A/N: This is your pleasant reminder that Malcolm has a beard at the start of the chapter. That is all.

Twenty-Five

Shakily, Malcolm stepped forward and attempted to process the situation he was now in. After three weeks of isolation, he found himself staring at the love of his life as she stood in the doorway to the panic room. She seemed completely unscathed and fully functioning, giving him a gentle smile as though she was soaking in the sight of him.

"Kate? Love? Is that really you...?" he marveled. His voice was rough and his throat hurt from all the days he hadn't talked paired with all the screaming he did in the beginning.

"Yes, it is," she replied. She took a step towards him, only for him to close the remaining distance and cling to her. "It took us more than a few passes to settle everything, but it's me."

"Fuck, I thought you were gone," he whispered hoarsely. "I thought you were dead and that I would die in here. I... I..."

"No, save your words for later," she insisted. She patted him on the back consolingly, soaking in the feel of his touch. "God, this place smells like shit."

"It smells like I've been here for too long," he joked. He then held her at arm's length, attempting to put his work-face on. "What do I need to do? Who do I need to fuck over?"

"Nothing—I phoned Jamie and he has the spin job for you—we just need to get you home."

"I've been waiting so long for you to say that," he said. They walked out into the silent main of his trashed office together and his heart skipped a beat. His desk and a couple of chairs were broken, photo frames were scattered everywhere, and the scene was generally one of havoc, punctuated by the cracked-open Zygon pod that was hanging in the corner of the ceiling and its fragments littered everywhere. The window overlooking the atrium was clear and he could see the sparsely-populated floor below, only adding to the eeriness. "Where is everyone? What happened to Rajit?"

"Ms. Khan is fine, or she will be," Kate explained. Motioning towards the cracked pod, she gave a satisfied noise, as though she was remembering encountering and destroying it. "She's recovering from the shock of being kept prisoner by the Zygons; they attempted to use her and her memories to get more access to UNIT secrets. Alessandra has her in the medical ward and will let me know when she wakes up."

"She was the reason I was safe in there," Malcolm said. "I need to see her before we go, please. I fucking need to see her with my own eyes."

Kate nodded and took his hand, leading him to the lift. Their fingers remained entwined as they walked through the chaotic medical wing, being dodged and saluted and ignored as they found the ward where Aparajita was being kept. She was laying on the bed unconscious, the only of the patients in the six-person room who was quiet and not sobbing or watching telly at an obnoxiously-loud level. Attached to a bunch of tubes and needles, she looked deathly pale and much skinner than Malcolm remembered, let alone was comfortable with.

"Can she get her own room?" he asked Kate quietly.

"Not now," she replied, "because we're dealing with all of the Insurgency-related casualties and need all the space we can afford. Maybe, if we can transfer some of the lighter injuries to local hospitals under the guise of accidents, but that will take some time if I've been told correctly."

"Who are the fuckers in the private rooms, then?"

"People with significant-to-live-threatening injuries who would benefit most from the quieter environments," answered a voice. Malcolm and Kate turned to see Alessandra, who appeared to be standing purely thanks to copious amounts of coffee and energy drinks. "Honestly? I'm just glad that we've moved everyone out of the corridors at this point; was beginning to think we never would."

"How is she though?" Malcolm asked. "What happened to her? Will she recover?"

"The most I can tell you is that Ms. Khan is very lucky that she was in your office when the Insurgency began—the Zygons who invaded the top offices took her as a potential identity instead of killing her. From what Virthar and Carla have been able to tell, the extents of her injuries are only mental and directly related to her lack of nourishment."

"Thank fuck," Malcolm exhaled. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced back at his assistant. He still felt guilty beyond all reason, knowing that he was the reason she was even laying there, yet there was still that bit of relief knowing that she was not only going to be alright, but that she had been one of the lucky ones. "Have you contacted her mam? Her lad?"

"Yes; she was extremely relieved and he should be here within the hour," Alessandra replied. She exchanged glances with Kate before putting a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "Go home, decompress for a bit, and I'll let you know if anything happens."

"Sounds like solid advice," Kate said. She gently tugged on her beau's elbow, trying to snap the trance he fell into while staring at Aparajita. "She's fine; let's go."

