A/N: I just realized the other day that I'm now officially in the story past the corresponding date in which I began writing this. A lot of interesting things has happened since then, which means that… eh… things are gonna happen soon. Not yet, but soon.
Forty-Six
It was honestly bad enough that the heads-of-staff meeting was late because it seemed that the particular month in question was somehow very busy for everyone. They were a couple weeks late overall, with the October meeting closer to the end of the month than anyone would like, thus creating the risk of making November's regularly-scheduled meeting not quite as impactful as it should. It went on anyhow, and it was probably a good thing that it did, as there was an important interruption that caught everyone's attention.
"I'm retiring," the Head Osgood said bluntly. The entire conference table looked at him, not exactly certain how to process the news and its insertion into the overall discussion.
"William, we were talking about budgetary free-ups for next quarter," Kate frowned. She put down the papers she was reading from and looked at her coworker, eyebrow raised. "Did you want to temporarily table the topic at-hand until you get this out of your system?"
"My retirement is a budgetary free-up," William shrugged. "I'm sixty-five and am starting to feel it—I think it's about time I bow out now while I can still play with my grandkids."
"Do you have a successor in mind?" Kate asked. The rest of the heads-of-staff were quiet, as this was the first any of them had heard of such talk, and they wanted to know what was going to play out. The Elder Osgood shrugged at that, instead turning towards the HR head.
"Do you think you can interview Petronella? Both of her? At once?"
"You mean, consider both for the position?" Moore wondered. "Only one person can be a department head."
"…except they are one person in two bodies—you would already be getting two for the price of one, so might as well make it official."
"Are there no others who would be interested in the position?" Kate wondered. "We cannot simply go and hire your niece in your place simply because you said so."
"I'm certain there are, and I don't mind you considering them—let alone someone else being chosen—but if you interview Petronella, then please interview both of her at once."
"I can probably figure something out," Moore said. She wrote down the request in her notebook and clicked the end of her pen. "It's unorthodox, but I think I can manage it."
"Nora, make sure the internal posting on the position is well-known," Kate added. "I want everyone to have a fair chance, and for the younger Osgoods to not be looked poorly upon should they get it."
"I think out of everyone in this room, ma'am, you're the one who knows the most about being in such a spot," Moore said, "and I can assure you that it'll be so transparent that you won't have to worry."
"Good," Kate replied. "Then begin drafting the announcement and blocking out interview dates, and as soon as we find a successor, we can then begin planning the retirement party."
The Elder Osgood nodded in agreement. "I think I can last until then."
"Excellent; now, does anyone else have any other projects that they are closing on before the year's end, or are we about done with this item?" Kate asked, getting back to the meeting.
A couple weeks went by and the Mainframe became all abuzz over the news of the Head of Research and Development's incoming retirement. Leadership had been relatively stable over the past few years, with only two departmental heads needing replacing—four if one took Colonels Ahmed and Walsh into consideration—which was definitely a change from years prior. To hear of someone give up their position on their own terms instead of due to death or illness had been fairly unheard-of for a while and everyone was glad to hear of it happening.
This, of course, did not mean that the proposed retirement was all excitement and anticipation for everyone.
Pulling up to the house, Malcolm's heart almost wanted to burst in happiness at the fact he was coming home from work to his wife and son. So fucking stereotypical and boring a concept, yet was something he didn't have two years prior and he was glad. It didn't matter that his wife had simply worked from home that day and that the bairn was one that was technically a danger to the entire fucking galaxy, but he was going to take what he could get.
"Love? I'm back," he called into the house as he walked in through the kitchen door. Fiona walked in as he leaned against the counter to take off his shoes, a bag of garbage in her hand. "You were not the one I meant."
"Good to see you too, Dad," she snarked. "Mum and Conall are in the office right now while I'm finishing up chores for the day before taking off. How do you feel about me picking up pork chops for dinner tomorrow?"
"I don't care what the fuck we have for dinner at this point—you're the boss of that department," he said. They high-fived on her way out the door, the teen smug with a power that she knew was oft rare in her current age and position. Malcolm took his shoes from the kitchen door and deposited them by the front doormat as he moved closer to his goal.
