“I still get nightmares,” Alistair admitted, swirling his glass in one hand. “I don’t think they’ll ever go away.”
The Doctor hesitated with his glass against his lips. They were, to put it one way, at similar stages in their respective lifespans—old soldiers out to roost.
“Doctor?”
“—the last face of mine that you met—he was in the beginnings of an intergalactic war, one which—” he took a long swig of his drink. “—it tore the universe apart.”
Alistair stared levelly at his oldest friend.
“What?”
“Why do I get the impression this is barely scratching the surface?”
The Doctor sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is.”
Another sigh. “Fine. I—I lived two lifetimes during it. The Daleks vs the Time Lords, with the universe smack-dab in the middle.”
“You can’t wear overalls to church!” Fiona snapped. She held two clothes hangers, one in each hand—the one in her right hand held a lilac colored dress with a lace collar, a baby chick on one breast, and polka dots on the skirt. The other held a pale pink sweater, blouse, and skirt set.
Both had been adamantly refused by six-year-old Kate, who stood with her arms crossed in one corner of the room. She wore a white-with-teal striped shirt under a pair of denim overalls.
“Daddy lets me,” Kate said simply.
Fiona concealed a groan.
Anytime she wanted something that Kate refused—daddy wouldn’t do that or daddy doesn’t mind.
“I don’t think your dad takes you to church that often, does he?”
They stared between each other some moments before Kate shook her head.
“Could you please change? We’re meant to meet your grandparents—”
“Get out!” Kate shoved her mum towards the door.
“So long as you get changed!” Fiona called as the door slammed in her face.
She went downstairs and sank down on the sofa with her head in her hands. It was—she didn’t want to say difficult, not when some of her friends had lived through worse—trying to raise her daughter alone.
Kate was stubborn and sharp-witted, often questioning the rules when she disagreed with them. Much as Fiona had been as a child.
“Mummy,” Kate’s voice was little more than a whisper, coming from the top of the stairs.
Fiona lifted her head and turned to see Kate standing there with one hand raised to her forehead, hives breaking out across her skin.
“Kate!” she rushed forward and met Kate at the base of the stairs, placing her hands on her daughter’s forearms. “What happened?”
She glanced down to see a juice box crushed in her daughter’s fist. “Kate…”
A few months prior, Kate had suddenly broken out in hives after a play date at a friend’s house, then again the following weekend when they were due at Fiona’s parents’ for their weekly dinner. Both times, Kate had been given juice when she asked for a drink—her friend’s parents didn’t know she was allergic to citrus and must have let her take some of the boxes home.
“I don’t want to go,” Kate said in a low voice.
Fiona sighed. “Alright. I’ll get you some medicine and we can stay home and watch telly.”
Kate moved to sit cross-legged on the sofa, scratching now and then at the bumps on her legs.
“Don’t do that, love,” Fiona said, draping a blanket over her daughter’s shoulders. “You’ll make it worse.”
She held out a plastic cup full of putrid purple liquid.
“Ew…”
“Little girls who give themselves allergic reactions either drink ucky medicine or go to hospital,” Fiona said gently. With a sigh, she added, “I wish you’d stop doing this.”
“I wish you’d stop making me wear dresses,” Kate countered. She took the cup and downed the medicine, face contorting as it tracked down her throat.
“You need to look presentable,” Fiona said, brushing hair from Kate’s forehead. “My beautiful little girl.”
“I don’t want to be beautiful.”
Fiona wrapped an arm around her daughter, kissed the top of her head, then leaned back and turned on the telly, flipping through the channels until they found something they both wanted.
"Aren't you warm?" Fiona asked, quirking a brow at Kate.
They sat on the sofa on board the boat, Kate in a big blue puffer jacket while Fiona fanned herself with one hand. Ingrid sat on the floor rolling a ball back and forth.
"I'm fine," Kate said plainly.
It had taken making certain *promises* to John before he had agreed to her inviting her family over--including the conditions that she hide any baby things or anything that indicated they were a couple.
It was late in the evening when Cee sat down beside her and took her hands in her own. “What’s going on, Katie? You’ve been… quiet, too quiet. Are things okay with John?”
“Hm?” Kate looked up from where she’d been picking at her cardigan. “Oh, yeah. Things are… fine.”
