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sheliesshattered · 3 years

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Chameleons and Bowties - Chapter 1

In the weeks after his concussion, Adrian Smith of the Coal Hill English department becomes certain of two things: First, he has been in love with his colleague Clara Oswald for as long as he can remember. And second, Clara is most definitely having a secret affair with John Smith, Coal Hill’s Scottish caretaker.

Souffez and Whouffaldi canon-divergent AU set in roughly s9. Rated T, will be 11 chapters and ~25,000 words when finished. Chapter 1 is 2600 words. Posted for the #EmbraceTheRaven event week three prompt ‘genre shift’. New chapters will be posted every Saturday. Also available on AO3 under the same title and username.

Chameleons and Bowties - Chapter 1

Adrian Smith’s life had never felt so strange as it did the first week after his concussion.

His physician, Dr Jones, explained that he might have some disorientation following his accident, that things that ought to feel familiar might feel new and odd, but that it was to be expected. He merely had to wait it out. And then she’d given him her mobile number, “in case anything comes up,” which he was almost certain doctors didn’t usually do, and which he was fairly sure he couldn’t blame on post-concussion confusion. But Clara Oswald, fellow Coal Hill English teacher and perhaps the most brilliant person he knew, had simply nodded sagely, so Adrian had been left with no choice but to accept it as normal.

Only, the strangeness hadn’t ended there. His flat, when Clara took him home after they left Dr Jones’s clinic, looked as though the world’s most organized person lived there, and that felt like the last descriptor he could possibly apply to himself. It also smelled of fresh paint, none of the food in the cupboards or refrigerator had been opened, and there was no post in his name anywhere to be found. All of which Clara found utterly unremarkable, so Adrian let it go.

But his pyjamas didn’t fit right. His toothbrush was still in its plastic packaging. He couldn’t remember where any of the lightswitches were located. The television wasn’t plugged into the electrical outlet.

Clara had, thankfully, offered to accompany him to school the next day. To ensure he didn’t get lost on the way, she said, but Adrian wondered privately if it might not be more than that. She was his friend, certainly, and his work colleague, undoubtedly. But when he looked at her, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something more. Something important he had forgotten. There was something about the way she watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking, how close she stood to him, the sadness that crept into her eyes when they talked...

But perhaps it was just wishful thinking, he told himself, given that she’d left him alone for the evening with nothing more than a jaunty wave and a cheerful, “See you tomorrow!” Perhaps he was reading too much into it. Perhaps this was the disorientation Dr Jones had warned him about.

Or maybe— maybe he was the Darcy to Clara’s Elizabeth, the Gatsby to her Daisy, the Cyrano to her Roxanne. Maybe it was all on his end, and she was just trying to be a good friend. Maybe he’d been hit on the head harder than he thought.

And more than maybe, he ought to keep his mouth shut about it. At least until he was sure he had his head on straight.

The clothing he found hanging in the wardrobe the next morning felt familiar, at least, and the one thing his hands seemed to remember all on their own was how to tie a bowtie, so by the time Clara arrived to collect him for school, Adrian felt marginally more like himself. And Clara’s presence was reassuring in a way not even bowties managed to be.

The disorientation crept back in throughout the day in small ways that he tried to ignore, jarring though they were. He attempted to focus instead on the places it didn’t exist: His students knew him, and knew the reading they’d been assigned as homework, the day he’d had his accident. Mr Armitage, the headteacher, seemed relieved that Adrian had returned to work so soon, and the other teachers were similarly kind to him. Something about the school felt exactly right, like there was nowhere else on Earth he could possibly be.

But none of the doors opened in the direction he expected them to. He got lost frequently. He couldn’t remember how he liked his coffee. He spent a good portion of his prep period at the end of the day searching his classroom for his lesson plans and student files, only to have them all turn up in his flat inexplicably that evening, as though they’d always been there, perfectly organised and neatly stacked.

Clara laughed it off, when she came over to his place on Saturday on his insistence that he cook her dinner in thanks for all the help she’d been since his accident two days prior.

“You say it like it’s some big conspiracy,” she said, shaking her head, laughter still in her voice and that tinge of sadness in her eyes. “But I know you too well for that. You’d hardly be you if you hadn’t misplaced half a dozen things in any given day.”

Adrian glanced around his too-clean flat and forced a laugh as well. Yes, that must be it.

“Which is also how I knew that you were destined to burn whatever it is you’ve forgotten on the stove,” she added with a nod towards the smoke starting to emerge from his kitchen. As he scrambled to try to save their dinner, she called after him, “Not to worry, you ridiculous man, I ordered us delivery before I even left home.”

His laughter then was as genuine as hers, though his cooking was indeed ruined, and Adrian wondered all over again about the exact nature of their friendship. He didn’t wonder at all about the nature of his feelings for her, far more obvious to him than whatever arcane organisational scheme was at work in his kitchen.

By the end of the school day on Monday, he had decided that it was pointless to try to pretend to himself that he wasn’t in love with her. The disorientation of his concussion had mostly faded, though his memories still felt foggy — totally normal, Dr Jones had assured him, when she phoned to check on him on Sunday — so he couldn’t say for sure exactly how long he’d been in love with Clara. Months, perhaps, maybe years. When he tried to nail it down, it felt like he’d always loved her, like it had always been an intrinsic part of his soul. And really, it didn’t matter how long it had been going on, because there it was every time he thought about her, utterly undeniable, more certain than anything else in his life: Adrian Smith was in love with Clara Oswald.

When Tuesday afternoon rolled around, he’d nearly convinced himself that he ought to tell her. She had been so sweet to him since his accident, always there when he needed her, always happy to see him, always able to lift his spirits, absolutely perfect for him in every way. His feelings could hardly come as a surprise to her. And maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same. Maybe his accident had been the push they needed to try being something more than friends. Maybe this was the beginning of something grand, a love story for the ages.

Maybe, he thought that night, unable to sleep. Just maybe.

On Wednesday, Coal Hill’s absentee caretaker John Smith finally showed up for work, and everything Adrian thought he knew went right out the window.

He hated the man, Adrian was ashamed to admit, even to himself. He hated everything about John Smith. He hated his arrogance, the way he strode around Coal Hill as though it was his personal kingdom. He hated how his lip would curl when he caught sight of Adrian, the way he rolled his eyes at nearly everything Adrian said. He hated his accent, and his jumper full of holes, and his overly-pronounced eyebrows.

But mostly Adrian hated how he talked to Clara. How he always seemed to be lurking about, whispering in her ear, sending her significant looks that Adrian couldn’t hope to decipher. He hated how John Smith said her name, the possessiveness in his tone that only Adrian seemed to be able to hear. And most of all, he loathed how Clara turned towards the abrasive Scottish caretaker, like a flower seeking the warmth of the sun.

Adrian had managed to convince himself, in that magical window of time when he’d somehow forgotten the existence of John Smith, that Clara was, at the very least, not indifferent to him. But he was forced to admit that he had not truly known what love looked like on her face until he saw her with Coal Hill’s caretaker. She looked at him like he’d hung the moon and stars. Adrian lost count of how many times he caught her watching John, the emotion plain to see. She stood too close to him, smiled at him too broadly, listened to his every word.

And Adrian was sure he’d never been so miserable in his entire life.

Which meant, naturally, that Clara could never know a thing about it.

“Heya,” Clara greeted him, leaning in the doorway to his classroom at the end of Friday, “I’m meeting a friend for drinks after work, feel like coming along?”

Adrian fiddled with the red marking pen in his hands rather than meet her gaze. “Is John Smith going?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

He could tell without looking at her, just by the shape of her silence, that she’d raised her eyebrows in confusion. He hated that he knew that, when he still hadn’t found where pre-concussion-him had stashed his laundry detergent.

“No,” she said finally, voice upturned like it might be a question. “No, John wasn’t planning on joining us. Just you and me and my friend Osgood. You’ll like her, she’s a bowtie aficionado, like you.”

He cracked a smile at that in spite of himself. “Hard to say no to a fellow bowtie enthusiast.”

When he didn’t continue, her silence shifted to the eyes-narrowed sort. “Did John say something to you?” she asked.

Adrian glanced up at her, and found he was right about her expression. “No, it’s just... You seem close,” he said delicately.

She dropped her gaze to the floor and folded her arms, shrugging. “No point denying it, I suppose.”

He cringed inwardly but found his resolve to end this rather than prolong his heartache. “Clara,” he said gently. “You’ve been so kind to me this last week since the accident, but you don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to keep an eye on me. I can get on fine on my own.”

When she looked back up at him he was startled to see tears in her eyes. “You ridiculous man,” she said, a waver in her voice. “I asked because I want you to come along. Because I like spending time with you. And don’t be afraid of John Smith, he’s not nearly as prickly as he seems.”

“I am not afraid of John Smith!” he sputtered, offended.

“You know what I mean. You don’t have anything to worry about from him.”

And just like that, Clara Oswald turned his world upside down again.

The pub was dim and comfortable, and felt utterly unfamiliar to Adrian, despite being so close to Coal Hill. When he stared in confused silence at the bartender, Clara ordered him something with more sugar than alcohol, and reminded him of his long-established hatred of wine. That, at least, rang true, and he did enjoy the drink she’d chosen for him.

Her friend Osgood arrived shortly after, her paisley bowtie set off by embroidered question marks on the tips of her shirt collar, both of which he complimented. She thanked him profusely, smile wide and eyes bright, and Clara hid her own smile behind her wine glass.

They were lingering over their second round, debating the pros and cons of waistcoats versus jumpers, when the pub’s door slammed open with enough force to draw their attention from across the room. Like a storm blowing in, John Smith strode through, all gruff arrogance and bushy eyebrows, his gaze landing on Clara without giving the rest of the pub so much as a passing glance. He beckoned her over with an urgent, imperious hand gesture that set Adrian’s teeth on edge, but he made no move to come towards their table.

Clara winced and set down her wine glass. “I’ll just be a mo’. Talk amongst yourselves,” she added, waving at Adrian and Osgood as she got up from the table and crossed the room.

That hatred was back, roiling in his gut. Adrian forced his gaze away from Clara and John, only to find that Osgood was watching them as well, her expression contemplative and wistful in a way he couldn’t quite understand. Well, she and Clara were friends, maybe she was more aware than he was about the exact nature of Clara’s love life.

“Do you know,” he asked, his voice carefully neutral, “are the two of them...?”

“Wish I knew,” Osgood said ruefully, still watching them. “I’d win the office pool, if I knew that.”

“Your office bet on if Clara is secretly dating Coal Hill’s caretaker?” he replied, confused.

She snapped her gaze to his as though only just realising what she’d said. “Anyone who sees them together has to wonder,” she said, quick to recover. “Clara knows a lot of the people I work with. We try not to gossip, but, well,” she nodded in the direction of where they were still speaking quietly, bodies inclined towards each other, heads bent close.

“It does make one wonder,” Adrian agreed, trying valiantly to keep any bitterness out of his tone. So he wasn’t the only person who saw it — but it also wasn’t an open secret he alone had been unaware of. “What is it you do for work?” he asked, dragging his gaze off of Clara and John and flailing for a change of topic.

“Boring government stuff,” Osgood replied, waving it away. “How about you? Clara said you teach English at her school?”

He smiled and puffed up a bit at the thought of Clara telling her friend about him. “Yes, going on five years now. Inflicting literature on young minds.”

“What are you covering in your classes right now?”

“Shakespeare! Not nearly as exciting as seeing it performed live, but there is something painfully authentic about teenagers reading Romeo and Juliet aloud.”

Clara returned before Osgood could reply, her motions quick in a way that made Adrian’s heart sink.

