“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.
excerpt from "Of the Future," short story by Andy Frankham-Allen featured in Lineage: An Anthology.
['Where were you planning on eating your food?' he asked, and waved a] thumb in a vague direction outside. 'I was thinking about sitting by the river, if you want to join me?'
Kate had never chosen and paid for her lunch so quickly before.
The autumn sky turned dark early, and Kate and Jonathan sat by the river and talked for hours. She liked listening to his accent -- it was London, although she couldn't quite place which part. She was rubbish with accents, always had been. He was very polite, humouring her boring, obvious questions. Asking him about teaching, why he taught science? And he'd laughed at her, telling her it couldn't have been boring or she'd not have chosen to study it further in college.
'It was that or further maths, and I just don't do figures well,' she told him.
At which point he'd told her that she did figures quite well, looking her over in a suggestive way. At other times Kate may have been weirded out by such attention from an older man, but sitting there beside the River Kennet, she didn't feel the age between them. Ten years, more or less. It was nothing.
Eventually Jonathan decided to call it a night, much to Kate's disappointment, but she hid it well (at least she thought she did), and said some rubbish about how Cecilia would probably be worrying about her by now.
'Well, you can tell her you've been in good company,' Jonathan told her. 'Quite safe.'
Kate nodded. 'Yes. I feel safe with you.'
Jonathan smiled. 'I'm glad.' He stood and offered his hand. 'I don't usually do this, you know.'
'What? Help a lady to her feet?'
'No,' he said, laughing that laugh which melted Kate's heart. 'I mean spending my private time alone with one of my female students.'
Kate brushed herself down. 'Don't worry, I won't tell. And I am an adult, you know, I don't need permission to date.'
'Date?'
Now she'd blown it. She babbled something, although later she couldn't remember what, and once again Jonathan laughed.
Probs the last dp oc related thing that I forgot to post yesterday but here’s another timeline version of GIW Agent J.
Basically, the “what if” his past self didn’t kept his sanity intact after his suit’s malfunctioned, almost tearing him apart between the ghost and human realm. Ending up in the ghost zone instead is what turned him into the Revenant, the bane of any ghosts’ existence it comes across.
(Cookie to whoever knows the game reference in the two other photos here)
“Kate,” John knelt down, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small, velvet box. He flipped it open to reveal a small ring with an amber-colored stone embedded in it.
They stood outside a pumpkin patch with people bustling by. Ingrid held Gordy to her chest, pausing now and then to kiss his cheek and tickle his face, eliciting a burst of giggles.
Kate looked at the ring, then at John, then turned to look at her mother, who stood there expectantly, one hand clasped against her mouth.
She was nineteen and Gordon turned two last month; he was starting to recognize their visitors more, being able to ask about ‘gran’ and ‘Ing,’ even knowing that the portrait of Alistair she kept in the living room was his grandfather.
Whenever Gordy saw John, he broke out crying.
John could soothe him, say he was Gordy’s dad, bundle him up in his arms, toss him in the air, and still the boy would cry, calming only in his mother’s arms – or in Mischa’s.
John’s brows rose the longer he knelt on the cold earth, his arms starting to shake where he held the ring box. “Kate?” he whispered.
She met her mother’s gaze once more and saw – disappointment? Perhaps a touch of shame, as well, which brought rage simmering to her gut – had her mum known what John was planning? That would explain both their families tagging along for what should have been a quiet day of just the three of them.
“No,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
“...sorry?”
“I said, ‘no,’ I won’t marry you.”
John merely stared at her, his mouth agape, while his mother moved forward to help him up.
Kate, meanwhile, rushed to take Gordy from Ingrid and hastened off, ignoring her mother’s cries. She buckled Gordy into his car seat with her cheeks burning.
Had she been wrong?
John was –
He looked so small kneeling there with that ring – how long had he been planning this? Had he rehearsed it in the mirror, or in his campus office? Was he so sure her answer would be an enthusiastic, resounding ‘yes’ that he’d seen fit to celebrate before it was certain?
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.
"A Bubble Burst" -- 4.2k, M, TW for rape & domestic violence
Finally, Mischa asked, “are you happy, with John?”
Kate frowned. “I—”
“Kate,” he said gently, his eyes full of sorrow, “If you’re not…”
“I can’t just leave him,” she said after some moments, “I can’t… I can’t raise Gordy alone.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “It’s always the girls who suffer the consequences, isn’t it? The young mothers with tainted reputations while the father goes about unencumbered.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” he forced the zipper on his backpack shut, “but the kids at this school are prone to spreading rumors.”
“Kate's dad is my best friend.”
“—you know the Brigadier?”
“In several lifetimes. And I know, whatever Kate’s said, he’s always done his best to protect his family. He won’t be thrilled to know what you’ve done.”
John bristled. “What we have is consensual.”
“She’s barely seventeen,” the Doctor countered, “still little more than a child herself! She,” he gestured towards the empty classroom, “should be sitting there, not stuck at home with swollen feet and an upset stomach.”