“Just fine?!” Cee stared at her wide-eyed. “Kate.”
“It’s just… John’s working a lot, more than he was before,” Kate started, picking her words carefully. “And… I’ve been sick much of the last few months.”
“I can’t imagine living on a boat helps,” Cee quipped.
Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, it’s not—” she wrapped a hand over her stomach, fixing Cee with a firm stare.
Cee’s gaze flicked down to rest on Kate’s stomach. Eyes narrowed, then widened, and she leaned in to whisper, “no!”
Kate pressed her lips together as she nodded.
Gently, Cee placed a hand over Kate’s. “Are you okay?”
“Mm.”
“How long…?”
“Nearly five months. I’ll be finding out the sex in a couple weeks.”
“And John…?”
“We’re raising the baby together, living together on the boat.”
“It’s why you dropped out,” Cee said, her features hardening. “Oh, honey…”
“You’ve got a message from your mum,” John said, giving Kate a kiss. “You should give it a listen.”
“Will do,” Kate moved over to the phone, watched the blinking light a moment, then lifted the receiver to her ear and played the message.
Hi, Kate, Fiona’s voice quivered slightly, it’s been a while, just wanted to check in—I’ve heard you dropped out, Kate narrowed her eyes—had her parents been talking?–and ‘ve been wondering what you’re up to these days.
--is that for Kate? Ingrid cut in.
Yes, love, her answering machine. She’s not at home.
I miss her.
I do, too.
Kate clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a sob.
We’d love to see you again, Katie. It’s been too long. Give me a call back.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but--you look ten years older."
Kate frowned. Though she was over eighteen now, they still received odd looks when out in public together. Maybe it was the way he held her, arm secure around her waist, shooting daggers at anyone who stared at her too long.
Or maybe it was the heavy makeup she sometimes wore, the long sleeves even when it was hot.
Neil was dead, having committed suicide in the face of an overbearing, domineering father and a future of forced military service, and Kate sat there crying as John held her close, one hand running over her arm as he whispered soothingly.
“He was so close to what he wanted,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “And he was powerless to do anything!”
“It’s terrible,” John agreed, his hand tentatively slipping over Kate’s breast.
He held her close throughout the rest of the movie.
He led her inside, paid for drinks and a large popcorn to share, and chose secluded seats in the far back corner of the theatre.
“Cee was saying this one can be sad,” Kate whispered as the previews played.
“Was she?” John watched Kate closely.
She nodded. “Yes. She went to an early screening.”
They nibbled popcorn and sipped soda as the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the room. Ten minutes in, John placed a tentative hand on Kate’s knee, his skin warm against hers, his gaze locked on the screen.
She cleared her throat and pulled away.
He glanced over, one brow quirked, his gaze searching her face.
“—need the loo,” she whispered, hastening out of her seat.
“—what was that?” she asked herself in the mirror.
“Is that going to be a date?” Jacqui asked, a smirk on her lips as she leaned towards Kate.
“I suppose it is!” Kate affirmed, a smile dancing across her lips. “We’ll start with coffee? Unless you’d rather something a bit more high end – the maitre d' at the Ledbury is a close friend of mine…”
“You’re saying you’re willing to cut the line for me?”
Kate laughed. “You could put it like that. It’s been a while since I’ve had cause to put on a nice suit.”
“And how long since you’ve had cause to take one off?”
A flush crept over Kate’s cheek as she regarded the other woman. “Ms McGee…”
She placed a hand over Kate’s and said, “there’s no need to rush into things. I just wanted to see if you were into the idea.”
They spent hours talking—about their childhoods, their families, what brought them into their current professions. At the end of the night, they opted to split a taxi, Jacqui with her head on Kate’s shoulder as they rode to her flat.
“Will you be coming in?”
Kate shook her head. “I can’t—meetings in the morning. Besides, I don’t sleep with anyone on the first date; the one time I did, I ended up pregnant after only three months.”
Jacqui laughed, placed a hand on Kate’s chest and said, “I don’t think we have to worry about that, do we? Neither of us can get the other pregnant.”
