinema #indian cinema #2000s #Drama #roman #society

2 notes · View notes

optimisticprincepainter · 7 years

Text

Homage to late Hindustani classical vocalist Girija Devi, and an impressive line up of concerts by young talents as also some of the stalwarts of Hindustani classical music would be the highlight of the three-day ITC Sangeet Sammelan beginning here from Friday. The list of stellar performers this year will include Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty (Vocal), Ustad Shahid Parvez (Sitar), Ustad Rashid Khan, Pandit Ulhas Kashalkar, Pandit Venkatesh Kumar, Pandit Uday Bhawalkar, Kaushiki Chakraborty (all vocal), Kala Ramnath (Violin), Sucheta Ganguly (Vocal), Ayan Sengupta (Sitar) and Paramananda Roy (Flute), besides others, organisers ITC Sangeet Research Academy told. The grand festival of classical music would open with the presentation of the Sangeet Samman for 2017 to Pandit Venkatesh Kumar, an intense musical force in Hindustani classical music. During the inaugural session, vocalists Omkar Dadarkar, Sucheta Ganguly and Aparajita Lahiri Bramhachary will pay homage to Girija Devi, Guru of the Academy since its inception.With an impressive line-up of artistes, the festival will have young musicians performing alongside the stalwarts, offering music lovers an enchanting experience IANS : 30th. Nov,17

ITC SANGEET SAMMELAN WILL KICK OFF WITH HOMAGE TO GIRIJA DEVI : Homage to late Hindustani classical vocalist Girija Devi, and an impressive line up of concerts by young talents as also some of the stalwarts of Hindustani classical music would be the highlight of the three-day ITC Sangeet Sammelan beginning here from Friday.

0 notes

sandandrain · 8 years

Photo

@Regrann from @green_humour - We all know of Jane Goodall, Rachel Carson and Dian Fossey. But do you know about these heroes? This Women's Day (8th March), Green Humour celebrates some 'wild' women of India- J.Vijaya, Prerna Bindra, Aparajita Datta, Divya Mudappa, Vidya Athreya, Kiran Pathija, Nandini Velho and Tiasa Adhya. Many more that I wanted to name but could not (owing to space constraints in a comic strip) include Shaleen Attre, Neha Sinha, Krithi Karanth, Tasneem Khan, Rajashree Khalap, Ketki Jog and Cara Tejpal. The comic appears in my column with Mid-Day. http://www.greenhumour.com/2017/03/wild-women-of-india.html http://www.mid-day.com/articles/green-humour-comic-strip-by-rohan-chakravarty/18046199 #women #womensday #girlpower #wildlife #science #conservation #leaders #heroes #inspiration #scientists #india #indianwomen #comics #cartoons #greenhumour

#heroes #inspiration #greenhumour #wildlife #scientists #indianwomen #conservation #comics #women #india #girlpower #cartoons #science #womensday #leaders

0 notes

nehswritesstuffs · 4 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part LIV

I just realized that, as of the prior chapter, this is now the largest story I’ve written based on word count! Yet another weird milestone to celebrate! Thanks to everyone for suffering through me for this long, as I--again--could not have done it without you.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

An unexpected visitor drops in for Conall’s birthday. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

After all was said and done, there was little that Malcolm Tucker had to worry about in regards of the wedding of his stepson to his niece’s best friend. Despite certain important-to-the-event people having almost come to a complete stop to look for him and Jamie during their accidental time shift, everything was set up and functioning in time for the bride to walk down the aisle per schedule and make it look as though everything had been planned as such.

Thusly, the ceremony and the reception was a big success overall. With the bride’s mother behaving herself and plenty of food and drinks and a playlist longer than Jamie was tall, there was little to stop the celebration from going well into the night. It was “a real banger”, as some of the guests were describing it, and it made the party-throwers feel all the better about their slapdash and last-minute efforts. Malcolm even knew that he was off his wife’s Shit List when she rested her head on his shoulder while they were dancing late in the evening, the song slow enough to allow most to merely shuffle in-place instead of actually dancing…

…though to be fair, the subsequent make-up sex with Kate later that night didn’t hurt either… but who was keeping track?

The rest of April passed in a bizarre, semi-tense haze. With referendum campaigning hanging over their heads outside Mainframe UK, those in UNIT who had to worry about the near-constant badgering from this official and that group were glad there was a place where they could run and hide in their work. An international status to their organization meant that they had options, and as May rolled around, it allowed for some sense of normalcy to hang in their air, even one soured by looming uncertainty. As it was manifesting differently for everyone, it only made sense that some were handling it better than others.

“Who the fuck do you invite to a child’s birthday party when none of your friends have wee nips anymore?”

Aparajita glanced over at Malcolm from her spot on the couch in his office. He was on his computer, his brow furrowed as he was scrolling through something (it was news; she knew in her bones it was one news site or another), while she had camped out with her laptop and mobile for a change in scenery and the chance to slouch more severely. Although she had been able to hear him muttering the question to himself several times already, it was the first time that day he had asked her personally.

“You know I’m the wrong person to ask this question, yeah?” she reminded him. He half-shrugged, still too engrossed with his computer to commit to the entire motion. “Why don’t you ask Husak? Her son’s a teenager now, isn’t he?”

“That doesn’t mean she has the answers,” he replied. “Neither does Hart in regards to his boys, and they’re much closer in age to mine.”

“Just invite the kids over and have some cake,” she suggested. “Maybe get Miss Oswald over there too. I’m sure she’d love to see Conall on his birthday.”

“…if she’s feeling up to it, anyhow.”

“I’m sure she would be. Oswald’s not the kind of person to just completely drop out of her child’s life—she’ll be there whether you ask her or not.”

“Don’t know if that’s a relief or a threat, but I’ll take it,” he replied. It was then that he heard footfalls in the corridor and the door opened—Kate. “Love, what are we doing for Conall’s birthday?”

“I was thinking along the lines of just inviting the kids over, Oswald as well, and just doing cake and ice cream,” she replied, plopping a stack of folders on his desk, as Themba was on holiday and couldn’t do it otherwise. She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Our son would need to have proper friends before we begin to consider anything else.”

“Fuck—I’m not ready for him to have friends,” Malcolm cursed. “That means other small children running around the house and that is not acceptable.”

“Tell that to November,” Aparajita chimed in from the couch. She could feel the daggers that her boss was trying to glare into her, which only made her smirk. “Hey, all I know is that Kanda and I follow one another online and her last selfie looked just off enough for me to know that she’s starting to fill out a little before the bump officially arrives.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Kate said, letting out a sigh. It was difficult to not laugh at her husband, as the expression on his face was a mixture of disgust and horror, both at the affirmation of there soon being another child guaranteed to be running around their house and the reminder that said child was going to come from his daughter-in-law—whom he had known as a child herself. “I’m having an intern fetch us lunch, come on.”

“It’s a shame I have to leave my own office to get some fucking respect around here,” he grumbled. Aparajita flipped him her middle finger as Malcolm was gently pulled out of the office by his wife. They went into the lift and up to Kate’s office, which already had sandwiches and tea waiting for them. “That was fast.”

“I waited a bit before coming down to get you,” she said, sitting down on the sofa. “Now I see that the timing was perfect.” Kate saw that instead of sitting next to her, Malcolm was headed towards the glass wall, looking down over the atrium. “What’s the matter? You seem distracted.”

“I guess I don’t want to think too much about anything right now,” he admitted quietly. He scanned over the inhabitants of the atrium, watching as many attempted to juggle eating lunch while watching over their own work stations. “Every time I begin to think about something good, I get reminded of the shit that’s going on, and how now that I’m in UNIT, I’m virtually powerless to try to steer it all towards something a little less shit.”

“You’re not powerless—you could always strong-arm some old Whitehall acquaintances,” she mentioned. Kate took a bite of sandwich in an attempt to hint that lunch was still on. “You could call Cal or Nicola or… who was that MP you and Jamie were laughing about at the wedding?”

“Julius,” Malcolm replied. He lingered by the wall for a moment before joining his wife on the sofa, downing half of his tea in one go. “I just want to concentrate on Conall’s birthday, or even how by this time next year there’ll be two of them underfoot, without my mind wandering to that fucking cesspool I was lucky enough to escape.”

“Give it two years… then they’ll both be running around.”

“…a thought that both is terrifying and good to think about.” He munched pensively on a bit of sandwich, staring ahead of him at a speck of air without much focus.

“Hey.” She patted his knee, redirecting his attention. “Don’t worry your pretty head—we’ve got this.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. I think we can handle a first birthday, keeping the planet safe, and maneuvering around whatever June brings. Now if your mother was also coming for a visit, then that would be a different story…”

“Fuck—I don’t need Mam complicating things—don’t scare me like that.”

“Then relax. I’m not saying that you should forget everything else, but reminding you that it could always be worse. You could still be in politics at the moment, and where would that leave us, hmm…?”

“Not in a good place.”

“Exactly.” She kissed him on the cheek and smiled knowingly. “Would you like to talk about the logistics of our son’s birthday before or after we finish off dessert?”

“There is dessert?”

“…in the panic room.”

After; after dessert was good.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Finally, May 14th was upon the Stewart-Tuckers. Being a Saturday, most of the rest of the family would be able to attend the party without issue, which meant Kate decided it was going to be late in the afternoon, closer to an early dinner. With Malcolm and Gordon putting in an early day at the Mainframe, Fiona off getting the cake and other supplies, and Kanda coming along with Lex and Euan later, it was just Kate alone in the house with Conall as a familiar-sounding motorbike came rolling up the drive. She left the child in his play area and went towards the kitchen, seeing as her visitor was placing a brightly-wrapped box and her helmet on the counter next to the door.

“Ah, Clara, there you are,” Kate beamed. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Of course,” she replied. The two women hugged one another tightly—it had been too long, despite the inherent risks that came with her presence. “Why would I miss as big a day as today?”

“Which is why I’m glad Wednesdays are the troublesome days,” Kate said. Clara’s face fell and she avoided eye contact, sending a red flag in Kate’s brain. “It’s getting to be more than Wednesdays now, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Clara claimed. “That rush, that feeling you get when you’re with him… in the TARDIS… with literally everything at your fingertips… it’s indescribable. I almost can’t get enough anymore.”

“Many before you have dealt with that…”

“…and many after me shall, and not everyone can handle it.” Clara exhaled heavily and forced herself to smile again. “Enough of that. Where’s the birthday boy?”

“Right this way.” Kate led Clara through the house to the sitting room, where Conall was playing in his enclosure, the plastic fencing threatening to fall as he bounced up against it in excitement.

“Muh! Muh!” he gasped. He stomped his feet as Clara approached, his giggling shriek high and light.

“Yes my darling—Mummy’s back,” Clara cooed. She picked him up and held him close, rocking him back and forth. “How have you been behaving for Mam and Dad?”

“Mam,” Conall replied, pointing at Kate.

“He’s been very good,” Kate elaborated with a laugh. “He’s starting to learn actual words, which shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does.”

“Were Gordon and Fiona quieter babies?” Clara wondered.

“No… it’s more like Malcolm needs to start watching what he says around Conall, or he shall be the one marching his arse down to playgroup, ready to apologize for inadvertently giving the entire class a new, and rather rude, favorite word.” Clara stifled a laugh—it was disturbingly easy to see, knowing how colorful Malcolm’s phraseology could get. “How about if we put together some tea? There’s a bit of time yet before the other guests show up, and I expect Fiona to still be out for a while…”

“Sounds lovely.”

Clara carried Conall as she followed Kate back to the kitchen, where the toddler was allowed to wander around while his mums put together tea. The boy got a baby-biscuit to gnaw on and some tea-tinged milk in a sippy cup while the women got proper biscuits and cuppas. Clara let him sit in her lap in lieu of the high chair, which made Kate shake her head.

“…what…?” Clara frowned. “What’s with that look?”

“What are you going to do when you walk in and he doesn’t remember?” she asked. “We’ve been lucky so far—what’ll happen when his being a child catches up to us?”

“Let’s deal with that once it happens,” Clara insisted. She stroked Conall’s hair—so fluffy and soft—as the boy relished the attention she was giving him. “I just want to enjoy this moment.”

“…that makes at least one of us…”

Kate and Clara both tensed and turned their attention to the door at the sound of the new voice. There, standing with her fists on her hips, was the Master, looking mildly vexed and bemused both at the scene before her.

“How’d you get here?!” Kate hissed as she reflexively stood. The Master read the room for half a moment before stepping forward.

“Now isn’t this rude? Not inviting the prettiest of the fairy godmothers makes it so that curses befall one’s children.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kate warned, stepping in between Conall and the Master. Clara held the boy close, making certain that he didn’t try to slip away and wander off.

“Dare I what?” the Master asked, her lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, the nipper. Don’t worry—your wee bairn is safe from me. I don’t like children, even if they are the Doctor’s child.”

“What makes you assume that?” Kate asked. “It only makes sense to protect a child if you can, even a lowly Human child… especially a lowly Human child with no way of defending itself.” The Master examined her fingernails for a moment, making certain none of them had chipped during the journey over.

“It’s all simple Time Lord nonsense, really,” she explained. “I’ve run into the Doctor’s genetic signature so many times now that it’s painfully obvious… especially when it’s being fussed over by the very person I all but shoved in his arms, hoping he’d get a leg up and have some fun for once.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Clara asked.

“Hmm… I guess not.” The Master sat down at the table and helped herself to some tea. “I take it you’re the only two who are aware of the entire situation as it is?”

“Us and a select number of people,” Kate said. She and Clara both remained standing, ready to move against the Master at a moment’s notice. “As far as most people know, he is a child my husband and I adopted… just an unassuming Human child.”

“…and what does the Doctor think about all this?” After waiting for a reply and getting nothing, the Master feigned shock. “You mean, the father does not know? He had to of known, with the whole puffing up like some flesh-balloon and all… unless… yes… you kept him away somehow, didn’t you? It had to of been months…”

“That is our business, not yours,” Clara stated. The Master tutted, wagging her finger in disapproval.

“Anything that involves that sap and his progeny most certainly involves me, as I have a special interest in the Doctor and those who are connected to him. I do have to say: when I played matchmaker with the two of you, I didn’t think I actually found someone who could knock gametes and spawn with him.”

“…what do you mean…?” Clara wondered cautiously. “Isn’t that a risk that people take?”

“Not Time Lords, and certainly not Time Lords with any being who is not a native of Gallifrey,” the Master shrugged. She sipped her tea and delicately picked up a biscuit. “You might be Gallifreyanoid, but you are genetically nowhere near our kind. It should be extremely difficult for a Time Lord to sync their fertile period with that of another species, and even then the genetic variance should be enough to eliminate most of that particular risk, rendering the couple functionally barren. This sort of union producing offspring is, frankly put, a big oopsie-doodle of a taboo for a very good reason.”

“…and what, might I ask, is the punishment for this taboo?” Kate asked firmly. The Master put down her cup and folded her hands atop the table.

“If there were one thing I was to ever say that you should believe completely and truly, it is this: I don’t know and I don’t plan on finding out soon,” she explained. “This happens so rarely that the punishment is not common knowledge, even amongst proper Time Lords, and I want to watch which direction this goes in before I start accusing my old school mate of heresy. Your secret is safe with me… for now.”

“So… you’re really going to keep our secret?” Clara frowned critically. “Why should you? What motivates that silence?”

“I just told you: I would be accusing my old school mate of heresy of the highest order and who knows what’ll happen to him? If he regenerates because of me, I want to be the one to pull the trigger, not a firing squad.” She looked at Conall and paused in thought. “Besides, I’d likely be the one who’d have to dispose of the nip and I do so dislike children. They’re moist where they shouldn’t be and smell rude at the worst times.” The Master cringed in disgust and continued munching her biscuit. “I babysat once—if it hadn’t’ve been so gross I would have sat on the baby.”

“You’re twisted,” Clara stated.

“I can’t help that I’m completely and utterly… bananas,” the Master said casually. “What I can help, however, is by keeping that pants-soiling secret of yours a secret… I swear by the bond the child’s father and I share… that is, until I need it to be not so.”

“…and when might that be?” Kate asked. “This child is here because this is the safest place for him to be not only for his own well-being, but for the planet and galaxy as well. You know as well as we do how existing can be dangerous.”

“True…” The Master finished off her cuppa and stood, her eyes not straying from Conall. “One day I’ll introduce our dearest Doctor to this wee scamp. Until then… know I’m watching you.”

“That’s it…?” Kate wondered. “No other warnings?”

“If this was a plant done on-purpose, then there would be someone watching from afar anyhow to make sure nothing went kersplat on the pavement; since it won’t be done officially due to the nature of this child’s existence, then unofficially will have to do.” The Master sauntered over towards the door and half-turned, looking back at Kate and Clara over her shoulder. “If you do anything… anything at all that I don’t like, then just know that you’ve been warned.”

A shimmering haze surrounded her and in a flash, the Master was gone—a vortex manipulator.

“Sweet fuck…” Kate half-whispered. She looked at Clara and watched her sink to the floor, Conall still in her arms. The boy was looking back and forth between his two mums, wondering what was going on. “Are you alright?”

“She knows…” Clara choked out. “Oh God… she knows…”

“Mam…?” Conall squeaked, looking at Kate. His eyes got wide as Clara’s, the boy looking as though he was going to cry.

“I don’t know how she was able to track us down, but she’ll have a more difficult time of it next go-around,” Kate swore. She knelt down next to Clara and Conall, realizing how badly the former was shaking. “She won’t hurt us. I promise.”

“She’s a Time Lady… and much better at all that stuff than the Doctor,” Clara said. “He’s admitted as such to me. If she wants something, she’ll get it.”

“…and I’m telling you that I won’t let her spook us that easily,” Kate said. Okay, sure, it was partially a lie, considering how they both were very afraid right then and there, but she knew it was possible to not allow the Master to have the upper hand in her game of wits. Clara twitched as the door opened—instinctively pulling Conall close to her chest again—and they looked at the new intruder: Fiona.

“What the hell is going on here?” the young woman asked. She put down the cake box on the counter and looked at the table, counting the used cups. “Did Dad come home for a bit? His car’s not in the drive…”

“I’d take that every day compared to what just happened,” Kate said. She helped Clara up as Fiona got Conall. “We just got a social visit from a Time Lord.”

“Oh fuck—the one who murders or the one we’re afraid will murder or an entirely new one altogether?”

“The Master,” Kate said. She watched as her daughter went pale—despite not being part of UNIT, she knew just enough to be aware of how much of a fucking clusterbomb that was. “She figured Conall out.”

“…how…?”

“We don’t understand why or how, but we understand that she does,” Kate said. More things began to crash into her mind, the huge implications behind the Master’s visit being too large to have crossed her mind all at once. “Get me my mobile—I need to call Malcolm.”

“Your mobile’s here on the table…”

“No, the work one. I need this encrypted and off the normal telecommunications grid and I don’t know if my legs will hold out.”

“Right.” Fiona left the room for a moment and returned with her mother’s mobile. When she returned, Clara was sitting at the table with Conall, while Kate was shakily continuing tea. “Hey, I got this—just call Dad.”

“Thanks.” Kate fumbled with her mobile, but was able to put a call through. It rang ominously; each passing tone through the speaker couldn’t pass soon enough.

“Shag-a-Scot Sex Services, how many I direct your call?”

“Malcolm, where are you?”

“Still at work—need me to pick something up before I fuck off for the day?”

“Where is Gordon? Bismuth? Dr. Shaw? Fuck… I’m going to need the Osgoods and Ji-Yu too… eventually…”

The line was silent for a moment, her husband clearly digesting her tone and words. “What happened?”

“The Master was here, and she knows about Conall; figured him out with one glance.”

“…fuck.” Another pause. “Do you need me to warn them while I’m still here?”

“Please… and do it discreetly. Don’t explain Conall to R&D and Tech quite yet, but just let them know we’re going to need to adjust the shields here, as it did nothing to keep a vortex manipulator out. Make sure you’re behind closed doors too—we need none of this getting out. It’s why I’m telling you now over the phone and letting you spread the word compared to repeating myself on here and further risk being accidentally overheard.”

“Consider it done.”

The call ended and Kate placed her mobile on the table, staring at it cautiously. A fresh cuppa and some biscuits had been placed before her, which allowed for a steeling sip.

“There goes our dessert-before-dinner party,” Fiona frowned. She made a face at Conall, which caused the toddler to giggle. “You bogey; don’t go attracting space-psychos on us now. That’s precisely why you’re here: to prevent that.” Conall babbled at her importantly, seemingly irritated with his sister. “Don’t you sass me—I know how to hide your biscuits.”

