A/N: Here's a long-winded-ish chapter. You'll know what I mean when you read it.

Twenty-Six

"I'm telling you: this is not going to work very well," Glenn said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and idly touched the large scab on his forehead, the reminder that he was one of the lucky ones. "You and I all know that we need to replace Frank, and that I accept Fajr, but I don't think most people in mainframe staff will accept her after what happened."

It was a heads-of-staff meeting—the first one since the end of the Zygon Insurgency—and it was already shaping up to be the most important one they'd had in a while. Of the many department heads that had been taken captive during the mainframe's occupation, Jac Forrest from Technology and Frank Hughes from Security had to be replaced. With the former drained to within an inch of her life and still in the medbay and the latter flat-out dead, it was their nine coworkers' unfortunate task with figuring out who would succeed them. While both had their own pool of assistants and go-to-subordinates that were being groomed as eventual replacements, it was Hughes's role that was causing the most stir and for all the wrong reasons.

"Fajr Bismuth is the reason half of the surviving mainframe employees are alive today," Kate reasoned. "I don't see why she cannot succeed Frank despite the fact she would have without question had he simply retired."

"Yet there's still the fact that she's a Zygon, after we were just nearly wiped out by a Zygon faction," Glenn reasoned. "Maybe in a year or two, but I'm thinking about how difficult it would be for the people who watched their friends and coworkers get murdered by someone who is of the same species as she. It would not only be traumatic for them to have that happen when they're still healing, but it would be frustrating for her when no one listens to, and possibly might even attempt to circumvent, her at every turn. I know she's who Frank would have wanted, and I'll be glad when she is in charge over in Security, but I can't see it working at this precise moment. Humans can't bloody trust one another if they look different—why would her being a Zygon create an exception?"

"Who do you expect us to appoint then? My son? Gordon is far from being ready to take on an entire department, even if it's only temporary… and that doesn't even include the demotion that would occur when he would give up the chair to Fajr—no, she must take Frank's place."

"He has a point, ma'am, even if it's a reality we don't wish to acknowledge," the HR lead said. She shrugged uncomfortably, gesturing to a piece of paper she had on the table in front of her. "Our staffing levels in Mainframe UK, despite making plenty use of Zygons loyal to UNIT and the Tripartite Accord, is overwhelmingly Human with a significant Silurian minority. To have either species be commanded by the one that just committed a long-term terrorist act, shows a distinct lack of sensitivity and I'm certain that Bismuth would understand a delay in her confirmation because of it. We're talking about the Zygon that kept herself here instead of going to Turmezistan, ensuring not only that she's alive, but that she was able to negotiate for the lives of her surviving coworkers. She knows the position she's in, that we're in, and that force won't solve anything."

"…and I respectfully disagree with you all. We need a Zygon as a head of a department now more than ever and to not give Fajr the chance she full-well deserves is worse than any fallout that would otherwise occur." Kate frowned as she sized up the atmosphere in the room. "I shouldn't have to remind everyone that I would be well within my rights to pull rank and establish Fajr Bismuth as a leading force within this mainframe without anyone else's approval. The fact I normally allow us to appoint via committee is a luxury not all brigadier-directors give their mainframes and I would like to keep ours intact for as long as is necessary."

Malcolm chewed on the end of his pen and remained silent. In the days since he was released from his panic room, he had proposed to his now-fiancée, watched his personal assistant go from near-comatose to something akin to her sarcastic self, and even witnessed the most spectacular mental breakdown his niece had ever experienced when they saw one another for the first time since the Insurgency. Coaxing Lex through a tub of ice cream and the fact that he was still in her life was now looking easy compared to the job they had before them. Jac's replacement had been simple—her lieutenant of sorts had long-established herself as more than qualified and able to take the position without controversy—yet now the discussion had him back in something akin to his Number 10 mode, when he would spend entire meetings diffusing tensions if he wasn't silently sizing up the opinions in the room. Instead of cracking jokes with Tony and glaring in Harriet's stead, or even biting his tongue as Nicola stumbled through policies, he was keeping on the sidelines, seeing where lines were drawn and who stood on which side.

It didn't matter which side he was on—Kate was going to have her way and he needed to figure out how to toe the line of neutrality. It was his job to spin and not appear to take much of a side, now so more than ever thanks to the engagement they were staying silent on. They needed to settle everything at work and home first before announcing something as dangerous as a wedding. Until then, his utter silence was key and he was not going to cock it up for anything.