“Even still, I don’t want to rush into things,” Kate placed a hand over Jacqui’s and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
colonel ibrahim had a secret -- one which ate away at him at work, as he moved through the corridors with colonel shindi and captain carter, as he washed up after his shift and saw, clear as day, his boss' strong arms when she shrugged out of her coat, the way her collarbones stood out from beneath her blouse, the way her hair framed her face.
he imagined taking her in his arms, leaning down, the space between them closing --
"you alright there, colonel?" colonel shindi intruded on his thoughts.
"i--yes, sir. got a bit distracted."
colonel shindi quirked a brow. "that's not the sort of thing one wants to hear before munitions practice. do you need to take a walk?"
colonel ibrahim shook his head. "no, sir. i'll be alright."
later that day, he stood in the hallway near kate's office, palms sweaty as he paced back and forth. now or never, he told himself, starting to move towards the door -- only to be interrupted by a tall, white man with sandy hair, wearing a business casual outfit. the man knocked on the door.
kate stepped out to greet the civilian with a bright smile and arms outstretched. they hugged for some moments before pulling away, her hands on his shoulders and head tilted back to meet his gaze.
a sharpness bloomed in colonel ibrahim's chest.
how old was this man? younger than kate, definitely, and likely younger than himself. chris clenched his fists at his sides and turned on his heels, storming down the hallway and into the locker room, where he slammed his fist against the wall, over and over and over, breaking a hole in the plaster.
"--everything alright there, chris?"
he turned to see shirley rolling in, stopping her wheelchair beside him. "erm--yeah, i'm fine."
she quirked a brow and gestured towards the wall. "you sure? maintenance won't be happy to patch that up."
he frowned.
"come on," she reached forward and placed a hand on his arm. "tell me what's got you so worked up."
"dr. lethbridge-stewart has a visitor," he spoke quietly.
"okay?" shirley asked. "and?"
"i was going to tell her--oh, it doesn't matter. she's taken."
shirley chuckled. "i see," she leaned back in her chair, watched him some moments, then said, "you know she's a mother, right?"
he blinked. "...no?"
"her oldest is... thirty-four, i think? or about there. i've only met him once, a few years ago, when he came as kate's plus one for a press event."
"and... what does he look like?"
"tall, white, reddish hair, i think? he's a very handsome man."
chris nodded.
"think that matches your mysterious stranger?"
"--this means she's available, yes?" he interjected.
shirley stared at him dubiously.
"well?"
"why don't you talk to her, chris? let her know how you feel."
he nodded, straightening up with a smile on his face, only to be interrupted by shirley once more.
"i don't want you getting your hopes up."
he laughed. "i'll be fine, i've been rejected before."
shirley shook her head and sighed as he walked away.
colonel ibrahim ran into kate and her visitor later that day; they both held paper bags in their hands from a high-end restaurant, laughing as they walked about some in-joke.
"oh! hello, colonel. i'd like you to meet my son, gordon. gordon, this is colonel christofer ibrahim, one of our newer recruits here."
gordon held out a hand with a broad smile.
colonel ibrahim shook his hand somewhat hesitantly. "you're not in the military?"
gordon shook his head. "no, that was always mum's and granddad's thing. i never felt the need."
"i see. um, kate, i wanted--"
kate's face scrunched in a knowing smile. "i know, colonel. i'm sorry to say i don't feel the same--i'm not interested in men."
colonel ibrahim tilted his head back, saying, "...oh."
"there are some lovely people i could set you up with, if you're interested; i've found it's hard to date outside the army, particularly in our line of work."
"i--i have to go," he turned and walked away quickly, leaving kate and gordon to shrug before walking back into her office.
later that day, he stood in the hallway near kate's office, palms sweaty as he paced back and forth. now or never, he told himself, starting to move towards the door -- only to be interrupted by a tall, white man with sandy hair, wearing a business casual outfit. the man knocked on the door.
kate stepped out to greet the civilian with a bright smile and arms outstretched. they hugged for some moments before pulling away, her hands on his shoulders and head tilted back to meet his gaze.
a sharpness bloomed in colonel ibrahim's chest.
how old was this man? younger than kate, definitely, and likely younger than himself. chris clenched his fists at his sides and turned on his heels, storming down the hallway and into the locker room, where he slammed his fist against the wall, over and over and over, breaking a hole in the plaster.
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