“Why can’t we be left alone?” Clara wondered. She continued stroking Conall’s hair as she looked over at Kate with tears stubbornly welling in her eyes. “All we’re doing is trying to do well by a child—why must the Time Lords always butt in and threaten with their rules and taboos and feel as though it’s their place to threaten the rest of time and space into submission?”

“Let’s face it: they’d be terrible lords and ladies if at least some of them didn’t,” Fiona offered. Seeing how shaken Clara and her mother still were, she knew that the only way the birthday party was going to get off the ground was going to be if she took charge.

The sooner the other party-goers could come over and take their minds off batshit-insane Time Lady antics, the better off everyone was going to be.

#The Thick of UNIT #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Malcolm x Kate #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #Aparajita Khan #Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Clara Oswald #Fiona Stewart (OC)#and down here bc dash spoilers:#The Master

4 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 4 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part L

Holy wah! Fifty chapters! Thanks for your continued readership and support, everyone! Now, as I’m certain everyone’s been anticipating (kinda), we get to kick off yet another story arc to weave into everything that’s going to take forever to get through and have lasting repercussions.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

They did it. They actually called it. Now it’s up to certain people to keep a vast majority of Mainframe UK from freaking out before anything actually throws down. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

“Well fuck me sideways and call me Mary—they’re actually gonna try to do it.”

Malcolm furrowed his brow and looked at his mobile momentarily. He was in the middle of making sandwiches for himself, Fiona—the lass wrapped up in feeding Conall his lunch on the other side of the room—and Kate—who was on her way back from an odd fuck of a shift at that moment—and did not appreciate Jamie’s hard veer away from the previous topic.

“Who is going to try what? We were talking about Wee George trying to actually make money off of shinty.”

“Dropping out of the European Union, mate—it’s all over the fucking news.”

Malcolm dropped his voice and turned towards the window, pretending to be interested in something outside. “Shit; so the vote’s planned? No more tabling?”

“It’s what it looks like—fuck. They can’t do this to me, not when Kendall wants to study in Dresden and Kennethia in Nice and Penny wants to attend grad school in Dublin and I still want to go visit all of them without needing to pass any fucking checkpoints like it’s the Cold Cunting War.”

“You know they’re just doing that to get away from you.”

“I don’t care what the fuck they’re doing it for! This bullshit could complicate things! I’d be a shite da if I wanted something that would complicate things like that for no discernable fucking reason!” Jamie then paused for a moment, which Malcolm took as not a good sign. “Wait a tic… how the fuck did you not know this? You always know shit like this before it drops.”

“Well, considering people have been bitching for a bit, it’s not surprising that someone upstairs is finally calling bluffs,” Malcolm replied. “Besides, I’m out of that part of the game now. I literally work for the United Fucking Nations whether they admit it or not—UK politicos have been steering the fuck clear of me more than usual. That, plus I don’t have to turn on the TV anymore… there isn’t even one in the kitchen or in-sight of it. Most days it’s best I don’t.”

“Must be nice.” Jamie paused, then cussed unintelligibly. “Fuck... I got a client calling; pick this up again later?”

“Don’t work too hard and make me look bone-fucking-idle.”

“Cheers.”

The call ended and Malcolm placed his mobile on the counter, stunned. What he thought was going to be a decent pissing match before lunch ended up being a bone-chiller. Fuck… who had the iron-cast balls to call something like that? What he’d told Jamie was right: he’d been out of the game for too fucking long indeed.

“What was that, Dad?” Fiona asked idly. Malcolm looked over his shoulder and saw she was still concentrating on showing her baby brother how to properly consume his soup-infused rice to mixed results. “You went quiet there all of a sudden.”

“I… uh…”

“Wee George isn’t in trouble again, is he? I know he’s Uncle Jamie’s nephew, but that idiot’s bad news…”

“No, no—it has nothing to do with Wee George.” He paused, watching his kids, and decided he was going to fact-check first. Ten seconds and a news app was open on his mobile, and guess what was all over the front fucking headlines. “Fuck… he’s not just having me on.”

“…about what…?”

“That fucking bullshit about leaving the EU… I knew I should’ve been paying attention…”

“Oh that? It’s just a bunch of hot gas and has been for years and is going to actually take years to get further than we are now, you know that. The Act isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

“It will when someone actually drops a steaming referendum atop the shit pile.”

Fiona’s face went pale. “Wait, what?! Already?!” She left Conall with the rice bowl and went to Malcolm’s side, looking at his mobile as well. “Jesus fucking Christ—Nona and Nonno are going to fucking flip their shit.”

“They won’t be the first or the last,” he scowled. “I already know your mam’s gonna be fucking livid when she gets home. This is not going to go down well.”

“What would it mean for you two…? I mean, you are UN, right? Should that not make any difference…?”

Malcolm exhaled heavily and locked his mobile screen, feeling a headache coming on. “Yeah, it shouldn’t, but this could throw a major hitch into daily operations. Our survival as a mainframe depends on the free movement back and forth of people, which would be more of a hassle if Britain’s out of the European Union. Shit… it’s not like we don’t have literal illegal aliens hanging out in the fucking mainframe as is.”

“I thought there were plenty of cross-jurisdiction mainframes,” she mentioned.

“There are, but that’s not our problem right now. What is our problem is how we’re going to operate smoothly with more barriers in our way or if we’re going to be abandoned with what’s left of Gibraltar after it’s forcefully severed from Tanja.”

“…you make it sound like you think it’ll pass in the poorest manner possible…”

“I didn’t even think they were brain-dead enough to levy the referendum; whomever pulled the trigger on this must be either off their fucking gourd or thinking they’re calling a bluff that doesn’t need attention.”

“They passed an Act and are actually acting upon it for once…”

“Just because they passed a fucking kidney stone doesn’t mean it’s actually going to be anything from enforced to enforced well. I should know.” It was then that Kate arrived home, her car coming up the drive and parking near the kitchen door. “Oh fuck—that’s not a good look. Love, I take it you heard the news?” He watched as Kate stormed into the kitchen, absolutely fuming.

“What contacts do you have that I can use to pressure this into redaction?” she snapped.

“None of my remaining contacts even warned me about the announcement,” he claimed. “I’m just as much in the fucking dark as you are. I only knew anything was going on because Jamie and I were having a chat and he saw it on the news.”

“I’ve already had three calls and ten panicked text threads over it, and that was after I left Outer London.” Kate ran a hand through her hair in frustration, which her husband found sexier than he was going to admit at that moment, and she spied the half-made sandwiches. “Which is mine?”

“Oh, fuck—I was in the middle of that when Jamie saw the news,” Malcolm realized. He hurriedly slapped the remainder of the sandwiches together and presented his wife hers. “Crisps alright with it?”

“Sure; Fiona? Can you please make a pot of tea? I get the feeling I’m going to be doing damage control for a while.”

“Sure thing, Mum,” Fiona said as Kate disappeared into the house. She then turned her attention to Malcolm. “Dad, I’ll take Conall today. All I was going to do was some laundry and maybe bake a pie. I think Giggles over there can handle that.” She jammed her thumb in Conall’s direction, who was somehow wearing more rice than he was seemingly left with. “I got him—you go and join Mum in keeping everyone calm.”

“Thanks.” Malcolm kissed both Fiona and Conall on the forehead before taking his lunch with him over towards the home office. Kate was already there, tapping furiously on the computer as she munched on her sandwich. “No one’s fucking listening, are they?”

“I swear, if I wasn’t already nearly home when I heard the news, I would’ve just turned right around and gone back,” she grumbled. She saw Malcolm plop himself down on the couch and open his laptop, sandwich next to him. “I thought you had Conall today.”

“Fiona didn’t have much planned, so she volunteered,” he replied. “I just want to know what sort of direction you want me to spin this.”

“No spinning, not now,” she ordered. “Just get with Nora and the two of you concoct what you’re going to send out to staff later today. I’m going to handle making sure none of our contracts blow up in our faces.”

“I understand my part, but isn’t what you’re doing something that should wait until after the shit can’t be scraped off the plate? Just use this time to prepare for the drop?”

“If we don’t start reinforcing things now, chances are the shit won’t even land on the plate and go straight to the table,” she reasoned. “We need both approaches, honestly, and the only way we’re going to get to whatever endgame there is, is honestly by going as hard as we can.” She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, using the moment to stretch. “Get ready to ride into work later.”

“We were supposed to have tonight and tomorrow off… together…”

“We can sleep in one of the panic rooms tonight,” she said as a condolence. “Now come on; let’s make sure that everything stays afloat while the others around us cock it up.”

“Permission to have an overdramatic phone call in Italian?” Fiona asked as she came in, two mugs of tea and the remainder of the pot with her. She set the tray down on the table next to Malcolm as he tapped away at an email to Aparajita and brought her mother her mug.

“Tell Antonio and Francesca I say hello and wish they’re well,” Kate requested. At that her daughter whipped out her mobile, scrolling through her contacts as she searched for her grandparents’ number. Once she did, she left the office and called them, going straight into rapid Italian as she walked back to where Conall presumably was detained. “They are likely to try to get her and Marco permanent visas if they think the need will arise—too much of globalists to consider taking all of this nonsense lying down.”

“It just makes me feel better about our daughter’s options,” Malcolm said. He noticed his mobile buzzing next to his plate and picked it up—HR. “Well, let the games begin.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To say that there was panic in Mainframe UK was an understatement.

It wasn’t mass fucking chaos or total anarchy—naw, nothing that drastic and cartoonish. Instead, everyone was incredibly tense as the Stewart-Tuckers went into work that evening, an uneasy air having settled over everyone and everything. Aparajita met them at the lift that led to their offices, a grim expression on her face.

“They’re taking it rather well, aren’t they?” she frowned, gesturing in the direction of the atrium. “It’s positively hushed in there compared to before.”

“Did everyone do what I said?” Malcolm asked. His PA then produced two folders, one for her boss and one for his boss.

“We’ve got a decent poll of the mainframe and it seems like everyone’s in to work on either staying or somehow our people getting immunity from any additional travel and living restrictions that might arise,” she explained. “Even the ones who would normally align with a Leave ideology understand that our positions would be put in potential jeopardy if we were out of the European Union.”

“You aren’t bullying people, are you?” Kate wondered. “They are entitled to their own opinion, even stupid ones.”

“Yeah, they are, but I heard people tell me, in their own words without prompting, that even though they think the EU is a piece of shit, they’d rather be in it than out for the sake of UNIT.”

“So you can teach an old Tory new tricks,” Malcolm muttered. He then handed back the folder and walked away from the lift. “I got to see if Cullen’s in—wouldn’t answer my texts or calls all day. Be up in a tic.”

“Why do you need to see him?”

“…to make sure that he’s not keeping any secrets.” He turned his attention to Kate, who was way too wired on caffeine to do anything but scowl. “My place or yours?”

“Mine—don’t dawdle, because I might not make it for very long.”

“Noted.”

Quickly making his way through the mainframe, Malcolm was able to find Glenn with relative ease. The older man was sitting up in his office, looking as though he was nursing down an entire vat of coffee.

“What do you want…?” Glenn asked. “I just got up twenty minutes ago; haven’t even checked your messages.”

“Have you at least heard the news?”

“What news? That I have to rewire all of Security, again, just because of our easing off the power grid?”

“I’m talking bigger than that—much bigger.” Malcolm took out his mobile and pulled up the news feed, showing it to Glenn. The other man’s jaw dropped in complete shock.

“Fuck… that’s a wakeup call…”

“…in more ways than one. I just need to ask you something.”

Glenn looked at Malcolm cautiously, “…about…?”

“This: did you know anything about this decision? How close they were to sealing the deal? What they said to make Her Highness not sic her pack of rabid corgis on them? What did you know about this before now?”

“Fucking Hell, Malcolm, just as much as you, apparently,” Glenn replied. “If I talk to my contacts from the old days, it’s certainly not about shit like this.”

Malcolm sank into a chair and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. He covered his hands with his face, allowing them to slowly slide off and flop to his side. Fuck.

“It sucks not being in the loop, isn’t it?” Glenn offered. “You were in the thick of it for all those years, and now this comes out of seemingly nowhere for you. It must be rough.”

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” Malcolm groaned. “What I want to know is how the fuck they were able to work hard enough to get this fucking thing off the ground before the decade ran out. You know as well as I do that they can’t pick their own arse without having five meetings and a press conference about it first.”

“Not that I want either to happen, but at least we’d only be leaving the European Union, not the United Nations; it could always be worse.”

“Yeah, and you know that’s the next step, and what the fuck are they going to do in the meantime?” The office went silent, the clock on the wall the only thing audible for a few long, heavy moments. “It feels like everything we ever worked for is just being shat upon while we’re being told to bend over for more.”

“I still can’t wholly believe this is happening,” Glenn said. He was now browsing through his own mobile, presumably at a news feed. “You’ve been discussing this with the other, more outwardly-involved department heads, yeah?”

“All fucking day.”

“Okay then, so, realistically speaking, if we leave the EU, then what does that mean for UNIT?”

“It means a couple more hurdles, is all,” Malcolm scowled. “Don’t get me wrong, because I am all sorts of fucking worried in regards to this getting in the way of our personal and professional lives, but Kate is of the persuasion that Geneva won’t let us falter like that. We have too much to do, and the UN status hasn’t changed, though I have my doubts.”

“We can barely get the UN to admit we’re a part of it on a good day—why would they want to keep us here if that’s the case?”

“…because, it’s easier than boarding us up and holding a rummage sale to clean house.” Malcolm saw that Glenn was far from convinced—probably making the same face he made at Kate earlier in the day when she explained her reasoning to him, but he couldn’t let that be known. “Just relax—when have we known those shits to actually follow through on their threats?"

“Several times,” Glenn deadpanned. ”You lost your job the one time and began showing up at DoSaC in civvies like a lost puppy.”

“Now that one Jones couldn’t help,” Malcolm defended. “It wasn’t her fault Steve Fleming is such a flaming prick.”

“You sure do defend her a lot for someone who gave you the sack before,” Glenn noted. “Anyone else might think the two of you were shagging.”

“Harriet Jones, Prime Minister,” Malcolm said, briefly mimicking his old boss's accent, “was merely a competent individual with clear goals and the balls to reach them. One of the biggest disappointments of that life is not being able to secure her position after she figured out how to bring me back on. I can’t even remember anything that Saxon prick did, though at least now I know that’s on purpose.”

“So then no last-minute shagging admission?”

“Fuck naw.” He raised an eyebrow as Glenn squirmed. “What?”

“Olly owes me twenty quid, the posh git, and now I can’t even collect because he’s too far out of the game to track.”

“You had a bet on whether or not I was shagging Jones?”

“Well… wouldn’t you?”

Malcolm considered that, then nodded. “If I was looking in, possibly, but still… Jones… any urge there used to be was long gone by that point and you fucking know it.”

“True enough… though it’s not like we weren't entirely wrong about you shagging the boss. We just didn’t know which boss it was.” He saw that the other man was glaring now, but it was worth it. “Kate counts; you weren’t married to start.”

“I should lock you in a vault with nothing but a razor and two bottles of bleach.”

“You’re cross because I’m right.”

“I’m cross because that’s oversimplifying a lot of fucking nuance.”

“Shagging is shagging, Malcolm.”

“I love Kate—I only had respect for Harriet.”

“Considering she was one of the few people we ever saw you not cuss out in a fiery rage? It looked like you might’ve been shagging… or had a crush on her at the very least.”

“Did it seem like I was shagging our other bosses?”

“No, but you swore a lot more at them; it was almost like you were bound by law to never even euphemize around her.”

“…and you mistake my being considerate in regards to a competent lawmaker’s request as shagging? You are fucking dense—competence calls for concessions, and that was what happened. Nothing more.” They were quiet again, both of them allowing their minds to go back to a different time. “Doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.”

“What was the official reason they gave? Burglary gone bad?”

“Yeah; she’s back in Flydale North, where everyone else insisted she belonged,” Malcolm said quietly. He knew he was amongst only a small handful of people who were aware of the truth, and that it was unlikely that Glenn was also in-the-know, but it was just a fact that as long as certain people and things knew she was alive, the more attention she’d bring. Glenn thought she was buried, yet Malcolm knew it was only her political career that was dead as she retired into a peaceful life. “She wouldn’t have let this go.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” Glenn agreed. “Now unless you have any other news for me, you might want to get a move on—if the situation is as dire as you say it is, then something tells me that Director Stewart has not slept today, whereas I have, and she will need much more attention.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm nodded. He stood and made for the office door, turning around once he got there. “Just make sure that if anyone in your department begins pitching a fit, let them know that we’re aware and actively figuring something out during our conscious hours.”

“There was never any doubt,” Glenn said. He waved his hand to shoo his visitor out, which was met with little resistance. Malcolm left, wandering the still-tense and quiet mainframe with ease.

After dropping off his overcoat at his office, Malcolm went up the lift to Kate’s, finding that she wasn’t there at her desk. He stepped back out into the corridor, where a large painting of his deceased father-in-law was hanging on the wall and shook his head.

“We’re in for it now, Your Mustachedness,” he said quietly. “I’m helping Tiger, and we’re doing the best we can. Just know that, okay?”

“Malcolm, come to bed,” Kate whined from inside the office. He poked his head in to see her standing in the doorway to the panic room, already in her pajamas, looking extremely sexy in her rumpled state. “You can pretend to be in a Harry Potter book in the morning.”

“You heard that…?” he winced.

“I think it’s sweet,” she replied. She closed the door as he came inside the panic room and kicked off his shoes. After helping him out of his jacket, she draped it on the back of her desk chair and began pulling him towards the bed. “They both would have liked you, you know.”

“We can’t know that.”

“I think so.” Kate hummed as she settled down on the mattress, watching as Malcolm took off his trousers and shirt, also hanging them up with care. “Mum would’ve liked you before her dementia hit for certain and Dad, if anything, would recognize how far you’re willing to go. He still would have loved having you around.”

“Good to know,” he replied. He then got into bed, allowing himself to become enveloped in a very sleepy set of arms. “Now all we have to do is get through this giant cockup.”

“We’ll do it,” she said, voice drifting off. “How do you put it? We cannot be fucked?”

“Yeah,” he grinned as the lights dimmed. “We are absolutely unfuckable.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: So, this is the part where I say that because of a variety of things (the shortened version of hindsight we currently have in mid-2020, my status as an American, the fact that I began writing this story as a whole only around when Conall was born in-universe, how this is an AU for a combo real-life AU and soft sci-fi AU, etc.), this entire subplot is likely going to be weird as hell and exhaustingly long. I had followed things fairly closely in real-time and am still doing specific research on the events/timeline/whatnot in order to make this go somewhat as it did without focusing on some of the more depressing bits. That being said, there are actually even weirder layers to the politics of this, as the fact UNIT also exists in this continuum would subsequently color characters’ opinions given its reach and role in planetary safety. Fans of TTOI are more than allowed their own theories as to how certain characters would have aligned to most real-world events** (I personally think that very few would have actually wanted a Leave vote unless pressured by constituents, as the show (thank fuck) took place in a pre-referendum world), but for the purposes of this fic we’re going to see some characters take stances that may or may not align with their regular characterization. Same goes for DW, even though with the nature of the show, it could actually write off the entire debacle and keep the UK in the EU if that’s what it really wanted.

Another thing to note is that, yes, clearly, in this AU, Malcolm Tucker worked for Harriet Jones when she was Prime Minister. I kind of touch on it in The Life That Never Was, but that’s neither here nor there at this point. Just know that he was definitely her guard dog and enforcer. She put him to good use and he was loyal in return, and she was the one in charge when the Steve Fleming Incident happened. The lead-in to the unseen election at the end of s3 would correlate to Harold Saxon getting to be PM and then afterwards events led to Nicola being Leader of the Opposition and all the s4 stuff happened as usual.

**as opposed to Jamie MacDonald and the Scottish Independence Referendum (I don’t recall them breaching it in s4), which I’m pretty sure if you don’t agree that he’d vote Leave in that case, you’ve watched a completely different show and conflated the Jamies

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #bollockingUNIT #satstewart #Malcolm x Kate #Jamie MacDonald #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Conall Basil Lethbridge Stewart #Aparajita Khan #Glenn Cullen #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #I am so glad I had this prewritten and just in need of editing #as I have barely written in two weeks #I don't necessarily like going here but I am an oh man we're in for a wild ride

3 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 4 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - XLIX

Wow this one got lengthy, but they it also got fairly introspective in spots.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Kate has to take care of family business, while Malcolm takes care of things at home. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

Sitting down to breakfast, Kate pulled up the news on her mobile and enjoyed the semi-chaos that was her family while she could. Malcolm was on the other side of the table feeding Conall some porridge between bites of his own toast, while Fiona was finishing up the scrambling of some eggs for them all to eat. Within two hours, her husband and daughter would both be off to work, whilst she would be setting up the play cot in the office to take care of non-emergencies and squabbles with her youngest child bouncing in the background. It was comforting and for that she was glad.

