A/N: So holy wah brainstorming happened, hence why this update is within a month of the previous one. Now let's hope I don't run out of steam.
Three
Malcolm waited patiently along the wall of the station, his hands jammed in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. The whole sitting around until something happened game was never his strong suit. He tried though, especially for the important people, and the one he was waiting for was definitely important.
Once he saw her, his face lit up and he grinned happily. His adult niece, Alexandra, emerged from the crowd of commuters and approached him silently, burying her face in his grey fleece pullover as they hugged. At twenty-three, there were significantly less height-related surprises to come along with her, but now it was more a matter of her hair being all chopped off and a few shades lighter than her natural dark brown. Last time he had seen her, her hair was past her shoulders and had stripes of color best described as various flavors of candy floss.
"There's my girl," Malcolm choked, his voice low. "It's been too long since I last saw you—hey, thanks for cleaning out my house for me. I owe you and what's-his-name a favor."
"What's-his-name and I broke up while you were packed away, so you owe him nothing—I thought I told you that," she replied with a chuckle. Pulling away, she gently punched his shoulder. "Let's get back to your place before the waterworks start; thought you can't have any of that in public."
"Times have changed, Lex," he said, taking her duffel bag and slinging it across his shoulder. "You know how I was positioned to where no one could fuck me?"
"Not for long, anyway," she added as they walked out the door and into the London streets. "Something about your arse growing fangs… that's honestly one of my favorites. Used it on a chav a couple months ago and he about wet himself."
"First, that definitely makes me proud," Malcolm replied. "Second, that doesn't matter anymore. They can't fuck me even if they tried. Provided I don't fuck up too bad, I've got immunity."
"Oooh, nice," Lex whistled. She and her uncle made their way towards the Underground and hopped aboard. Long ago there had come a "Silence Agreement", where provided the two of them were together on public transport, they'd stay quiet to the point it nearly appeared that they didn't know one another. It was first enacted when he was in Whitehall and she was a young teen, due to a pap that was known for riding the Tube and could pick out a target from three cars down. A high-ranking member of the Opposition had been nailed for soliciting favors from an underage girl, and it had been Malcolm's saving grace that the PM himself knew about his niece beforehand, down to having met her for a nanosecond a few years back at that point. Since then it had been a precaution, in case another photographer with a short attention span happened on by them, since at least when they would happen out to do something in public, chances are they weren't holding any luggage and were someplace perfectly family-friendly.
They got off at the appropriate stop and Lex wordlessly followed Malcolm back towards his new flat block. It was only once they were in the building and waiting for the lift did Lex say anything else.
"Wow… and to think you having a London house was swank," she nodded, impressed. "This certainly is a change of pace from a bit ago, isn't it?"
"I'd rather have this flat than my previous one," he snorted. The lift doors opened and they entered, going up to his floor. "Would you believe some tosser tried to make me his bitch? I thought that only happened in American prison movies."
"You'd be surprised at the bollocks that passes for entertainment over there," Lex said. They stepped out of the lift and Malcolm allowed her access to his flat. It was spacious, as far as flats went, with whitewashed walls and a large, open area that melded from sitting area to dining room to kitchen. A small hallway went off towards the inside of the building, with a couple doors in-sight before curving off behind the kitchen and out of view. The young woman was struck speechless as she spun around and silently took it all in.
"Rethinking that offer of a place to crash for graduate school?" her uncle smirked. "It's not the house, but…"
"Let me get accepted first—then we'll talk," she replied, letting out a little laugh. Putting down her backpack, she went to a window and looked out at the view. "This place must cost a fortune."
"It's equipped with a fuck-ton of surveillance bullshit, since one of the terms of my release is my employers being able to keep color-coded tabs on me," Malcolm explained. "This was the only place available, and it's on their dime."
"Then maybe Granny was wrong and you don't work for a bunch of wanks," Lex said. Her uncle furrowed his brow at her.
"What did your Granny say…?" he wondered.
"Oh, just that this UNIT place you're in now is just historically governed by a 'bunch of international wanks that piss about while occasionally muttering about alien nonsense and performing occasional military operations in Wales'."
"…yeah, that sounds like your Granny," Malcolm sighed. "You have to remember though that Mam last worked for the government in the early Sixties—since then barbed wire became a wall that went up and was torn down and we can go holidaying in St. Petersburg if that's what we wanted." He went towards the hallway, dragging Lex along behind him. They went around the bend and he showed her to the guest room, now her room, tossing her duffle on the bed. There was a bed, a desk, a nightstand, and a wardrobe, all in oak, with the same white walls as the rest of the flat and white-and-grey bedding. "It's a bit bare, but I think you can make do."
"I made do with a camp bed, some plastic crates, and stepladder for three months; I can deal with this for a weekend," she said. He left her alone to unpack and went back to the sitting room, his turn to look out the window at the view. It was a lovely view, if he did say so, with just enough sky and buildings and tree branches to make it nearly feel cozy. The door to the guest room closed and Malcolm turned around, watching Lex cross the length of the flat.