"When will we be back?"

"Soon enough—let's get you home."

There was no more resisting as Kate led Malcolm through the mainframe again, eventually bringing him outside to where a car was waiting for them. They got in and the driver slowly began to navigate the Inner London streets.

"Shit; this went on for much longer than it should have, didn't it?" Malcolm muttered, watching his mobile finally accept a flurry of texts and voicemails. There were so many that he did not know where to begin. "Is everyone else alright, first off?"

"It seems so, yeah," Kate nodded. "Most of humanity went unaware of what the real situation was despite the disruption to normal life and emergency services, with most thinking that there's been a rash of coordinated attacks within the past few weeks that resulted in the loss of life. While the Zygons that committed the murders were acting as terrorists, the Human population believes that other humans were the ones behind the violence. There are even some terrorist groups of Human origin who are claiming responsibility thanks to the fear it's caused."

"They can suck my lonely dick," he scowled, typing away on his mobile. He was sending out texts to just about everyone who had asked where he was, with apologies and concerns to some and caustic ambiguity to others. The only thing that made him stop was the feeling of Kate's hand on his thigh, the touch nearly burning him through his trousers.

"It's not about what's right or wrong right now, but what's about keeping the peace," she reminded him. He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, holding it there as he gazed into her eyes.

"They fucked the peace until there was nothing left but a sniveling mess, then blamed it for looking so gorgeous in the first place," he said quietly. His eyes flicked quickly towards the driver and back to his lady. "Can he…?"

"Not through the glass, no. He cannot hear us."

"Good." He locked his mobile's screen and set it down on the seat, leaning in so that he could murmur in her ear. "I am ready for you to fuck me blind, making me yours for all of fucking eternity; tease me, deny me, hold me down and back until I fucking beg for your mercy. Make me feel alive again, love. Let's fuck like randy teens who don't know that there are fucking consequences to fucking with no hesitation or reservation."

She gently squeezed his thigh before moving to entwine her fingers with his. "You certainly do know how to get on a woman's good side," she half-purred. "That tent in your trousers better not be the only part of you that's aching to see me."

"Don't you know it."

The two spent the remainder of the ride trading filthy words and engaging in text threads with their respective civilian families concerning their well-being. Gordon was the only one to have not checked in so far, which was something that Malcolm let sit once he saw how much it worried Kate; if he hadn't checked in for recon and a debriefing at that point, it was likely that she needed to have the fact far from her mind until there was something concrete. At least, as he discovered, Fiona was faring better than even she expected, thanks to an increase in security at her school; Lex weathered out all three weeks inside a coworker's office, only leaving to search for food; and Malcolm was able to learn that his mam, sister, mates—everyone he had contacted—was able to text back. He felt thankful that the weights that were crushing him during his time inside the panic room had been lifted, and just in time for the car to pull into the country drive. They dismissed the driver for the evening and went into the house, both happy to see the place once again.

Soon as Kate closed the front door, however, Malcolm was on her. He took her face in both his hands and kissed her aggressively as he pressed her into the door and his raging erection into her thigh. She gasped in surprise, feeling her own body react and begin to prepare for what was going to be a night well-deserved on both sides.

"Mmphf, Malcolm, hold it," she said as she wrenched her mouth free. His hands instead found her waist, his lips traveling to her neck. It was difficult to not melt in his arms and come right then and there, but they were in the foyer and the foyer was no place for anything resembling a shag. "Come on; bed first."

"It's too far," he whined.

"...and I am not having your bare arse and prick on the freshly waxed hardwood floors," she stated. He stopped his advances and breathed deeply in the crook of her neck.

Malcolm stepped back, without a word, and his eyes went from nearly feral in their hunger to almost sheepish shame. He allowed Kate to lead him up the stairs and to her room, where she let go of his hand in order to drape her arms around his shoulders.

"There," she purred. "Now we have a better setting. Wouldn't you agree?" She saw the nearly defeated look in his eyes and she frowned. "Hey, what is it?"

"What will it be next time?" he asked. His mind was now the furthest away from fucking he could possibly imagine, the rapid pace at which he was thinking absolutely killing the mood. "What the fuck is going to happen to us the next time the world is narrowly saved from some shitty apocalypse? What if we don't make it? What if only one of us makes it?"