Poking his head in the office, he found precisely the scene he was expecting: Kate sitting at the computer and concentrating on job applications and resumes for R&D while Conall sat in his play cot in the corner smacking varying toys to make them light up and create noise. Malcolm then moved fully into the room, clearing his throat to grab his wife's attention.
"Any luck?" Kate glared up from her work, giving him all the answer he needed. "Okay, okay, fine—Will's fucking blasting us on accident with his retirement. Didn't Nora give the all-clear for the Scarfies to replace him? She is HR."
"Yes, but no matter what, there's something that Osgood does not have that her uncle does: long-standing scientific experience with the Doctor. As Brigadier-Director, I need to make certain that part is covered."
"At least one of them is a Zygon who tried to kill that Time Tit, the other attempted to stop said killing after having the previous half of her ripped out of existence by the fucking Master, and they've been off on at least one space-and-time adventure, where they got to deliver an absolute madman's grandkid, who was only insane because of the cunting shite the Doctor put him through. How is that not enough scientific experience with the creep?"
"…because now that you and I are raising the Doctor's child as our own, we need a first-resort scientific advisor more than ever, as a buffer if anything," Kate replied. "It sounds on paper to be something that the Osgoods can be as well as Head of R&D, but in practice it is more like Benton being a military advisor, with the ability to go off for periods of time and not disrupt the daily goings-on at UNIT, leaving him to chat with the Doctor while Arwell and Bell do the heavy lifting."
"What about Blythe? The Kraken's known the Doctor since she was a Wren."
"She's an outlier."
"…and it can't be one Scarfy while the other gets herself comfortable on Oor Wullie's bucket because…?"
"…because, you and I both know from experience that if something happens to one Osgood and the both of them suffer."
"Can't argue with that."
"That's why we need an additional advisor, to keep the distance between all of us safe. I offered the position to William, saying it would be part-time and mostly on an as-needed basis, but he's serious about getting out for good."
"Does he know about…?"
"Conall…? No; he's still in the dark."
"So if he doesn't know now, then it's better he never does," he surmised.
"Correct."
Conall babbled from his play cot, holding his arms up towards Malcolm in a plea to be cuddled. He picked the boy up and held him in one arm as he bounced him gently, indulgently. "Is there a list of people who you think could be decent for the job, other than Will?"
"Not really," she shrugged. "Everyone's either dead or doesn't want in anymore." She handed him a sheet of paper, which had a short list of names, every one crossed out. "I went through them all."
Malcolm skimmed the list—fuck, they really were a bunch of dead and dying pieces of shit—until one caught his eye and set his mind into motion. It would be a long shot, but at least there was the possibility…
"What are you thinking about?" Kate asked. "I know that face; that is a face that is thinking about something that shouldn't be thought."
"I have Conall tomorrow, yeah? I think I'll take him on a daytrip and let my work actually build up for once."
That puzzled Kate. "To where…?"
"Trust me—you'll find it will be extremely worth our while," he grinned. He came around the side of the desk and bent down to peck his wife on the lips. "What do you say?"
"Don't have too much fun without Mummy," she replied, poking Conall's nose. The baby giggled happily, simply knowing that he was getting attention. "How about if I stop for the day and we go get dinner started?"
"Oh yeah, that's right—Fiona's headed to Marco's for dinner," he remembered. He had been so enveloped in the current conversation and his scheming that he nearly forgot. "Then let's go help Mam in the kitchen, eh lad? If we start teaching you now, then by the time you're six we might actually get more than a bowl of milkless cereal out of you."
Making important-sounding noises, Conall waved about his arms reaching towards Malcolm so that he could heavily pat his face. He chuckled at that, taking the baby's hand between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in as he carried the boy out of the office.
"Yes, you will cook better than your sister—I can promise you that."
Kate shook her head as she tried not to laugh. Malcolm was such a natural father that she was going to ignore how silly and secretive he was being. She would much rather watch how it all played out, and with any luck—which was something they definitely found on occasion—whatever her husband was planning was going to at least not go completely tits up.