Without a definitive conclusion, Kate eventually called a quick recess, where she stormed up to her office to cool her temper and the rest of the meeting attendees dispersing towards their respective departments for the time being. It did not take long back at his department—where everyone was still there and as incompetent as ever—before he wandered off towards the direction of the cafeteria, deciding to snatch up a couple sandwiches and coffees and haul them over to the medbay. Just because he was unable to allow his assistant to fully go back to work without Sullivan's supervision did not mean that he was barred from bringing her something with actual taste for lunch and an earful of prime bitching to unload.

Malcolm was in the middle of hunting down where Aparajita's favorite flavor of creamer was hiding by the condiments when he saw them: the Osgoods. Not one Scarfy, or Scarfy and her uncle, but two fucking Scarf-obsessed Osgoods whose presence was putting everyone on-edge. He hurried and used the plain creamer for his assistant's coffee so that he could catch them as they went into the lift, each with their own quick meal. It was only the three of them as the doors closed, both Osgoods with the same exact uneasy expression as they noticed who was there.

"Scarfy, Scarfy," he said flatly. The Osgood with the bowtie and braces quickly looked at the lift buttons, which Malcolm quickly stepped in front of. "R&D?"

"Uh… yes."

Balancing the coffees and bag of sandwiches in one hand, Malcolm pressed the buttons for their floors, afterwards hitting a third that made a panel pop out of the wall. He scanned his thumb on the pad and knew that the lift gears were now frozen.

"Why did you stop the lift?" the Osgood wearing a floor-length scarf asked.

"…because we need to talk, and even though I've put the lift on hold, it's still very clear on the CCTV that all we're doing is precisely that," Malcolm replied. He leaned against the wall, completely blocking the button panel while giving the two women all the space he possibly could give them. "I don't know which fucking one of you is which, and you both know I'm not going to bother figuring it out because it doesn't fucking matter, but we need to get some things straight before I let you pop off and vivisect a moleman or whatever the fuck you were planning on doing today."

"There's nothing that needs straightening," Bowtie said.

"We are here and that's what matters," Scarf added.

"Yeah, and one of you is harboring a terrorist while the other is the terrorist," Malcolm scowled. "Second chances happen, I'm not a fucking cold-hearted wank used to buying their way out of trouble, but that doesn't mean that I'm not watching the fuck out of you both."

"No one has anything to fear from our existence," Scarf-Scarfy said. "If anything, the Earth Residency Accord is now back to its original terms since there are two Osgoods again."

"Listen, you two—make it more than good, be fucking brilliant," Malcolm warned. "It's bad enough we have to replace Frank because Trona and her cronies blasted him away and Jac because she was two days from death when we found her. One of you did that, and that's not something that people easily forgive."

"Would you forgive that?" Scarf-Scarfy posed.

"That's not the point," he snapped, "because it's this: just because there's two of you now doesn't mean that Petra's back, and as fucking thick as people act, they know that much. It's no longer Petra and Nella, but Nella and Trona, and people will remember that. No matter what happens from here on out, be on your best fucking behavior." He reactivated the lift and let it bring them to the medbay floor. "Do not make me need to spin this away if we realize down the line this was a fucking cock-up of Parliamentary levels. You hear me?"

"Perfectly," the Scarfies said at once.

The door opened and Malcolm went out into the medical wing, leaving the Scarfies to their business. He walked into Aparajita's room to see that she was sitting up reading and looking very much like she was the most relaxed since hitting puberty. The wall was projecting the inside of a nondescript flat, with noise from the street below just barely audible—her place, give or take a couple bits of decoration.

"Thought you might want a bite," he announced. She bookmarked her page and set the novel down and laughed.

"How did you know I was about to die from lack of flavor down here?"

"It's still English-levels of flavor, but at least it's better than the nutrition-conscious things they want to feed you." He handed her a coffee and sat down in the chair next to her seat, using the side table to rest his drink while he got out their sandwiches. "I'd rather feed you a fucking pile of chocolate-covered ants than some of that shit Alessandra says is food."

"She is a highly-trained medical professional."

"…who is also an imperfect Human, just like the rest of us Humans, so fuck that." He took a bit of sandwich and washed it down with coffee. "Go off the deep end yet?"

"I'm trying to relax, but knowing that you're running around loose is making me lose sleep at night," she deadpanned. He rolled his eyes and waited until she was drinking her coffee before talking again.

"Kate's arguing for putting Bismuth in as Frank Hughes's replacement."