"Don't think about that" she requested, brushing the backs of her fingers against his cheek. "Concentrate on the now. We're here now. We're safe."

"Yeah, but all I know is that I am sick and fucking tired of always being worried about us when we are doing our jobs properly. It's one large smear of shit, going and going and going, and it makes me feel sick to my fucking stomach. Our lives are just going to be a string of these shit events, so it's now or never for revisiting this."

"Let's get you to bed—that'll help."

"No; this will." Malcolm got down on a knee and held her hands in his, gazing up at her face in hope. "Kate... Katherine, love, will you please marry me? I'm just a washed-up old cunt, fit for nothing aside from the occasional shout, but that doesn't mean I don't want to make the best of the little time we might have left."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Grinning madly, Malcolm stood and grabbed Kate on the way up, lifting her into the air. She laughed merrily as he carried her to the bed, laying her down and climbing in atop her. He rutted against her leg as he fumbled with his belt and started using his teeth to tug at the buttons on her blouse. Her fingers—more steady and nimble—helped him with his shirt and trousers, both of them laughing as they struggled to free themselves of their clothes.

There was a surprise, however, when Kate began to make the move that would normally result with her mounting Malcolm while he lay helpless beneath her: he resisted. Holding her shoulders firmly, he gently eased her back down to the mattress and pressed her into the bedding with his body.

"I've wanted to do this for so fucking long," he murmured in her ear. "You can do everything we discussed in the car later, just please, let me do this first."

"Then show me what you've been fantasizing about," she replied. "I know you'll make it more than worth our time."

He nodded and began working on her; grabbing and touching, stroking and teasing, he brought sinful noises from her as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. The very act of working her up did the same for him, as his cock hardened in the slick space between her legs and his balls quivered as she whispered his name. By the time he finally edged himself into her, it was easy and smooth, as though all their parts were made to fit one another.

It was only right for a couple who would soon be wife and husband, after all.

Malcolm took his time, doing much as he could without pushing himself over the edge too early, and made it clear that he unequivocally, undoubtedly, was dedicated to her. He thanked fuck she came before he did so that he could pull out and bring himself down before he popped off and was useless for half the night. Cradling her in his arms, he whispered sweet curses while littering her body with tiny kisses and gentle bites.

No one, nothing, was going to keep them apart now. There would be no insurgency, no apocalypse, no fucking bullshit, to stand in their way forevermore.

Morning came and both Kate and Malcolm discovered that instead of feeling refreshed and relaxed, they were still sore and weary from the previous night's activities. They got ready together and decided to have a low-key, quiet breakfast before starting their day—with her car there and their workplace destinations only being a lift ride apart, there was no need to rush.

They were nearly through their instant porridge and tea when another car pulled around the house and parked itself next to Kate's. She stood the moment she saw it, running out of the house soon as she saw it was Gordon getting out of the vehicle. Malcolm watched as she hugged her son tightly, fussing and fretting over the scrapes on his face and the spot on his head where it looked like his hair was burned off. She kissed his forehead and cried at the fact he was home despite all odds.

"Mum, don't be like that," the lad insisted as he led her back into the house. They both sat down at the table as Malcolm made sure they all had fresh tea. "Just because Walsh's unit was stupid enough to fall for a trap doesn't mean that I'm going to follow behind them. Someone had to make sure she got out of Turmezistan safely, and it sure as hell wasn't her after the trauma of losing all her men in one swoop."

"Where did you go?"

"We waited until it was clear and walked to the nearest Turmez refugee settlement overnight," Gordon explained. "The Red Cross had been there recently and there were supplies to spare. They are a very warm and welcoming people, the Turmez, and they treated us as their own until a squad of Blue Helmets came through and picked us up, thinking we were just some stranded special ops."

"Where's Walsh?" Malcolm asked. Gordon shrugged at that.

"I doubt we'll see her for a while—dropped her off with her sister, who's taking her for as long as she needs to get better. Bit batty, the sister, but she has Walsh's best interests first, therefore I trust her."

"Then we'll wait a while before the debriefing, to let her decompress," Kate nodded. She was putting herself back together now, preparing for what was likely to be a long day ahead. "What about your father? Have you told him or Erica that you're alright?"