The following morning, Malcolm was up earlier than Kate was, prepping both himself and Conall for their secretive father-son outing. Eventually, the car was packed with snacks and nappies and all the toys the six-month-old could toss about the back seat. Kate gave her boys a kiss good-day and both vehicles left the house at the same time, though where she turned right, he went left, and they continued on in opposite directions.
An hour and a half (and one nappy-stop) later and Malcolm found himself attempting to find a spot in a carpark in Cambridge. From the moment he knew he was in the Silicon Fen things were beginning to feel self-conscious, and with him now being in the epicenter… if there was a place more uncomfortable in all the United Kingdom, he was genuinely curious so that he could avoid it at all costs. It was definitely not the place to be juggling his son's car carrier and a baby bag and his work bag, yet it had to be done. He knew it needed to be done so that the mainframe could get on with business as usual and there not be a single misfire during the Scarfies' promotion.
Double-check his mobile, go around the bend, in the building, up the stairs, past the giggly and obliging secretary, and Malcolm found himself knocking on a heavy wooden door, a plaque bearing the name "E. SHAW" being the only piece of ornament about it.
"Who is it?!" shouted a voice from inside. Malcolm opened the door a crack and poked his head in.
"Is this the office of Doctor Elizabeth Shaw?"
"Either come all the way in or leave—don't waste my time."
Liking the woman already, Malcolm pushed his way into the office and closed the door behind him. It was cramped despite being fairly expansive for a faculty office, with many bookshelves and chairs and tables and even some whiteboards covered in inanely-scrawled equations and theorem. Dr. Shaw herself was a rakish, thin-faced woman who seemed to be in her mid-seventies, standing in the corner as she rearranged the books on a shelf.
"Who are you, and what's with that?" she asked, using a book to point at Conall. Malcolm put the carrier down on a chair and released his son from its confines, instead choosing to hold him.
"I'm Malcolm Tucker and I work for UNIT's Mainframe UK…" He saw that her face soured and he attempted to hold in his ire. "What? You're not even going to listen after I drive fifty fucking miles with a six-month-old to talk in-person?"
"It's a waste of your time; I already told Director Stewart that I'm not coming back," Dr. Shaw scowled. "She can take the job and shove it; sending a man with a baby is not going to sway me."
"This was not Kate's idea, but mine," he replied. "The baby is here partly because it's my turn to watch him, but also because I know that if I don't show you him in person, I won't get any farther with you than my wife did."
Dr. Shaw stopped reshelving her books and turned around. "Your wife…?"
"I married Alistair's lass, correct," he affirmed. Her eyebrow went up in skepticism; might as well tell the whole fucking story at this point. "We met because of work; I'm Director of Communications and the PR Head for Mainframe UK. You know, the Scots git who terrorizes your brother's Emmett on a weekly basis." She nodded, nearly approvingly. "Well, Kate and I were purely a professional relationship to start—she had secured my extremely early release from minimum-security prison following a government leaking scandal I got caught in the middle of, after all—but before I realized it, it was a year later and I was asking her out. Four months later I proposed. A year and a half passed and I proposed again, with her accepting, and five months after that we finally got married, which was a year ago in September." He saw that Dr. Shaw was studying him intently, nearly sizing him up for how to best tear him down should he fuck the entire venture. "I'm absolutely fucking mad about her, but even I know she doesn't come across as how she should."
"…and is this your son or grandson?"
"Son, adopted; an opportunity presented itself and now at fifty-seven I'm a first-time dad. It's not exactly fucking ideal, but family doesn't always happen neatly."
"I don't like children," Dr. Shaw stated clearly. "If your tactic was to lure me with promise of a baby to play with, then consider yourself outmaneuvered."
"An idiot would take that angle," Malcolm scoffed. "You're amongst the first women to gain fellowship and professorship in your fields at this historic wankrod of a university. Before you began working at UNIT you had multiple doctorates from leading institutions in the Anglophone world. Having you around would not only be a testament to your academic might, but allow you to serve as a functioning role model to someone other than the rich fucks who bought their way in here. There's some genuinely brilliant ones wandering around here, yeah, but they get so easily led astray that it's more worth your while to find a lab filled with competence and get your kicks that way. That's where you're most comfortable, right? Of course you don't like Human children—they've never been welcome inside a lab."
