Fic: Last Missing Scene
24 Nov 2009 04:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisbluespiritAfter going from one extreme to another (1 being: "I don't think I can straighten this one into anything I can actually post!" and 2: "Hey, what if I added in an extra Missing Scene where..." *rolls eyes*), here's the last Missing Scene from Lonely House.
It's very daft but oddly pivotal. (And please take it as read that everyone looks very pretty in their best.)
Summary: UNIT are just no good at social occasions that don’t include monsters. And Nat is trying his best to be sensible, but nobody else is helping, not even the Colonel.
***
February 1986
*
The men are not best pleased
“We beat the monster – which wasn’t all that difficult anyway – and now we get punished for it?” Sergeant Kennedy said in response to the news that Sir Henry Clarke wanted to throw a reception in their honour for having rid Allerton Manor of a small but unpleasant and dangerous alien. The rest of UNIT was in agreement.
Colonel Crichton merely said, on overhearing this, “It’s an honour, Sergeant.”
“We attend in our best, and applaud politely at the speech,” said the new Captain. “Then we get out of there, our duty done. As missions go, it’s doable.”
“Surely they don’t mean all of us,” put in Kennedy, making one last attempt to escape.
It didn’t come off.
*
Tilly is annoyed
Of course, dressing in your best is easy when you have a dress uniform or merely need to hire out a tuxedo. It’s not if you happen to be a girl who’s a century behind the times, who doesn’t want to wear anything not respectable, but who would, at the same time, like to show UNIT’s scientific advisor that you aren’t perhaps as dreadfully old-fashioned and hopeless as he seems to think.
What’s more, the end result was not meant to be him saying: “Tilly, you’ve got arms.”
*
The Colonel is not amused
It was plain, thought Crichton with resignation that Dr Webber was paying very little attention to him. Considering that he was in charge of UNIT, this was not satisfactory. Doubtless, there was something interesting going on behind him at this moment in time, which was enough to make him consider turning in case it was something that his men should not be doing.
He could have at least had the decency to pretend.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Nat suddenly and hurried on past him.
The Colonel followed. “Dr Webber -.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but someone’s just handed Tilly champagne – and she’s drinking it!”
Crichton raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what she’s thinks she’s doing,” added Nat and was gone.
Sergeant Kennedy approached him. “Sir, I needed to ask -.”
“First, explain to me why it’s a crisis if Miss Holmes is drinking champagne?”
He stopped. “She’s not, is she? Well, and here was me thinking she had some sense.”
“Kennedy.”
“Did nobody tell you, sir?” he said. “It’s only that she can’t take it, not at all. Webber says she’s getting better, but -.”
“Good heaven,” he said to himself. “No, no one did tell me. I’ll go and find them.”
*
Dr Webber feels it’s all a bit much
Nat reached Tilly, who was in a group next to Sir Henry and his wife. He smiled at them, shook Sir Henry’s hand (yet again) and explained politely that he needed a word with his assistant, then took her by the hand and dragged her out of the French window onto the terrace.
“Oh, Tilly,” he said.
She was looking slightly green. “I thought it’d be fine by now. I was getting better, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, yes, you were,” said Nat, pulling her further away from the doorway. “Now wasn’t the time to test that out, though. Just sit there for a bit, okay, and I’ll -.”
She frowned in concentration as he helped her sit on the small wall by the flowerbeds. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“It wouldn’t have been. Or you could have taken the glass and just not drunk anything. I mean, really, Tilly!”
“Oh, dear,” she added, sliding off the wall. “I think – I think – I don’t feel well.”
“Yes, so I see,” said Nat, as that became all too evident. “Stay there. I’ll find some water or something.”
*
The Colonel found them at that point. He looked down at Tilly as Nat stood hastily. He raised an eyebrow again. “Ah. I see what you meant.”
“She’ll have to go back,” said Nat. “I’m sorry, sir. She didn’t think it would affect her very much this time and she didn’t want to offend Sir Henry.”
He sighed. “I don’t need explanations. I’ll go back inside and have a word with the Captain and then I’ll take her home.”
“You’ll -?” Nat bit back any more unwise words. “Thank you, sir.”