"Alright, what do you feel like doing?" he asked as she vaulted over the back of the couch and landed on the cushions. "We've got all of London at our feet and for once I'm not on-call in case some high-roller gets caught on camera with his cock hanging out."
"Oh, I don't know… got any good gossip?" Lex grinned. "How are things between you and that lady you got the chocolates for? Any improvements?"
"She's perfectly fine as far as I know; how's your da? Hear from the louse lately?" he asked, shutting her down. She slumped back into the couch and folded her arms over her chest in irritation.
"When was the last time you heard from your dad?" she groused. Malcolm raised his eyebrow at her in a sly manner.
"There we are—now what do you want to do other than gossip?"
"Some of my mates told me about some exhibits they saw last time they were down, if those are still running," Lex mused. She was attempting to think of something else when Malcolm's mobile began to chirp in his pocket. He checked it: Osgood.
"Just a sec; it's work," he apologized. He swiped the call to answer and held it up to his ear. "Fuck off, Scarfy—I've got company."
'I don't care,' Osgood said cheerily. 'You've got to come down and change the batteries in the ravens. They're a bit sluggish.'
"You need me to what?" Malcolm snapped into the mobile. "Let me tell you something, young lady: I am nobody's fucking fetch dog. Have one of your forsaken interns do it."
'Not my orders," Osgood sang. Her voice was smug—too smug for comfort.
"I'm on my weekend off, entertaining my niece. How would you feel if you hadn't seen your niece in two years and once you suddenly could, without some uniformed wanker breathing down her neck, you get called into work?"
'I don't have a niece,' she replied simply. Malcolm put the mobile to his chest and rolled his eyes.
"Sorry kiddo—some upstart shite at work is trying to yank your ol' uncle's chain."
"Hasn't learned to keep out of your way yet?" Lex giggled. Her uncle scowled and held up a finger to silence her. He pressed a button and put the call on speakerphone.
"Alright Osgood, you give me one good reason why I have to take the time to go all the way down there just to tend to some overpriced lawn ornaments when all you have to do is tell some brain-dead little twat from IT to do the same and they'll be more than happy to between their Tesco run and sobbing lunchtime wank in the loo."
'…because I said so,' replied Kate's voice. Malcolm's face went blank as he processed what had just happened. 'See you in about half an hour?'
"Forty minutes—there's that match today that's going to clog the Tube and I'll be bollocked if I can't get in a train the first time."
'Thanks so very much. See you within the hour, Malcolm. Ta.'
The call cut off and the mobile emitted a dull dialtone. Malcolm turned off the speaker and locked the screen, turning his sitting room into an awkward miasma of silence.
"So… I take it that wasn't Osgood?" Lex assumed.
"No; that was the boss—I have to go," he muttered, pocketing his mobile. He grabbed his keys and headed towards the front door. "I shouldn't be more than an hour. How about we go get some dinner after this, yeah? Still on that Thai kick or do you like something else?"
"Wow Uncle Malc… I didn't think you were the type," she replied. He furrowed his brow in confusion.
"What type? The Thai food type? The type to dote upon his niece-but-might-as-well-be-daughter?"
"The type to go after your boss; I thought you swore off workplace relationships after Kelly."
Malcolm's face blanched, then his ears turned red, and a scowl spread across his face. "Alexandra, you better come up with a good fucking reason I don't ship you back to Marcia the moment I get home." He then left in a fluster, slamming the door behind him.
"Huh… that reaction's improved," Lex mused aloud. She turned back so that she sat on the couch properly and turned on the telly. There was no reason to think of anything to keep her here—he always bristled at the mention of exes and the two hours it'd likely take for him to get to work and back would be enough time for him to scare enough belligerent youths for him to be more than happy to let her finish visiting through the weekend.
Thirty-seven minutes later and Malcolm came storming into Mainframe UK, a takeaway tea in-hand and a sneer slapped across his face. He glanced up in the atrium at the window he knew to be Kate's office. She was standing by the glass while on the phone, giving him a wave as he glowered off, a grey Glasgow storm in the heart of London.
Getting into the lift that went to his office, Malcolm rode it all the way to the top, angrily sipping his tea. He stepped out in the reception area and ignored the weakly-protesting personal assistant to barge into Kate's office, standing there with one hand jammed in his pocket and the other concentrating on keeping his tea from shaking in his ire. Kate held up a hand to keep him at bay and continued concentrating on her conversation.
"Right, so I will see you in a couple weeks then," she said. A pause. "Okay then dear; listen, I've got to go deal with one of the new guys. Lots of love." Kate then hung up the desk phone and sat down, folding her hands over her closed notebook computer with a smirk. "Yes, Mister Tucker?"
"Kate, love, why am I standing here?" Malcolm asked from behind his tea. He lowered it as menacingly as possible, baring his teeth in a snarl.
"You haven't done anything 'menial' for a while, so I thought it was about your turn," she replied snarkily. "Besides, it's Friday, early afternoon. You should be here."