The spray of coffee that went everywhere was truly glorious to watch, even if it meant that he was going to clean it up afterwards.

In the end, Malcolm was right—it ended up being Fajr Bismuth.

Using her established rank bestowed upon her by Geneva HQ, Kate had assigned the Zygon to head Security and the grumblings immediately began. The entire mainframe knew by the end of the afternoon and that evening the two new departmental heads were sworn in amongst a mixed reaction. Brigadier-Director Stewart went home alone that night, her Lieutenant-Colonel left to mop up a mess left by one of the lingering cumstains that still believed they were going to revive the insurgency movement. The tit looked like a moron in a rubber suit to most folks by midnight, leaving Malcolm to turn off the telly with a smile as he knew that there wouldn't be a peep on the nightly news that would put UNIT or the Tripartite peace in danger.

Not wanting to head into the panic room to sleep just yet, nor wanting to wander around too much, he went through his department until he found the kitchenette. He made himself a whole pot of tea and found some satsumas and biscuits, hauling everything back to his office on a tray. The quiet of the overnight shifts was permeating in an almost gentle way, he noticed, and it allowed him to settle himself down from how tightly he felt himself wound from work.

Malcolm was peeling his second satsuma while scrolling through a jewelry website on his mobile for a decent ring when he heard the lift door open and someone walk up to his office door. The soft knock against the wooden surface sounded like a fierce pounding in the dead of night, which didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Malcolm? You still up?"

"Come on in, Gordon," he replied, "I've got some tea if you want." The younger man came in and, after following through on getting directions to where a spare mug was, sat down on the sofa across the table from Malcolm. "I thought you worked an afternoon shift today."

"I did, but then someone didn't show up for their night shift and I'm staying over until the morning crew gets here," the lad explained. Malcolm could see the weariness in his face, knowing it was not the first time he'd done this. "I'm just glad that there's barracks here I can use—can you imagine going all the way to Mum's and back just to get back in time for the evening slot?"

"Fucking awful, but at least it's doable under normal circumstances." Malcolm finished pouring Gordon some tea and shoved some biscuits his way as well. "How long's your break?"

"Bismuth wants me on-call right now, that way I can wander and not make it nearly as hard a shift," Gordon said. He shook his head wearily, as though admitting defeat. "I don't know how to tell Mum, but I think I'm going to move out if this stuff keeps happening to my schedule."

"Well you're, what, twenty-six? There's no shame in staying or leaving, as long as you're doing it for a reason. You're not being fucking teased about still staying at home, are you?" Malcolm raised an eyebrow, lowering it again when Gordon shook his head again.

"No—I just really want my own space. Mum lives pretty far into the Green Belt, and I'm considering moving into Greater London proper, maybe even just on the outskirts."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course; besides, you and mum are getting married soon, and you need the space from me as much as I'd need the space from you."

The penny dropped hard and loud, ringing in Malcolm's ear as he digested the young man's words. "Ah… you know about that."

"She told me a couple days ago while we were out to lunch. I haven't mentioned it to anyone else in case it's supposed to be a secret."

"…for now. We need to finish shit up here before letting loose that we're engaged. Rajit and Lex don't even know and I tell them fucking everything."

"Fiona doesn't know either; Mum's waiting until after she graduates to say anything, so she doesn't take away from it."

"Good—I'm glad."

Silence settled over the office, awkwardly edging its way around the two men as they drank their tea. Seconds crawled by, announcing their departure from the clock on the wall, punctuating the quiet with sharp, methodical measurement.

"Why are you marrying Mum?" the lad asked after a while. Malcolm shrugged, wanting to keep the conversation as calm and casual as possible.

"Well, her and I both fucked up in the past, and now we want to do it right," he said. The younger man, however, did not appear terribly convinced.

"It's not like you half live at our house anyhow," Gordon frowned. "You could simply move in and not that much would change. Wouldn't getting married just complicate things for you at this point?"

"Listen Gordon, I'm thinking about the future here. Your mam and I are going to get old before you know it, and it will take the strain off you, Fiona, and Lex if we're taking care of one another. Part of that is occupying the same physical space, yeah, but it's also legal aspects." Malcolm sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, finishing the motion by pulling his hand over his face. "Fucking forbid, but say in a couple years your mam was in an accident—you could be in a communications blackout while deployed on UNIT business and Fiona's off taking a semester abroad to visit her family in Italy and the power grid's down from Sicily to the Alps. Who would be able to approve an operation that could save her life while coordinating getting you two back here? What if the roles were reversed and it was your mam signing off on me while hauling Lex over here from some teaching job overseas she doesn't even hear about until next year?"