She raised her eyebrow once again—bingo.
"Human children?" she questioned. "Why make mention of such a qualifier?"
"…because my son is not wholly Human."
"What species? Trion? Please—one might as well consider them Humans of extraterrestrial origin." Malcolm's face remained static, causing Dr. Shaw's heart to skip a beat. "Bloody Hell—you can't be serious."
"My son was born to a Human woman and a very specific Time Lord displaying male physiology. She gave him up, while he doesn't know, and it's a big, huge, fucking secret that could lead to the end of our world if we aren't fucking careful about it."
"…are you giving me this information just to blackmail me, Mister Tucker? If so, then I call your bluff: that's a Human child, no different than you or I were at that age."
"Fine." Malcolm placed Conall down on the desk, allowing him to sit atop a mound of papers which made Dr. Shaw cringe. "Alright son, we're going to let this sad, dusty, lonely fanny count your ribs, okay? Don't giggle too much, or it'll remind her how much she hates kids."
"If this is more theatrics, Mister Tucker, I am going to have you thrown out of the building and banned from ever coming within the entirety of Cambridgeshire ever again. I'm certain that'd be a pain if your son here ever decides to sit classes in my college."
"Count them." He let Dr. Shaw approach the baby and tried his best to not laugh as she grimaced at touching the child. She counted the pairs of ribs underneath his chubby baby sides—one under each arm—and frowned.
"These aren't floating," she noted. She looked down at Conall, who stared up at her curiously with his wide, blue eyes. "Those ribs shouldn't be attached, young man. In fact, it almost feels as though you have extras in here… too many to be a normal genetic variant. What is your father up to?"
"Convincing one of the best minds in the world to leave behind this Poxbridge nonsense and come collaborate with fucking adults for once."
"All the Doctor wanted was someone to pass him test tubes; does that sound like being an adult to you?"
"You're going to be the one asking for test tubes this time around," he said. "This is us getting away from relying on the fucking Doctor, because the more often he's around the Mainframe, the more likely it is that he's going to discover that he had a bit too good a shag one night last year and then burn us down to the studs because his son calls someone else 'Dad'. We don't need him if we have you."
Exhaling heavily, Dr. Shaw went around her desk and sat down, closing her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. Malcolm could feel how exhausted she was—how substantially the decision was beginning to weigh on her—and how good the prospect was becoming.
"I loved him, you know that?" she said. She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "I didn't realize it at the time—I actually didn't know that was genuinely the word for what I felt until a couple years after the fact—but I was in love with the Doctor and realizing that he didn't love me in return was so devastating that I gave myself no choice but to leave. He admired my mind, sure, but nothing else that I wanted him to see. I came to Cambridge instead, figuring the elitism that he hated so much in his own species would keep him away, but I've had to dodge him even here."
"That seems to be a recurring issue," Malcolm noted. His brain was going haywire, immediately forming a battle plan to get inside his target's brain. "Aside from assuming he fucked this nip's mam senseless, I've heard about others who fell for him, romantically or not, and once they knew they couldn't compete with someone or something else… that was it." He watched as she silently contemplated his words, not responding. "We know better how to deal with that now than forty years ago; you don't have to be alone."
"What do you know about being alone? Truly alone?"
"Plenty."
"…and how's that…?"
"I'm on my second marriage, for starters," he replied. "I drank a lot around the first one partly because of the loneliness—still not precisely what most people would consider 'sober' but I have fairly effective methods to make certain I don't slide down that path again. That government scandal? I used to be Director of Communications over at Number 10, and the long days that spill into longer nights—doing damage control on cockup after cockup—with an empty house to greet me and my niece, sister, and mam far off in Glasgow… it's not the same as your loneliness, but I imagine it gives me a bit more insight into why you put yourself through this tit factory for so long."
She glanced over at him, it apparent that she was getting tears in her eyes. "Did you ever meet him? The Doctor?"