“Mum? Do you know when you’re going to need to swap out the schedule again?” Kate glanced over at Fiona and raised an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

“They want to know at work so that they have fair warning—they’re starting to rely on me a bit too much for part-time.”

“I’ll make certain you have plenty of warning,” she promised. Fiona then brought over the anticipated eggs, filled with cheese, chopped ham and capsicum peppers, and mushrooms. “You certainly are having fun with cooking, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Fiona beamed. She then turned towards Malcolm, who was allowing Conall to dip his pudgy baby hands directly into the cooled porridge as he settled down with his own breakfast. “Dad? Were you still thinking about trying out that vegetable garden this Spring?”

“Possibly—did you figure out what you wanted to grow in it?”

“I think just the basics to start,” she said. “Carrots, parsnips, beetroots—things that shouldn’t need too much attention—maybe some tomatoes, beans, and peas too, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“This isn’t my project to be adventurous over,” he replied. He was about to tell Fiona she could do what she wanted when Kate’s mobile suddenly began to ring, cutting through the conversation. “Love, tell Themba to put a hold on it; it’s too early to be calling you already.”

“It’s not work—it’s Mum’s care home,” she replied. Malcolm and Fiona watched quietly as Kate took the call, giving short affirmatives throughout the conversation until the very end. “I’ll be there soon as I can. Thank you.”

“What’s going on with Gran?” Fiona wondered.

“She’s been sick with the flu for a while, that much I’ve known, but it sounds like she got worse last night. They’re not sure she’ll make it through the weekend.” Kate put down her mobile on the table and stared at the plate of food in front of her—it no longer looked like much of anything, let alone something to be consumed.

“Eat and I’ll pack a bag for you,” Malcolm said before shoving a large chunk of egg in his mouth. “You going to drive up or fly?”

“I think it’ll be best to drive—clear my head.”

“Then I’ll put together a lunch and some snacks so you can have a roadside picnic,” Fiona offered. She picked up her plate and went back over to the island counter, taking forkfuls of food while she prepped to make some sandwiches. “Don’t tell Gordy either—I’ll get a hold of him later tonight after Erica’s family thing.”

“Are you sure…?”

“It’s not like either of us have really strong memories of Gran, let alone from before she got hit with dementia,” Fiona said. “Just go, do what you need to, and let us know what’s happening if you can. We’ll be here, holding down the fort and ready to come up if you need us.”

“Thank you…” Kate picked her fork back up and began to force herself to eat. It was difficult, though she knew it was important. Taking another bite, she glanced over at Conall, who was now covered in porridge and attempting to poke some of the food up his nose. It made her laugh, even if it was just a tiny bit. “Oh you silly boy…”

“Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!” Conall held his arms out, opening and closing his fists. Kate clucked her tongue and took a cloth from the table to wipe his hands and face.

“Yes, Mummy stands by her assessment of your silliness,” she replied. Conall was just starting to genuinely create syllables of his own volition and not simply parrot back what others were saying. Before long, she knew, he was going to be saying actual words and he wouldn’t be able to stop talking if he was any bit the Doctor’s offspring. Kate was almost done when Malcolm’s hands rested atop hers, with him having come over from his side of the table.

“I have him,” he insisted gently. He pressed a kiss to her hair and began to unstrap the baby from the highchair. “You just do what you need to.”

“I need to do this,” she replied back. “Let me do something that doesn’t involve my mum today.”

Malcolm nodded and took his hands away, silently conceding. He left the kitchen, presumably to go up the stairs and pack her bag. Kate then took Conall and placed him in the empty sink, where she began to take off his pajamas and rid the boy of the porridge that had found its way into his hair and somehow underneath his footed outfit. He giggled as he splashed against the water, enjoying the activity despite the fact it made him miss playing in his food.

After hauling the baby up the stairs—fuck, he was getting heavy—and putting a fresh nappy and pajama set on him, Kate left him in his cot while she went to get dressed herself. Malcolm was still in their bedroom, having finished packing an overnight bag for her.

“Bairn clean?” he asked.

“He is—left him in his cot.” She went into the wardrobe and pulled out some blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a warm flannel for over it. If there was anything she needed for the following eight hour car ride, it was comfort. “Think you can handle the place while I’m gone?”

“You know I can.” Malcolm watched his wife as she dressed, unsure of what to say. “Ring me if you need me. I can be up there in no time at all.”

“Thank you,” Kate replied. She turned towards Malcolm and exhaled heavily—this was going to be a long time apart, even if it was likely for only a day or two. “Promise you’ll be ready for night full of shagging by the time I get back?”

“Love, I’ll be ready for whatever the fuck you need me to do when you get back,” he promised. He took her into his arms and kissed her, knowing it was more important than ever to show her the affection. “I’ll call Rajit and let her know I’m not coming in after all.”

“…and I’ll make some phone calls on the way up, letting certain people know that you’re in charge until I get back, no excuses,” she said, leaning into his embrace. They stood together for a few moments, allowing themselves to enjoy one another’s company, before she broke the contact. “I really need to get going.”

“Then don’t let this old cunt stop you,” he insisted.

That was the only thing she certainly didn’t plan on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Within twenty minutes Kate was gone and it was up to the rest of the household to keep going as close to normal as they could. Malcolm and Fiona took turns keeping Conall occupied while the other dressed and readied for the day. Before long Malcolm was helping his son wave bye as his daughter left for work, which signaled the start of his workday as well. He gathered the baby and some of his toys and piled them all in the office’s play cot, glad that the containment unit was good for at least a few hours. Taking it for what it was worth, he also tossed in a couple hard biscuits for the boy to gnaw on and turn into mush if the need arose—parenting was damn fucking simple at this stage, which only made him yearn for and fear what was eventually to come.

Plopping down in the desk chair, Malcolm began logging into databases and pulling up files he needed to work on. He knew he needed to keep his mind off of more depressing matters in order for things to continue running. There was a certain amount of guilt he possessed for not going with his wife, though once an email popped into his inbox that required reading or his son made some sort of noise that made him to glance towards the play cot for a moment, he knew that he was indeed doing the correct thing. Kate would rarely talk of her mother in the present tense, which meant that she was already prepared for this moment. The difficult part would be after everything was all done and over with, when there would be no sense of worry and morbid anticipation remaining. That was the part she would likely need him for the most, and the fact he could provide her with a steady and stable home and workplace to return to… it made him feel infinitely better.

Though… now that he thought about it… it wasn’t as though his own mother was spry and youthful anymore either. She was in her mid-eighties and, despite having quit at Lex’s insistence in the 90’s, had more than a few decades of chain smoking on her as well. The day when the roles would need to be reversed was coming sooner rather than later, and it wasn’t exactly a fun thing to consider. Death in one’s family never was—nor should have been—considered fun, according to Malcolm, but as long as they were together, he and Kate were going to be prepared for whenever life decided to throw more shit at them. It was what he would want when his difficult-as-fuck mother decided to ascend to her next plane of existence (as he was certain Death was not going to take her that easily), and so he was more than happy to carry out the motions.

A few hours passed in that manner, with Malcolm and Conall going about their morning as they often did. Eventually, however, Malcolm’s mobile rang, the one who was calling making his eyebrow quirk.

“If you’re calling, then it’s got to be good,” he said to answer the call. He kept it on speaker, so that he could still type and listen in at the same time.

“We need you to come in,” Aparajita replied.

“You know why I’m working from home today,” Malcolm scowled. “The only other option is to take the nip in with me.”

“Can’t Fiona do it? Lex?”

“Both at work, as is Kanda and Euan; Gordon’s not at work, but that’s because he’s at a family event on his stepmam’s side and he promised her mam he’d come. They love the lad like he’s theirs.”

“Bring the baby then,” she dared him. “If he gets in the way, you can leave him with me… maybe even Hart. His boys aren’t far removed from Conall.”

“True.” He glanced over at Conall dancing as he sat, the tune tinnily emanating from the xylophone toy in front of him. “You can’t take care of it?”

“I’m the Lieutenant-Colonel’s assistant, not a lieutenant-colonel in my own right.”

“Fuck… I’ll be right there,” he groaned. “Remind me to remind Kate to remind Geneva to fix that.”

“I’d rank higher than Daadaajee ever did—he’d be proud next time he’s lucid.”

“We can only hope: keep the flames at bay.”

He then ended the call and placed the mobile in his pocket. Standing, he stretched the morning sitting session from his back and plucked his son from the play cot. “Looks like we’re taking a trip, lad.”

“Ma?” Conall babbled.

“Naw—she’s still gone. We’re gonna take a visit back to Mam and Da’s work. Gonna let you drive Chaachee Rajit up the fucking wall.”

“Chaaa!” Conall cheered. Malcolm knew the boy was only mimicking him, but it still did not make it tug at his heart any less. He left Conall in his footed pajamas and packed their things, piling all essentials into the car in what felt like record time.

Forty-five minutes later (fucking hell why) and Malcolm was being led through a side-door by Fajr, so as to allow few people to see the bairn secured in the carrier he was almost too big and strong for when it came to containment purposes. He was able to make it to his department with little incident, though once he was in his office setting up the play cot, the baby scooted away, crawling over towards the door to Aparajita’s empty sub-office and, subsequently, the corridor.

“No you fucking don’t,” Malcolm grumbled under his breath. He hooked Conall into one arm while he finished up the play cot down a useable limb. Once it was done he deposited the child and his toys. “Now, stay there. Da’s gotta have a shout.”

Conall giggled and began hitting one of the plastic noisemakers, which caused his father to leave him be and head down the corridor. Not much of his staff was there, which seemed off.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” he asked.

“Spread throughout the Mainframe,” Husak replied. “Jenkins and Beresford are on Security, Shaw’s hiding somewhere and Sanchez is making a coffee run.”

“Any word on the life-sustaining elixir’s ETA?”

“Roughly? Twenty minutes, if we’re lucky,” Hart said.

“What about Rajit?”

“Down on the floor; didn’t you…?” Hart trailed off and turned his attention to behind his boss, who turned around to find Conall crawling towards them. “Is that a baby…?”

“Fuck’s sake, lad,” Malcolm sighed as he turned and saw his son. He picked him up and held him under his arm, the lad wiggling and giggling and attempting to squirm his way out from his father’s grasp to freedom. “Da’s doing work-stuff right now.”

“You brought your son into work?” Hart wondered.

“Yeah, because there are no other sitters and we apparently can’t fucking function without either my wife or me here.”

Both Hart and Husak had no argument to that and shrugged. Going back to his office, Malcolm used the voice-to-text on his mobile to let Aparajita know “Prince Consort Malcolm’s fucking returned”, sending the text just as he returned to the piss-poor child containment room. Within minutes Aparajita showed up, and Conall crawled over to her, babbling up a storm.

“Oh, there’s Chaachee Rajit’s favorite not-nephew,” she grinned, picking him up. She then turned towards Malcolm, frowning. “I got half the molemen listening, and half of what’s left wants to listen but still is nervous about rank and protocol and confusion regarding such, not that I can blame them.”

“Gotcha—be good for Chaachee Rajit, okay?”

“Jiji!”

“One day I’ll get one of you Tuckers to say the entire name I give you,” she said, rolling her eyes. She flipped Malcolm two fingers as he went to leave, Conall attempting to mimic her motion as his father went into the lift. Malcolm knew his son was in the best of hands, even if they were hands that normally were adverse to children. He rode the lift down and strutted his way into the chaotic atrium, a hush falling soon as he entered the room.

“Alright, alright—what the fuck is so bloody important that I had to change out of my pajamas and drag my arse in to look at your dumbfuck faces?”

“We, erm, have an unconfirmed bogey wandering Sussex,” a Silurian piped up timidly.

“That’s it?”

“It’s how it is unconfirmed, sir, that causes us to require a more formal chain of command.”

Malcolm stared sternly at the molelizard. “I thought you were from the smart corner of the Tripartite.”

“Our bogey, aside from what looks like an empty crash site, is fucking invisible,” another Silurian added from a few seats away. Without even looking, Malcolm snapped his fingers and pointed at the new voice.

“Honor restored to the species,” he said. “Now, why are you bothering me specifically and not Colonel Bell, or Group Captain Arwell, or Captain Blythe—all of whom outrank me—or my assistant Khan, who pretty much is me when I’m not here, or Dr. Shaw, who was specifically hired to manage such things as spooks who go bump in the overcast morning?”

“Authority to scramble against such an unconfirmed bogey lies solely with Director Stewart or her second-in-command,” a moleman said. “You are that second-in-command, sir. She put you in charge. That supersedes rank.”

“I should punch you straight in your impotent dick, but I don’t want to bother finding you a chair to stand on,” Malcolm scowled. “Alright—what do we know about Sandra Storm?”

“I think you mean Susan Storm,” another moleman said.

“No—Susan is the wet dream, while Sandra’s the night terror. I know what comic books fucking are.” Malcolm rolled his eyes—for fuck’s sake. Did anyone in the room other than him graduate from secondary? “So…? Anyone…? What’s his fucking name…? Bueller?”

“The crash site is directly next to a wooded part of the Ashdown Forest—a section that is heavily implied to be ancient—which is where we’ve tracked the bogey to,” a molewoman replied.

“Any John or Joan Publics nearby to poke about?”

“I grew up around there, sir, and it’s an area that people tend to generally avoid if they can,” the molewoman added.

“Sounds promising,” Malcolm nodded. He whipped his mobile out of his pocket, searching through his contacts. “Anyone see Colonel Bell wandering around? I know she was supposed to have a meeting with Director Stewart today.”

With no one answering, he called Bell himself—he had to do everything around the fucking place, for fuck’s sake.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

By the time Kate had walked into the care home, she had been about six hours too late.

With everything long-taken care of in regards to figuring out final wishes, it was now her turn to begin executing them. Small mementos were passed to some of her mother’s friends in the home before Kate began the arduous process of moving the remaining personal possessions out of the room and back to her mother’s house proper. They had never gotten rid of it in all this time, instead leaving the cottage on the outskirts of Tranent filled with mothballs and shuttered up on all counts. That didn’t take into consideration its fair share of UNIT-begotten security tech that kept the place quiet and undisturbed between visits to her mother and Glasburgh. Kate opened the windows and began airing the house as she moved the first carload of boxes into the sitting room—the rest the care home agreed she could come and take the following day.

With the only things in the house being some Irn Bru and tinned beans, Kate put together her meager mid-afternoon meal and ate in the kitchen, noting precisely how different it was from the last time she sat down as such that morning. She could almost see her husband there with her, along with their children as they were, and it only made her miss them more. Pulling out her mobile, she scrolled through her contacts and rang up Malcolm—fuck it.

“Hey,” he answered. “You made it alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Looking down at her plate, she shuddered slightly. “I’m going to need to head into town in a bit to get some real food for dinner, but things so far are going as planned. Mum went peacefully as one can go with the flu—got most of her stuff right now, but I’m going back for the rest tomorrow.”

“Did you…?” He trailed off, but she knew what it was he was asking.

“No—wasn’t even halfway through England. Probably would have still missed her by half an hour had I flown after all was said and done.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“It was a long time coming,” she reminded him. She poked at her beans and frowned. “How’s Conall doing?”

“Good as ever; hey, lad, want to talk to Mam?” The mobile went quiet and then there was a crashing sound, followed by a very cheery voice.

“Ma! Ma!”

“Oh, there you are sweetie,” Kate chuckled. “Keeping your father in line?”

“Ma!”

“Has your sister come home from work yet?”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Fiona.”

“Ma!”

“Alright—give the mobile back to Daddy, please.” She heard babbling and a rustling sound. “Call again later tonight?”

“Before or after I put him to bed?”

“I think that’s going to depend on how much Daddy misses Mummy.” Malcolm grunted on the other end—she had him. “Talk to you later?”

“Uh, yeah, fuck… talk to you later. Love you.”

“…and I love you.”

The call ended and Kate placed her mobile on the table screen-up. She knew she would have felt leagues better with Malcolm by her side and Conall playing in the corner, whether or not Gordon or Fiona could have come up as well. It was far from the case, however, and now she was in the home her mother moved into after divorcing her father, all alone with exception of the memories she had as a child, teen, and young adult, avoiding the things she’d rather not face. She had spent so much time wishing she’d’ve been born a Campbell instead, that when the Lethbridge-Stewart side of her finally caught up, it hit her so hard that the very thing that drove their parents apart… now she was in charge of it.

There was one key difference, however, that she knew would prevent Kate Stewart and Malcolm Tucker from becoming like Fiona Campbell and Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, and that was how little room there was for distance to even occur. Considering how much time they’d spent together before they started dating, she knew that her and her husband would only see that much more of one another now that they were married. They were aware of the risks their jobs had and were fully prepared to combat that as they planned their wedding. Now that she thought about it, after a couple years of taking turns working from home to care for Conall, they could put him in nursery school and then possibly even retire…

…except, by then it was possible that they would start to become too old to do things as they wanted. There had been no warning signs when her mother began to descend into dementia, which meant it was entirely possible that she could have the same fate. Even should she retire in time, what good would she be as a mother, grandmother, and wife if her faculties began slipping just as fast as her mother’s did? She shuddered to think—the prospect was a dismal one. It wasn’t one she particularly wanted to dwell on, so she finished off her beans and Irn Bru and put her dish in the sink and the bottle in the recycling bin.

There was plenty she wanted to finish before turning in for the night—figuring out which parts of the house needed a deep cleaning and which simply needed airing was going to be crucial if she was to bring everyone up for the memorial service. Maybe, she thought, there was even a bit of a chance she could use the place as a potential spot to retire to, should she and Malcolm decide that they needed to move one day. It was close enough to Jamie and far enough from Florence to where it was definitely a possibility, though only time was truly going to tell. Even if all it was used for was a jumping-off point for heading towards the Highlands or visiting Glasburgh, it was still worth keeping around for the time being.

Her stomach squelched and she groaned in frustration—time to head into town and see if there was anything proper to eat for later on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Malcolm ended the call and stuffed the mobile in his pocket. He looked at the baby wiggling in his arm and shook his head—he was still trying to escape no matter what. That’s what he got for attempting to raise the Doctor’s son, he supposed: a child with wanderlust and too much curiosity from the very beginning.

“Sir? We’re ready for you.” Malcolm turned around and saw a Silurian standing there, a bit nervous about interacting with him. “Is Miss Khan back?”

“No—let’s just get this over with,” Malcolm grumbled. He had taken Conall back from Aparajita so that she could have some time for herself and he could call Kate, though now that the call was over, his assistant was nowhere to be seen.

Following the mole-lizard, Malcolm went back into the atrium, where a monitor system had been set up for him. He sat down, Conall on his lap, and watched as it looked like some odd military documentary was on the screen. He was given a headset, which he put on grouchily.

“You there?” he asked.

“Yeah—you’re wired into my bodycam,” Colonel Bell replied. She coughed slightly, clearing her throat. “We’re almost at the drop-off point.”

“The driver better hurry the fuck up—we’re losing valuable light hours,” Malcolm scowled. He let out a sigh of relief as it seemed Conall was curling up against him for a nap—precisely what they needed in all fucking seriousness. Eventually there was significant movement on the camera: the convoy had stopped and the soldiers were on the way into the wood, walking directly past the small crater of disturbed dirt now being cordoned off by others dispatched from UNIT.

“Canmore, we are go,” Bell said. Malcolm rolled his eyes and shook his head as he adjusted the front of his coat to wrap around his son for a makeshift blanket.

“Okay, yeah, just tell me what you see,” he growled into the microphone.

“I thought that was the point of having a bodycam,” Bell replied. As she went further into the wood, the darker things became, which only served to irk her technical-superior even more.

“Less sass, more describing.”

“Okay… it’s really dark… that’s the main thing I’m noticing,” she said. Malcolm watched the screen with a clenched nervousness, which was completely ignored by Conall as the boy let out soft snores in his slumber. “This place has got to be fecking darker than when we lost power at the Mainframe.”

“…and unlike then, it’s not because of a power surge in Scarfy’s department that gets fixed in five minutes,” he reminded her. “What else?”

“It’s… old… there’s a presence here I cannot describe.”