“There’s a— thing, a minor emergency, nothing to worry about,” she said, scooping up her coat and purse. “But I have to dash. Will you be alright?” she asked, gaze skittering over him to land on Osgood.

“Yes, of course, I know how this goes,” Osgood replied after half a second of apparent surprise. “I’ll make sure Adrian gets home alright,” she added, flashing a smile in his direction.

“Thank you,” Clara said, perhaps a bit too emphatically for Adrian’s taste, but then she was looking at him again and the thought was crowded out of his head. “You,” she said, pinning him with her gaze, “don’t get into any trouble. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

“Anything I can help with?” he asked. “Minor emergencies are sort of my speciality.” He resolutely did not look behind her, where John Smith was still waiting by the pub’s door, shifting his weight restlessly.

“Nah, no reason to ruin all our evenings,” Clara said easily, but with enough force behind it that Adrian knew she wouldn’t be moved. “You two bond over bowties and your shared hatred of wine, I want to hear all about it later.”

She left with a parting kiss on the cheek for each of them, the glow of which lasted only until Adrian saw her take John Smith’s hand on their way out the door.

“Are you sure they aren’t...?” he asked Osgood again.

“No idea,” she sighed, with an emotion uncomfortably close to his own.

Chapter 2

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

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Luck of the Universe (Spencer Reid Screenplay)

Season 9 Reid deserves more recognition. Definitely one of my fav looks/seasons. So I wrote about it :)

Summary: Years after Spencer saves Maggie’s life, they reunite unexpectedly. Maggie thinks it’s fate; Spencer does not. She challenges him and says they’ll meet again, even without intending to. They do meet again, but not under favorable circumstances. Maggie’s life is in danger and Spencer must save her . . . again.

Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst, Fluff, Screenplay Content Warning: Profanity, pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, violence, death Word Count: 10.5k

DISCLAIMER: This was originally a screenplay but was adapted to have a more cohesive appearance on Tumblr.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Spencer Reid sits outside a cafe to enjoy his beachside view from a coffee shop. Foreign to California’s sun, Spencer has aloe and sunscreen packed with him. He even wears sunglasses wherever he goes. While he patiently waits for the arrival of his coffee, he reads The Narrative of John Smith. The exact copy that Maeve gave him over a year ago.

Serving his coffee is Maggie. This event will single handedly change both of their lives forever.

MAGGIE: Let me know if I can get you anything else.

As she sets down the cup, Reid thanks her, and out of politeness, he tilts his head forward ever so slightly so that his glasses will shift to the bridge of his nose. This way she can see his eyes. And when she does see his eyes, they are so familiar to her, but she can’t place where she remembers them from. Spencer notices her looking at him.

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, you just looked really familiar.

SPENCER: Actually we have met before. I’m the agent that, um, saved you.

Maggie stands there for a moment in complete disbelief.

MAGGIE: Oh my God, yes! No, I totally remember you now. Wow. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner I’m -

SPENCER: Maggie.

Maggie peers down at her name tag and gives him a funny look.

SPENCER: No, I genuinely do remember you, and I didn’t just read your name tag. Um I have what’s called an eidetic memory. I’m able to recall things with high precision, even if it was a brief period of time on one occasion.

MAGGIE: Really? That’s incredible. I wish I could say the same. All I could remember after being resuscitated was your eyes. I meant to thank you, by the way, for saving me, but at the time I was too in shock. I went to the police department the next day trying to find you, but you weren’t there. And as it turns out, it’s not so easy searching for a pair of hazel eyes.

Spencer smiles.

SPENCER: I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.

Hearing his name completely changes her. She says it to herself in disbelief. For years she’s wondered who he was, and now she knows.

MAGGIE: So what brings you back to California?

SPENCER: We finished a case here earlier. I’m just killing time until I go back by reading.

MAGGIE: May I?

Maggie extends her hand to ask for the book politely. Spencer hands it to Maggie. She recognizes it almost immediately.

MAGGIE: Oh, I love Arthur Conan Doyle. This is just one of those novels I wish I could read again for the first time.

Spencer doesn’t respond, he’s just so enamored by the way she thinks and speaks. She misinterprets his silence as a sign that he’d rather not keep talking.

MAGGIE: I should probably let you get back to reading. I wouldn’t want to keep you from the opinionated Everyman John Smith. I hope you have a safe travel home.

Maggie begins to get up from her chair.

SPENCER: Wait um, I don’t normally ask this, but I still have a few hours until my flight and I’d really love to keep talking with you so do you think maybe we could go somewhere or -

MAGGIE: I would love to, but I’m working until the closing shift tonight.

SPENCER: Oh okay.

Maggie is conflicted. Against her better judgement, she agrees.

MAGGIE: You know what? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.

Excitement rises in Spencer. When Maggie goes into the coffee shop, he tries to contain himself. He fixes his hair and straightens out his cardigan and tie. Maggie comes back out.

MAGGIE: Ever been to the pier?

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are looking out onto the ocean from the pier. It’s one of the rare times that they aren’t being swallowed by a huge crowd. It’s just them, a few other people, and the sunset. An ocean breeze blows through, making Maggie shiver and bump into Spencer.

MAGGIE: My bad. Sorry.

SPENCER: Do you want my -

MAGGIE: No, no I’m fine.

Spencer ignores her statement and drapes his cardigan around her. Though she would never admit it, it sort of smells like him - and it’s the most comforting smell in the world.

MAGGIE: It’s beautiful isn’t it?

Maggie says while looking out to the sunset.

SPENCER: Yeah, it is.

He says while looking at her.

After a couple seconds, she notices him staring, looks at him, smiles, and nudges him.

MAGGIE: It’s getting late. We should head back.

Spencer follows close behind as Maggie leads the way.

MAGGIE: I wish we could’ve hung out longer, but I don’t want to leave Tony running the shop alone for too long and I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.

SPENCER: For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the little time we did spend together.

MAGGIE: I did, too.

SPENCER: So maybe, when I’m back here, we could make plans.

MAGGIE: I’ll look forward to your return then.

Maggie and Spencer walk a little longer in a comfortable silence, until finally they’re back at the coffee shop.

MAGGIE: Do you have a pen?

Spencer hesitates for a moment, but ultimately, has to place his hand on Maggie’s hip to retrieve the pen inside the pocket. This gesture startles her and causes her to remember that she was wearing his cardigan.

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, I forgot that I was wearing this.

SPENCER: No keep it. It looks better on you anyway. Consider it an early birthday gift. September 8 right?

MAGGIE: How did you- Oh right. Eidetic memory.

Spencer hands her the pen and Maggie reaches for a napkin from the table and writes her number on it.

MAGGIE: So if you’re ever insanely bored at 3 a.m. or you’re not busy saving someone’s life, call me.

Spencer takes the napkin.

SPENCER: Will do.

He tries to mask how excited he really is.

Maggie heads back inside, but stops herself at the door. She turns back to Spencer.

MAGGIE: (genuinely asking) Do you know how often people reconnect without intending to after years of not seeing each other?

SPENCER: Not very often I suppose.

MAGGIE: This could very well just be a huge coincidence, but it really feels like some luck of the universe that I’m talking to you right now. And I think we’ll be seeing each other soon again.

Spencer’s intrigued. As a doctor, he’s pragmatic. Romantic notions such as destiny and luck - he wasn’t a believer of. Even God, he was skeptical of. But he wanted to see Maggie again, even if that meant he had to agree that it was fate after all.

SPENCER: And if we don’t?

Maggie pauses to answer his question.

MAGGIE: Then we will eventually.

Before Maggie opens the door, she notices Spencer pulling money out of his pocket to pay for his coffee. She stops him.

MAGGIE: It’s on the house.

She says with a small smile that’s returned with a grin that creeps upon Spencer’s face. When she fully enters the cafe, Spencer is left alone with his thoughts.

. . .

It’s the next day. The BAU is seated at the round table. Penelope is presenting the case. Reid’s momentarily distracted. He plays with the napkin in his book. It’s the napkin with Maggie’s number on it. His fixation lasts for so long that he misses the presentation entirely. It’s only when JJ asks him a question directly does he tune in and snap out of his trance.

REID: What was the question?

Reid shifts in his seat uncomfortably and tries to hide his confusion by opening up the case file.

ROSSI: You’ve been awfully quiet this morning. A little too quiet. Care to share?

REID: Nothing. Just thinking.

He’s lying and they all know it. The team exchanges suspicious glances.

REID: Sorry, Garcia, could you repeat it one more time?

GARCIA: Why of course! Anything for you, Boy Wonder. A week ago, Brynn Dryer disappeared from her home late at night. 48 hours after she was reported missing, a couple jogging past a lake found her body. In the M.E’s report, there was a terrifyingly large amount of evidence that she was brutally beaten and clubbed. The official C.O.D was blunt force trauma to the head and the lake was nothing more than a disposal site. Less than a day later, Eliza O’ Hara went missing after someone invaded her home. Yesterday local P.D found her in the middle of a field by the highway. Same M.O. The police department is anticipating that when you land, another girl will go missing.

Spencer notices something.

REID: Wait, can you put their pictures side by side?

Garcia does so. Spencer makes a connection.

JJ: What is it, Spence?

REID: The similarities between the two victims are uncanny. Notice the eye color, skin tone, hair style, even down to the freckles they have.

BLAKE: Alright so he’s got an aggression toward brown eyed, tan brunettes with bangs and freckles.

ROSSI: And I have an aggression toward telemarketers but you don’t see me clubbing them to death.

HOTCH: The cooling off period between kills is getting shorter. He’s escalating and we’re going to put a stop to this before he hits his stride. Garcia, you’re coming with us. Wheels up in 30.

The team is leaving the round table.

. . .

The team is on the flight.

HOTCH: JJ, as soon as we land, I need you setting up a press conference to let the women in the area know to be vigilant. After that, we’ll interview the family’s of Eliza and Brynn. I need Blake and Reid working on the geographical profile. Dave, you and Morgan will take a closer look at the bodies and see if you can’t gather more information. And Garcia,

GARCIA: Yes, sir?

HOTCH: Find as many more connections between these women as you can, and contact any other women who fit the victimology.

GARCIA: Yes, sir.

ROSSI: Apparently, it'll be 101 degrees when we land. Remind me again why people live in California?

Reid perks up. He didn’t even know he was going back to California. But now that he does, he’s even more on edge.

. . .

Reid works on the geographical profile, while Blake assists from her chair. There’s something off about Reid, and she’s about to find out what.

BLAKE: Hey, you alright, Reid? You seem like you’re a million miles away.

Reid stops working on the map. He turns around to face Blake.

REID: I met this girl yesterday. She was actually a former victim I resuscitated. And before I left, she said she had a feeling we would see each other again soon.

Spencer pauses and purses his lips.

SPENCER: She looks just like the other victims.

BLAKE: So you’re worried that when you see her again, it’ll be because of this case.

REID: Do . . . do you think I could call her? To let her know.

BLAKE: I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to break the rules if I were you, but I can’t, in good conscience, advise you to let her know what’s happening. By doing so, you’re giving her an advantage other people don’t have. If she tunes into JJ’s press conference, I’m sure she’ll be safe.

REID: I thought Maeve was gonna be safe too. Look how that turned out.

Blake is at a loss for words. Here she is, the linguist, and yet she can’t find the right words to tell Reid to comfort him.

. . .

JJ sits beside Garcia as Garcia sets up her system.

JJ: Spence has been acting really weird today.

GARCIA: So it’s not just me! I knew something must’ve been wrong because earlier on the flight, I asked if he wanted to play online chess with me and he said no. Can you believe that? I know he’s all anti-tech and everything, but he’s never passed up a game of chess. So that’s why I’ve already done some digging.

JJ gives Garcia the face of “You shouldn’t have done that.”