"Unfortunately." He held Conall's hand between his fingertips in order to stop the boy from touching his face and getting in the way. "Been on the TARDIS, back in time by his doing and not, and I don't like it. He's too much trouble—too much cleaning up after—too un-fucking-earthly for my liking."
"How is he doing? You know… other than…" She motioned towards Conall, causing Malcolm to shrug.
"I've met a couple different faces—some are better, some are worse. You can tell it's all the same piece of shit in there though."
"There are days where I wonder what I would do if presented the chance to go on the TARDIS with him, to finally do what I never got to in my youth, and then I remember I've turned into this… this shriveled, dried-out old maid who has worked her entire life and doesn't even have someone to carry on in her stead."
"That doesn't matter to us," he scoffed. "UNIT is filled with the castoffs and peripherals of the Doctor—if there's any place where you can find anyone who understands, it's within Mainframe UK. What do you say? I can give you some time to think about it."
Dr. Shaw contemplated the offer, the only sounds in the office being the ticking of the clock and Conall gurgling. "Leave your contact information. I shall let you know when I have decided."
"Sounds like a plan." Malcolm dug into his work bag and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. "I'm going to be in the county long enough to have lunch, possibly enjoy a park or two with my son, and then head back home. If you want to talk more or need any assistance, don't hesitate to call."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah. Just like that."
She looked at the card, flipping it over to see the back was blank, and placed it on the desk. "Thank you for your time, Mister Tucker. You've given me plenty to think about."
"…and thank you for listening." Malcolm put Conall back in the car carrier and left the office, a shit-eating grin forming on his lips as he made his way down the corridor.
The wheels were turning and his plan was in effect.
It took Malcolm a while, but he eventually found a pub with enough grime to satisfy his Weegie sensibilities ("pubs need to be a bit dodgy; restaurants are where shit gets classy" he told Conall as they wandered about during their quest) and used it as a pit stop to have lunch in. As he relished in the compliments on his "grandson" and what was a genuinely decent pie, he kept close watch on his mobile to make certain he did not miss a call while he checked his work email, fed himself and Conall, and made certain none of the biddies that were running around made off with the lad. The mobile did not ring and he figured that the crone was genuinely weighing her options—there was a life of routine and comfort she was already established and well-off in. It was fucking mental to consider trading that in for what could possibly be the chaotic and uncertain environment that would await her in Mainframe UK. He shrugged inwardly; he would hear eventually. The only thing now was when.
Pack the car up and put more petrol in the tank and father and son were off towards home again. They hit some traffic (of fucking course), yet were still able the make it home before Kate. She found her boys in the kitchen, baby in his highchair playing with a teething ring and toasted oat cereal whilst her beau was at the stove cooking pork chops, Fiona kept behind at work.
"…and how was your adventure today?" she asked, pecking her husband on the lips. She got a grab of his rear before heading towards the table, freeing the baby who only wanted to be held now that he knew there were two adults in the house.
"Had fun—or as much fun as one can have going to cunting Cambridgeshire—so it was a day well-spent, I'd think," Malcolm replied. He turned his head to see that Kate was thoroughly confused. "What…?"
"Why were you in Cambridgeshire, of all places?" she wondered. "I would think there was an invisible fence designed to keep you out of there considering how you-unfriendly the place is."
"It's true that I was fucking choking on the pretension and snobbery that was in some areas, but I had a mission and we succeeded."
That sent off warning signs in Kate's head. "What sort of mission…?"
"The sort that requires a hands-on approach and a healthy dose of Tucker Charm," he replied, giving her the most dazzling, cheeky grin he could muster. She rolled her eyes at that—only Malcolm.
It was then that Malcolm's work mobile, which was conspicuously sitting on the counter, began to buzz. He turned down the pork chops and checked the number—Dr. Shaw.
"Oh, would you look at that," he said. He held up his finger, requesting for a moment of quiet, and he answered. "Tucker."
"Is Director Stewart in?" Right down to business—he liked this geriatric academic only more and more.
"Yeah, hold on." He pressed a button on his screen and held out the device. "Okay, you're on speaker."
"Director Stewart? It's Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, from Cambridge. You phoned yesterday."