"That's a fairly drastic thought."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's a worthless thought. "

"I guess I'm just not used thinking like that," Gordon admitted. "You sure there's not a chance this'll end badly? Both of you are divorced already." Malcolm exhaled heavily, realizing full-well how awkward of a position Gordon was putting himself in.

"I'm not Loris and she's not Kelly—we've upgraded so drastically we're riding into this in first fucking class. All I want is to be able to refer to the love of my life as my wife. You understand that much, yeah?"

"Yeah…" The younger man took another biscuit, eating half of it in one bite. "Dad and Erica are happy together, and I hope that you and Mum would be too if you got married, but it's not like you'll have kids or anything like that at this point. It just seems like a lot of show for little reason."

"Would it be a lot of show if you got married one day?"

"Probably not."

"Then what's keeping it from being so for me and your mam? She can't have kids anymore and I don't have any children of my own to bring into the mix, but the show shouldn't be a thing just if kids are in the future. If you love someone, really truly love them, then don't fuck around by playing pretend without anything concrete and legal to back it up. Why do you think I've kept my flat this entire time instead of moving in once we started getting serious?"

"…so that Lex can live there rent-free while in uni…?"

"Lex is only an accessory in this situation, not a cause." Malcolm poured the both of them some more tea before getting up to raid one of his desk drawers for a new sleeve of biscuits he kept for emergencies. "We've kept separate homes because we're still separate people. When we get married, yeah we'll still be physically two different people, but we'll lawfully be one and that will be when keeping our things separate will mostly become redundant."

"Dunno… I guess I just think about the fact that my parents weren't ever married, yet Mum's been married and divorced. You've been divorced… it doesn't seem like something that everyone has the knack for."

"We've learned," Malcolm said firmly. "There won't be any name-taking or anyone referring to me as their da, but we're still ready to do this right."

"Good—I don't think I can call you 'Dad' at this point," Gordon chuckled. "Maybe if I'd been a kid, but not now."

"I don't care what the fuck you call me, so long as you don't think that this is all for nothing. You know more than I do how special of a woman your mam is, and I don't want to go a minute more than I have to without being her husband."

"Bit old-fashioned of you."

"It'd be even more old-fashioned of you, but if I know you well enough—and I believe I do—there's a lass out there that'll catch your eye one day. She'll drive you so fucking mad that you'll proudly be her husband, aching from the moment you get engaged until well after you exchange vows."

"Yeah," Gordon said. He began to blush, his thoughts going far-off. "I want to end up more like Dad and Erica one day though, not like Mum and Loris."

"…and I hope you get there." He finished off the tea in his mug and let out a sort laugh. "You worry a lot for someone so young; I plan on taking good care of your mam, I promise."

"Thank you," Gordon nodded quietly. Malcolm put down his mug and went to sit next to Gordon on the sofa, putting his hand on the young man's shoulder in a show of support.

"I remember what it was like being the man of the house at a young age, with a sister and mam who did whatever the fuck they damn well pleased whether it was dangerous or not," he said. "My mam had beaus, and I hated every single fucking one of those randy tits that walked through our front door, so don't feel guilty about thinking I'm some piece of shit edging in on what you worked so hard to keep together."

"I appreciate it." Gordon was about to continue when his mobile rang—his new boss—and he answered it immediately. "Yeah?"

A pause.

"Okay, I'll be down in five." Ending the call, he stood and stretched the sleepiness that was beginning to settle in his limbs. "The midnight shift's starting to come in and Bismuth's getting a bit of resistance from them. Why the heck did Mum do this?"

"To explicitly make us suffer," Malcolm joked. He stood and offered his hand to Gordon, which the lad shook. "If you ever have an issue with me, know that we can talk like adults about it, yeah? I am the one ready to pull the remainder of my government favors for you and your sister before we knew what happened after Boat One, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." The memory of the one good spot of the Cybercide from a year and a half prior made Gordon smile, pulling Malcolm's hand in so that he could give him a one-armed hug. "One wrong move and I've got an entire department that'll help me hide what's left of your body."

"It's a deal." Malcolm returned the hug and let the lad walk off, basking in the good end note to what was otherwise a shitty day. The fact Gordon was not protesting the incoming marriage was proof enough that it was going to be a good thing for all involved, and it was the thought that was able to keep him relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, knowing that all was now going well.