GARCIA: Okay, but before you say I shouldn’t have, you should see this.

Garcia pulls up a small window on her computer to show to JJ. JJ is shocked.

JJ: A three hour call with his mom last night? Could’ve just been his regular check in.

GARCIA: See that’s what I thought, too, but look.

Garcia scrolls further up the call list.

JJ: He hasn’t called his mom in months.

GARCIA: We all know Reid tells everything to his mom. Something must’ve happened yesterday.

Unbeknownst to Garcia and JJ, Reid walks in.

REID: Hey, guys - what’re you looking at?

It’s too late now. Reid’s already seen it.

REID: You’re keeping tabs on me now? How long have you been monitoring me? Huh?

Anger possesses Reid.

GARCIA: Just since this morning. I only looked at your call history briefly.

REID: Unbelievable.

JJ: We were just worried about you. We all are. There’s obviously something going on.

REID: So then ask me about it. Ever thought of that?

JJ: We’re sorry.

REID: Yeah no, I’m fine, thanks for asking.

Reid storms off from JJ and Garcia.

. . .

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all meet Garcia, JJ, and Blake before delivering the profile. Spencer’s missing.

MORGAN: Where’s Pretty boy?

BLAKE: I thought he was going to talk to Jennifer and Garcia.

GARCIA: He did, but something happened . . . he was upset and left. I thought maybe he went back to working on the geo-profile.

HOTCH: Garcia, when did you last speak to him?

GARCIA: Oh, I don’t know, sir, um, maybe fifteen minutes ago?

HOTCH: Morgan, go find Reid. We’ll deliver the profile.

MORGAN: Where should I be looking?

BLAKE: He went to a coffee shop yesterday. I’m not sure which one, but it’s a start.

. . .

Reid is frantically entering the coffee shop. He scans the room for Maggie but doesn’t see her.

TONY: Hey, what can I get for you?

SPENCER: Is Maggie here?

TONY: Who’s asking?

SPENCER: (flashing his badge) I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. Let me ask you again, where’s Maggie?

TONY: Didn’t show up today.

SPENCER: Did she call in sick?

TONY: Nope.

SPENCER: When was the last time you saw her?

TONY: Last night when we were working the closing shift.

SPENCER: Do you know how she got home?

TONY: She walked. I tried to offer her a ride, but she said she likes to walk. Something about clearing the mind.

SPENCER: Did she walk alone?

TONY: Mhm.

Spencer’s mind swirls. He is living his worst nightmare all over again. When he turns around and sees Derek pulling up. Reid rushes out of the coffee shop and hops into the passenger seat immediately. Derek doesn’t even question it.

REID: Drive. I need Garcia on the phone.

Derek dials her.

GARCIA: Did you find Rei-

REID: (cutting her off) Garcia, I need you to look up Magnolia Tate. Get me her address.

MORGAN: What is it, Reid?

REID: She didn’t show up to work today. Her coworker said the last time he saw her was when she was walking home. She fits the victimology. Garcia, the address?

GARCIA: 178 Citrus Boulevard. Be safe.

REID: Thank you, Garcia.

GARCIA: Of course. And, Reid?

REID: Yeah?

GARCIA: I’m really super-duper sorry about earlier.

REID: It’s fine. I know you guys were just looking out for me.

Reid can sense Garcia smiling through the phone so he promptly hangs up knowing their business is resolved.

MORGAN: Reid, there is a good chance this could just be a coincidence.

REID: I’m telling you - nothing with this girl is just a coincidence.

MORGAN: Well, have you called her yet?

REID: No.

MORGAN: Then call her now, Reid.

REID: I can’t.

MORGAN: Yes, you can.

REID: I can’t.

MORGAN: Why not?

REID: I’m scared that if I call her, I won’t be able to stop, and I’ll want to keep talking to her, but I can’t do that. Not when I know what it’s like loving something death can touch.

MORGAN: Is this about Maeve?

REID: It’s always about Maeve! Morgan, I watched her die in front of me. And just knowing that right now I could be in the same position -

MORGAN: Listen, I know how guilty you feel about Maeve. Man, I feel guilty about her, too, but you gotta understand that if this is connected to our case, you’re gonna save her. Trust me on this.

REID: Yeah, okay.

MORGAN: So how do you two know each other?

REID: She was actually a previous victim of ours. Nearly a decade ago, I performed CPR after her ex-boyfriend pushed her off the boat, bound and gagged. They were out on the lake watching the Fourth of July firework show, but a witness recognized her from the news, which ultimately saved her life. Prior to that, he killed practically all of her next of kin because he believed they were responsible for the restraining order she filed against him.

MORGAN: Why’d he risk taking her out in public?

REID: He was recreating their first date. How do you not remember this?

MORGAN: Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember the case. Cause you made that stupid joke that he was trying to reignite a spark.

Reid makes an offended/sad face. Morgan smiles.

REID: You know, taking into consideration how much emotional trauma we’ve been through combined, there is a very real possibility that our relationship would be, for lack of a better word, doomed. She has no parents, my mom has schizophrenia. We’ve both been held hostage. I’ve been hospitalized, and she’s potentially been abducted for a second time.

MORGAN: Seems like the perfect fit to me.

REID: I’m being serious.

MORGAN: I am, too.

REID: Statistically, 40% of all long distance relationships end up failing in some way, including relationships where the partners are married. And of that 40%, 70% of these failures occur because of unplanned circumstances that happen to one of the participants in a relationship. Unplanned circumstances are practically a part of our line of work. Not to mention, most long distance relationships survive on two in-person visits per month. But relying on getting two cases in California per month is completely unrealistic.

MORGAN: Kid, you can give me all the statistics and numbers to convince me why you shouldn’t be together, but the one thing you haven’t said is that you don’t like her.

REID: Fine, I don’t like her.

MORGAN: Then why am I driving to her house?

Reid pauses, not ready to admit he’s wrong.

REID: Because this could be a lead on the case.

MORGAN: Whatever you say, Pretty Boy.

After a long period of time, Reid finally speaks.

REID: At first, I only noticed her because she looked like Maeve. Even when we were talking, it felt like I was talking to Maeve again. But then, she surprised me. She said that seeing me again felt like a “luck of the universe.” That’s when I realized, she’s not a girl who reminds me of Maeve. She’s her own person. She’s Maggie.

MORGAN: See that wasn’t so hard now was it?

REID: I will crush you.

. . .

Morgan and Reid are walking up the flight of stairs to get to Maggie’s apartment.

MORGAN: Remind me again of the plan. Because realistically, she could just be playing hooky or be out somewhere else.

REID: Once we get to her apartment, if she’s not there, I’ll call.

MORGAN: Have we thought about what we’re gonna say if she is there? Oh sorry ma’am, we thought you were kidnapped.

REID: I’ll figure it out.

Reid and Morgan are in her hallway. Morgan knocks on her door, but the door moves when he knocks on it. It’s open. Morgan and Reid exchange glances. Morgan reaches for his gun as he cautiously opens the door wider to enter. When they do, there’s no one inside. But there was an obvious sign of a struggle. A glass vase has been smashed.

REID: Call Hotch. I’ll call her.

Morgan goes to the side to let Hotch know.

REID: (to himself) Please pick up. Please pick up.

MAGGIE: (her voicemail) Hey, it’s Mags. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back when I can.

Hearing Maggie’s voice almost makes him want to break down in tears, but he composes himself.

MORGAN: Reid, we gotta go. Garcia found something.

. . .

Hotch, JJ, Blake, Rossi, and Garcia are all together in the conference room while on the phone with Reid and Morgan.

MORGAN: What’d you find, Baby Girl?

GARCIA: Well after doing some digging, I unearthed Marcus Linden and Toby Forthword. Who are they you may ask? Good question. They are Eliza O’Hara and Brynn Dryer’s sons. And you’re probably thinking, they have children? Yes indeedio they do. The reason I didn’t find this earlier was because when Brynn and Eliza were teen moms, they set up closed adoptions for their sons before they were born. I’ve been trying to find any contact they might’ve made with the agency or their kids since the adoptions, but I haven’t been able to. I thought that was weird, but I started searching for other women that fit the criteria, and would you believe - there was one.

The pause Garcia takes before saying it, tells Reid it’s Maggie.

GARCIA: Magnolia Tate.

Reid is at a loss for words. His mind is trying to wrap about what he’s hearing, but it’s all so much.

HOTCH: Could you find any more connections?

GARCIA: A week before the abductions, all three of them went to a clinic for women who were pregnant or planning to be.

Reid bites his lips as he tries to grasp it all.

REID: Is she pregnant?

All of them know who he’s referring to.

JJ: Spence . . . they all were.

If Reid’s jaw could be on the floor, it would. Even Morgan winced as JJ revealed the news. A moment of silence falls over the group as they all feel for Spencer. Hotch is the first to speak after nearly a minute of not.

HOTCH: Apply those precedents to teen mothers in the early 2000s and cross it with women that gave birth to sons who ended up in the system instead of being adopted.

MORGAN: Baby girl, look at kids that are around 18-20 now. He would’ve been recently freed from the system. He’ll most likely have a history of anger management issues or disciplinary issues.

ROSSI: The mother might also be recently deceased.

JJ: There’s your stressor.

BLAKE: With the death of his biological mother, he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted. He’d look for them from the women that his mother is similar to. Brynn, Eliza, and Magnolia all serve as surrogates. Garcia, he’d be aiming to work in the system. Not only would he want to prevent other kids from going through what he did, but it would also explain how he found them.

JJ: You know the fact that all three women were pregnant could account for his anger. To him, that’s the ultimate form of betrayal. Giving their son up, only to have another child in the future to keep.

GARCIA: Got it.

Spencer is still trying to process. He stays quiet as he fiddles with the napkin. It almost appears as though he might tear it.

. . .

Maggie’s balled up in a corner, hugging her knees. She’s badly beaten. She’s bleeding, her eyes are swollen from crying and she’s looking down at her stomach. The unsub is standing, watching this.

UNSUB: Don’t cry, Magnolia. I wouldn’t have done that if you just answered me.

MAGGIE: You killed my baby!

UNSUB: And I’ll do more if you don’t answer me!

MAGGIE: Please . . . I can’t give you the answers you want. I’m not your mother.

UNSUB: If you don’t answer me, I’ll hurt your little boy. I’ve been watching him very closely. His name is Elijah Martin, cute kid by the way. Quite the over-achieving 12 year old. He’s in soccer and track and field. Wanna see his school picture?

Maggie closes her eyes and turns her head so she doesn’t have to see.

UNSUB: See, Magnolia, what you’re going through right now, is only a fraction of what I had to go through in my foster homes. I was tortured, bullied, abused. All because that old hag didn’t want to make the sacrifice to be a mother. So answer me this, how could you give him up?

MAGGIE: I may not have made the sacrifice to be a mother, but I did make a sacrifice the day I chose not to be his. I wanted to keep him. I cried when I watched him leave with that other family. But I couldn’t be the mother he needed.

UNSUB: Why haven’t you called him? Or tried to get him back?

MAGGIE: Reaching out would’ve done more harm than good. Not knowing who I am, or who his father was, meant that we could never stand in the way of his future. He can reach his fullest potential - free of mine or Charlie’s hindrance.

The unsub understands Maggie. She’s gotten through to him. But he still carries anger. He groans in frustration and grabs Maggie by the collar of her shirt.

UNSUB: We’re gonna take a little trip.

. . .

The BAU is at the local Police Department. Garcia is reading to them what she’s found.

GARCIA: I know a textbook serial killer when I see one. His name is Ray Lewis-Fernandez. Throughout his time in foster care, he was a troublemaker. He never stayed for more than a month in a group home. Quite a Dennis the Menace, according to his foster families. It also says here that he got caught on multiple occasions trying to get his file so he could find his mother. Her name was Shawna Heights, and I say “was” because she passed away exactly two weeks before he was emancipated.