"I've had this scheduled for ages," he snapped, pointing at her with his tea hand. "You approved it yourself."
"Your niece is perfectly capable of entertaining herself for a couple hours if my information is reliable," Kate said. "She did get rid of that ridiculous hair color, didn't she? I was hoping that part was correct because I'd really hate to see her unemployable due to something as trivial as…"
"I don't know what game you're playing, but stop it," Malcolm growled, cutting her off. His nostrils flared and his hand came out of his pocket to clench and flex in anger. "Stay away from my niece and my sister; it's your fault if you cross my mam, but don't take me away from my family again unless it's absolutely necessary, you hear? If you don't, I will make your life Hell."
"Malcolm, I know what it's like to be taken away from your kid when you have plans," she said calmly. "I have two, and better yet: they're ones I gave birth to and won custody over and raised often on my own. Alexandra will survive."
"That's because a Tucker survives," he hissed. He turned on his heel and stomped off, not wanting to hear another word. Down the lift, out into the corridor, and away he glowered.
With tea gone and cup disposed of by the time he found the tech corridor, Malcolm felt only nominally calmer once he reached the Raven Room. He had switched out the batteries before, so he didn't need instructions to hit the button on the wall and start to grab a couple of spare power packs from their chargers sitting on a shelving unit. A vent in the top of the ceiling opened and one by one a flock of ravens came fluttering down onto the table in the center of the room. They hopped about a little and twitched, but as soon as Malcolm clucked his tongue twice they all froze in place and their heads halved at the joint of the beak, opening up to reveal their internal batteries.
"C'mere, Rab," he nodded, beckoning one of the birds over. Power pack still exposed, it bounced over and allowed him to switch out the old for the new, which he put separate from the ones that still needed to be installed. After carefully snapping the raven's head back in place, he stroked its back and watched as it fluttered towards the other side of the table. "Alright, who's next? Alba? Eustace? Ken? Flossie?"
"Good thing I'm not on speaking terms with much of the old crowd, or they'd have a juicy email to read in about twenty minutes," a voice laughed. Malcolm jumped, nearly dropping a battery in shock. He shot a glare over towards the door and saw Glenn Cullen standing there, snickering at him from behind a yogurt.
"For fuck's sake—I thought they put you out to pasture after the Inquiry," Malcolm cursed. Glenn stepped casually into the room and stood next to his old workplace bully, looking at the automated ravens curiously.
"Which one's Ken?" he asked. "…and Flossie? Why'd you name one Flossie?"
"You don't fuck with a Flossie; it's common sense." Malcolm took a small step away and continued switching out battery packs. "So, aren't you going to explain yourself or am I going to have to bollock some poor interns until I get some answers?"
"Good to see you again too," the older man deadpanned. "What's the one with the chip in his beak paint and a shattered eye called?"
"Malcolm Junior—that one got in a scuff with a cat—now seriously, am I being visited by the fucking Ghost of Careers Past or…?"
"My nose still throbs when I come within arm's length of you, so it's definitely me," Glenn replied. He shrugged noncommittally and continued eating his yogurt. "I was out of work about a week when Director Stewart approached me about coming to work here. They made me head of Data Management, if you'll believe it."
"Not sure I do, no," Malcolm said flatly. He shut a bird's head and scratched it beneath the beak absentmindedly. "You survived with your reputation intact, so why didn't you just leave for good?"
"…because they needed me," Glenn said. He glanced over at Malcolm, who had raised an eyebrow at him, and turned back to the mechanical birds. "It's pretty nice, this being relied on stuff. Now I'm a Constant, I have subordinates, my opinion is actually considered to have value… they took this old dog in and made him feel like a pup again."
"I hope that's only in the metaphorical sense."
"Purely." Glenn tossed his empty yogurt cup in the trash bin and continued examining the ravens. "Since I had been part of the plain-view political word for so long, Director Stewart actually asks me from time to time who we should keep an eye on, who we should try to recruit. Might be a bit haughty of me, but I will admit to even suggesting a jail break to get a hold of a prospect."
Malcolm stopped moving, dead battery in one hand and a raven in the other. "You…? You were the agent that gave me a 'glowing recommendation'…?"
"We needed someone who commanded an air of authority, that got the job done no matter the cost. Who else could I have pointed her towards? Olly? That little prat will sting you the moment you turn around."
"Sounds about accurate," he agreed. Malcolm pointed out one of the ravens waiting to be tended to and quietly said, "That's Cullen."
"A little molted there, isn't he?"
"No more than you are."
Silence fell between the two men and a minute passed, unspoken.
"See you around, Malcolm," Glenn finally said. "I've got some work to do."
"Yeah." He stood in silence as the former aide left. Once the sound of footsteps could no longer be heard in the hall, Malcolm clucked his tongue again. "Cullen, c'mere. If I won't replace your brain, no one will."
A/N: With this, I'm going to place the Glenn Cullen and OC character tags on the story, because I need to do so.