*
“It’s all a bit much,” said Nat in an undertone to Kennedy, back inside the manor. “I can’t always run around preventing the worst from happening, and if she can’t manage to avoid things that she knows are a bad idea, what am I supposed to do about the things neither of us knows? And the Colonel might as well have said he didn’t trust me with her, which is -.”
Kennedy said, “I’ve no idea what you’re on about, but the rest of us are going to make our escape and go down the pub. Want to join us?”
“Why not?” said Nat.
*
The Sergeant makes an understandable mistake. (Dr Webber will kill him for it one day)
“Sometimes I think I might as well go jump off the nearest cliff,” said Nat, playing with his glass. “There’s no backing out of this now, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I don’t. And I don’t know half enough, I really don’t. I know about astrophysics – constellations and relativity and cosmology, not all this stuff. You know what?”
Kennedy eyebrows twisted warily. “No, I don’t expect I do.”
“I should have done slime and myths and legends and nineteenth century Britain. Or Things From Outer Space That Try To Kill You, and more about time travel. I’m going to have to go to the library and get books. Are there things still around now from the 1890s?”
“Blowed if I know,” said the Sergeant, still frowning. “Sounds better than throwing yourself off a cliff, though. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork the Colonel has to go through to get a new one when the science bloke pegs it.”
Nat only sighed, his elbow on the dark wood table, sticky with who knew what combination of spilt drinks. “Right.”
Kennedy coughed. “Look, I’ve phoned for a cab for you. Not that I care, but with the men around -.”
“What?” said Nat, lifting his head.
The Sergeant shrugged. He didn’t think he was the one who wasn’t making any sense round here.
“Hang on, I’m not drunk,” he said.
“No, no, of course not. No point in wasting the taxi when it gets here, though.”
“Kennedy, I am not drunk.”
“Did I say that? Anyway, sounds like the cab now.”
“I’m not. Not much,” said Nat, putting his head in his hands with a heavy sigh. “Not anything like enough. Kennedy, I’m going to kill you for this.”
“Right. Consider me warned. Now go home, okay?”
He got to his feet. “Oh, I’m going!”
*
The Sergeant moved back to the bar.
Captain Evered gave him a look. “What was that about?”
“No idea,” said Kennedy. “Let’s hope no one tries this sort of thing again in hurry.”
***
It's very daft but oddly pivotal. (And please take it as read that everyone looks very pretty in their best.)
Summary: UNIT are just no good at social occasions that don’t include monsters. And Nat is trying his best to be sensible, but nobody else is helping, not even the Colonel.
***
February 1986
*
The men are not best pleased
“We beat the monster – which wasn’t all that difficult anyway – and now we get punished for it?” Sergeant Kennedy said in response to the news that Sir Henry Clarke wanted to throw a reception in their honour for having rid Allerton Manor of a small but unpleasant and dangerous alien. The rest of UNIT was in agreement.
Colonel Crichton merely said, on overhearing this, “It’s an honour, Sergeant.”
“We attend in our best, and applaud politely at the speech,” said the new Captain. “Then we get out of there, our duty done. As missions go, it’s doable.”
“Surely they don’t mean all of us,” put in Kennedy, making one last attempt to escape.
It didn’t come off.
*
Tilly is annoyed
Of course, dressing in your best is easy when you have a dress uniform or merely need to hire out a tuxedo. It’s not if you happen to be a girl who’s a century behind the times, who doesn’t want to wear anything not respectable, but who would, at the same time, like to show UNIT’s scientific advisor that you aren’t perhaps as dreadfully old-fashioned and hopeless as he seems to think.
What’s more, the end result was not meant to be him saying: “Tilly, you’ve got arms.”
*
The Colonel is not amused
It was plain, thought Crichton with resignation that Dr Webber was paying very little attention to him. Considering that he was in charge of UNIT, this was not satisfactory. Doubtless, there was something interesting going on behind him at this moment in time, which was enough to make him consider turning in case it was something that his men should not be doing.
He could have at least had the decency to pretend.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Nat suddenly and hurried on past him.
The Colonel followed. “Dr Webber -.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but someone’s just handed Tilly champagne – and she’s drinking it!”
Crichton raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what she’s thinks she’s doing,” added Nat and was gone.