“Spooks ain’t real, ma’am,” one of her soldiers butted in. “Fae are Human inventions combined with old memories of the Silurians.”

“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t real, corporal,” Bell growled.

“Kids, focus,” Malcolm warned. There was faint movement on the camera accompanied by a soft rustling—something caught their soldiers’ attention and rifles were raised.

“Who’s there…?!” Bell shouted. More rustling. “Show yourself or we may have to rely on force!”

Whole seconds ticked by, with no one moving and there not being a sound. Bell cleared her throat and lowered her rifle slightly.

“Canmore, sir? Permission to stand down?”

“What is it? Are you seeing something I don’t?”

“It’s… a gut feeling, sir.”

Malcolm hesitated, then nodded despite the fact she could not see. “Stand down.” He could see the ends of rifles lower themselves out of the screen—they followed the order. Bell then held her rifle in one hand, passing it to the soldier on her right.

“Hold this.”

“Uh… ma’am…?”

“Trust me.” Bell stepped towards the edge of some brush, kneeling herself down in the tall grass. She held her hands out, palms-up, before saying, “I think I know now why you won’t come out. It’s okay.”

“This is why we go through so much military brass,” one of the molemen sighed, breaking the tension.

“Get this fucker out of here,” Malcolm grumbled, having muted his mic. He then turned it back on, trying to figure out what the fuck Bell was doing. “Are you alright there?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Her hands then lowered slightly, which was accompanied by the sound of her swallowing hard. “Uh… sir…?”

“Bell…?”

“I think I found the bogey.”

Just then, what definitely looked like an extraterrestrial came into view on the monitor, fading into existence. It was Humanoid and stocky in appearance, though with a blue pearlescent skin tone and six fingers on each hand that rested atop Bell’s. The being wore what looked like a cloak and a dress, with nothing atop its smooth head. Its eyes were violet orbs—no pupils, no irises, no nothing—and it had no nose or mouth.

“What the actual fuck is that…?” Malcolm marveled. He snapped his fingers and a molewoman appeared. “What’s the Database say?”

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything… not at first glance.”

“Then look harder.” He then turned back to the screen. “Bell? You think you can communicate with them?”

“No… I don’t think so…” A rustling sound was heard and then a smaller figure tumbled out of the brush—it looked similar to the first extraterrestrial, only about the height of a child not even in Primary yet. The taller one helped it off the ground and appeared to fuss over it—a child. “Still… I don’t think they’re here to invade or kill or anything like that.”

“Make sure we don’t have anyone stumble upon them until we know precisely what the fuck these things are and why the fuck they’re hiding in the Hundred Acre Wood of all places,” Malcolm ordered. “Try to make it clear you’re not hostile—tell any locals who stumble by you’re a group of costume enthusiasts or something like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Taking the headset off, Malcolm pushed his chair away from the station and stood, cradling the sleeping Conall against his chest. “Keep an eye on the situation and have Miss Khan let me know if anything else major happens. She’ll decide whether or not it’s enough of an emergency for me to step back in. If it’s not, then get up off your fucking arses, let your balls drop, and pull Dr. Shaw in.”

“Where are you going, sir? If I might ask?”

“Home—can’t you fucking see it’s naptime?”

…and home was where he went.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late the following evening, but eventually Kate found herself driving down the road to her house once again. With the memorial service not for another month or two (she needed to figure when was best for everyone to make it), she had left her mother’s things at her old house and simply closed it back up, knowing that it was going to be a situation that needed addressing by more than just herself. Maybe, once she and Malcolm were able to schedule a week off together, but not now. It came with the territory of being a very hands-on Brigadier-Director; there was no such room for immediate bereavement time in the amounts that she needed. Two days was not going to cover it… not in the slightest.

Pull into the drive, turn off the car, and rescue her bag from the boot. Completely fucking exhausted, Kate trudged into the house, seeing that the lights were on. She kicked off her shoes and placed her bag down on the foyer floor—there wasn’t even any energy left to take it further than there. Putting her shoes on the mat, she went in search of her family, who seemed to be oddly quiet for a time that was not two in the morning.

“Malcolm? Fiona? Conall?” Kate stepped around the house cautiously, unsure of who was still there or if a naptime was supposed to be in effect. “Anyone home?”

“Ma! Ma! Ma!”

Poking her head into the sitting room, Kate found her husband and son both sitting on the floor amongst a sea of toys and discarded dry toasted oat cereal. Conall was already crawling over towards her, plush Silurian in one pudgy hand making his gait wobbly.

“See? I told you she’d be back,” Malcolm chuckled. “He discovered which was his favorite word while you were gone.”

“Did you now?” Kate picked up son and toy both, allowing Conall to cuddle against her. “Did you have a good time with Daddy and Fiona with Mummy gone?”

“Da!” Conall announced, pointing at Malcolm. He then pointed towards the door. “Oh!”

“Did Fiona disappear through there?” Kate asked. Conall stared up at her, as if he wanted to nod yet couldn’t.

“Jiji!”

Kate raised an eyebrow at Malcolm, who went pink in the ears. “Jiji…?”

“The lad got to spend some time with Chaachee Rajit—had to go into the Mainframe in order to make sure no one murdered some interstellar refugees.”

That made Kate’s eyebrow perk up. “From what system?”

“We’re not entirely certain yet. Ji-Yu has Kistane scouring the databases for some answers, but as of right now, there’s a small patrol keeping a section of ancient woodland in Sussex secure from intruders so that whomever is in there can exist without being fucking prodded with a pitchfork.”

“…and who gave the call? Bell?”

“No—you told the military that I was in charge, so I was.” He leaned in and pecked her cheek with a kiss, one that he lingered on, keeping himself close. “Try not to do that too often—Marcia gets word of this and she’ll have my fucking hide.”

“I’m not going to get in the way of any woman and her baby brother,” Kate promised. “Speaking of: where’s Fiona?”

“I don’t know—out.”

“You were supposed to watch over both the kids.”

“It’s difficult to do when one can drive away and the other can’t sit still long enough for me to take care of a work situation.”

“Then who’s going to distract Conall while Daddy makes good on his promise to Mummy? Our little phone call last night wasn’t enough.”

“The Tracys are,” Malcolm replied with a grin. He turned on the television and navigated menu screens until he brought up a recording of Thunderbirds Are Go. “What do you say? Start in the office so we can hear when the episode’s over?”

“You’re horrible,” Kate laughed. She helped him put Conall in a play cot before starting the episode, the bright colors and animation instantly captivating the baby. “This was nearly how Fiona happened, you know.”

“Something tells me that Marco and Gordon were a bit old to be stuck in a play cot then,” Malcolm joked as he pulled her along. Once they were in the office, he grunted as she tugged at his belt, urgently wanting to start. “Do you want to get it all in here or what?”

“This is just Round One,” she smirked. She backed him into the bookcase, leaning into him so that she could feel how aroused he was. “How does that sound?”

“Like a fucking dream.”

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Aparajita Khan #I've got quite the padding on this fic as far as prewritten chapters and I love it

3 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 4 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XLVIII

Here’s a chapter that’s much shorter than the previous, but still plenty fun.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Someone on Malcolm’s staff comes back from Christmas a whiny wreck. Three guesses as to whom. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

Christmas was a success after all was said and done. Keeping each other off the topic of why Lex and Euan were there despite prior plans as to otherwise, the collective Stewart-Tuckers and their offshoots shared stories and laughed throughout the day, all while making certain Florence and Malcolm didn’t want to murder one another. Those who needed to return to work the following day were able to without issue or worry… at least nothing that came from home.

“Mister Tucker, sir, can I have a word with you?” Malcolm glanced up from his computer to see Shaw standing awkwardly in the doorway to his office.

“What the fuck is wrong this time?” he deadpanned. The Communications Head went back to the piece he was reading over for any auto-correct errors and dropped words as his staff member walked into the room. He heard Aparajita snicker manically as she shut the door behind Shaw, trapping him with the pathetic man-child.

“I, uh, learned something interesting over the holiday,” Shaw began. He sank into one of the chairs in front of Malcolm’s desk and attempted to not shake from nerves.

“Go on—we don’t have all day to be faffing about and swapping stories like there’s nothing better to do.”

“I was at Granddad’s for the holiday and his sister was over.”

“…and…? Get to the fucking point.”

“Why is my Great-Aunt Elizabeth coming to work for UNIT after the year’s end?”

“See? Now was that so hard to ask?” Malcolm closed the lid of his computer and folded his hands atop it, lacing his fingers together as he stared down Shaw. Fuck… why was this sniveling shit in his department, let alone related to who he was? “Wouldn’t this be something you should be taking up with your auntie? HR? My wife?” Yes, drop all the fucking hints that he should go bother someone else over this trivial thing and that he was connected enough to say so. “No one needs to ask your permission if your auntie wants to work, let alone work for the same organization you do, that she had been hired into first, by the by. She’s an adult; go bother someone who might actually be able to give or do a fuck about it.”

“I’m asking you because she said that you specifically were the reason she’s coming back to UNIT,” Shaw elaborated. “Do you really hate me that much?”

“This is why you’re constantly wallowing in a sty of self-pity and angst,” Malcolm fired back. “It’s not about you, it’s about her and what she can contribute to this organization. UNIT recruits where and when it can, and I’m fucking ecstatic to admit that yes, I sniped one of Cambridge’s premier academic minds and noteworthy members of faculty from right under their posh arses and there is nothing those fuckers can do about it.”

“Why though?”

“You’re her kin, you should know more than me how fucking brilliant she is.”

“She swore off UNIT though—why would she come back?”

“There are opportunities here now that weren’t available back when we were little more than a rent-a-Ghostbuster in tin-foil hats and decommissioned military gear. Some reminding of that was all she needed.”

“…but why did you go?” Shaw wondered. Fuck he wasn’t going to let this go easily. “Do you know how awkward it is to not get more than a dozen words out of her one Christmas, then the next she can’t shut up about my boss? It’s completely disorientating to say the least.”

“You’re thirty-fucking-seven years old—are you telling me that you can’t handle talking to your auntie once a year at Christmas?”

“Considering that dozen words from before was an all-time record that was also disturbing? Yes! If she could barely be bothered once or twice a year, then I hate to see what you’ve unleashed because now she’s going to be here all the time.”

“You won’t even be in the same department as her.”

“…which goes back to my question of why did you—my direct boss and supervisor—go to recruit my Great-Aunt Elizabeth from the most prestigious position she could possibly be in, for a job that is not only a step backwards for her but not even in our department?”

“I went because it’s easier to get past the secretary meant to screen visitors when they think you’re the most shaggable silver fucking fox on the planet,” Malcolm quipped. He relished watching Shaw turn an uncomfortable shade of green, knowing that he put precisely the images he wanted in the other man’s head. If the shit was going to insist on being like this, then it was the least he could fucking do to make things as horrifying for the lad as was Tuckerly possible. “Now why don’t you go look at some midriffs on your mobile and wank off in the loo to relieve some of this immense stress you’re under, because you’re even less of use to me while panicking over what shall amount to nothing.”

“…but…!”

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Malcolm sighed in exasperation. “Rajit! Get the cumstain out of my chair please—he’s being annoying again.”

The door opened and Aparajita poked her head in; the shit had clearly been listening in the entire time. “You heard the boss—time’s up, buttercup.”

“Oh, yeah, I should probably get this out of the fucking way,” Malcolm scowled. He stood and walked out of his office before Shaw could find the gumption to do so, heading down the corridor to where the rest of the department had their large, shared office that was divided up into relatively-spacious cubicles. Most everyone there seemed to be in varying states of sleep-deprived and hung-over, so he decided to be gentle. “Any of you fuckers know why Shaw came a-whining at my door?”

“Not really,” Jenkins frowned. His crusty arse seemed to be in the worst shape, wearing his middle-age poorly. How they were the exact same fucking age baffled Malcolm to no end.

“It’s a real fucking lark this time around, but now that I think of it, you all probably should be in the know, since that is sort of why we exist,” Malcolm said. “Shaw’s auntie is coming back to UNIT to haunt the other, more scientific, departments and keep everyone generally in-fucking-line. He’s crying because he found out yesterday and she’s mean or some bullshit of the like. Personally, I like the ol’ bag; seems like her head’s on straight.”

“Why should we be made aware of this, sir?” Sanchez asked. “Isn’t this Emmett’s problem?”

“It’s because Cambridge is probably not going to let one of their prized, long-time possessions out of its sights without so much as a cursory fucking glance,” he explained. “She’s here to get shit done that she couldn’t back in the Iron Age and there might be a curious journalist or two that wants to sniff around where they shouldn’t because of it. Be sure to run it past me first, but at least now we won’t be caught with our pants at our ankles.”

“‘An academic realized that she needed to shake things up and a change in employment was one of the best ways to do it, so what?’” Hart shrugged in a supposed response. “‘You try being in the same office for forty years and see what that does to your psyche.’ How’s that?”

“Needs a bit of work, but not a bad start,” Malcolm nodded. Younger than Shaw, sure, but the man was much sharper. “Janina, you got anything?”

“How about ‘Bloody fucking ask her, or are you so strapped for news you’re nosing around the fucking Oxbridge gossip columns’?” Husak offered.

“We’re getting somewhere—definitely workshop a bit before the end of the year, but know that it’s low priority because it’s genuinely no one’s fucking business,” Malcolm said. It was then that Shaw finally walked into the office, cringing at the fact that it was still under the jurisdiction of Tuckertown. “That was fast for a wank, you lightweight.”

“I don’t do that sort of thing at work,” Shaw grumbled.

“That implies you do it at all,” Hart mentioned.

“Ugh, gross.” Shaw put a massive pair of headphones on and began to sift through his email in an attempt to ignore everyone.

“He’s just cross because I was the one who caught him actually stroking off in the loo,” Hart scoffed. Malcolm chuckled at that—again, how this Shaw and Thin Lizzie were related, he had no idea.

After making sure that everyone had their assignments for the next few days, Malcolm went back down the corridor towards his office, stopping at the kitchenette to make himself and Aparajita some cuppas. He returned to his PA’s desk with the offering, which even included a biscuit clinging onto dear life thanks to a tiny napkin-hammock stuck between his fingers.

“You enjoyed that a bit too much,” she said, taking the caffeine-and-sugar-laden treat.

“It’s the little things in life, Rajit,” he replied. “If you don’t have the little things, then what the fuck are you doing with yourself?”

“I caught a bit of what you said in the main office; what are you going to do if Shaw attempts to file some sort of misconduct injunction against you?”

“Misconduct injunctions are for the sloppy and irresponsibly-randy of us,” he said. “Nora knows that anything I say or do is after having served prison time for perjury and being caught up in my own ego for two seconds too long—anything he whines about, he deserved.”

“Only you,” she smirked. They both raised their tea in silent regard before heading back to their respective attempts at doing as little work as possible—at least they were on the same page there.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Finally, after Hogmanay came and went, it was 2016. As the calendars turned over towards the new year, the newest member of upper-level staff was starting to get comfortable in her position. A flat-type office was seemingly conjured from nowhere for Dr. Shaw, making it that she could live on-mainframe and not have to worry about leaving whether it be during emergencies or if she couldn’t be arsed to do so. She was nearly settled when it was time for the first heads-of-staff meeting of the year, where all department heads and advisors were required to be there. The only one who could not show up was Benton, as he had a bad cold and his wife barred him from leaving the house.

“Before I start this meeting,” Kate began, looking at the others gathered in the conference room, “I would like to formally introduce the newest member of our staff. While some of you have already met her, for those who haven’t, towards the end of the table is Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, our new Scientific Advisor. Due to the instability we have experienced in relying on a certain someone as our main advisory scientific mind, she shall instead be the main person assisting us in matters of varying importance and difficulties across multiple departments, with the Doctor being put on an utmost-emergencies-only basis. Dr. Shaw’s previous positions involve a few decades at Cambridge after a prior stint in UNIT. This makes her Old Guard and I would like to see her treated as such.”

The conference room was deathly silent as everyone glanced towards the new person to their ranks. Dr. Shaw took the opportunity to stand, towering over all those who were seated.

“I’m eager to see how things have changed since I last left,” she said. “Back when I took up my position at Cambridge, I left this place not as a Mainframe, nor as an underground compound, but an office complex and a few rented warehouses haphazardly spread throughout multiple counties. I did not take this position to sit back and coast my way towards death; impress me.”

She then sat down, letting her speech settle in the room. No one seemed to want to respond, until Group Captain Arwell cleared his throat.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, “while it is admirable to come back to us after so long and fill a void that is sorely needed, why is the best course of action to call you specifically instead of attempting to get a firmer rein on the Doctor? I imagine you already answered this question before you came on, though I would like to hear the answer for myself.”

“Would you question things if it were me?” Captain Blythe asked from across the table. Arwell nodded respectfully at his colleague.

“I should hope that everyone would question if it was me, so yes,” he replied. “Dr. Shaw? Ma’am?” The newest member of staff cleared her throat—she was going to have fun with this.

“The best course of action is to call on me instead of the Doctor is because not only did I survive him in analogue, by the way, I also turned down staying with him long enough to go on a spin around the galaxy,” Dr. Shaw responded firmly. “I denied him. I was able to get out before I was killed in his recklessness. How many people can say that? He can’t even say that based on how many regenerations he’s gone through, let alone since then. I am the best one for the job because I beat him at his own game.”

“Then that is all the convincing anyone should need,” Arwell said. “It will be an honor working with you, ma’am, for what I hope is a long time to come.”

“That does seem to be something that not everyone has a lot of around here, isn’t it?” Dr. Shaw noted. “Retirements are one thing, but working Mainframe UK tends to be a danger to life and limb from what I’ve gathered.”

“No more than in any other paramilitary organization,” Scarfy shrugged. “It’s the risk we take.”

“That is true,” Kate cut in. “Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get onto our normal minutes. I believe that Tech and Maintenance has some announcements regarding the general upkeep of and our planned improvements to the power grid. Ji-Yu?”

“Yes, thank you ma’am,” the Tech Head nodded. She brought up a file on her tablet and projected a complicated diagram to the whiteboard on the other end of the room. “As you can see, we are slowly reaching our overall goals to be completely independent of the Greater London power grid, with our projected completion time still on-track for the second quarter of next year…”

“That went over well,” Malcolm muttered lowly, leaning over so that only Kate could hear. He shifted in his seat as he felt her foot go up his trouser leg, the feel of her sock against his skin in such a public place making him harden quickly.

“It’s as good of a start as any,” she reminded him. Without stopping the contact underneath the table, she pointed with her pen towards the presentation and silently nodded: pay attention.

That was easy for her to fucking say.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A week or so passed, how long was only really discernable by looking up when precisely the last meeting was (which no one actually cared to do) and life in Mainframe UK was going smoothly. It was only when their most venerable member of leadership was healthy enough to check in, did anything remotely interesting happen again, even if it was momentarily.

“…Liz…?!” Benton gaped. The military relic’s eyes went wide at the sight of his former colleague standing in the atrium. It was in the early afternoon, on a day that wasn’t spectacularly active aside from some meteor monitoring. That being said, there weren’t many molemen who were milling about in the area, and a vast majority of those who were had the luxury of being completely engrossed in their varying duties. “I haven’t seen you since…!”

“Alistair’s memorial, I know,” Dr. Shaw finished for him. She finished looking over the contents of a report and handed the tablet to Kistane, the Silurian taking it with him back to his department. One glance at Benton and she knew conditions had been even more prefect for her grand re-entrance than she originally thought—he was completely floored. “What…? Did you think that the next time we saw each other would be when another of us dropped dead? I haven’t resigned myself to such a fate just yet.”

“Kids, behave,” Kate warned. She had been escorting Benton through the mainframe so that he could make inspections on the overnight barracks and armory, as per one of his rare, actual duties to ensure standards and uniformity. “Do I need to leave you be for a moment, or…?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Benton asked, completely ignoring their boss. “You could’ve stayed with Nancy and me as you got things settled this way…”

“Thank you for the belated offer, but I’m already set,” Dr. Shaw said. “You should stop by sometime, John. Does Nancy still make those meringues?”

“So then you’re back for good?”

“Yes. Why else would I be here, in Mainframe UK, going over plans for an updated transporter prototype?”

Benton then thought for a moment, furrowing his brow. “I thought Peg was the new R&D head…”

“The Osgoods are still in charge of R&D—for goodness’s sake, John, I came here to be useful, not decide on which project to fund.”