MORGAN: So this guy is finally able to find his mother on his own, only to realize he missed her by two weeks.

GARCIA: Talk about bad luck. But that isn’t even the worst of it. If Ray did do some digging after his emancipation, he would’ve discovered that Shawna had two sons and a daughter only a few years after he was born.

JJ: Did he try to contact them?

GARCIA: No, but that’s the surprising part. I profiled him wanting to reach out and be one big ol’ happy family, but then I remembered I’m not a profiler.

REID: Wait, that might actually be it.

Everyone is shocked to hear Spencer speak up.

GARCIA: Wait, I’m right?

REID: Foster families mentioned he’d been trying to find his mother but at the core of its meaning - he’s trying to find family. If his mission is to find family, he wouldn’t stay away unless he had to. Garcia, check if there’s a restraining order on Ray.

GARCIA: Bingo, Boy Wonder! Malcolm, Shawna’s husband, filed it against him just days after Shawna’s funeral.

REID: The restraining order means he can’t come within a certain distance of the kids, right? So he wouldn’t risk it all just to have lunch with them or send a letter. Think about it - high risk, high reward. Ray would only violate the order, if he could have them completely. But in order to not get caught, he’ll use maternal figures to lure them. They just lost their mother and seeing or talking to someone so similar to Shawna would make them that much more susceptible. But Brynn and Eliza are both mothers who have given up their sons. This means they know what inadequate guardians look like. They’re aware the kids are better off with Malcolm, and they won’t be responsible for abducting them and placing them under Ray’s care. It would completely go against their own reasoning for giving away their children. Their refusal to help him execute the plan angers him to the point of murder. He isn’t just killing because they’re surrogates for his rage, but because they refuse to help him achieve his goal.

ROSSI: The kids are his endgame.

BLAKE: All he’s wanted is a family. Now that he knows he has one that hasn’t already betrayed him, he’ll stop at nothing to have them.

HOTCH: What’s the address, Garcia?

GARCIA: Already sent it, sir.

The BAU rushes out of the conference room.

. . .

Maggie and Ray are sitting in his car. They’re watching the three children play - staking them out. Malcolm - their father, is nowhere to be seen. We’re to assume he’s at work while they’re at home.

RAY: You see the boy with the red hoodie? That’s Malcolm Jr. He’s the oldest. Same age as your boy. Then Evan is the middle child. He’s eight. But the baby - she’s my favorite. Her name is Ariel cause of her red hair. She’s six.

Maggie smiles for a split second before frowning.

MAGGIE: You don’t have to do this.

RAY: And I’m not. Because you will.

Maggie breaks her gaze from the children to look at Ray with shock.

MAGGIE: No, no, no I’m not kidnapping them. I won’t do it.

Ray retrieves his gun and points it at her stomach.

RAY: You had a chance to have your family with Elijah. But you gave him up. Now that I have a chance, you’re gonna help me.

MAGGIE: What if I don’t?

RAY: You’re smart. Figure it out.

MAGGIE: I will not be taunted with death if I don’t help you take someone else’s babies away. So go ahead, kill me. I’ve got nothing left to live for anyway.

A gunshot.

Standing in front of the car, is Malcom with his shotgun. The windshield is shattered by a single bullet that penetrated it. Malcolm fired a shot right through Ray’s head. Maggie is alive and in complete and total shock. Once Malcolm knows he’s dead he rushes to her door to help her.

MALCOM: You have to unlock it.

Maggie is forced to reach over Ray’s dead body and unlock the car. When she does, Malcolm helps her exit the vehicle. Maggie’s seen putting pressure on her stomach to stop the bleeding.

Within seconds of escaping, police SUV’s arrive. Spencer is the first to run out of the car.

Relief overcomes Maggie.

MAGGIE: Spencer!

She stops him before he can hug her.

MAGGIE: No wait! I’m bleeding.

Spencer ignores this and embraces her. Maggie sobs hysterically when he does.

MAGGIE: He . . . he killed my -

SPENCER: Shh, I know. I know. I’m here now, okay?

Neither of them pull away.

MAGGIE: Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re here. I knew I’d see you again.

SPENCER: Yeah, you did. You were right Mags.

These words make Maggie shut her eyes and smile.

Hotch approaches the pair from behind.

HOTCH: Miss Tate, there’s an ambulance here for you. Let’s get you to a hospital.

Maggie nods as Spencer helps her limp to a stretcher.

When she situates herself and is lifted into the back of the ambulance, Spencer turns to Hotch.

SPENCER: Can I -

HOTCH: Yes, yes, go. We’ll meet you there.

Spencer enters the back of the ambulance and sits beside Maggie as they ride to the hospital together.

MAGGIE: You’re coming?

Spencer nods and gives a small reassuring smile.

Another tear escapes her eyes as she smiles through the oxygen mask to thank him.

. . .

The entire team is seated in a waiting room. Spencer is standing up and pacing as he waits for the doctor.

A doctor soon enters.

DOCTOR: Is there a Spencer Reid?

Spencer comes over quickly.

SPENCER: That’s me.

DOCTOR: Come with me, sir.

Spencer follows the Doctor.

DOCTOR: Luckily, the lacerations didn’t travel far enough to do a significant amount of damage that would require surgery, but we did have to perform a blood transfusion due to the amount of blood she lost.

SPENCER: How’s the baby?

DOCTOR: It was too early to tell the sex of the baby before she miscarried. She’s awake now and has been asking for you.

SPENCER: Thanks.

The doctor leaves as soon as Spencer knocks on the door.

SPENCER: (quietly) Maggie?

Maggie’s face lights up when she sees him.

MAGGIE: Hey you.

Spencer pulls a chair closer to Maggie’s bedside to take her hand and kiss the back of it. She smiles as he does this.

SPENCER: How are you feeling?

MAGGIE: Is it possible to feel incredibly lucky and incredibly lucky at the same time?

Spencer gives her that small reassuring smile.

MAGGIE: I’ll be okay.

SPENCER: Good.

MAGGIE: I’m starting to regret not letting Tony take me home.

Maggie and Spencer share a laugh.

SPENCER: Yeah, I think you should let him drive you from now on.

MAGGIE: Yeah, you’re probably right, but I don't think I want to work there anymore. Or even live here for that matter.

SPENCER: I don’t blame you.

MAGGIE: I grew up here, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore.

SPENCER: Where are you thinking of going?

MAGGIE: Well, I completed my bachelor’s degree to become an English teacher, but I never applied to any schools. I think in my gut I knew I didn’t want a job to tie me down here, otherwise I’d never leave California - no matter how much I should. So realistically anywhere that’s offering positions to English teachers is ideal.

Hearing Maggie’s an English major doesn’t surprise Spencer.

SPENCER: You know, when I go back to D.C, I can find open teaching positions for you. Moving there would be a big change, but I think you’d feel safer at least.

MAGGIE: I think I would too. And I wouldn’t mind the change. Getting a couple thousand miles closer to you doesn’t sound so bad.

Spencer cheekily grins.

SPENCER: Yeah?

Maggie nods.

Hotch enters the room.

HOTCH: It’s time.

Reid nods and turns back to Maggie.

SPENCER: I’ll see you soon.

MAGGIE: Can’t wait.

SPENCER: Goodbye, Maggie.

He sits up and kisses her forehead. For a moment, he rests his forehead on hers. Maggie smiles when he does this little gesture.

MAGGIE: Thank you.

Spencer nods and shuts the door behind him when he leaves.

With a heavy heart, Spencer leaves the hospital.

. . .

On the plane back, everyone is asleep besides Spencer and Hotch.

HOTCH: How is she?

SPENCER: She’ll be okay, but I can’t seem to figure out why. I thought she’d be broken. And I think deep down she is, but when she smiles, she isn’t faking it.

HOTCH: “Sometimes the ones who have the brightest smiles are the ones who have known and endured deep darkness.”

SPENCER: Dodinsky. (the author of the quote)

. . .

It’s been a week since Spencer has visited Maggie, but he’s back now. Maggie is lying on her hospital bed, with Spencer entering her room. He hides something behind his back.

SPENCER: Knock! Knock! I brought you something.

MAGGIE: Oooh, fun!

Spencer pulls out headbands with the words “Fourth of July” in block letters.

SPENCER: Here.

He slides one on top of her head and puts the other on himself.

MAGGIE: What’s this for?

SPENCER: Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, we subconsciously link the tragic event with the date it happened on. It happens most often with death anniversaries, birthdays, or in your case, holidays. But I want to make the Fourth of July a good holiday again. So earlier, I asked the doctors if I could take you up to the roof to watch the fireworks.

MAGGIE: Spencer . . .

SPENCER: Humor me.

Maggie’s reluctant but she still reaches out her arms to have Spencer help her out of bed anyway. He wheels over the wheelchair to her and she groans.

MAGGIE: Are you actually gonna make me use that?

SPENCER: I mean, you’re welcome to walk around the hospital with your backless patient gown.

Maggie laughs and complies. Spencer begins to wheel Maggie out of her room and into the elevator that goes up to the roof. When they finally get there, Maggie’s face lights up. There’s a whole picnic set out for the two of them. A blanket with small fixings is laid out for them.

Maggie rises from the wheelchair and turns around to engulf Spencer in the biggest hug.

MAGGIE: Thank you. This is like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.

Spencer hugs her back even tighter. His hand is on the small of her back, and for a second he can feel her smooth skin, but like the gentleman he is, he tightly wraps Maggie’s hospital gown to cover her exposed skin. A small gesture that to Maggie, does not go unnoticed.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer's backs are lying flat against the blanket. They’re in the middle of a conversation where each of them are smiling.

SPENCER: JJ said that Henry wanted to dress up as his favorite profiler, and he came into the office as me. I even gave him my badge.

MAGGIE: That is adorable! I can’t wait to have kids and celebrate Halloween with them.

Spencer goes quiet, making Maggie realize what she said.

MAGGIE: Oh, gosh, sorry I did not mean for that to take a dark turn.

SPENCER: Do you want to talk about it?

Maggie pauses.

MAGGIE: Um, I mean, sometimes I get sad, but for the most part I’m okay. I think I’ve finally accepted that it happened. You know, I’m actually sort of relieved that I didn’t carry the baby full term, because could you imagine how complicated that would be? Yeah, it’s . . . it’s better this way. And I’ve always wanted a family, but if I had that sperm donor’s baby, I wouldn’t have a family, it’d just be me and the baby. But I want my child to grow up with a father, you know?

Yes, Reid does know. He wishes his father was around.

SPENCER: Yeah, I do.

MAGGIE: What about you? Do you want kids?

SPENCER: Absolutely. It’s funny because I always say that I could never picture myself leaving my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But if I had kids, they’d be the exception. I, uh,

Spencer lightly laughs and looks down.

SPENCER: Yeah, I don’t know, I just really want to be a dad one day.

MAGGIE: You’d be a really good dad. I mean that.

Originally, Maggie and Spencer were both looking up at the sky, but after Spencer turned his head and Maggie turned hers, their faces were only inches away. Spencer licks his lips as he contemplates kissing her. But he pivots. He smiles and kisses her forehead.

Simultaneously, a firework goes off, startling the duo. Maggie laughs in excitement.

SPENCER: Did you know that at MIT, one of the lessons they taught students earning their degree in chemistry was how to make a firework?

MAGGIE: You know how to make one? What do they use to make the colors?

SPENCER: Good question. To create certain colors, different physical elements are used. Magnesium creates a bright white light, like that one right there. While strontium and lithium each showcase a different shade of red, like the first one we saw. But the most dangerous colors to form, blues and greens, are formed from barium and copper.