Sergeant Kennedy approached him. “Sir, I needed to ask -.”
“First, explain to me why it’s a crisis if Miss Holmes is drinking champagne?”
He stopped. “She’s not, is she? Well, and here was me thinking she had some sense.”
“Kennedy.”
“Did nobody tell you, sir?” he said. “It’s only that she can’t take it, not at all. Webber says she’s getting better, but -.”
“Good heaven,” he said to himself. “No, no one did tell me. I’ll go and find them.”
*
Dr Webber feels it’s all a bit much
Nat reached Tilly, who was in a group next to Sir Henry and his wife. He smiled at them, shook Sir Henry’s hand (yet again) and explained politely that he needed a word with his assistant, then took her by the hand and dragged her out of the French window onto the terrace.
“Oh, Tilly,” he said.
She was looking slightly green. “I thought it’d be fine by now. I was getting better, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, yes, you were,” said Nat, pulling her further away from the doorway. “Now wasn’t the time to test that out, though. Just sit there for a bit, okay, and I’ll -.”
She frowned in concentration as he helped her sit on the small wall by the flowerbeds. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“It wouldn’t have been. Or you could have taken the glass and just not drunk anything. I mean, really, Tilly!”
“Oh, dear,” she added, sliding off the wall. “I think – I think – I don’t feel well.”
“Yes, so I see,” said Nat, as that became all too evident. “Stay there. I’ll find some water or something.”
*
The Colonel found them at that point. He looked down at Tilly as Nat stood hastily. He raised an eyebrow again. “Ah. I see what you meant.”
“She’ll have to go back,” said Nat. “I’m sorry, sir. She didn’t think it would affect her very much this time and she didn’t want to offend Sir Henry.”
He sighed. “I don’t need explanations. I’ll go back inside and have a word with the Captain and then I’ll take her home.”
“You’ll -?” Nat bit back any more unwise words. “Thank you, sir.”
*
“It’s all a bit much,” said Nat in an undertone to Kennedy, back inside the manor. “I can’t always run around preventing the worst from happening, and if she can’t manage to avoid things that she knows are a bad idea, what am I supposed to do about the things neither of us knows? And the Colonel might as well have said he didn’t trust me with her, which is -.”
Kennedy said, “I’ve no idea what you’re on about, but the rest of us are going to make our escape and go down the pub. Want to join us?”
“Why not?” said Nat.
*
The Sergeant makes an understandable mistake. (Dr Webber will kill him for it one day)
“Sometimes I think I might as well go jump off the nearest cliff,” said Nat, playing with his glass. “There’s no backing out of this now, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I don’t. And I don’t know half enough, I really don’t. I know about astrophysics – constellations and relativity and cosmology, not all this stuff. You know what?”
Kennedy eyebrows twisted warily. “No, I don’t expect I do.”
“I should have done slime and myths and legends and nineteenth century Britain. Or Things From Outer Space That Try To Kill You, and more about time travel. I’m going to have to go to the library and get books. Are there things still around now from the 1890s?”
“Blowed if I know,” said the Sergeant, still frowning. “Sounds better than throwing yourself off a cliff, though. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork the Colonel has to go through to get a new one when the science bloke pegs it.”
Nat only sighed, his elbow on the dark wood table, sticky with who knew what combination of spilt drinks. “Right.”
Kennedy coughed. “Look, I’ve phoned for a cab for you. Not that I care, but with the men around -.”
“What?” said Nat, lifting his head.
The Sergeant shrugged. He didn’t think he was the one who wasn’t making any sense round here.
“Hang on, I’m not drunk,” he said.
“No, no, of course not. No point in wasting the taxi when it gets here, though.”
“Kennedy, I am not drunk.”
“Did I say that? Anyway, sounds like the cab now.”
“I’m not. Not much,” said Nat, putting his head in his hands with a heavy sigh. “Not anything like enough. Kennedy, I’m going to kill you for this.”
“Right. Consider me warned. Now go home, okay?”
He got to his feet. “Oh, I’m going!”
*
The Sergeant moved back to the bar.
Captain Evered gave him a look. “What was that about?”
“No idea,” said Kennedy. “Let’s hope no one tries this sort of thing again in hurry.”
***