“…but you were useful before…”

“Don’t you give me that horseshit,” Dr. Shaw hissed, eyes narrowing as her mood snapped, letting Benton know he hit a sore spot. “You should know more than most how completely useless everyone is around the Doctor, and that you don’t get multiple top-level degrees and accreditations and clout in your chosen fields just to pass some alien git test tubes while looking pretty.”

“Well, now that I think of it, the girl who came after you didn’t even have an A-level in science…”

Dr. Shaw’s nostril’s flared, her temper instantly inflamed. “So then you admit you knew I was grossly overqualified and wasting my expertise!”

“Liz, I…”

“…and you even insinuate I should have languished in that pompous Time Lord’s shadow for longer!”

“Elizabeth, please…”

“Don’t you try to pull anything, you puttering old fool,” she growled. “I not only returned to this Quatermass-cum-Thunderbirds pit of nonsense as one of the top names in all of contemporary science, but I do so in order to be everything that space-time bohemian is too unreliable to ever realize. Now, next time you see me there better be a box of meringues in your hand and an apology on your lips and your wife right there to smack you upside the back of your thick head.” Fuming, Dr. Shaw stormed off, leaving Benton and Kate on their own again.

“Something tells me I should have been expecting this,” Kate quipped.

“Do me a favor, Tiger,” Benton grumbled. “Not a word of this to anyone else; don’t need discontent in the ranks because of it.”

“No rank is going to be discontent because a couple members of Old Guard had half a row about something they’re too young to understand,” she assured. “Now go ahead and take a peek inside the men’s loo to make sure it passes inspection. I almost forgot something here.” She waited until Benton shuffled out of sight and then turned to a moleman, who attempted to hurriedly stash away his mobile. “You.”

“Uhhh… yes ma’am…?”

“I need that entire recording you just took.”

“I wasn’t going to show anyone… no one who matters, anyhow…”

“I didn’t tell you to delete it. I simply want it. Now.” Kate dug in her pocket and pulled out a USB drive, which she handed to the moleman. “Don’t compress it either; largest you can manage.”

“Yes ma’am.” He plugged in the drive into an adapter, then the adapter into his mobile, and transferred the video file. After it was finished, he immediately ejected the drive and handed it back. “Does the Captain’s wife do email?”

“Do email? She was emailing before you were,” Kate laughed. The moleman chuckled awkwardly at that, both of them laughing until her face dropped into a hard line. “Now delete it.”

At least this time she didn’t have to threaten with a mindwipe.

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Aparajita Khan #Elizabeth Shaw #John Benton #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #it is PCap's birthday in my time zone as I post this #so Happy Birthday Peter Capaldi #you are a real role model and excellent Doctor and I write weird fan fiction of your characters #what an adorable muse and life goal you are #thanks to Mrs. PCap (Elaine Collins) for sharing him with us

3 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 5 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XLV

I think you’ll be able to tell which part of this chapter I enjoyed writing the most when you get to it. Just saying.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

After nearly a year of planning, the most dangerous infant in the galaxy finds his way home. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

The last couple days in September were generally quiet. Other than the Directors Stewart and Tucker’s anniversary, there was little to note as far as what impacted the mainframe and its general daily goings-on. It was very quiet, mostly punctuated by routine inspections, mandatory training, and a whole lot of preparing for shit none of them hoped ever threw down.

Meanwhile, however, deep in the depths of Mainframe UK’s medbay, Clara Oswald was beginning to grow restless. She was enamored with her son Conall, that much was certainly true, but without the Doctor by her side—without her freedom—she was edging closer and closer to Mainframe Madness in earnest.

“I think I’m about ready to go back,” she said. It was the last day in September as she was on the couch, bottle-feeding Conall while Kate was visiting—Malcolm had to have a shout at his staff, Glenn had the day off, and Sullivan was otherwise occupied.

“Are you sure about that?” Kate asked. “There’s still some wiggle room between now and when you told the Doctor to leave.”

“I am,” Clara nodded. She burped Conall and continued to feed him, noting how voracious his appetite had become. “If I stick around too much longer, it will be more difficult for me to leave in the end. I can’t create unnecessary risks just because I stuck around for too long.”

“Then I’ll install the baby seat in the car, begin the paperwork forgeries, and talk to Fajr about how to smuggle this little guy out without needing to break out the mindwipes,” Kate decided. “How does a week sound?”

“About like what I was going to suggest.” Clara looked at the baby and frowned slightly. “It’s going to be weird, going back to my normal life, pretending that none of this ever happened.”

“The least we can say that it is an act borne of love, not of disinterest or hate,” Kate reminded her. “The things we do for our children are beyond measure, and if we do well, then they know, even if they aren’t fully aware until later.”

“I’m just wondering how big he’ll be by the time I come visit first,” Clara mused. “I understand now more than ever how quick babies grow. He’s already sleeping through the night—soon he will begin walking and talking and then, bam, he’s off to Primary.”

“Then don’t take too long to visit,” Kate insisted. “Give yourself a month or two to readjust, but after that, try to come as often as you can. Give a ring and we can set up a day.”

“You’re too kind to me… to us…”

“I am doing what I would hope anyone else would do if the situation was reversed—something we all have to be reminded to do every once in a while.”

“Thank you,” Clara nodded. She blinked a tear from her eyes as she put the bottle down on the table and wiped some spit-up from Conall’s chin. “One day you’re going to be better at this whole eating thing, don’t worry.”

“Not for a bit,” Kate chuckled. “I’ll make sure you get to experience a messy pasta night.”

Clara smiled at that, not taking her eyes off the baby in her arms. “Sounds delightful.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took a bit of intense planning, but Fajr was able to find a window of time during which they could move Conall and Clara out of Mainframe UK without anyone who wasn’t allowed to notice, well, noticing. It was in the middle of the day on Saturday and involved the use of a couple different shimmers and a side door that was generally only used for emergencies or when the Security Head just really, really wanted to take a quick walk outside. Fajr, Kate, and Clara reached the surface with relative ease, where they found Gordon and Malcolm waiting by the former’s car.

“Why does this feel illegal?” Gordon asked, doing his best to make sure only his stepfather heard.

“It probably is… somehow…” Malcolm shrugged. He greeted Kate with a kiss and opened the back door, where there was a car seat already installed. “Ladies first.”

“Yes, now—shit, Clara, get over here,” Kate hissed, noticing that the younger woman was not moving as she stared up at the sky. Fajr wasn’t entirely certain about what to do, shrugging at Kate with a confused look on her face, forcing the Mainframe Director to come over to Clara and touch her shoulder, snapping her out of it. “Clara? What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t seen the sky in almost a year,” she replied. …oh… She shifted the weight on her hips and the shimmer faded, showing her holding onto Conall in her arms, the boy wearing a space-print bodysuit and wrapped in a yellow-and-grey tartan blanket. “I haven’t seen the sky or breathed fresh air and it’s so odd now…”

“This is London; fresh air is fresher at my house, now come on.”

After getting Clara into the car and Conall in the baby seat, Kate, Malcolm, and Gordon all got in as well, leaving Fajr behind to continue monitoring things in the Mainframe. They made the drive out to the Stewart-Tucker home, the family welcoming in their friend and the newest member with open arms.

“This is where you live?” Clara marveled as she stepped inside the house. She looked around, absolutely floored at her surroundings. “It’s huge.”

“It was my father’s, bought in a favorable market,” Kate explained. “Now Malcolm and I live here, and is where we fully plan on raising Conall. Would you like to see the nursery?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Clara nodded. The baby was beginning to get wobbly from sleep and was frowning crankily—just like his father.

“Then follow me,” Kate said. She led Clara up the stairs and into the nursery, with Malcolm trailing not far behind. The room was a far cry from the greenish-blue splotched project from before, now with an even coat of paint, white furniture, and plenty of books and toys sitting about, with empty spots where some had been taken to the Mainframe for use. Kate took her purse from her shoulder and began to empty said toys and books, putting everything back in their proper place.

“It’s lovely,” Clara said. She laid Conall down in the cot, watching as he went promptly to sleep. “It looks like he’s already gotten used to the place.”

“Nips know when they’re home,” Malcolm said. He was hanging out over by the doorway, leaning on the frame as the scene unfolded. “Would you like to stay for tea?”

“No—I should get back to my flat,” Clara replied. “I don’t want to draw this out for too long.” She leaned over the cot and placed a kiss on Conall’s forehead, trying not to cry. “Goodbye, my baby boy.”

“Remember, you always have my mobile number,” Kate reminded her. Clara nodded and they left the room, Gordon ready to chauffer her back to her flat and debrief with her Zygon duplicate.

One last hug and she was out the door; that was it.

No more visiting Clara and Conall in the medbay, no more sneaking around the rest of the Mainframe when it came to their existence, no more worry about what would happen if the Doctor dropped in and saw what was going on—they made it through one of the most tedious and dangerous parts, allowing an intense weight to lift from Kate and Malcolm’s shoulders.

“It’s official,” she breathed as they collapsed onto the couch, “we’re parents.”

“I’m going greyer already,” he joked. His wife gently slapped his knee and he let out a short laugh. “At least I have an expert like you by my side—I’d be insane to not.”

“You’re insane anyhow,” she joked.

They put the news on and watched television until they could hear Conall crying—he was awake and in need of attention. After a bottle and a switch from television to the stereo, Kate laid down a blanket over the rug and put Conall down on it, then settling above him an activity center to encourage the lad to reach up and hit noisy, shiny things and interact with his environment. Malcolm made tea and the new parents sat on the couch, watching their son as he played.

About twenty minutes later, the kitchen door opened and shut loudly, causing Conall to look in its direction. “Mum! Dad! I’m home!”

“We’re in the sitting room,” Kate said, raising her voice just enough for her daughter to hear. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah; met some American tourists who were passing through and… oh!” Fiona gasped as she entered the sitting room, seeing the baby that was definitely not around when she left. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing home Conall today!” She went to where he was laying on the blanket and sat down on the rug, leaning over him so he could see her face. “Hello there—it’s me, your big sister Fiona.”

“It needed to be very last-minute, so we weren’t entirely sure he’d be home now,” Kate said. “Bismuth needed to find an appropriate window of time, and they aren’t exactly plentiful.”

“A text would have sufficed; at least then I’d have something to look forward to when I got home,” Fiona snarked, moving the activity center off to the side. She smiled at Conall and tickled him under his chin, eliciting a laugh. “Aren’t you a cute, pudgy, wee thing?” He rolled over onto his tummy and she squealed in excitement. “Oh! He can move on his own already! That’s great!”

“Just wait until you have to deal with a baby from scratch,” Malcolm warned. “They’re not always this cute and cuddly… and that’s before they turn into shitty teens.”

“Oh, it’s okay—I don’t know if I want to have kids myself,” Fiona shrugged. She picked up Conall and sat him upright on the blanket, holding his back so as to allow him to look around the room with his huge, curious eyes. He clumsily grabbed one of his toys, a light-up mobile, and held it out to her with a giggle. “Oh? For me? Thank you!” She took the toy and held it up to her ear. “Hi! Lex? Yes! We have Conall now! I think you and Euan need to come over. Won’t it be great when Gordy and Kanda give us another of these to play with?”

“Maybe if you like kids so much, you should go into early childhood development like Kanda did,” Kate suggested. “Don’t just sit a business degree if you enjoy other things.”

“Nah—the business degree will be what gets me a good job, which can fund being the fun sister and best auntie,” Fiona rationalized. “I know what I’m about, Mum.”

“Alright, just never say never to anything regarding your career or kids—you don’t want it to potentially bite you later on should circumstances change.”

“Sounds fair.” She then noticed Conall holding out his arms, opening and closing his fists towards her as he babbled incoherently. “It looks like someone wants a snuggle…” The teen grabbed the baby and held him close, sighing in satisfaction when he cuddled into her chest. “Yes. This is perfect.”

“Do we tell her how badly her heart will break when he doesn’t do that anymore?” Kate mused aloud.

“Ah, let her figure it out on her own,” Malcolm laughed. He then pulled his mobile from his pocket and activated the camera. “Hey you two; let me get a shot.”

“Conall, look at Dad!” Fiona said, pointing. The baby turned its head in the right direction and Fiona put her hand down just in time for Malcolm to get the perfect photo of the two.

“Excellent,” he grinned. “I’ll send it to everyone.”

“Proof I got to hold the baby first,” Fiona gloated in a sing-song manner. She then sniffed cautiously, her nose crinkling sourly. “Oh, smells like he needs to be changed…”

“…and that means that you can be the first to change him,” Kate said, making it clear that she was not moving from her spot on the couch. “Malcolm? Can you show Best Big Sister Fiona how it’s done?”

“Gladly,” Malcolm grinned. He stood and placed his cuppa down on the side table, waiting as Fiona stood with Conall in her arms. “First thing you have to know is that you’re gonna get pissed on sooner or later. Baby piss is a sign of trust—it’s a bond that’s rarely broken if you do it right.”

Fiona let out a croaking groan, extremely not-excited by the prospect. Babies were cute, but they were also rather gross, which made her glad Conall was not her child and was instead her mother and stepfather’s main responsibility.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A few days passed, with Malcolm and Kate taking turns working from home as they adjusted into their new routine. Their home office soon became a makeshift nursery in its own right, with a collapsible play cot put in the corner where Conall rolled around and played with his toys for most of the day. He would often pull the nearby parent’s attention away from their work, with nappy changes or demanding to be fed or even the desire to be held and soothed. In fact, Malcolm specifically took to working with Conall curled up against his chest while napping or quietly playing with a toy, a thing that was definitely less productive than he’d hoped, but fuck it. One look from those large, blue eyes and he was trapped in the boy’s spell. Was this what being a father was like? He wasn’t sure. The only thing he did know, however, as he allowed the baby to cuddle against him as he wrote violently explicit and threatening emails was that he was at home with his kid and no one was going to stop him otherwise.

There was something that bothered Malcolm as he went to work in the Mainframe itself, however. He didn’t know what it was at first, though it was a nagging, upset sort of feeling that was making him go bonkers as he sat in his proper office, with Aparajita outside typing away and his staff liable to walk in at any moment.

He missed Conall.

Maybe that was what being a father meant, he considered. Being there—or at least wanting to be there—and missing every moment he was gone. He found himself glancing at photos on his mobile, or the one he framed for his desk, or the app that allowed him access to the nannycam to see that the bairn was sleeping peacefully in his cot. A chuckle would escape him as he caught himself: the Wolf of Whitehall was fully domesticated in his yearning to be at home with his cub and pack.

“I need your approval on this release, sir,” Sanchez said one day, walking into Malcolm’s office. She passed him the manila folder filled with what she hoped to be sanctioned photos and statements, the compiling of such had taken her too long to put together without getting some sort of feedback. He took it from her without question—if she had gotten past Aparajita, then she was meant to be in there.

“This about the Sea Devil cemetery in Morar?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll give it a glance and if you don’t hear me attempting to work through the stages of lividity, then you’re fine.”

“Thank you.” She then paused, noting the photos on his desk. There was one that she had never seen before and it caught her eye.

“What…?” Malcolm frowned.

“Your grandson’s cute, sir,” she mentioned. He stared at her and blinked, silently demanding an explanation. She pointed at the photo of Fiona and Conall and went red in embarrassment. “Granddaughter...? Sorry—I don’t exactly do well with babies, but…”

“Iria,” he said evenly, folding his hands atop the papers on his desk, “what makes you think that’s my grandkid?”

“That’s Director Stewart’s daughter, yeah?”

“Go on…”

“…and she’s holding a baby… in a photo on your desk…”

“…which immediately leads you to assume grandkid?”

“Well, erm, I…”

“If my teenaged stepdaughter popped out a kid, chances are you would’ve heard before now and seen photos prior this one,” he explained calmly. “My wife and I wanted a kid that was ours, so we adopted a wee thing whose parents couldn’t take care of him. Simple as that.”

“Oh…” Sanchez let out an awkward laugh and shrugged.

“Yes…? Do I need to start having a shout at you as I do with Shaw?”

“No, it’s just that… that’s even cuter,” she admitted. She noticed he was going pink in the face—he was being bashful. “You ever had kids before?”

“Nope—no time and had been with the wrong person first go-around. It’s a bit late to start, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, that’s really cute; I didn’t think you did cute,” Sanchez replied. It was then that Aparajita came in with another stack of papers for Malcolm to sign off on.

“I didn’t think so at first either—the tit’s full of surprises,” she said. She plopped the papers on Malcolm’s desk and smirked. “Looks like you better get going, or you won’t be able to get through your backlog enough to justify working from home tomorrow.”

“You have been working from home a lot lately,” Sanchez realized. “Awww… I can’t wait to tell Gwendolyn that you do have a soft spot… and for a baby no less…”

“Leave your girlfriend out of this,” Malcolm snarled, narrowing his eyes and pointing with his pen. It didn’t work, however, and the two young women left the office in giggles, taken by the entire idea of their boss cuddling with an infant as he typed up a cuss-filled email full of threats and hyperbole.

Fuck.

#The Thick of UNIT #Kate Stewart #Malcolm Tucker #Malcolm x Kate #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Fajr Bismuth #Gordon Lethbridge Stewart #Aparajita Khan #this makes me happy #you have no idea

5 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 5 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XLIV

Fic is my happy place, you guys. That is all.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Malcolm is not a sap. No way. No how. He doesn’t do all that mushy shit... especially not on his anniversary. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

All in all, things were mostly peaceful while the summer months dragged by. Due to a backlog of work in certain offices (as well as a week-long argument into the matter), Fiona’s name-changing venture did not pan out in time for her to complete her school transfer applications for the midyear, which was fine by her anyhow. Having always wanted to take a gap year, she instead picked up a part-time position at a shop in the village, able to put her name down as Fiona Tucker-Stewart and it not be a lie or conjecture. Kate was wary of the move, Malcolm remained proud, and all three braced themselves for when a certain banker caught wind of said change.

September came and soon Malcolm was in the middle of a quandary. His wedding anniversary was towards the end of the month and he wasn’t entirely sure about what to do to commemorate it. The unspoken-of first marriage he’d gone through had fallen apart within the year, meaning he hadn’t exactly had much to go on in the remembering department.

“I’d say get her some jewelry, but Director Stewart doesn’t seem much into that sort of thing,” Aparajita shrugged. She and her boss were eating lunch together in his office—she on the couch and he at his desk—while Kate was off-mainframe, utilizing the time to chat without risk of her walking in. “Wait… does she wear more jewelry when she’s not at work?”

“No, she does not,” he affirmed. “Save a lot that way, that’s for damn sure.”

She popped a crisp in her mouth and chewed it pensively. “Dad would write Mum poems and recite them from memory.”

“Didn’t he know what a fucking greeting card was?”

“Yes and no—my parents were an arranged match, of all things. They worked hard at falling in love and that was part of it.”

“They do those here?”

“If you want and are part of the right community to do it in, then yeah,” she shrugged. “Probably not so much now, but I do my very best to pointedly ignore all that stuff, so I really wouldn’t know how common it is. Mum’s stopped going on about getting me a match since Jabril and I started dating, plus all my married friends did so for love. None of us found the need for a match but I’m sure it happens.”

“Fair enough.” He spun idly in his chair and looked down over the atrium and the varying molemen scurrying about their daily tasks. As much flack as he gave them, they truly were a bunch of semi-competent shits and he was glad to have them doing the dirty work. “I don’t know if I can write a poem though—kinda touchy-feely don’t’cha think?”

“Hey, all I know is how to bridge a twenty-two year age gap, nothing else.”

“Considering my wife is not thirty-five, I’ll put that one to the side for now,” he mentioned. He spun back around and grabbed his tea, taking a long drink from it. “Fuck… that’s only three years older than you are now. Your da was insane.”

“Dad was forty when he married Mum, so you do the math,” she said. He did and she tried not to laugh as her boss’s face twisted in horror, disgust, and confusion. “Hey, she had long-sat her school-leaving exams and was supposedly all on-board.”

“That’s still screams wrong to me.”

“What’s wrong…?” The two glanced towards the door and saw Gordon standing there, a stack of papers in his hand.

“If I tell you then you can’t unhear it,” Malcolm said bluntly. “We were just talking about what I can do for your mam for our anniversary before we got sidetracked.”

“Ah,” the younger man mused. “Well, I know Dad usually goes away with Erica for a few days, and when they don’t he takes care of things around the house and gets her flowers and makes dinner and stuff like that.”

“Can’t just take off for a couple days at this point, we already have Fiona doing a lot of the housework, and flowers haven’t exactly been our thing.”

“Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Gordon said. He walked over to the desk and plopped the papers down next to his stepfather’s sandwich. “Fajr wants you to review these security upgrades so that you know what not to mention if something goes down.”