Spencer’s explanation continues for a little longer. The view above the pair zooms out. They’re just two small people on the roof of the hospital.

. . .

Spencer is in his apartment. He’s on the phone with Maggie.

MAGGIE: So I’m looking at an apartment in Manassas right now. It’s only half an hour away from the school and it’s a 45 minute drive from your apartment.

SPENCER: You’re not very good at changing the subject, Maggie. Even now, I can read your body language.

MAGGIE: I’m not changing the subject. I’m just mentioning my other options that are unrelated to the one you proposed.

SPENCER: Wow, is the idea of living with me really that bad?

MAGGIE: No! I would love to live with you.

SPENCER: But?

MAGGIE: But you’ve already done so much. You’ve saved my life twice, visited me every week I’ve been in the hospital, made the Fourth of July fun again, and helped me find a great teaching job over there. So I am sincerely grateful, but moving in with you would feel like taking advantage of your good heart. You’ve done a lot for me already, okay? I can take care of myself from now on.

SPENCER: Okay, think of it instead as a mutualistic relationship. We both receive net benefits from moving in. You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me because I’d be gaining something from it, too. I’d have a roommate and my rent would dichotomize. And for you, you’ll only be driving 15 minutes to work instead of 30.

MAGGIE: Did you ever consider being a lawyer? You’re quite convincing.

SPENCER: So is that a yes?

MAGGIE: It’s a “Yes I’ll move in with you but only if Plan A doesn’t pan out.”

SPENCER: Promise me you’ll think about it.

MAGGIE: Okay, fine. I’ll think about it.

SPENCER: Say it.

MAGGIE: I promise.

Spencer yawns. Maggie hears it.

MAGGIE: What time is it over there?

SPENCER: 11:54.

MAGGIE: Spencer! Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve been asleep like two hours ago.

SPENCER: I’ll be fine. I don’t have to be at work until 7.

MAGGIE: You of all people know how bad it is to get less than 8 hours of sleep. I’m gonna hang up now so you can at least get 6.

SPENCER: Then I’ll call back.

MAGGIE: Then I’ll decline.

SPENCER: Fine, if I go to sleep, you have to agree to consider living with me as more than a Plan B.

MAGGIE: I already said I would!

SPENCER: Mmm no. I’m not really feeling it. You have to say it nicely.

MAGGIE: If you sleep now, I’ll consider living with you as more than a backup plan.

SPENCER: Music to my ears. Sleep well, Maggie.

MAGGIE: Sweet dreams, Spencer.

Spencer lets Maggie hang up. Let it be known, that he has never once ended a call.

. . .

It’s a few weeks later. Maggie’s finally out of the hospital. It’s official that she has the teacher job - no interview required thanks to Garcia. Currently, she and Spencer are packing the last of her things away into boxes in preparation for the cross country move she’s making tomorrow.

MAGGIE: I know I’m still a little fragile, but the doctor said I’m all clear to resume normal activities. So would you please let me help you with the boxes?

SPENCER: Mmm, I don’t think so.

MAGGIE: Need I remind you that I’ve been through worse than packing?

SPENCER: That would violate our designated jobs! I pack the boxes - you label them, remember?

Spencer picks up a book from her shelf and reads the spine of it. From the looks of how empty the bookshelf is, he’s been packing away the books this entire time they’ve been packing.

SPENCER: By the way, I love your book collection. Very diverse. But the way you’ve organized them is peculiar, though.

MAGGIE: What do you mean? Each shelf is categorized by genre.

SPENCER: No, I figured that out, but why not in alphabetical order? Cause, see, you have several books from Dickens, but they’re sporadic on your shelves. And again with Austen and Steinbeck, you have several of their books, so organizing by last name means that all the books by the same author would be together.

MAGGIE: Alright then, when I move, you can organize my bookshelf.

SPENCER: Sweet!

MAGGIE: I was joki-

Maggie notices that Spencer actually takes pleasure in organizing her books, so she refrains from saying she’s joking.

MAGGIE: Can I see a box? I forgot I have stuff on my fridge still to take down.

SPENCER: Here.

Spencer hands Maggie a box. Maggie begins to fill the box with her fridge magnets, postcards, and small reminders she put on her fridge. Only one picture is left on the fridge - a sonogram picture. Maggie had completely forgotten it was even there. But she drops the box immediately and pulls it off, placing it close to her chest.

SPENCER: You okay?

Maggie pauses for a moment cherishing the picture.

MAGGIE: Yeah.

SPENCER: What is it?

Spencer comes over.

MAGGIE: I thought I threw this away, but I guess I didn’t. It was my first sonogram.

SPENCER: Oh, from a few weeks ago?

MAGGIE: No - years ago. This is Elijah’s.

Maggie smiles when she sees the picture.

SPENCER: I think you should keep it - the picture I mean.

MAGGIE: Yeah, I think I might. I mean, if it’s stayed with me all these years, no sense in throwing it away now.

Maggie puts the picture at the top of the pile in the box.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are on the plane heading to Virginia. Reid’s reading and Maggie is sorting through some papers with an earbud in one ear.

MAGGIE: Before we left, I contacted the landlord for that apartment in Manassas weeks ago, but he never got back to me.

SPENCER: I guess it’s a good thing you have a Plan B then.

Spencer smirks.

MAGGIE: Remind me again that we mutually benefit so I don’t feel so guilty that you’re constantly helping me but I can never find the opportunity to pay you back.

SPENCER: Stop it, okay. I want you to move in with me.

MAGGIE: I snore really loudly.

SPENCER: Completely okay.

MAGGIE: I take long showers.

SPENCER: Not a problem.

MAGGIE: Late at night, I’ll get random bursts of energy and get really hyper and bothersome.

SPENCER: So do I.

Maggie groans in frustration.

MAGGIE: I feel like you know the reason why I don’t want to move in with you, but even I don’t know why.

SPENCER: It’s quite simple actually. You’ve spent nearly a decade living alone. And because of that, you think you prefer isolation over having company. But in reality, you’re just scared. Because the last time you were surrounded by a lot of people, they eventually died, essentially abandoning you. And it might not seem like it, but I know exactly what that feels like. To be scared of abandonment.

MAGGIE: Really?

SPENCER: When I was three, my dad left me and my mom. And a year ago, my girlfriend was shot in front of me.

Maggie’s speechless.

SPENCER: You and I - we’re scared to let people in and get attached to them. The reason is because we’re afraid to suffer or let go. So, we think, in order to protect ourselves, we have to stay away from the people we’re getting attached to - which is hard because it is equivalent to avoiding the privilege of becoming happy. So we’re caught in the middle of which pain we’d rather endure - the pain caused by unhappiness and loneliness, or the pain that we know, nobody will ever be strong enough to stand against - the pain of letting go.

Maggie’s astonished.

MAGGIE: If our love could’ve saved them, they would’ve lived forever.

A tear rolls down Maggie’s cheek. Spencer uses the pad of his thumb to brush it away.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are at the baggage claim of the Virginia Airport. Maggie yawns and leans into Spencer, who puts his arm around her and comfortingly rubs her.

SPENCER: Tired?

MAGGIE: Extremely.

SPENCER: We can get coffee on the way home.

MAGGIE: Are you reading my mind right now?

Spencer laughs.

Maggie sees her suitcase come through on the conveyor belt. Maggie lifts her baggage up, and they begin to exit the airport.

. . .

Spencer is driving and Maggie is in the passenger seat, trying to fight her sleepiness.

SPENCER: Tell me about your parents.

Maggie’s surprised by not unwilling.

MAGGIE: My mom’s name was Amina. She met my dad, Sonny, in college, and had me when she was 24, but he took off when she got pregnant. At first, I didn’t mind it just being the two of us, but when I was seven, there was a father-daughter dance at my school. I wrote him a letter inviting him to it. He didn’t show up, of course. Not that I really expected him to, but ever since then, I’ve resented him. My mom used to say that he was the reason why I dated Charlie. She said that I never got to see an example of what a good man looks like or how a girl should be treated. In hindsight, she was totally right.

SPENCER: How did she react to your pregnancy?

MAGGIE: Well, at first she said she was gonna slap Charlie, but she wasn’t even really mad at me. Instead, she just said that if I wanted to have a future and if I wanted the baby to have a good future, I should set up an adoption. Later that same year, she helped me file a restraining order on Charlie. My mom was always looking out for me. It felt like she always knew what the right choice was.

SPENCER: She sounds like a really good person.

MAGGIE: And she was. I just wish I told her that more often. Growing up, I thought one day I’d get a job and become rich enough to support the both of us. I’d even buy her a range rover - it was a car she wanted since forever. I never got to do that for her, but she used to say to me, “Some people are so poor, all they have is money.” And I think about that everyday. I was never spoiled or born with a golden spoon, but we were so rich in love. She loved me so much, that she’s the reason I wanted to have a baby. Just days after her death anniversary, I visited the clinic. It’s silly, but I just wanted to be half as good a mother as she was.

SPENCER: I feel the same way about my mom. I wanted to grow up and create a cure for schizophrenia by the time I was 29. And even though I’m far from doing so, I’m not giving up hope that I still can.

MAGGIE: Does she live here?

SPENCER: She’s in a facility in Vegas.

MAGGIE: Well, if I ever find myself in Nevada, I’d really like to thank her for raising the perfect son.

Spencer gaily smiles.

SPENCER: Would you maybe want to visit her with me one day?

Maggie nods.

SPENCER: You two would have a lot to talk about. She was a former professor of 15th century literature.

MAGGIE: Does she still hold lectures?

SPENCER: She does. I attended one of them years ago. It completely changed my perspective. I realized that I owe all of who I am today to her.

MAGGIE: Then we have to attend one of her lectures when we visit.

SPENCER: She’ll be so happy when I let her know.

Maggie and Spencer continue to talk about literature.

. . .

Now in a coffee shop, Maggie and Spencer are nursing their drinks at a table in the corner of the cafe.

MAGGIE: Earlier, we were talking about your mom a lot, but on the plane, we spoke about your dad leaving when you were really little.

SPENCER: Yeah, um, eventually he wrote a letter saying that he just didn’t know how to be a dad to me anymore. That and he couldn’t deal with my mom’s paranoid schizophrenia anymore.

MAGGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s not easy growing up without a dad.

SPENCER: He’s partly the reason I want to have kids. I want to be the dad mine never was.

Maggie nods.

SPENCER: I’m not as mad as I used to be about it. Over time, I slowly stopped caring about him.

MAGGIE: As you should.

SPENCER: Um, we still have an hour before we’re home so-

MAGGIE: Yeah, no of course. Lemme just use the bathroom really quick before we go.

Maggie leaves her phone and her coffee cup at the table. Spencer sips from his drink but stops when he sees Maggie’s phone ringing. The call’s number has a familiar area code. Spencer instantly recognizes it from Manassas. He realizes that the caller is the landlord from the apartment in Manassas that Maggie said hadn’t gotten back to her. He looks at the bathroom and sees Maggie isn’t back yet, so he declines and deletes the call.

He wants Maggie to live with him, and knowing the landlord called her back would ruin any chances of that happening. And Spencer wasn’t taking any chances.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are finally at his apartment. They’re climbing the flight of stairs, with Spencer carrying Maggie’s backpack for her - like a gentleman. When they reach his door, Spencer unlocks it and opens it for her to walk through first. In that same breath, confetti comes flying.

Maggie is startled by this, but comes to realize that the entire BAU is in his apartment. A banner hangs behind the team saying “Welcome!”

She laughs and goes to greet each of them.

JJ: I’m JJ.

Maggie shakes her hand.

MAGGIE: Maggie Tate. Nice to meet you.