"It was either drive in this direction or in his, so I gave him a ring while on the road and a promise to come over later," the lad said. "I'm mostly here to sleep, and I can't exactly do that at the house where my bedroom has long been forfeited to a twelve-year-old. I love my brother, but…"

"Go to bed," Kate then said, cutting his rambling off. She made him drink the rest of his tea and then shooed him out of the kitchen, ordering him up the stairs. When she returned to the kitchen, her composure was already decaying, prompting Malcolm to wrap his arms around her and allow her the comfort of someone else's strength for a while.

A pang went through Malcolm as he held Kate, knowing that this was what he had wanted to offer her during the Insurgency. There had been no real opportunity for him to do so before, with her refusal to talk about Gordon's status beforehand, and the feeling of it all crashing down was something he knew he could weather this time. He definitely knew that there would be other times, when he would be the one without the wherewithal to keep the charade up, but he knew that the woman in his arms would be there for him then. That, he now knew, was an integral part of marriage—a husband or wife taking turns with their husband or wife in supporting each other the best way they knew how—and he was willing to start right then and there in fulfilling his duty.

They stayed like that, standing in the kitchen holding one another, until the alarm on Kate's mobile went off. It was now the latest they really could have stayed before getting caught in too much of the day's traffic and it was all they could do to pull away from one another and rush to get to the car. It was Kate's turn to drive and Malcolm's to field calls on the way in—their teamwork was only going to be more feared in the coming months.

Soon as they got near Mainframe UK, however, Malcolm asked to be let out of the car, claiming that he had an errand to run yet. Kate did, giving him a quick kiss goodbye, dropping him off in front of a florist. Twenty minutes afterwards, Malcolm was walking out of said florist with a small vase of flowers, and half an hour after that he was headed through work on his way to the medbay. Checking in with Sullivan's assistants, he found that Aparajita had been transferred to her own room only an hour beforehand, despite the fact she was still unconscious and hooked up to several contraptions. He walked into the room silently, noticing that there was already another visitor—hunched over as he sat in a chair, not paying attention to anything other than Aparajita, there was only one other person who Malcolm thought this newcomer could be.

"You must be Jabril," he said, closing the door behind him. He saw the young man looked like hell, with a face swollen by tears and having very clearly not done anything from sleeping more than two hours at a time to taming his beard since the Insurgency. "Malcolm Tucker; it's an honor to finally meet you in person."

"Same with you," Jabril replied, his broad Indian accent close to what Malcolm had imagined. He watched the older man as he put the flowers down on the false windowsill and took the spare chair, moving it so that they could sit next to one another. "You look well."

"I won't lie—I've been having a lot more fun the past twelve hours than you have," the older man shrugged. "Doc didn't tell me much, but she did say that Rajit will be alright. She'll be back up and bossing us around before we realize it." When Jabril did not answer, Malcolm leaned back in his chair and slumped slightly. "This is what being selfless got her—fuck, if I could have traded spots with her, I would have done so in a heartbeat."

"She did her duty."

"She did more than that. Our Rajit's a part of UNIT just as UNIT's a part of her; just took until now for us to realize the full extent of it."

"I keep on telling her she should quit this job before it kills her… and now this…"

"It's her choice, lad; as much as we don't like it, it was all her choice."

Jabril remained silent for a moment, reflecting on Malcolm's words. "I just don't want to lose another person I love to the cause of UNIT." The older man raised a brow at that.

"Another person?" he wondered. "It's not like me to pry like this, but I never heard about you having a prior UNIT connection."

"My father," Jabril explained. "He was military and got a transfer here a few years ago, being able to leave Gujarat behind. Mammi was devastated when he died, which was why I moved here in the first place." He looked directly at Malcolm, showing the tears in his eyes. "The plane he was on just… exploded—there was no body to bury—and less than two years later, I get a call saying that another of my loved ones has nearly fallen prey to the same agency's mistakes. It makes a person so very tired, you know?"

It only took a second before Malcolm connected the dots. "Fuck… you're Colonel Ahmed's boy." Jabril nodded silently, reaching for Aparajita's hand to hold.