“Thanks; let me know if you think of anything else,” he replied.

“Will do.” Gordon then walked out of the office, nodding at Aparajita on his way out. “Miss Khan.”

“RAF Reject,” she nodded back. Soon as he was out of earshot, she shook her head and sighed heavily. “He’s a dead-end too. Have you asked Fiona for input?”

“No, but I’m guessing that she’d have about the same thought as her brother,” Malcolm replied. “This is the sort of shit where growing up with a single parent is beyond fucking unhelpful.”

“What about friends? You’ve told me that MacDonald and Richards have wives—what do they do?”

“I always stayed away from that; Jamie is too much a feral animal and Cal a sadistic bastard for me to want to model anything I do after those two fuckers. Only time I’ve ever paid attention to what they were doing was when they were courting their now-wives, and even then I purposefully ignored details.”

“No other friends or coworkers could give you an example, whether it be due to a wife or husband?”

“Not a fucking one.” Malcolm shook his head and curled his lip in disgust. “My generation’s basically blasted when it comes to staying together. It takes too many of us a long time to figure out who we want to be with, sometimes with a string of failed marriages and other long-term relationships in our wake. To pay attention to my peers is almost pointless.”

“Why do you think marriage has been a topic Jabril and I are almost avoiding?” Aparajita frowned. “Both our mums are your generation, and although our parents were in happy marriages, it doesn’t mean that they automatically know what is correct for us.”

“You know what? I’m going to take a walk and think about this.” He stood and binned the wrapper from his sandwich, keeping pace so that he could easily walk out the door. “I’ll be back before lunch is technically over—just got to clear my head.”

“Have fun.”

Wandering around the corridors of Mainframe UK, Malcolm tried to think of a plan as to what he could do to commemorate his wedding anniversary. As he wandered, he unconsciously made his way over a certain path, his muscle memory bringing him into the medbay. He stood at the door to Clara Oswald’s room, hesitant as to if he should enter or keep on walking.

Fuck it.

“Clara?” He knocked on the door and waited sheepishly, hoping as to not get caught by Alessandra doing her rounds. A moment later and the door opened, the woman standing there with a smirk on her face and her son in her arm.

“Malcolm, come in,” she insisted. He stepped in and she closed the door behind them. The veritable explosion of baby things that the room had become seemed to calm him, with blankets, toys, clothes, books, and bottles everywhere. “What brings you here?”

“I was taking a walk in order to sort my thoughts and I guess I automatically went this way,” he admitted. He looked at Conall—four months old now—and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he saw the glimmer of recognition in the lad’s eyes. “It looks like this was what I needed.”

“I was just about to give him a bottle and set him down for a nap, if you wanted to stay,” she offered.

“I might.” Malcolm watched as Clara plucked a bottle from the kitchenette’s counter and helped Conall hold it in place as he began to suck it down. Both adults took a spot on the couch and watched the boy, the very sight of him relaxing. “It’s Kate and my wedding anniversary in a couple weeks.”

“You’ve only been married a year, yeah?”

“Yeah, but I want to make it special; I never got this far blissfully and the memories of the first go around for her are now tainted. All I want to do is make it so that we do it right.” He turned his attention to Clara, who seemed to be trying to not laugh. “Don’t fucking make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” she snickered, lying poorly. “You just sound like a teenager talking about his date for the school dance.”

“I do not.”

“Listening to teens is literally part of my job—I know what they sound like.” She had him there. A scowl and she laughed genuinely. “I’m certain that whatever you do will be more than adequate.”

“I want better than adequate… I want fantastic.”

“Fantastic is a flea market on the other side of the galaxy with stardust mimosas to follow,” she deadpanned. "Don't worry. I’m certain she’ll love whatever you do.”

“How do you know that?”

“…because the other day, when you two were visiting, I saw how she was looking at you as you played with Conall. You don’t look at another person like that unless you’re completely and firmly in love with them.” She noted that her son was turning away from his bottle, instead reaching for the grey-haired man who would often come just to give him attention. “I think he’s done with his snack.”

“Oh, then come here, our wee piss factory,” Malcolm said. He waited until Conall’s face was wiped from any excess formula and let out a burp before snatching him up. The baby cooed in satisfaction as it snuggled into the suit jacket his adoptive father was wearing, having grown to associate the feeling with security and safety. He looked back at his mother bashfully, though Malcolm knew the child’s actions were a perfect way to skirt the conversation into something else more amenable. “So then… how’s it going? With you and the nip?”

“Changing subjects subtly isn’t a strength of yours, is it?”

“It can be, when I want to; that time is not now.”

“They’re going well, thank you,” she beamed. Clara leaned down and kissed Conall’s brow, tears beginning to well in her eyes as she straightened. “This future tiny terror is keeping me very busy—I’m so glad I decided to stay for a while.”

“I’m glad too,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want you to spend all that time looking like you swallowed an oversized football just to be torn away soon as you deflate.”

“…that’s one way to put it…”

“I don’t know how women fucking do it,” he admitted. Conall began touching his face, grabbing at his skin and even attempting to stick fingers up his nose. He took at least that hand and pulled it down; none of that now. “I mean, I know how… but how they put up with it is the thing that I don’t get.”

“…and to think, it used to be worse before the advent of crisps and ice cream and chocolate and decaffeinated tea,” she chuckled. He shuddered at that, knowing that it was certainly true she required the comfort foods more than either of them had wanted to admit, which only made her laugh more. “Sometimes I think about what you would have been like as a father earlier, like how the Dream Crabs made you believe, and the thought is priceless.”

“What, you saying I would’ve been shite at this?” he joked. He took a stuffed toy from the table and began tapping Conall’s forehead with it, the babe grunting and reaching for the soft, plush dog.

“What I’m saying is that you having to go through Kate being pregnant would have been hilarious to watch,” she clarified. “I’m sure you would have been fine though. A bit coarse around the edges? Certainly. A good husband and father? There’s not a doubt… because she makes you better and vice versa.”

That was true, wasn’t it? Although the thought abso-fucking-lutely terrified him, Malcolm knew that he could be a semi-functioning dad to the wee lad in his arms that was now playing with his hair, all because of the woman he married. Kate was going to be there to help, to reassure him, to back him up when things got pubescent, and it was very calming in its own way. Conall locked eyes with his and the man could see how deep that pale blue gaze went—this child was alien without a doubt, despite all the Human features about him, and it was going to take all they had to make certain he was headed on a somewhat-moral path as time went on.

All this wouldn’t be possible without Kate; a switch flicked in his brain and everything clicked.

“I think I have an idea, lad,” he smirked, kissing the boy on the nose. “Thank you for your help.”

“An idea?” Clara wondered. “About…?”

“It’s more of a decision being made, actually,” he admitted. “Chaachee Rajit can take most of the credit.”

“Chaachee Rajit is very clever,” Clara told her son. “She was the one who got you your kitty, after all.”

Conall made a noise and looked around, eventually seeing what he wanted on the table. He reached for his plush toy cat, which Malcolm allowed him to grab as he leaned the baby forward. Hugging it, he made another noise in satisfaction.

“He loves his kitty,” Clara stated.

“I can see,” Malcolm chuckled. “Such a smart lad—do you know where your penguin is?”

Another noise and Conall pointed to the armchair, where his stuffed penguin laid half-covered in a blanket as though it was taking a nap. “Ah, yes, it looks like he has the right idea. Time for a wee boy I know to go kip.” Malcolm stood and brought him over to the cot next to Clara’s bed, laying Conall down on his back. “Be good and get some rest, alright? Got to be healthy and strong for when we finally bust you out of here.”

“You’re an arse,” Clara reminded him with a smirk.

He shrugged at that—there was no use in denying facts. After giving Oswald a hug, he left the ward with a new lift in his step, having settled his mind in the presence of the lad who was certain to be helping him along for years to come. There was something to be said about babies in that regard, he thought. Well, babies and having a multicultural workforce, though he wasn’t going to fess up to Aparajita just yet.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was finally the day of Kate and Malcolm’s wedding anniversary.

Both had been wise enough to take the day off, meaning they were able to contently sleep part of the morning away together, which ended when they finally got a bit too handsy and went over the threshold from content petting to excitable fondling. They were indulgently loud as they stroked one another off; with Fiona staying at Marco’s for the weekend, there was no reason whatsoever for them to censor themselves. Once both were satisfied, they cleaned up and went to make a late breakfast, keeping their ankles hooked under the table the entire time they ate.

Really, both of them knew that they were treating the event more like a couple who were more than one or two decades younger would, but that did not matter to them. They didn’t care how they were acting—it had taken entirely too long for them to find one another, and longer still to realize that what they had was something that could work. It was more than justifiable for them to want to be oversexed and over-touchy as they went about their day; anyone who dared say otherwise was merely jealous that they were already hung up to dry or out to pasture by the time they were forty.

Then again, since when were they the sort to listen to petty cunts?

After another naughty snogging session against the linen cupboard door, Kate and Malcolm went to the sitting room in order to lay back and relax with some books and each other. The former grabbed her book from the shelf and plopped down on the couch, though the latter…

“Erm, Kate… there’s something I want to read to you before we settle in for the day,” Malcolm said. Kate looked at him and saw he was taking his book as well, though pulled out a sheet of loose, folded up paper from the inside, opening it up with one hand.

“What is this?” she laughed. She couldn’t help but find the bright shade her husband was turning amusing. "Malcolm? What’s that?”

“It’s a poem, and I’d like to read it, if you stop snickering long enough for me to talk,” he muttered, putting on his reading glasses.

“Fine, fine… go ahead,” she nodded. Kate took in the sight of her husband in his reading specs and slightly shaking as he went over the words one last time before clearing his throat—he was petrified, and not everyone could say they had the luxury of seeing a terrified Malcolm Tucker in their sitting room.

“What was I before you? That I do not know.

“What am I without you? Just a lot of show.

“I swear and shout and scare; terrorize to hold the line,

“I keep the act up at work, because at home it is divine.

“We come home to each other, the same house, room, and bed.

“We complete each other thoroughly, and we shall until we’re dead.

“You picked me up when I was down. You saw me at near-worst.

“You let me have another chance. You saw me not as cursed.

“Our family life is loving. It is beyond what I deserve.

“Our sex life is amazing. Thank fuck we both are pervs.

“This life we have is wonderful and it gets greater by the day.

“This marriage keeps me living, which I know I do not have to say.

“Even though we’re so content, a wean is soon to be.

“Even in our age—a son—a second chance for me.

“Yet he pales in comparison; there would be no him without you.

“Yet here we are, we’re nutters, love—for one another, it’s true.

“How much you mean to me is clear; there never was a doubt.

“Happy anniversary, my Kate—for now I’m all fucking sapped-out.”

Silence fell over the room. Malcolm tried not to cringe as his wife sat there, staring at him curiously. Kate then stood, walking up to him as she kept eye contact. She gently took his glasses off and placed them in his shirt pocket, wanting to look directly at him.

“You honestly wrote that? For me?”

“Fuck… yeah… of course I did,” he mumbled. “I’m no Burns, but I can pretend if it’s for your sake.”

“That is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me,” she said. She pulled his face down and kissed him tenderly. “I love it.”

“You do…?”

“Of course I do, you silly idiot. I mean,” she showed him the ring on her finger, “I did allow way too many people to wander around the house a year ago so they could watch you put this on me. If you wrote it for me, then I absolutely adore it, just as I adore you.”

Instead of saying something in reply, Malcolm leaned back in and kissed Kate solidly on the mouth. Her breath hitched and he grew hard—precisely the reactions he was hoping to get.

Yes, they were horny as a couple of teens, they admitted to themselves as they went back upstairs towards their bedroom, but at least they deserved it.

#bollockingUNIT #satstewart #The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Malcolm x Kate #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #Aparajita Khan #Gordon Lethbridge Stewart #Clara Oswald #Conall Tucker Stewart #I almost forgot to write this chapter and I panicked pretty bad XD #ALSO #Malcolm is bad at poetry because I am bad at poetry #so my apologies to legitimate poets everywhere

1 note · View note

nehswritesstuffs · 5 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XL

You know how it is when you laugh at your own jokes? I caught myself doing a lot while writing this one and hopefully it gets you to laugh as well, fair reader, as we’ve had a lot of heavy chapters as of late.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

When the Director’s away, even for a day, of course things plan on absolutely driving those left to find solace in coffee and bollockings. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

“I’m tellin’ yeh, Malc: come on up and we can head over to Jeanette’s brother’s in Ross and yeh can watch me get shitfaced and stare directly into the fucking sun. It’ll be a fucking laugh as any.”

Malcolm glanced over at his mobile, where he had Jamie on speaker so he could continue typing his scathing email review of Shaw, and raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer to not be in the middle of arse-fuck nowhere with you and George—if that ain’t a disaster waiting to happen, I don’t know what the fuck is.”

“You can see it best up there! M’boys are coming too and you can bring Kate’s son along; Ken and Perce want to visit with their Uncle Malc and meet their new cousin at some point.”

“I’m still not going to Scotland—not for this,” Malcolm said. He took the call off speaker and put the mobile to his ear, turning away from the email so that he could look over the atrium. “It’s a fucking solar eclipse, Jamie. We’re getting it down here too.”

“Yeah, but totality will be higher up here.”

“You’re as subtle as a fucking balaclava.”

“What the fuck do you mean I’m as fucking subtle as a fucking balaclava?!”

“You just want to get me fucking back to all the old haunts and convince me to move back,” Malcolm frowned. He observed a couple molemen—they were flirting on the fucking job, as if he could fucking scold them for it—and shook his head despite the fact his friend could not see the action. “I can’t go back to Scotland… not now.”

“There’s UNIT up here, so is Kate’s mam, your mam, your sister, you can raise that nip you were telling me about in a sane place…”

“Glasburgh would be a demotion at this point, Kate’s mam hasn’t recognized her own daughter in years, my mam won’t take fucking help from no one, and if we leave with the nip then we’d have more to deal with than just some hurt feelings.”

Jamie grunted in frustration—he was found out and shut the fuck down. “You’re a fucking hard sell, you know that? Used to be all I needed to say was that if we got on a sleeper train we could watch George’s pub shinty team try to play while standing upright, but now trying to find an excuse to come up without being work-related is like finding a non-bent Etonian. I doubt you’d even come up this way for the nip’s sake at this point.”

“It won’t always be like this, I promise,” Malcolm said. He was beginning to regret telling Jamie about his and Kate’s pending adoption, though was increasingly glad that he had so far withheld the child’s origins, as he was flipping his shit at the prospect of a normal human child to turn into another version of them. Knowledge of potential for any extraterrestrial insanity might push things over the fucking edge. “Maybe once the kid’s a bit older and Kate and I are retiring we can move, but not now. Lexie’s here with a lad who wants to avoid his folks, Kanda and Gordon are getting hitched while they’re trying to get established in their careers, Fiona is already volunteering for babysitting duties between classes…”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I get it; fuck, Malc… you’re getting soft as an old, married cunt.”

“I’m not soft.”

“When was the last time you had a proper shout? Like, just find the nearest tit or bint and just rip into them like they’re a Christmas fucking turkey and you’re a half-starved dog?”

“Last month—one of my staff almost leaked some classified shit from the 60s that’s not available for public knowledge for another hundred years at least.”

“…and the time before that?”

“Before Christmas—molewoman almost fucked a member of a fringe group that wants to expose us as a general waste of taxpayers’ money.”

“See? You’re getting docile. All this domestic shite is making you lose your touch.”

“No, I’m just used to working with more fucking competence these days. How fucking often do you have to have a shout at your staff?”

“Yeah, but I at least got to hire the pieces of shit around here—you had no say in any of them there, or am I remembering this wrong?”

“You remember right; I’d get rid of the one, but he’s been here too long to touch so I have to deal with him being a limp fucking sack between bollockings and negative performance reviews.”

“Soft as a pot of overcooked pasta, a soggy bottom on an Empire biscuit, an over-warmed munchie box, a marzipan dildo…”

“You take that back! That’s my fucking line!”

“Make me, yeh useless fucking toothless shark.” Malcolm could hear the smirk in Jamie’s voice; it made him want to reach through the phone and smack him.

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly—chat you up later, mate. Jeanette says to cunt off.”

“Your words, not hers.”

They ended the phone call and Malcolm shut his mobile up in his desk drawer. Few things were like talking to Jamie—he was always reminded of good days and bad days, ones that could have been, those that he wished could have happened, and those that should have happened but didn’t because they were in such different times. There had been no playmates for him to give Jamie’s bairns—maybe just a couple years of babysitting at best—no shared milestones, no nothing of the sort, and he wasn’t going to go all the fucking way up to Scotland just to be reminded of that. His mobile rang inside the drawer; fuck it.

Malcolm signed back into his computer and, after tabling his evisceration of Shaw for when he wasn’t so frustrated, began typing away at a report he was due to hand over to someone at Transport regarding a rerouted train (they were owed at least an explanation from him after all the years they were nominally decent to work with) and ignored his mobile for a second time. He wasn’t in the fucking mood for Jamie’s shenanigans.

…except the third time, his attention was caught. He opened up the drawer and saw Fiona’s number on the caller ID.

Fuck.

“Yeah? What’s up, kiddo?” Yeah, try to sound natural, as though there had not just been five whole minutes of pointedly ignoring her. He heard her sniffle and something in the back of his mind went on alert. “Are you alright? Did you catch something?”

“I’m staying with you and Mum,” Fiona stated, sounding more cross than anything else. “Fuck this school and its inability to let me get anything done.”

“Fiona, lass, I thought you were saying that you were going to stick it out just until summer.”

“I was, but I can’t take it anymore, Malcolm. If I get asked about Ferrero Financial one more time I am going to bloody scream.”

“All talk of moving back into the house have to go through your mam,” Malcolm said. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes—he was too tired for this. “Why don’t you call her?”

“I tried, but she won’t answer. I think she’s in the Archive.”

“It’s still her house, not mine.”

“Can you make the case for me? Please?”

“I can’t promise anything, not on this.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Malcolm could detect the sass in Fiona’s voice—she was going to be fine. “How late are you and Mum working tonight?”

“We both get out at five today, but it begins changing after that,” he explained. “What I’ll fully accept in slow news cycles I am paying for with bizarrely shitty shifts.”

“Oh shit, got to go; talk to you later, love you, bye!” Fiona said quickly before ending the call. Malcolm stared at his mobile, watching as the main screen popped back up again.

“It’s called a mobile telephone and it is used to make phone calls from anywhere without cranking a box,” Aparajita sniped as she came into the room. She placed some papers and a cuppa on Malcolm’s desk, taking delight in how ruffled he was getting.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he grunted. “Longest fucking errand run I’ve ever seen.”

“I took a whole fucking holiday, thank you very much,” she shot back. She watched as he kept staring at his mobile as he reached for his tea, the expression on his face extremely curious. “Alright, I’ll bite: who was that on the other end?”

“Fiona; the lass has had enough of her wee school mates and professors, I think.”

“How is that so surprising?”

“At first I didn’t even answer the call—thought it was Jamie calling me back to try to work on me a bit more—but just the way she was talking to me… she said she loved me before hanging up.”

“…and…? She was calling you for help or advice or whatever; it means she trusts you, and oftentimes you’ll find those two together.” Aparajita smirked as she watched Malcolm shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You better get used to it—Oswald’s spawn is going to be telling you that before you realize it and I need you to still be able to function afterwards. Did she have to hang up quick?”

“Yeah…?”

“Then maybe it wasn’t even voluntary; could be it just slipped out. Relax, Malcolm, or you’re going to be a wreck before you even have the right to be.”

“You don’t know what I have the right to be or not.”

“I’ve been working with you for five years now—I think I have some idea.”

He flipped her a V as he took a sip of his tea. There was little refuting that, but he was not going to let her have the final say.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took plenty of consoling over the following few nights, but after a gallon and a half of ice cream and a promise to help no matter what happened, Kate and Malcolm were able to get Fiona into a state that was sensible enough to finish off the semester. It did mean that, however, Kate had to march her daughter down to her school, where her father was waiting along with a dean of faculty so that all four of them could have a conversation about personal privacy and how people were going to need to increase their observation of it, especially if they did not want a scandal dropped on the school orchestrated by a former government spin-master who happened to be the young woman’s threateningly unseen stepfather.