MORGAN: Derek Morgan. I’ve heard a lot about you.

MAGGIE: All good things I hope.

HOTCH: Aaron Hotchner.

MAGGIE: Right of course. I remember you from the day you guys found me.

BLAKE: Alex Blake. Nice to finally meet you.

MAGGIE: Likewise.

ROSSI: David Rossi. Spencer’s Italian grandpa.

Maggie laughs and Rossi greets her by kissing each of her cheeks.

ROSSI: Got any Italian blood in you?

MAGGIE: Oh, I wish. Half Filipino, half Mexican.

ROSSI: A beautiful mix nonetheless.

Finally, Maggie meets Penelope. Before Maggie can even say anything, Penelope envelopes her in a huge hug.

MAGGIE: You must be Penelope!

She pulls away.

GARCIA: At your service.

MAGGIE: I really like your glasses. Cool color.

GARCIA: (to Spencer) I love her already.

Maggie returns to Spencer after all the greetings.

MAGGIE: Did you know they were gonna do this?

SPENCER: I might’ve.

Maggie turns back to everyone.

MAGGIE: I wish I would’ve known I was meeting you all, I would’ve worn something nicer than leggings and jet lag.

They laugh and tell her that it’s not a problem.

GARCIA: So we thought you guys might be hungry, so there’s chips and guac as well as other little snacks.

MAGGIE: It’s crazy, because I was craving just that.

Penelope gasps and smiles. She extends her arm for Maggie to wrap her arm around.

GARCIA: Well then let’s dig in.

Garcia leads Maggie arm in arm to the food. While Spencer draws back to set her things down. JJ waits up for him.

JJ: She’s pretty.

SPENCER: She is, isn't she? And she’s more than that, too. Everytime we talk, she never fails to surprise me with her wit or mind. She reminds me a lot of you.

JJ smiles as Spencer and her rejoin the group.

. . .

It’s almost the evening now, and Maggie and Spencer are bidding each guest goodbye. The last one to leave is of course Penelope. But when she does, Spencer and Maggie are alone again. Spencer shuts the door behind Garcia, and turns and presses his back to it and sighs. Maggie exhales too.

SPENCER: I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think this would last for as long as it did.

MAGGIE: No, no don’t apologize. I like spending time with them. I’m pretty sure Garcia’s energy cured my jet lag.

Spencer laughs and walks back to Maggie.

MAGGIE: I think I’m gonna go shower now. Try to wash off the flight from me.

Spencer nods and leads her to the bathroom.

SPENCER: Just turn this knob to the left if you want it hotter, and to the right if you want cold water. When you’re done just press down on this.

Spencer presses on the little knob, and when he does, the shower sprays him with water and sprays Maggie, too. She squeals and begins to laugh when she sees Spencer’s hair is drenched. It’s all stringy and in his face, so she pushes it back to see his smiling face. She leaves her hands around his cheeks, cupping his face.

MAGGIE: Well that’s one way to get wet!

SPENCER: Oh yeah? What’s the other?

The delivery of his innuedo is so subtly seductive. Maggie dismisses it and laughs instead.

MAGGIE: Um, just tell me where the towels are and I can bring you one to dry your hair.

He points her in the direction and Maggie promptly leaves the bathroom. When she does, Spencer sees himself in the mirror and realizes just how ridiculous he looks. But on the inside, he feels doubly ridiculous. He’s so embarrassed from what he just said that his cheeks turn red.

. . .

Spencer is cleaning up what was left of the welcoming party. He’s in the kitchen, when he hears Maggie exit the shower. Her hair is damp and stringy, and she’s drying it with a towel. Spencer notices the clothes she’s wearing. She has on sweatpants and to his surprise, his shirt.

MAGGIE: I forgot my pajamas were with the moving truck. I hope you don’t mind.

SPENCER: Not at all.

Maggie thanks him with a smile and walks a little more into the living room. She notices that the couch has a blanket and pillows on it.

MAGGIE: What is this?

SPENCER: What do you mean?

MAGGIE: Are you gonna sleep out here?

SPENCER: Yeah, why?

MAGGIE: No.

SPENCER: No what?

MAGGIE: No, you’re not sleeping on your couch in your own apartment. I won’t let you.

SPENCER: It’s fine really. I’ve slept on it before.

MAGGIE: Do you not want to share a bed?

SPENCER: No, it’s not about that. I just want you to have the bed to yourself.

MAGGIE: If anything, I should be sleeping on the couch because I’m a guest.

SPENCER: No, I’m serious. I’ll sleep out here.

MAGGIE: Okay fine.

Maggie dramatically flops onto the couch.

MAGGIE: Then I’ll join you.

Spencer sighs and shakes his head.

SPENCER: You’re really gonna sleep on the couch with me?

MAGGIE: Mhm.

SPENCER: Why are you being so stubborn?

MAGGIE: Why are you being so stubborn?

SPENCER: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

MAGGIE: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

SPENCER: You’re acting childish.

Spencer comes over to Maggie. He stands in front of her, towering over her small figure.

MAGGIE: You’re acting childish.

SPENCER: Stop repeating what I’m saying.

MAGGIE: Stop repeating what I’m saying.

SPENCER: I mean it, Maggie!

She shoots up from the couch and makes a grumpy face to imitate Spencer. Their bodies are so close.

MAGGIE: I mean it, Maggie!

Spencer takes the opportunity of their closeness and uses it to put his arms behind her back and swoop her up - bridal style. Maggie squeals and tries to squirm out of his arms, but he resists and carries her all the way into the bedroom. He tosses her onto the bed and starts to tickle at her sides.

MAGGIE: Stop! Stop!

Maggie’s laughing so hard, she’s breathless.

SPENCER: Not until you agree to sleep in the bed.

MAGGIE: I want to sleep on the couch with you!

SPENCER: Well I guess I’m gonna keep tickling you then.

Maggie laughs so hard she’s almost in tears. Suddenly, she sees a window of opportunity to escape. When she does she runs out into the living room. Spencer chases after her through the apartment. Maggie dodges some of his attempts to capture her, but is ultimately outrun by him. He gets her to fall flat on the couch as he hovers above her. Both of them are smiling and breathless.

SPENCER: You’re not gonna give this up are you?

Maggie shakes her head no.

SPENCER: Alright, I surrender. But if in the morning, you wake up and find that you’ve magically teleported to the bed after falling asleep on the couch, it wasn’t me.

MAGGIE: Deal.

. . .

It’s sometime late at night and Spencer has finished showering. Maggie’s traveling through his apartment and looking at everything closer. She notices he has a record player. And all the records are classical music.

MAGGIE: Interesting record collection. Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. Why am I not surprised?

SPENCER: Am I that predictable?

MAGGIE: Just a little. Care if I try to expand your music taste?

Maggie pulls out her phone. After some scrolling and typing, she begins to play “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. Spencer is unfamiliar with this song, but it’s abundantly clear Maggie loves it.

MAGGIE: Do you dance?

SPENCER: Oh, no, no.

MAGGIE: Just dance with me. I’ll teach you.

The song plays in the background as Spencer shyly approaches Maggie. Maggie puts one arm out and Spencer takes her hand. Then he timidly puts his hand on her back, but with confidence, Maggie slides his hand down to her waist. Maggie puts her hand on his shoulder. Promptly, Spencer and Maggie both peer down at their feet as Maggie leads the dance. She does the classic box step, and after fidgeting around, Spencer gets it.

MAGGIE: There you go. You got it!

They dance a little more.

MAGGIE: Do you think you can lead?

Spencer nods, and Maggie lets him lead. As the song reaches the chorus, Spencer finally gets his confidence. He doesn’t have to look down at his feet anymore. He finally looks at Maggie. To her surprise, Spencer spins her and dips her. They stay put in this position. Neither of them break eye contact.

MAGGIE: You sure you don’t dance?

Spencer sheepishly smiles and shakes his head. He brings her up from the dip. Maggie’s flustered from the thrill of dancing with him, so much so that she pulls away.

MAGGIE: So, did you um, did you like the song?

SPENCER: Yeah, I did.

MAGGIE: You know, that, that could be like our song.

SPENCER: Our song. Yeah, okay.

. . .

It’s the middle of the night now. Maggie is sprawled across the couch, asleep. Spencer is at the table reading. He only has one dim light on so as not to make it harder for Maggie to sleep with a bigger light on. He peers over the couch and sees that she’s sleeping so he picks her up and carries her bridal style again. When he lays her in the bed, she stirs and mumbles.

MAGGIE: (quietly) Spencer?

SPENCER: (whispering) Sorry, I was trying not to wake you.

MAGGIE: Can you just sleep in the bed? I don’t want you on the couch.

SPENCER: Yeah, yeah. I’ll sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep soon, but I’m just gonna be outside reading. Goodnight, Maggie.

Maggie’s already fallen fast asleep again. Spencer leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

As Spencer approaches the table, his reading material can be visibly seen. A thick stack of papers within a manila folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL.” He opens it to resume reading the contents. On the very front, a scanned picture of a man’s driver’s license is paperclipped to another paper. The name on the driver’s license reads, “S.J Glover.” a.k.a Sonny Jr. Maggie’s dad.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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lostinfic · 3 years

Text

Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

Chapters 8 and 9

Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he as a scientist in the labs, and she as a salesgirl in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for. But John and Rose end up stuck with Martha, Donna and Jack in the laboratory, and shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.

Tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff with light angst, found family

Rating: Teen (for now)

Ao3

The laboratory was completely silent except for the constant and forgettable hum of refrigerators. Everyone was asleep. Except John. He liked the lab at night, when the blue glow of the central column made everything look like they were underwater.

Eye to the microscope, he was examining the probable cause of their unfortunate situation.

The muted sound of bare feet on concrete made him look up.

Rose yawned and rubbed her eyes as she crossed the lab. She went into the bathroom and came out a minute later with a glass of water, and only then did she notice him. She smiled at him, a slow, sleepy smile, that made him sigh.

“Hello,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Hello.”

She pulled self-consciously on the hem of the large Dino Store T-shirt she was wearing. John himself was only in his pants and button-down shirt now they were dry.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Still hallucinating?”

She explained he’d experienced side effects of the antibiotics, and had had to be carried downstairs. He had absolutely no recollection of that.

“You don’t even remember Jack’s dare?” she asked.

“Nope. What was it?”

“I— I don’t remember either. Something daft, I’m sure.” She averted her gaze and changed the subject. “So, whatcha lookin’ at?”

He scooted away— but not too far away— to let her look into the microscope herself.

As she leaned over the lens, a strand of hair fell from her braid, over her face. Without thinking, he tucked it behind her ear. She straightened up, surprised.

“Sorry,” he said, retracting his hand as if burned.

“I don’t mind.”

She held his gaze for a moment, challenging him yet hesitating too.

He did it again, unnecessarily. His fingertips brushed along her forehead, swept behind her ear and grazed her jaw, and there she leaned lightly into his touch.

His heart clenched in his chest.

“Anthrax,” he blurted out.

“… What?”

He pushed himself away from the microscope, rolling on the wheeled stool to the opposite desk. He pointed at a picture on the monitor that looked like bits of pink string.

“The unidentified particles, I think it might be anthrax spores.”

Rose joined him by sending herself rolling too.

“Isn’t that what terrorists sent in the mail?”

“Yes, but it existed well before it became famous for that. It’s a common disease of livestock. When infected animals die, sometimes their carcasses get trapped under a layer of permafrost. It’s the perfect place for bacteria to remain alive for very long periods of time.”

He went on to talk about a remote village in Siberia infected three years ago, and NASA scientists reviving 32,000-year-old bacteria from a frozen pond in Alaska.

“That’s the same age as the Megaloceros. The ice is a veritable Pandora’s Box of ancient viruses.”