"Don't feel bad; Bapa was not the sort to talk freely about home while at work," he chuckled awkwardly. "He is under Allah's care now—so that is at least a comfort—though I am selfish and wish he could still be here. I think he would have liked Rajita."

"I wouldn't blame him if he did—she's one of the most competent assistants, let alone coworkers, that I've ever had," Malcolm assured. "The only other one that's come close cannot hold a candle to her, and that's because of all the UNIT-related knowledge we need here that tends to be useless elsewhere. She is the perfect one for her job."

Cold silence stretched itself across the room again. Soft beeping from the monitors was the only noise, occasionally punctuated by someone talking as they walked down the outside corridor.

"Rajita…" Jabril said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I had told her a couple weeks ago that she is my Padmavati. I didn't mean for it to be too true."

"Okay, you lost me," Malcolm said. "Forgive me for not sitting classes on Indian literature as a nip, but you make it sound almost as tragic as Romeo and Juliet."

"In a way; Padmavat is a Sufi poem about the most beautiful woman and the world and how she ends up the desire of a sultan. The story ends with her having died, while he is left to think about how Man's desires will never end."

"Bit depressing, if you don't mind my saying."

"As if your Romeo and Juliet isn't?" There was no rancor in his voice, only observation. Malcolm simply nodded, unable to refute the claim, and allowed the younger man to continue. "I told her she is my Padmavati as she is worth sieging all of Chittorgarh for, or at least this place, and I would do it as many times as it took to hear her laugh and see her smile again."

"That is the tragic flaw with us shit-arsed men: chances are we're either all-in or can't be fucking bothered. Why they even put up with us sorry cunts is beyond me."

"…because sometimes, a Padmavati is glad to see her Alauddin Khalji, for she knows she is not destined for the pyre, that she has a choice whether she will survive the tale or not. She is worth more than what she has been led to believe and realizing that brings her more joy and satisfaction than anything in her old life. Alauddin Khalji is not always a man in this sense—maybe another woman, or a career opportunity, or even moving to a new place—because even though the men were real in the poem, she and the situation were not. I'm sure there are many who would argue with me, but that's alright. They can argue. The Padmavat is… allegory…? Is that the English word? It's been a long time since I sat that class."

"Sounds about right, and it's been longer for me, I guarantee it." Malcolm nodded at Jabril, seeing that he was beginning to wince at the lights above, the first signs of the raging headache that he knew was going to torture the lad. He stood and began to search through the cupboards; didn't fucking matter that he wasn't a member of Alessandra's staff or not, 'cause he wasn't a cruel man… at least not in this case. "Sometimes I can't even keep the shit straight, so don't worry; your accent may be different than a lot of people around here, but so is mine. You're not a total fucking idiot—Rajit's not into idiocy."

"This is true, yes." Jabril then suddenly found himself holding a paper cup of water and three pills, put there by Malcolm, who was already sitting back down. "What is this for?"

"If memory serves me right, you're about to feel like you're getting fucked through the eyeballs here pretty soon, and it won't go away until the cack in your face clears—that's two for the pain, one for the sinuses."

"Thank you." He took the pills and placed the empty cup on the side table before holding Aparajita's hand again. She still slept on, the slow, steady beeping of her monitors both a comfort and a maddening force all at once. "Have you been in love, Mister Tucker?"

"I've thought I was plenty of times, maybe even was once or twice out of those, but I am in love now… and yeah, she's worth sieging Chittorgarh for, whatever the fuck that is," he admitted. Malcolm drew a hand over his face, ending the motion in a way that he held his mouth and chin. "Your mams are fucking nosy, but I'm glad they were just nosy enough to get you two together."

"I am too."

"Continue to treat her well and I may just have your back when she decides to get scary." They laughed weakly at that, knowledge that they both would likely deserve every future shout as an unsaid agreement between them. Silence, and then Malcolm stood, stretching languidly. Being in the panic room for so long had made him antsy, unable to sit for very long without moving, and he was beginning to notice it. "Let me know when she wakes up, yeah? She's got a scolding coming about not following the lieutenant colonel's orders."

"I'll see what I can do," Jabril nodded. Malcolm left the younger man to his devices and walked off towards the exit of the medical wing.

Time to get in another day at the fuck-office.