In the meantime, while Kate was dealing with what were serious negotiations regarding her daughter’s ability to get work done in peace, Malcolm was in charge over at Mainframe UK. He wasn’t particularly worried or nervous or irritable or anything else of the like when it came to work that morning—things were nearly enjoyable, even—and was enjoying getting updates on the drama whenever Fiona would be able to slyly whip out her mobile. The one fucking day he would have enjoyed being in a Poxbridge college and he had to miss it, though this was honestly not only the safest, but the next best thing. It had been such a decent morning that he thought it fucking criminal when Aparajita finally knocked on his door.

“What?” he glowered.

“Are you going to be on your mobile all day like a child or are you going to pay attention to what’s going on around you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The eclipse is going to start in five minutes; all you’ve done this morning is giggle at play-by-play of some Oxbridge cunt getting eviscerated by your wife.”

“…your point being…?”

“You might as well watch it with the rest of us,” she offered. “It’ll be on the screens, but at least we won’t burn our eyeballs out.”

“Fine, I’ll come,” he whined. “I don’t know why I can’t simply monitor the situation from my office.”

“Eclipses come with disruptions to day-to-day life,” Aparajita shrugged. “We can’t allow it to mess with our sensors and let it go unnoticed. You know that.”

“Not that I want to,” Malcolm grumbled. He followed his PA to the lift and out into the atrium. Everything looked as though it was going smoothly, if a bit hurried for all the checking and double-checking that was going on. There were some who even were saluting as Malcolm and Aparajita passed, making both slightly uneasy with the formality.

“A little while and we’ll be back to normal,” Aparajita said aloud. Malcolm glanced at her, attempting to see if she said it for his sake or her own—he couldn’t tell.

“Fuck, and to think I could be in Scotland right now.”

“Is that what MacDonald was calling you about the other day?”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” he said, his eyes flitting from screen to screen. The eclipse had begun, with the moon beginning to creep over the sun’s domain. “All we can know for certain is that I could be in Ross, watching one of my best mates get absolutely shite-faced, and I wouldn’t even be able to join in because I’d technically be on-call.”

“You’re a spin master, not a doctor.”

“Yeah, but if this fucking thing goes and disrupts sensors, how the fuck are we going to explain the Trion Cultural Center in Clapton? The Tripartite presence in the National Trust? Lizard people in Wales?”

“You worry too much; we’ve got Hart and Husak. They can keep Shaw in line.”

“Shaw needs to suck a couple cocks before I can wholly trust him with a press release.” A flashing red light over in a corner caught his attention and his stomach dropped. “Report!”

“It looks worse than it is,” the molewoman at the station explained. “Plainview Zygon sighting over in Leeds—looks like it’s… a robbery…?”

“Robbing what? Whom?”

“An Asda.”

Malcolm blinked. “They’re robbing a fucking Asda?”

“It… erm… seems so…”

Inhaling deeply, Malcolm held his breath for five seconds before allowing himself to exhale. He pinched the bridge of his nose, already fucking annoyed. “Fucking… alright, dispatch a small section to the scene; make sure they have just enough firepower to back themselves up. Don’t want to make EVEN MORE OF A GODDAMNED FUCKING SCENE THAN WE ALREADY ARE.” He turned to a mole-intern and did his best to soften up.

“I need coffee—large, black, seven sugars, and a fucking candy bar. Whatever the fuck you can manage; ask my staff where I keep some in case of emergencies. I don’t even care if it’s a basic bitch Mars Bar.”

Okay, so only like a shark with one row of teeth instead of three.

“Never did I think I’d hear you say ‘basic bitch’ in my entire life,” Aparajita smirked as the intern skittered away.

“It’s amazing the things you pick up when there’s a nineteen-year-old in your house on the weekends,” he shrugged. He then saw yellow flash across a nearby screen, causing him to snap his fingers and point. “You. Why the fuck is your monitor pissing itself?”

The moleman recoiled in anticipation. “A pair of Zygons is taking an MP hostage in Cornwall.”

“For fuck’s sake—SOMEONE GET ME BLYTHE ON THE PHONE, NOW.”

“Sir…?”

“What?” he snapped. Another moleman was looking at him warily.

“Suffolk has a Zygon causing a commotion at the seaside amongst some elderly sunbathers.”

“The fucking…” He saw Aparajita hold out a mobile towards him. “Is that Blythe?”

“Her PA.”

“Close e-fucking-nough.” He put the mobile to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Captain Blythe is currently indisposed for a moment—what is your message?”

“Do you have the authority to scramble troops while she’s in the bog or whateverthefuck she’s doing?

“To a degree.”

“We got a Zygon-related hostage situation out your way if your sensors haven’t picked up on it already. Also need to know if you can quickly get some sea squaddies to Suffolk or if I need to kick some of mine over.”

“Suffolk sounds like it would step on certain toes if we were the first to respond. Where is the situation?”

“It’s… hold on,” Malcolm put the mobile to his shoulder, “where the fuck’s the hostage situation?!”

“The Lizard, sir,” the appropriate moleman replied.

“I got a fucking Sea Devil on the other end and you want me to tell him that it’s where?!”

“The Lizard Peninsula, sir.”

“Fucking…” he put the mobile to his ear again, “the Lizard Peninsula. Please tell me that’s a real fucking place and this wee cumstain isn’t just shitting me.”

“It is a real place—looks like we’re getting info now. I’ll get a cell right on it.” Malcolm ended the call and passed the mobile back to Aparajita, only for someone to tap him on the shoulder.

“Sir?”

“What?!” He glared in the direction of the voice, only to find it was the intern, returned with a black coffee and a pair of Curly Wurlys. Taking a breath, he forcibly calmed down before reaching out to take the offerings. “Thank you. Honestly. Don’t mean to take this fuckery out on you.”

“Uh… you’re welcome…?” The mole-intern gave a nervous smile and ran off. Malcolm took a preliminary sip of coffee and nodded—perfect.

“You better be careful, Rajit, or that kid’ll put you out of a job,” he joked.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, taking the candy so that he could hold the coffee in one hand and whip out his own mobile with the other. “You wouldn’t survive without me, and I’m not talking about coffee or candy or just forwarding your mail. The better question is: who are you going to terrorize now?”

“Someone who knows better than to cross me,” he said. He sipped the coffee and watched as a couple more screens went towards much brighter colors than he was comfortable with. The mobile on the other end picked up, the woman on the other end not entirely certain she was taking the call.

“Don’t you have an eclipse to watch like the rest of us?” Nicola asked.

“You wanna look a bit off your nut but overall fucking brilliant?” he asked. He waited for a moment, the other side silent.

“…what do you possibly need my help to spin?”

“We got a Sharp Sharon over here if I’ve ever fucking known one,” Malcolm grinned. “You know that woman we brought to your house who turned into a rubbery-looking magenta alien?”

“It’s difficult to forget.”

“Bunch ‘o fucks that look like her are being petty tits and I need am going to need a fucking out once the eclipse is done and normal fucking people glance around and look at the damage.”

“What do you suggest?”

“First you have to apologize to a Cornish MP for being taken hostage…”

“What the fuck, Malcolm; a hostage crisis?! How is that being petty?!”

“It’s more than just that, but it’ll make you look like a bloody fucking genius ready to dish up some fucking security protocol reforms. You in?”

Nicola made a sound in thought before groaning, “Fine. Do you have the script?”

“I’ll send it to you after everything’s contained and people are wondering what the fuck happened,” he replied. “Gotta make sure nothing actually bad has happened first. I wouldn’t put you in a position to take the blame for injuries or significant damage to public property. Ta.” He ended the call and pocketed the mobile again, accepting a halfway opened Curly Wurly from Aparajita. “Well, that’s a branch of Shit Creek we can float down.”

“I’ve got Bell coming down, as well as Arwell,” Aparajita said. “They can get back from Whitehall fairly quickly.”

“Glad it was them on the field trip and not me this time,” Malcolm replied. He gnawed off a chunk of candy and gnashed on it openly as he turned his attention back towards the molemen. “Alright! Who the fuck needs some Zy-B-Gone? If you don’t facilitate the cleaning of this shit up, I’m going to need to call Lieutenant-Colonel Bismuth back from her cunting holiday to help do the mopping, and I’m going to let her use you lot as the fucking brush.”

It was a good thing, Malcolm thought, that the threat of physical violence in his day and age was still a viable option to get underlings to cooperate… to an extent, of fucking course. He wasn’t cruel… simply tired of the day’s shit before it was even close to noon.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Kate sank down onto the sitting room couch at her house, completely spent emotionally and mentally. It had been a long day of negotiations, with the irritating double-combination of her ex-husband and the dean of faculty going nowhere in discussion for hours on-end, effectively trapping her all day as they didn’t even reach a resolution on what to do regarding Fiona and her inability to work without being pestered. It wasn’t even like Loris’s business ventures were grand compared to the parents of other students sitting lectures with their daughter; he was positively small-fry. After a day of doing absolutely nothing but listen to two men figuratively wank over their own self-importance, she had done the right thing and went down to Fiona’s dorm to help her pack—she allowed her daughter to drop out… albeit temporarily.

“Do you think I should wait until the Fall term to transfer or get in during Summer yet?” Fiona asked. She flopped down into an armchair while scrolling through her mobile. “I think I can secure a spot at Lex’s school without even so much as a sneeze now that I look at it…”

“Give it a month, then start looking around at where you want to apply over Summer so that you’re in for the Fall,” Kate replied. “Remember: you’re going to have to claim a culture and values clash and not any of the bullshit we just sat through. We’re better than running away from our problems.”

“We’re Lethbridge-Stewarts; we simply know when to back the fuck away.”

“What time is it? I’m famished.”

“Nearly eight.”

“Fuck.” Kate allowed herself to fall over, groaning into the cushions. “Curry it is then.”

“I’ll see what we still got left in the kitchen,” Fiona offered. She abandoned her mobile and went into the kitchen, leaving her mother lay with her eyes closed. A few moments passed and she shouted, “Oh, hey, Malcolm’s home!”

“About damn time,” Kate said. She remained in her spot as she heard the door open and shut, her husband shuffling into the house, and the distinct sound of a tie coming undone and a suit jacket being discarded right next to her. “Where’ve you been?”

“Work,” he replied, voice rougher than normal. “Fiona said you just got home; where were you?”

“Giving my daughter permission to drop out of university.”

“Those fucking cunts were that useless? Even after you threw my name around?”

“They aren’t ‘fucking cunts’ for nothing, you know,” she grumbled. “How was work?”

“MP Nicola Murray has given a press conference on how she commissioned an orchestrated set of stunts done by hired actors in rubber alien suits that presents a clear example of the potential holes in our national security and varying protocols,” he said almost mechanically. He waited until she rolled onto her back and laid down on top of her, settling his face right in her chest. “It was done during the eclipse because most people were being distracted and the rubber suits were to help give a sense of silliness to the whole thing. She’s already publicly apologized, though if you turn on any news station, her ‘genius’ is the talk of anyone with half a brain cell and the word ‘Zygon’ has yet to be uttered.”

“I thought you hated Nicola.”

“I’m severely annoyed by Nicola; couldn’t hate her if I tried.”

“All splinter Zygons in custody then?”

“Given to their respective leadership for punishment,” he affirmed. “Do I smell our new housekeeper making curry? I’ve survived off coffee and varying other vehicles for sugar all day.”

“That she is.” Kate scratched her husband’s back with one hand and his scalp with the other. “Who’s monitoring everything?”

“Arwell.”

“Then some food and a kip and I’ll head in early to relieve him.”

“No; stay; I want to wake up to you.”

“Maybe you still will,” she teased. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Thank you for holding down the mainframe.”

He squeezed her just a bit tighter; he had gone through much worse for her and would likely go through shit still. It was only just the beginning, after all.

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Malcolm x Kate #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Jamie MacDonald #Aparajita Khan #Fiona Stewart (OC)#The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #I did enjoy writing Malcolm as a sweary shit regarding molemen again #I do miss it sometimes with all the other character and plot stuff that goes on #and down here because spoilers #Nicola Murray

3 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 5 years

Note

I could use more Malcolm/Kate. Kate has a pretty prolific Big Finish presence, so plenty of room for a side story of them together. Like in Invocation when she goes missing in Scotland...

I’m really bad at Big Finish and have never actually gotteninto it (audio plays and aphantasia don’t really get along), but that won’tstop me from doing this!

(Just so that you know, one of these days, I’ll do BigFinish for Kate/UNIT/ Twelve. I have a patiently-waiting UNIT story evensitting on my shelf, but not yet. The time is not yet right.)

2116 words; I experimented and wrote what I think is myfirst potential radio play…?!; rather truncated from what is probably thestandard but meh lessons learned; takes place sometime shortly after ourdynamic couple begin their courtship; let me tell you, writing is hard, writingscripts is harder, and writing audio-only scripts is a fucking challenge; containsthe technical debut of Major (now Colonel in TTOU) Bell; I would like toapologize to Big Finish fans, the Irish, and just in general

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ambient, technologicaloffice noises fill the air—various beeping, people chatting, papersshuffling—and everything seems relatively calm. It’s just another day at UNIT’sMainframe UK. Footsteps fade in and we follow them, all the way to a pinginglift door, then, silence.

MALCOLM: Ugh. [sipsdrink] Fuck.

The lift pings againand MALCOLM walks out.

MALCOLM: Mornin’ Rajit.

APARAJITA: Good morning, Malcolm. Chipper as ever, Isee?

MALCOLM: Just make sure I don’t murder Shaw and we’llbe good.

MALCOLM’S briefcasedrops hard on the floor and he sits in his chair. He takes another sip of hisdrink and moves some papers.

APARAJITA: What’s with you? You’re never this crosswhen you first walk in… and Shaw’s even onholiday.

MALCOLM: He is? Good for fucking him. Now we can getsome peace and quiet around here…

Grunting infrustration, APARAJITA wheels her chair out and enters her boss’s office,shutting the door behind her. He is trying to ignore her, tapping away on hiscomputer.

APARAJITA: Okay, what’s wrong?

MALCOLM: You don’t want to know.

APARAJITA: Of course I do, if it makes me able to domy job better because my boss isn’t acting like a tit. Now, what happened? What’swrong?

Silence; not eventyping.

APARAJITA: Answer me, Malcolm.

MALCOLM: Fucking hell, Rajit—she told me she wasgoing to ring last night after she was done for the day and I waited up, but noanswer. We weren’t even supposed to be in the same country for it and Katestood me up for a date she set up.

APARAJITA: Maybe she was in a late meeting?

MALCOLM: I left over five fucking voicemails.

APARAJITA: Shit, Malcolm, that’sclingy-fucking-desperate if you ask me. She’s just at Glasburgh.

MALCOLM: Yeah, if it was just me checking in on meown, but it was her fucking idea. [throwspen] There better be a good explanation for all of this.

APARAJITA: As in “your ladyfriend is in charge of amulticompound paramilitary organization and sometimes gets into emergencieswhere she can’t do callbacks on her voicemail”?

MALCOLM: Yes! A text message would have been nice!You know, a reminder that she’s not ghosting me for no fucking reason! “Can’ttalk; phone sex later” or something…!

APARAJITA: I did not need to know that.

MALCOLM: Just leave me the fuck alone, alright?

APARAJITA: Fine. Be that way.

She walks out of theroom and closes the door hard behind her. Flopping down in her chair, shebegins to grumble to herself.

APARAJITA: Such a fucking crybaby—no wonder he wassingle for so long…

She exhales heavilyand logs back into her computer.

APARAJITA: Raj was right… I should just go privatesecto—oh, hello. [mouse clicks] Whathave we here? “I am sorry to inform youthat…” Uh… Malcolm…?

MALCOLM: [muffled,from behind the door] NOT NOW.

APARAJITA: You might want to read this email!

MALCOLM: WHAT PART OF “NOT NOW” ARE YOU SUDDENLY NOTABLE TO UNDER-FUCKING-STAND?

APARAJITA: I’m just going to send it to you.

MALCOLM: I WON’T READ IT.

APARAJITA: It will explain why your dick was lonelylast night.

When that receives noresponse, APARAJITA quickly clicks her mouse and types and clicks again. Shewaits, only to hear MALCOLM scramble to open the door.

MALCOLM: What the fuck is Glasburgh doing?! Lettingthe Brigadier-Director up and fucking vanish! Who was with her?!

APARAJITA: It wasn’t Walsh or Ahmed… a younger woman…Major Bell, I think? Plus one of Frank’s better Zygon projects. Malcolm? Whereare you going?

MALCOLM: Out!

APARAJITA: Get yourself a wank in while you’re at it.[the lift pings and doors open] Ta.

MALCOLM: Yeah, fuck you too.

The lift doors close.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sea spray and gullsfill the air, only to fade slightly. The slight crunch of walking over dead grassesand twigs eventually overtakes it. Only a few moments and sounds from theseaside vanish completely.

KATE: Bismuth? Bell? I think I was able to get signalfor a moment! [she stops] Bismuth? Bell?

BELL: [a slightdistance away] Over here, ma’am. Fajr went to scout the area and see if shecan figure out where we are.

KATE: [continueswalking] …and you? Other than hiding from me, of course.

BELL: Clearly, I’m getting a fire going. We don’tknow how long we’ll be here after all.

KATE: [stops,now close to Bell] This is true.

Large wings flap,rustling grasses and leaves, before a loud THUD.

KATE: I appreciate trying to not be conspicuous, buta giant eagle?

BISMUTH: At least it is a species native to the areathis time.

BELL: What did you see? Is there a town nearby?

BISMUTH: Not for another twenty-five, maybe thirty,miles at the least. It’s walkable, but within a couple days. I cannot even seea communications tower—we are firmly the farthest we could be from otherintelligent life without leaving the country.

BELL: We’re still in the UK?

BISMUTH: I expect so—the horizon shows metopographical features I recognize as being potentially Scottish. They could,also, be Norwegian. I am unsure at this moment.

KATE: Shit. We lost a whole day and can’t figure out where our precise location is—I got signallong enough for my clock to sync and nothing else. Not even the satnav featureworks.

BELL: What was that thing, anyhow, and how’d it getus all the way out here?

BISMUTH: Basic transmat prototype; it obviously needssome work.

BELL: That’s putting it lightly.

KATE: Ladies, focus. We need to figure out where weare, contact at least Glasburgh, let people know we’re fine, and figure outfood and shelter for the night.

BISMUTH: I’ve got food.

BELL: Pardon me, ma’am, but don’t you have a distressbeacon with you?

KATE: It would be reckless to use—we are onlymisplaced by relatively few hours while still on Earth. My distress beaconsummons the Doctor, and is to be utilizedin case of temporal and extraterrestrial emergencies only. Abusing it would putus directly on a list of irritating lifeforms and I doubt we all want for thatto happen.

BISMUTH, BELL: [together]No ma’am.

KATE: Good. Now, what do you have, Bell?

BELL: I’ll continue on the fire, and while that’sgoing, I’ll get fetch the discarded boat tarp I saw a little ways off and usethat while putting shelter together.

KATE: There we are; I’ll get some water while I’msearching for additional mobile signal. It at least looks like we landed near asmall stream, which is better than nothing.

The other two makenoises in agreement.

BELL: [gruntswhile picking through brush] This is not what I had imagined when you toldme I was doing my first escort mission.

BISMUTH: At least this is not the worst bunch to bestranded with—we could be with the new Communications man. He is comely for aHuman male, but that temper is vile.

KATE: I am glad I only see that temper in a workcontext. It would be a shame to see it boil over unnecessarily.

BISMUTH: How else would you see it…?

BELL: [in horrifiedrealization] Oh, no, ma’am—I thought that was just a rumor…!

BISMUTH: What was a rumor?

BELL: …that the Brigadier-Director was dating the new Communications man. Ithought that just started because you broke him out of prison to work for UNIT.

KATE: The gossip chain might have started then, but thereality is that we have only begun dating a couple weeks ago. I guess it workedout after all—oh shit.

BELL: Ma’am?

KATE: I was supposed to call him tonight, which isnow last night, and I don’t think that’s good for this early in a dating-type relationship.

BISMUTH: Dating…? What are the two of you doing thatneeds dating? Why does it need a relationship?

KATE: We spend time with one another outside of work.Romantically. There is sometimes sex involved.

BELL: Oh, God, I do not need to be hearing this; giveme the canteens and I’ll get the water.

KATE: …but, I…

BELL: …and I respectfully decline orders, ma’am, andam offering to do your job instead, down to taking your mobile if need be, inorder to not hear any more of this.

KATE: Fair enough. [She hands over a bag and BELL quickly walks away.] Bismuth, forgiveme if this is a personal question, but do Zygons date?

BISMUTH: There are pre-mating rituals in order to identifywho has the most compatible genes for species survival, but it is likely notcomparable to Human ones. May I now ask a personal question?