Rose stopped his babbling with a hand on his arm.

“I’m vaccinated,” he said, “as is Martha. We have to be, in the lab.”

“Jack and Donna?”

“Jack, I don’t know. Donna isn’t, lab managers don’t handle specimens. But you were the closest to it, Rose. And inhaled anthrax is more difficult to treat. It can be fatal. I shouldn’t have let you near me.”

She tried to protest, but her throat itched, and she coughed instead.

John’s eyes widened. “I can’t lose someone else on Christmas Eve.”

She drank from her glass of water. “Just a frog in my throat. You won’t lose me, Doctor.” She tried levity. “Certainly not before I open my Christmas gifts.”

She stroked his arm, and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, they hugged. And he felt something yield inside of him. He held on to her, longer than appropriate with a friend, and only reluctantly parted from her embrace. He could have held her close all night.

He cleared his throat. “Happy Christmas.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘someone else’?” she asked.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

He ignored her question and returned to the microscope, but she gently insisted.

He ran a hand through his hair only to have the fringe flop back on his forehead. Rose brushed it aside as he had done for her.

The last of his defenses crumbled.

“My parents died on Christmas Eve. It was a long time ago.”

“Blimey. An accident?”

“Part of an overpass fell on the car… The radio somehow kept playing. Christmas songs, on and on, until EMTs arrived.”

“Oh god, you were in the car too. How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

Rose held his hand. He rarely spoke about his parents. Every time, grief resurfaced with a strength that surprised him. He’d already revealed more than he liked, but her silent support kept him talking.

“I was already too old to believe in Santa Claus, but… they were in intensive care for a long time. I thought surely there would be a Christmas miracle.”

“Oh, John. And after?… Did you have family?”

He shook his head. “Foster care… then I was on my own, and then, here, my— well, this team.”

A tear rolled down Rose’s cheek; she wiped it with the back of her hand. “Now I understand why you don’t like the holidays.”

“As soon as I hear the first Christmas song on the radio…” He let out a big whoosh of breath. “The foster families, they’d always try to do something special for us orphans, but I could never get into it.”

“Of course not. Feels like there’s always something missing, doesn’t it?” Rose whispered.

“Yeah.”

“My dad, he was killed by a drunk driver, a hit-and-run. I was just a baby. Dunno if that’s better or worse than if I’d known him.”

They looked at each other, sharing an understanding few people did.

John ran a hand down his face, over his red-rimmed eyes and unshaven cheeks.

“Nothing like childhood trauma for a bit of cheer on Christmas Eve.”

Rose chuckled.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you, John, not at all, for the lockdown and everything. None of it’s your fault.”

After talking about his parents, it’s those words from her that nearly made him cry. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Trying to put on a brave face, he raised his chin.

“You should go back to sleep. Get some rest.”

“You think I’ll be able to sleep knowing I’ve snorted anthrax? But you, you should rest, after those side effects.”

“Not until I’ve identified this.”

“How sure are you it’s anthrax?”

“Weelll, I’m a genius, but bacteriology is not quite my field of expertise.”

“So, you don’t know.”

“It’s an educated guess. I’m surprisingly successful at guessing.”

“Okay, so, say you guessed right, then what? You can’t make up a cure in here, can you?”

“A real glass half-full girl, you are.”

“Sorry… But if one of us is sick, then maybe the best thing you can do to help is make sure we have a good time.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Read more on Ao3

#ficandchips #Ten x Rose #lostinfic writes stuff

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ak47stylegirl · 4 years

Text

Life Changes: Chapter 16

Chapter 16 is done! wooohoo! XD

This fic is dedicated to @gumnut-logic (also thanks Nutty for letting me use Jack XD)

The rest of the chapters can be found here. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! XD

----

Virgil pov

He rolled over in bed, staring blankly out at the city skyline; the sun having risen long ago. Three days have passed since that dreadful night, and Alan still hasn't woken up.

Their baby brother had fallen in to a coma.

The doctors had started to suspect that Alan could have suffered undetected brain damage, ordering brain scans to be performed. And as it became clear that Alan wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, the hospital had moved him to a more secure, more permanent room in the ICU.

Where they could visit him freely and without restrictions on how many of them could see him at a time. Kayo had also doubled their security immensely in the last couple of days, doing background checks on all of the hospital staff.

And it was no surprise to any of them that Dr Jim Smith was on the list of ‘don’t come ten feet near Alan or you die’ list. Kayo had been very insistent on that. As well as background checks, Kayo had also (somehow?!) compiled a team of vetted and trained security guards for them.

There were three guards standing watch outside their hotel room right now, along with two more guarding Alan’s hospital room. Plus Kayo, who insisted on protecting Alan personally and not even hell freezing over would change her mind.

And in a sense, Kayo was also guarding Scott, who had barely left Alan’s side; only leaving to eat, sleep and take bathroom breaks. Even Grandma couldn’t get him to leave on the threat of home cooking…

Which wasn’t a threat that you take lightly, she would actually follow up on it but even that time old trick has lost its magic in the last few days. Their world was falling apart, and a little bit of burnt food didn’t scare them like it used to.

The hospital was encouraging them to talk to Alan like he was awake and could hear them, that hearing their voices could help him regain consciousness.

But he couldn’t even step foot in the hospital after seeing Alan laid out on that hospital bed; Neck in a brace, unable to breathe on his own, almost lifeless in his stillness.

He had stumbled out of the ICU and into Scott’s arms, sobbing his heart out on his big brother’s shoulder. Repeating over and over again that he was to blame, that it was all his fault!

Scott had pushed him away slightly, his hands placed firmly on his shoulders with an almost furious look in his eyes. “It is not your fault, Virgil!” His brother had snapped, blue eyes ablaze with emotions.

“There nothing-” Scott’s voice cracked, wavering slightly, “-you could have done, so please stop this…”

He had been so startled by...well the fact that Scott had been pleading with him, begging him to stop blaming himself, that he had just nodded mindlessly. He was just so tired at that point, that he just wasn’t going to fight Scott on it.

That first night, he was in such a state of distress that the only way he was even able to fall asleep was because Grandma had chosen to sit by his bedside until he fell asleep; effectively comforting him enough that he was able to finally fall into a much needed deep sleep.

He was a complete wreck of his normal self. All while falling asleep that first night, all he could think about was how much of a failure he was. And he still was thinking that, because he couldn’t even muster up the will to get out of bed.

It was like his mind and body had just shut down completely. Before he was feeling too many emotions; now, he was struggling to feel anything. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat…

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see his baby brother bleeding out on that gala floor or on that hospital bed, so still, so lifeless…

And with every day that passed with no sign of Alan waking, his nightmares got worse and worse. He knew John and Gordon had noticed, how could they possibly not have? They were sleeping just a bed or two across from him.

He hated that he was worrying his brothers, because why else would they be here with him when they could be at Alan’s bedside instead? He thought with a sigh, looking over at his brothers, who were sitting on the bed across from him.

John was sitting in the corner of the bed, legs crossed as he furiously typed away at his tablet. All while ignoring Gordon, who was spread lengthways across the bed, half-heartedly strolling through his phone.

The room was filled with an anxious boredom as they waited for Grandma or Scott to call them with some form of news on the results of Alan’s brain scans.

But the nearly endless wait was driving them stir-crazy…

When will they hear some news? And would they like what they may hear? If he was being honest, he was dreading that phone call. Because what if the results came back positive?

Hasn’t Alan suffered enough?

“Honestly!?” Gordon yelled, causing him to jump and look over at his brother, who was glaring at his phone. “you would think they would have better things to report on then our family!”

“Unfortunately” John lowered his tablet with a weary sigh. “Anything happening to our family is front-page news to those people..”

Gordon scowled, throwing his phone down on the bed; missing John by a thin margin. “Well, I don’t care if it's front-page news or whatever, why can’t they just say out of it?!”

Gordon’s face crumbled slightly as he moved into a sitting portion, hugging his knees. “His face is plastered all over the interwebs John…” Gordon whispered, his voice losing its anger and in its place was an immense sadness.

“Along with those grainy photos of Virg-” Gordon frozen, suddenly realising that he was, in fact, awake and looking right at him “Um, I mean-”

He sighed deeply, forcing himself to sit up, “You mean those cellphone photos of me desperately trying to keep Alan from bleeding to death?” He answered almost emotionlessly as he rubbed at his face tiredly. “I have seen them already, Gords..”

He couldn’t even turn the TV on or go on his phone without getting blasted with reminders of what happened. And even then the news networks would be blasting it from the tallest skyscrapers.

It was like it was haunting him everywhere he went...

He frowned slightly, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could feel John’s eyes on him, scrutinising him like he was a complex math problem John was trying to figure out. He didn’t like it...

“Um...yeah, those photos…” Gordon mumbled, rubbing his arm nervously, his eyes flickering between looking at him and not looking at him; Gordon’s reddish-brown eyes filled with barely masked concern.

Everybody has been giving him that look lately…

Gordon looked over at John, “Can’t you or Jack do anything about it? Like maybe get them taken down?” Jack was their lawyer and a pretty good one at that.

John sighed again, shaking his head. “Jack is already flat out busy with making sure the people responsible for all of this get life in prison..” John explained, his frustration and fury at the people responsible for hurting their little brother clear in his voice. “Doesn’t help that the GDF is being difficult…”

“Difficult?” He wondered softly; his curiosity peaked, “how so? I thought It would be clear and easy?”

They attempted to kill Allie; the GDF should easily see that they deserved to get life in prison?

John’s eyes flashed to him again with that same masked concern in them as Gordon’s eyes had. “You would think so, but the higher-ups of GDF are thinking of treating this as an attempted robbery gone wrong, rather than attempted manslaughter because, well-” John hesitated, avoiding their eyes.

“Because?” Gordon questioned.

John sighed wearily, looking up at them with a deadly serious expression, “-Because apparently to them there isn’t enough proof to prove that Alan getting shot was intentional...”

His eyes widened in horror.

What?!

“What?!” Gordon exclaimed, jumping up from the bed in outrage “Not enough proof?! Alan is in a coma and paralysed because of that asshole!” Angry tears had gathered in Gordon’s eyes. “Maybe even brain-damaged! How is there not enough proof?!”

He stood up and walked over to the window, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and keep some kind of control over himself; what happened to not feeling anything?

Deep breaths Virgil, deep breaths...

“What about all of the witnesses?” he questioned, facing away from his brothers as he glared out the window. “Everybody saw it, you…” his voice shook “you couldn’t miss it if you tried..”

Alan’s terrified eyes, a flash and a loud bang. Allie on the floor, blood everywhere; baby brother crying in pain. That man laughing...

He gripped the windowsill tightly, glaring out at the skyline, “Everybody knew why, it wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t a stray bullet…” He took a shaky deep breath, feeling his eyes fill with moisture, “He looked right at me and said ‘International rescue couldn’t save my sister from being paralysed, so now I’ll return the favour!’”

He turned to face his brothers, both their faces bleached pale; Gordon’s more than John’s. This was the first time he has spoken in detail about what transpired that night to his brothers. “There's no way that wasn’t intentional..”

“They’re going to get what they deserve Virg, Jack and Lady Penelope are confident of that…” John spoke, his voice taking on a gentler tone, the tone he uses when he’s talking to distressed and panicked rescuees.

He hated the fact that John felt the need to use that voice on them, on him...

“It may not seem like it but…” John’s shoulders dropped, his brother’s eyes filled with exhaustion. “But it only has been three days since that night; court cases take time...”

“Feels way longer than just three days…” Gordon muttered softly, scuffing the sole of his shoe into the carpet. “Especially with Allie not..” Gordon dropped back down on the bed next to John, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, “you know, waking up..”