"Uh… yes…" Kate said, confusion spreading across her face. "Why are you returning the call on my husband's work mobile?"
"He dropped by with your son earlier to have a chat and left this number as his contact information. I didn't know you remarried."
"I sent an invitation and you never replied; does your secretary screen your mail?"
"Possibly did—I did just get a new one this term because I was finally able to fire her bitch of a predecessor." Malcolm raised an eyebrow at that; much more of that and she could go up against his mam, with any luck. "That's not why I phoned."
"Then why did you?"
"I wanted to tell you that I've changed my mind. If the position is still available, I would like to take up the offer. Has it been filled?"
"No, it has not…"
"Am I still eligible to fill it?"
"I thought you cited your age and prior experience being employed under UNIT as reason to not accept the position."
"I'm turning eighty next year, not becoming a feeble, meek spinster who sits in the corner of the pub knitting all day while nursing a single pint," Dr. Shaw scoffed. "Let's just say that your new hubby makes a persuasive argument. Married well on that one."
"Why… erm… thank you…"
"I'll get into contact again soon as I can make arrangements with the college regarding my departure. It shall likely be at the end of term. Would that be acceptable?"
"Oh, uh, yes, yes it shall," Kate replied, snapping from her stunned state. "Let me know and I can begin pushing through the necessary protocols."
"Excellent. Talk with you soon."
The call ended, dialtone soon emitting from the mobile's speakers. Malcolm silenced the device and locked it, placing it back on the counter so that he could go back to cooking.
"What did you do?!" Kate marveled. "Did you seriously bring Conall all the way to Cambridge to visit with her?! She hates children! The woman didn't even talk to me until I was in my twenties!"
"I showed her what her old flame's been up to these days—once she was sure I wasn't lying by feeling his extra ribs, she began to see things my way."
"Wait… old flame…?! What have the files explicitly left out?"
"Dr. Shaw did not just leave because she was sick of being an assistant; she left because she had a crush on that Wank Lord and couldn't handle it not being reciprocated."
"Fuck…" Kate sat down at the table, Conall still in her arms. She put him back in the highchair after he began reaching for his tray. "There was nothing in her files that would have suggested that, even in the slightest."
"Remember when you told me that your da has secrets that Benton is taking to his grave? I think that was supposed to be one of them."
"Something tells me that's more than slightly accurate." She stared at Conall, now gnawing on his teething ring with his gums and two bottom teeth, and frowned. "You convinced her to come to UNIT by showing her we're raising her crush's secret lovechild?"
"When you put it that way… yeah. Guess I did."
Bringing her gaze back towards her husband, who was letting the pork chops sizzle while he pulled a veg casserole out of the oven to rest. "Nora's not going to believe this."
"She's gonna have to; we're getting a new relic, and this one's fucking functioning better than she ever has before."
He was right, and she was fucking stunned.
A/N: It's probably apparent by now that I am a huge fan of the Third Doctor's era (which was, after all, where a decent bulk of the Classic UNIT stories originated), so let me tell you about Liz Shaw if you don't already know. Liz tends to be overshadowed by the Brig and Jo when it comes to the Third Doctor's companions–heck, even Sarah Jane gets some attention as Three's companion–but Liz got the short end of the stick by being the only Classic companion that had never been on the TARDIS. She was there as sort of a foil to the Doctor: just as smart and clever and scientific, but more in tune with, well, Earth manners and being polite. The TARDIS was only ever used once during her run, and even that was a solo!Doctor adventure, making it so that the behind-the-scenes cost-cutting grounded Three as well as Liz, and the abrupt non-renewal of Caroline John's contract made it so that her character kinda noped off to Cambridge, leaving a vacancy thus "filled" by Jo Grant. They didn't really know what to do with a woman that smart and Doctor-like, which meant Jo and her miniskirts happened. There's nothing wrong with Jo as a companion, but it's still kinda obvious what they were doing there regarding the introduction of her character. (John was pregnant as well at the time of her axing, meaning there could have been a chance for some sort of partial agreement, but the decision had already been made at that point.) Liz, in a few ways, is like an early version of Clara or Martha, and just like them, always deserves more love.