KATE: Fair enough.

BISMUTH: Why go through with what sounds like amating ritual when one is unable to reproduce? I have observed that malestheoretically can reproduce into old age, yet females of your species cannot dothe same. You cannot reproduce inyour current state; I can smell it. Why attempt mating?

KATE: This sounds like a conversation for anothertime, preferably one where Bell is around to explain why she is marryinganother woman.

BISMUTH: Possibly this is in part of my Human culturetraining that I have not gotten to yet.

KATE: That sounds about right.

Footsteps rush up tothem.

KATE: Well, that was quick.

BELL: We have a situation—your mobile is blowing up,ma’am.

KATE: Just what we needed, thank you. [Her mobile buzzes.] I’ll see what theseare.

She takes a few stepsand taps a couple times on her mobile. It rings.

COMPUTER VOICE: You have. NINE. Teen. New messages. First message.

MALCOLM: [static]Kate? Love? Just giving you a ring in case you needed an out. Can’t fuckingwait. Give me a shout when you’re ready.

KATE chuckles.

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

FIONA: [static]Hey, Mum, I was wondering where—no, wait, I found it. Never mind. Sorry aboutthat. Slaughter a haggis for Granddad while you’re up there. See you when youget back. Love you, bye!

KATE: [amused]Figures.

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

MALCOLM: [static]Hey. It’s me again. What the fuck does Glasburgh have you doing? Are theyreally that bad in need of an inspection that they need to monopolize you allfucking evening?

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

MALCOLM: [static]Love? Did you forget about tonight? I’m sort of sitting here waiting.

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

MALCOLM: [static]Uh… Kate…? Please tell me you’re just finishing mopping shit up. I’d like tolull you to sleep with vulgar nothings if those incompetent cunts will allow it…

KATE: [voiceraised] It’s mostly just Tucker. [Sheturns off the mobile.] Something tells me we won’t be out here for verylong.

BELL: How so?

KATE: I have a rather horny man leaving me plenty of messages and he happens to bethe one acting brigadier-director in my stead. Something tells me the searchparty has already been sent out.

BELL: This is why I very specifically wanted to not date in the workplace. To think ofthe two of you together is just… ugh… so gross.

BISMUTH: Is it because they are no longer able toreproduce, rendering mating rituals moot?

BELL: Do Zygons have no taboos whatsoever on thisstuff?! Humans don’t talk about stuff like that with their coworkers! I don’tneed to hear about a coworker’s sex life as much as they don’t need to hearabout mine!

KATE: That’s a bit prudish.

BELL: How am I the youngest here, yet I am alsothe one who is the most sensible about this?!

KATE: Probably the rural Irish upbringing.

A beat.

BELL: [defeated]Yeah, it’s the Irish. You got me there.

BISMUTH gasps andunderbrush rustles.

KATE: Report!

BISMUTH: Get down! I hear a helicopter, but I cannottell if it is UNIT or not!

BELL: Does it matter at this point?

BISMUTH: It might. [A sloshing sound.] I might need to use an off-world form if itproves the most useful.

KATE: Give it a moment. [Beeping, then buzzing.] The fuck…? How do I have full receptionnow?

BELL: I’m not sure. [More buzzing.] Hey, mine’s working too now.

KATE: Good. [Hermobile rings.] Hold on. Yes, Malcolm?

MALCOLM: [static]Thank fuck; that is you. I was so fucking worried.

KATE: Eighteen voicemails and fifty-seven texts levelof worried.

MALCOLM: [static]…fuck.

KATE: I’m touched. Now get that helicopter down hereso we can get closer to finding my quarters in Glasburgh and I can make up foryour lost time. I’m feeling extra generous in that regard.

BELL gags loudly.

MALCOLM: [static] I can’t fucking wait, darling.

#doctornigel #The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Saturday Night Prompts #that's the tag #replies #fan fiction #Aparajita Khan #Fajr Bismuth #Major Bell #I get nostalgic when I write scripts it's kinda sad

3 notes · View notes

nehswritesstuffs · 6 years

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XXX

I was GONNA post this over the weekend, but my time and energy was magically zapped, so now here’s midweek edition instead.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

It’s been a few days since Kate and Malcolm’s row and their coworkers are starting to notice. Why aren’t Director Stewart and Department Head Tucker all over each other... and better yet, can they get over it? [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

Mainframe UK, being much like most other workplaces than anyone would be willing to give it credit for, was a buzzing rumor mill early that August. While most had seen their Brigadier-Director in-person and some had seen the Director of Communications and Public Relations skulking about, only a few had seen them together—let alone show one another affection—despite wide-spread rumor of their romantic entanglement. Yet when it was heard that Directors Stewart and Tucker were going to get married, the whispers exploded into full-on speculation and awe. Terror and unease. Disapproval and, well, at least this meant they were getting a bit of something-something on a regular basis, which none could really blame them for, and so no one really complained too seriously.

That did not stop the rest of the Heads of Staff from noticing a completely different side of things as everyone sat down for the monthly staff meeting. On the contrary: it made the fact that the Brigadier-Director and the man who was increasingly her right hand were dead-cold towards one another all the more apparent. They barely spoke towards the other directly and there wasn’t even so much as a flirty glance; none of the affection that they had shown during meetings before was evident and it was frankly terrifying.

“What the fuck happened?” Glenn asked. It was after the meeting, when he had invited Malcolm down to his office for tea.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Up there, with Director Stewart,” the older man clarified. He poured tea into two mugs and brought them over to the coffee table where Malcolm was sitting. “Do I need to text Lex to figure out what’s going on? Because I will.”

“Why would you fucking text my niece?”

“I gave her my mobile number ages ago when we were down here during the 3W Incident and we still send each other memes now and then—it’s how she knew what to do when the Zygon rebels were going nutters and she couldn’t get a hold of anyone else, you included. I’m sure if you asked her about me, she’d say the same thing.” Glenn took a biscuit from the tin sitting on the table and frowned, not allowing Malcolm time to realize that he understood the concept of a meme and subsequently sidetrack the conversation. “Back to business: there’s not a pre-marital tiff going on, is there?”

“I don’t know; something being ‘pre-marital’ assumes there’s going to be a ‘marital’ stage.”

“Then what Miss Khan told me wasn’t true…?”

“I don’t know what you and Rajit talk about.”

“She said that you had finally proposed to Director Stewart, that you were going to be getting married in September. Fuck, Malcolm, why aren’t you talking to her, let alone over the fucking moon? These past couple days have been more painful than watching a vasectomy with a rusted axe and no anesthetic.”

Malcolm silently drank his tea, scowling at nothing in particular, as he attempted to gather together his thoughts. What could he tell Glenn? There was so much that he had kept from him before that the idea of opening up to him about something this deep was unnerving. Seeing that there was no real way to get out of the conversation without explaining something, he quickly conjured a bare-bones narrative.

“Kate used UNIT resources to look into my business after I told her it was nothing worth the effort,” he said. “All these years and suddenly it’s like I never left fucking politics.”

“What did she look into, if I might ask?” Glenn wondered. Malcolm glowered and he held up his cuppa and biscuit in defeat. “Alright, alright; she misused resources. How bad of a misuse do you think this would be in our old workplace context, if you were able to think about it objectively?”

“The time for objectivity is long fucking gone.”

“What did she do, Malcolm? What the bloody hell did Kate do?”

Putting down his cuppa, Malcolm rested his elbows on his knees and palmed his eyes. There was a massive headache coming on, and if he didn’t watch himself, it would follow him for much longer than that conversation. He exhaled heavily and drew his hands over his face before leaning back, flopping tiredly into the seat.

“Promise this stays here? Between us?”

“I swear what you’re about to tell me will stay between us, provided there’s no life-threatening and legitimate emergency, on the pain of getting my nuts bit off by a rabid dog.”

It would suffice.

“Kate had my background check files opened. She justified it by saying that it wasn’t complete, but I know better.”

That confused the older man. “What was she doing with your background check of all things?”

“…being a nosy shit about my father. I never knew him—the government and Party’s multiple checks on me back in the ‘90s proved that—but she did it anyhow, all because I know nothing about him and that wasn’t enough for her.”

“Really?” Glenn took another bite of biscuit and raised an eyebrow. “I never would have known that you had an incomplete background check and still were able to work in Number 10 unrestricted. How did that even work?”

“It worked because the only thing I know about him for certain is that he existed—he could’ve been an officer in the IRA for all I fucking know and it wouldn’t’ve mattered, because it’s not like I’ve had a single shred of contact with him or desire to know who he was. For having an estranged parent, it worked out amazingly well, and now Kate had to dig all this shit up again because he’s my father. The fact she even considered doing that makes me wonder if I really know her, if I really should get hitched. Can I even trust her after this?”

“She must have thought she was doing you a favor…”

“…except we had a conversation not long ago where I flat-out said that I didn’t want to fucking know about the bastard. That’s selfish, yeah? Trying to figure it out when I said I didn’t want to? I’m not high off my gourd about this, am I?”

Glenn considered that quietly, his head bobbing in thought. “That was a fairly reckless thing to do, but it’s not the worst thing she could have done—not by far—and I’m sure if there was some sort of internal investigation into her actions, that would be the only time she ever did something of the sort. Considering her record and the nature of what she did… I can easily say that she was only acting—or at least thinking she was acting—in good faith and with everyone’s best interests at heart.”

“Whatever the original intent is does not absolve someone from potential crimes, you know that,” Malcolm scowled. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends; fuck, he was overdue for a shearing. “How the fuck did I not see this coming? I could predict the Second Coming of whatever-the-fuck you wished if I wanted, but this completely fucking blindsided me? How?”

“For one, love blinds, and if there’s anything that neatly describes what you and Director Stewart has, that comes the closest,” Glenn said, “and for two, it’s because you are so polar-opposite on the topic of your respective fathers that I don’t think there was a way for either of you to know what would have happened until it did.” He looked at Malcolm, seeing how torn he was as he stared at the rug, and sighed heavily. “Neither of you can fathom how the other feels, simply because your experiences were too different.”

“…and who made you a professional shrink?”

“Age, mostly, but I’ll admit, I met Alistair once.” Malcolm glanced up and saw Glenn was furrowing his brow, attempting to recall the event as accurately as possible. “Right after I first started, she brought him in for what ended up being his last visit. He was still sharp and well-versed in everything we do around here, and seeing how he interacted with his daughter… that was a bond that once faltered only to recover stronger. You can’t have that and properly imagine what it’s like to never even have a face to refer to, nor can the opposite be done. Neither of you are thinking this through.”

“I thought I came here for tea, not a fucking lecture on life advice.”

“You wanted to talk about it, so I’m talking about it.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make this a Very Special Episode of Dr. Fucking Glenn.” Malcolm’s mobile began to buzz and he glanced at the name. “Hold up; Rajit’s calling. He swiped the call through and held the device near his ear. “You’re on speaker.”

“Malcolm, get up here, now.” His frown changed from irritated to concerned as he listened to her.

“Why so?”

“The aliens figured out about football.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Returning to her office immediately after the meeting, Kate shut herself off from the rest of the mainframe, continuing her paperwork in peace. She was quickly nearing the bottom of the pile, the backlog having been nearly eradicated thanks to the fact that she was taking great pains to avoid Malcolm the past couple of days. Low-priority minutia was not how she had imagined herself dealing with her time a week prior, but at least it could have been worse.

Okay, it couldn’t’ve gotten that much worse, but that was only because things were fucking blasted at that particular point. With Malcolm still livid with her, there was barely enough cordialness to survive the Heads of Staff meeting, and she knew that it was obvious that they were being scrutinized by their coworkers. It was mostly her fault for bringing the subject of his father back to the forefront—there was little doubt about that, even if he owned his reaction as being beyond rational—and so she stayed with her nose to the grindstone until he was ready to figure out what was left to pick up… if they could even pick things up again.

Maybe, she thought as she went over a budget alteration request, it was better that they had the row a couple nights before instead of after they were married. If it was that they simply needed their own spaces to calm down from this before continuing on, then so be it, but if it was that the line she went over could not be uncrossed… she was glad that it was before they had consolidated their lives so that now there was nothing to tear apart in the aftermath. If it was to end badly, then let it end before it threatened to even begin.

“Uh, Director Stewart?” She glanced up and saw Themba’s head poking in through the door. “Group Captain Arwell’s here to see you.”

“What does he want?”

“I’ve just been informed of suspicious activity that may be extraterrestrial in origin, ma’am,” the man in-question said over the disguised Zygon’s head. “One of my contacts in the RAF is requesting permission to engage and I need your approval.”

“Extra…? Fuck, let him in, Themba.” Her assistant stepped aside and Group Captain Arwell—a trim, fit man in his mid-thirties—quickly came into the room. “What are they saying’s out there, Reg?”

“We know it’s no private or military project, that much is for certain,” he replied. “Sounds vaguely like Rutan, possible Rutori, craft being sighted over Essex. Am I allowed to tell them to stand down?”

“Rutori?” Themba asked, nose scrunched in confusion. “Apologies, but I was never good at other extraterrestrial lifeform identification.”

“Genetic cousins of the Rutan, still in possession of their bipedal forms and technical neutrals in the Sontar-Ruta War,” Kate explained. She then turned her attention back to Arwell. “Inform the RAF that we’ve got things from here, then go and see if you can scramble a couple jets and get them out of our atmosphere. If not, report back to me ASAP.” The man saluted and quickly left the room.

“Should I initiate any protocols, ma’am…?” Themba wondered.

“Alert Bismuth and be ready to send word to Benton—I’m not calling him unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ll call Tucker’s office and make sure he’s aware of the fact there might be some fallout that’ll need mopping up. If Arwell’s jets cannot scare off the Rutari, then it’ll be likely that I shall be taking a quick trip to Essex.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Themba left and Kate immediately dialed her phone.

“Yes?” It was Aparajita.

“Is Malcolm in?”

“No, he’s still having tea with Cullen down in DM/IT. Something the matter?”

“Rutari over Essex, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck, and the day of the Final Match too…” Both women fell silent as they immediately came to the same conclusion. “They wouldn’t know about World Cup, would they? It’s not even like any Isles teams made it to the Finals!”

“No, but when does that stop football fans?” Kate frowned. “I need you to summon Malcolm from the bowels of Cullen’s domain and make sure he’s prepped and ready to accompany me over to what I infer is going to inevitably be a crash site. Everyone in the vicinity shall likely be occupied with football, but I need his silver tongue and Scottish charm at the ready just in case; he handled the fallout from an extraterrestrial crash before and he can do it again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said before hanging up. This was it—the test to see if she and Malcolm could at least keep it together while at work long enough to get something actually accomplished. The meeting, as on-edge as it was, could be seen as insignificant next to this, as this was more work-work than reporting on work, and their ability to cooperate would actually be tested.

Gathering up her things, Kate waited on news of the situation by watching the molemen in the atrium below her window. She saw that most were still preoccupied with other duties, and knew that something had happened when one of their screens filled with red.

Her mobile rang and she knew who it was without even looking. “Report.”

“We have a landing site just north of Ongar; it crashed,” Arwell replied. “I can be there in twenty minutes by air.”

“Tucker and I are coming; hold the helicopter until we get there.”

“Understood.”

Kate grabbed her bag and quickly went into the lift. She stopped on Malcolm’s floor to pick him up, noticing that his icy demeanor from earlier had not subsided.

“Temporary truce?” she offered once the doors were closed.

“We’ll talk later.”

Of course; they couldn’t fit it all in fifteen seconds. The lift opened up and they silently walked together towards another lift, which brought them up to the helipad. They both got in one of three waiting helicopters, accompanied by Group Captain Arwell and a trio of armed soldiers, while twelve more troops divided themselves between the remaining two.

A fraction of what the normal drive time would have been passed and the helicopters all touched down in a field, smoldering wreckage about fifty meters away. Malcolm stayed towards the back of the group while Kate went towards the front, putting herself between the soldiers and the extraterrestrial ship’s remains. She was nearly halfway there when a panel popped out of the side, emitting steam as a figure plopped onto the ground. A few more steps and she stopped, allowing the soldiers to fall into formation behind her.

“I really don’t appreciate this,” she said sternly. The figure crawled out from underneath the steam and she could see it was clearly Rutari—milky-green, nearly featureless, rail thin, and eight feet tall as it stood erect. The soldiers probably thought it resembled some of the aliens from Close Encounters, though she knew it was more the other way around. “You have made an unfortunate mess that will take more effort to clean up than should be necessary. Most of my species are not prepared to understand what just happened here and I thought that was a fairly well-known fact in Rutarian circles around this sector.”

The Rutari opened its maw—a gooey, sticky-seeming void—and words came out without any other movement. “They say this planet is under the protection of the Time Lord called The Doctor, yet you seem to have at least rudimentary weapons technology and primitive flight capabilities. Your kind can be utilized.”

“I don’t particularly care for the sound of that.”

“Let our Rutan cousins continue their pointless war with the Sontarans—it simply leaves the remainder of the galaxy for us to pick and choose our own strongholds and assets.”

“Earth is an asset to only its own peoples,” Kate insisted. “You are not of this planet, nor do you call it home; with that sort of talk, I am justifiably able to presume that your presence is not one of peace and friendship.”

“What lies—peace and friendship—there is only war and partnership, useful until they are no longer beneficial.”

“Pity.” She then turned her back to the extraterrestrial, walking away.

“Do not ignore me, Earther!”

“Treat our guest appropriately, Arwell,” she said as she passed him. He gave the order to fire and Kate could hear the sound of guns firing and smell the Rutari’s flesh crisping under the auspices of the taser-munitions. She found herself at Malcolm’s side, looking out at the edge of the tree line with him. No one else was within earshot and it made her more confident to talk. “We should be able to bring it back to the mainframe for safekeeping momentarily.”

“Film set and dress rehersal—some bullshit about alien invaders.”

Ah, the cover story for anyone who happened upon them. She glanced back to see that the soldiers were gathering the Rutari into a large metal box, easily transportable in the back of one of the helicopters. Turning back to him, she saw that he was still refusing to look at her. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Save it.”

“No, I mean it. I went too far.”

“How did you go too far?”

“I let my own relationship with my dad cloud my perception of how someone should react to the concept of someone finding their own absent father. Your vocal refusal to know should have been enough for me. I cocked it the fuck up.”

Malcolm looked at her and exhaled heavily, scratching the back of his head. He watched as the helicopter took off, the sound of the still-flaming wreckage crackling temporarily drowned out by the blades. “Everything behaved during the fucking Olympics, even the blasted fucking Cybercide had enough decency to wait until afterwards, so why the fuck now?”

“…because we would have expected something during the Olympics; World Cup’s distraction was almost an ideal scouting opportunity” she replied. She waited until the Rutari-laden helicopter was gone before she stepped closer to him, touching his elbow. “Malcolm…?”

“Do you promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Do you promise to never do anything like that ever again?”

“…to cross that line…?”

“Do you swear on what you had with your da?”

“I promise with all my heart,” she said. It was only then that he looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “You can trust me—that’s a big part of what a marriage is supposed to be about and I don’t want to risk destroying that again.”

“Good, because watching you lecture that Rutari was beginning to make my cock ache,” he admitted. Leaning into her touch, he quickly scanned the area to make sure that no curious locals were anywhere before looking back at her. “Thank Glenn; he was the one who reminded me that misuse of resources isn’t usually your thing. The more I thought about it on the way over, the more it made sense. It was an honest mistake, but one I don’t want you repeating, because if you do, then it would mean much more than you and I having a row at home.”

“I’ll have to make a note of that—all of it.”

“You’re better than they are, Kate, remember that.” They stayed silent for a while, enjoying the stillness of the wood before she began musing out loud.

“What if we do get someone who stumbles across the fact that half of your familial background check isn’t complete? I didn’t think that HR had left it as it was, nor did I think that the government would have; that’s a lot of information to simply be missing.”

“Bastard’s better off faceless, is all,” Malcolm shrugged. He and Kate both stepped aside as UNIT trucks finally came down the nearby road, turning off into the field so that they could salvage what was left of the Rutari craft. “I guess this means we’re still on for September?”

“I think so,” she replied. “I say we celebrate; my panic room or yours?”

“Fuck… let’s at least get back to the fucking mainframe first; don’t make me beg in front of the troops.”

“If you insist.”

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #bollockingUNIT #satstewart #Glenn Cullen #Aparajita Khan #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #I HAVEN'T TURNED ON MY COMPUTER IN FOUR DAYS BEFORE THIS #HOLY WAH I RARELY GO THIS LONG WHILE NOT ON VACATION

2 notes · View notes