Every single one of big brother instincts was screaming at him to go and comfort his brother, but he hesitated, and in that time, John had beat him to it.

“I know Gordy...” John sighed sadly, pulling Gordon in a loose one-armed hug; their little brother collapsing like a rag doll against John's chest with a little sniffle.

His already broken heart seemed to break even more at the sight of their mischievous and fun-loving little brother looking so down; so drained of happiness and hope.

Sometimes he forgot that Alan wasn’t just Gordon’s little brother but his best friend as well. How didn’t he noticed that he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t dealing well with Alan's injury?

The self-hatred he was feeling towards himself seemed to double at that thought.

“They’re not going to get away with this Virgil; I promise you that..” John promised, aqua blue eyes looking right at him, voice leaving no room for argument. “Jack, Colonel Casey, Penny and I are going to make sure of that..”

“I know…” He sighed, running his hand through his ungelled hair, turning to look out the window again; just being able to make out the hospital in the distance. “I’m going to have to testify, ain’t I?”

“If you’re willing and that is what you want to do, of course, you can..” John explained with an odd, almost worried tone to his voice. “but Scott, Grandma and I were talking, and we think it’s a better idea if you don’t..”

“What?” He turned around in astoundment. Even Gordon looked confused, looking up at John with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean, don’t testify?” His fist clenched slightly as anger started bubbling in his stomach. “If I don’t, they’ll get away-I..”

He bit his bottom lip, glancing out the window as anxiety flooded him again at the thought of those people being able to walk free. “I…I have to testify, or else they’re...they’re..”

“Virgil..” John’s voice cut through his panic, sounding incredibly sad as well as concerned. “With how many witnesses there were, you don’t necessarily have to testify for there to be enough proof to prove them guilty..”

“But…” He glanced back at his brothers, and the first thing that hits him is just how concerned they looked, both of them; even Gordon. They weren't even trying to hide it from him anymore.

His fists clenched as he turned his face away from his brothers. They did think he was broken, didn’t they? Why else would they be acting like this?

“We just don’t want to push you too far by forcing you to relive that night, Virg” John explained gently, “you have been through a lot these last couple of days after all..”

Understatement of the year, he thought with a scoff.

John continued, “and we don’t want to see you get hurt any more than you have been..”

His eyebrows furrowed, the anger starting to bubble in his stomach again. He wasn’t the one that was hurt, what was John going on about?! Alan was the one that was hurt!

Not him! He thought as he gripped the window sill tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to push his anger down. He didn’t understand why he was getting so angry at his brothers; they were worried about him because they cared.

But maybe he wasn’t really angry at them but more at himself? Because deep down, he didn’t feel like he deserved their worry; he was the one that had let their baby brother get shot after all. They should hate him...

Like he hated himself...

“That’s why we think testifying in front of all those people, including the guys responsible for this, isn’t such a good idea..” John explained, his voice filled with brotherly concern; which just seemed infuriated him more. “Especially when you don’t necessarily have too..”

Things went silent for a moment; like his brothers were waiting for him to say something, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk, he didn’t trust himself not to start shouting if he did.

John sighed, sounding slightly disheartened “Scott wanted to be the one to talk to you about this, he thought you’ll probably take it better from him than anyone else..”

He rolled his eyes, looking out at the skyline. Of course, Scott would want to be the one to talk to him. That was typical Scott, always wanting to be the one to shoulder the burden.

But that meant that even Scott, his best friend, though he was..was broken? He realised with a shaky gasp, a feeling of betrayal missing into the anger he was feeling. Sure John had mentioned Scott being a part of this before, but the meaning of it all was only just hitting him now...

“I’m not made of glass…” He whispered tensely as he turned to face his brothers, anger seasoning his voice like a strong chili, hot and burning. “So will you please stop acting like it?!”

His voice had raised to a shout, like he feared it would; but right now, he didn’t care. John’s eyes hardened a touch, but they were still filled with that same concern that filled him with rage.

Gordon flinched, brown eyes wide with startled fear and concern, “Virg, John was only saying-”

“I know what he was saying, Gordon!” He snapped at Gordon and instantly regretted it as Gordon’s eyes filled with hurt. “Gordon I-”

“Forget it..” Gordon muttered as he got up from his position on the bed, “I’m going to take a bath; closest thing I'm going to get to a swimming pool for a while..”

The shared bathroom door slammed shut.

“We're just trying to look out for you, Virgil..”

Just as fast as his anger appeared, it disappeared just as fast; maybe even quicker, leaving him feeling empty and hollow once again. He turned to look at John, feeling horribly lost.

“I..i know, I just-” Suddenly being stuck in a room with the people he had just yelled at, was too much for him to take. “I’m going for a walk, call me when you hear news…”

Then he ran, only stopping long enough to put his boots on and grab his phone before he was out the door; not looking back.

He was getting really good at running away it seemed...

#thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Life Changes

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mikmaqs · 3 years

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so i took the plunge and watched promare (2019)

this morning i set out on something i have intended to for some time now, ever since seeing the very mixed opinions on the film. here's my take as an indigenous person, viewing indigenous/minority representation in this movie.

i will add that i am not jewish, which seems to be what most parallels get drawn to. this is just my view as an indigenous person w a long history of myself and my people dealing with oppression, so if jewish people have anything to add, absolutely feel free to do so, because i could have very well missed some things. that being said, let me compile my thoughts.

so, to begin with, i'll state my positive feelings on the movie to get out of the way the things that i did find enjoyable. then, i'll touch what i thought was...eh. less good, or downright bad.

first of all, the animation and color scheme of this movie really was beautiful, and a pleasure to look at (i.e. lio's volcano rage sequence, the promare itself, etc). interesting stylistic choices and enjoyable animation are, i hear, relatively intrinsic to the studio trigger brand. i can't verify, because i haven't ever viewed a studio trigger film before this to my knowledge, but that's what i get through the grapevine. the use of vibrant colors is very pleasing to look at, though it could probably be used as a murder weapon for anyone with color sensitivity or epilepsy, which is...less good, but the appeal was there. just know that it's very bright and a little flashy before viewing.

secondly, i enjoyed the character design more or less...except for, uh, a few things i'll mention later. generally, it was nice, and not an eyesore.

thirdly, the soundtrack was pretty good. i did find a few songs got reused a lot, but that's not exactly a this specific movie problem anyway, and generally not even much of an issue. it didn't unground me or anything, just was noticable enough to make me note it during viewing.

basically, as a whole, the aesthetic value of this movie is very good! credit is given where credit is due, so, yeah, i can say i did enjoy that part.

now, there's...a fair plethora of issues with this movie.

what i gather from this is i can, like...kind of see what they were prooobably trying to do here. like, i doubt they FULLY intended to make such a horrible approach at issues of social justice and racial equality, but, uh. yeah. it wasn't good. and i hear they've done similarly distasteful things, so who knows what the inner workings were with this. at best, it reads as insensitive and uneducated, which is not really what you want in a movie. the aesthetic value is not much if the storyline is sort of trash.

first thing i notice is that the minority group (the burnish, for those who have not viewed) is given a destructive ability and, apparently, an innate urge to........burn things down.......because........the promare......speak to them. like maybe that was just poor thinking, but the first thing you should not do is make the minority group inherently violent and destructive with the whole "the flames talk to us and tell us to burn shit so that's what we do" thing. personally, it reads to me as "oh these poor people inherently violent and horrible" and it's. um. unsettling. of course, the burnish hold pride in never killing for no reason, which makes this a bit more salvageable, but not good.

especially when part of the next scenes of the movie include lio (the leader of the burnish) losing his shit and having to be stopped by the white savior trope. like. well. this is unfortunate now isn't it. of course, i can't be positive galo is white, but i'm referring more to the "majority saves minority from...being a minority" thing that plays out here. like. imagine john smith stopping pocahontas from going into a rage and spearing people or whatever white people think we do. yeah that's basically what happens here and it's................yeah!

the only truly enjoyable characters were the burnish honestly. like. my dear fellow indigenous/minority i'm so sorry you have been subjected to this badly written movie. lio fotia i'm so sorry. you were the only character i liked.

and theeeen the parallels to the holocaust come in, and this is where it gets, uh, uncomfortable. more than before.

so this guy named kray foresight (what a name, huh) has an insane little superiority complex and thinks he's jesus or something. come to find out, he's a burnish — way to villainize the minority but without the "but they're people too" redeeming part, studio trigger — who is...doing experiments, human experiments, on the burnish to power his spaceship.

it's as weird as it sounds.

but the point right now isn't mr foresight's silly little spaceship adventure, it's the parallels to the human experiments conducted at concentration camps (promare has those too, by the way, but they're more of jail cells here) by doctors working under the nazi regime. most know by now about the horrific experiments conducted on people during the holocaust, majorly jewish people among other smaller percentages of other groups (poles, yugoslavs, actually mostly any minority the nazis could find and didn't like). the parallels to jewish oppression are staggering and impossible to ignore or not notice, for me anyway, and this is from someone who isn't even jewish. i'm sure watchers who are notice it even more starkly.

did i mention the whole symbol surrounding the burnish is a pink triangle?

gee. i wonder where we've seen triangles to identify a minority group before.

oh yeah. the identification tags used to separate jewish people from non-jewish people the nazis created.

funny how that works out.

there's also the way the star of david appears throughout the movie. or the several other parallels that exist within the film.

and the "genocide cultivation beam", whatever the fuck that means.

and the way the movie ends with the burnish just...not being burnish. identity: gone, white: savior, hotel: trivago.

yeah. the whole conflict of "the burnish keep setting shit on fire" gets solved by "well, we'll get rid of what makes them burnish as if we couldn't just settle it in another way anyone with a brain could think of". but, you know, plot is apparently more important than respect..

and all that aside? there's still more issues.

like the incredibly racist caricatures of Black people, y'know? the whole "big bulky deep voiced animalistic" racist rhetoric? yeah. yeah, they got that too. it takes about half a brain cell to notice it, and it's so hard to stomach, as a bipoc. i'm a poc, and even when it's not my race, it's so difficult to watch these poor, distasteful portrayals of real life oppression and real life people.

tl;dr, promare is a very well animated movie with a nice soundtrack, but that does nothing to wipe away the VERY large issues within it. if you are going to be interested in the characters and media, i IMPLORE you to remain VERY critical of every flaw and never excuse it. be sensible about your interests. i enjoyed lio as a character, but do i condone the issues in this film? fuck no, and i feel bad the poor guy had to be part of it. fork over the rights to lio fotia to me i'll treat him better than studio trigger ever did.

as always, be critical of your interests and listen to people affected when they bring something to your awareness. you can like characters without excusing the grossly evident issues of a piece of media. none of it is okay or excusable, regardless of what the intent may have been.

like i said, if anyone has anything to add, please do feel free to do so, and let me know — i'm always ready to listen and look at different viewpoints, especially of those affected by this media. ❤️

#fin.txt #long post #fandom critical #tw antisemitism #tw antiblackness #tw nazi #tw racism

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thefifthtm · 4 years

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So I received forty-two responses to my small questionnaire on Dr John Smith’s occupation, and around sixty percent of you voted for him to remain a vet while also studying for a history doctorate, so I’ll keep things how they are.

If you responded, thank you very much!

Just thought I’d offer some further info regarding John and his Fobwatched status, given that I haven’t really explained it very much, primarily because I was still establishing it all.

Regarding WHY Five decided to Fobwatch, it’s ultimately unknown, given that John obviously doesn’t recall it, but it was most likely for security purposes. Perhaps he knew something he felt would have endangered both himself and others, or he generally found himself in serious trouble - or he might’ve even wanted to erase some traumatic memories. We don’t know.

However, it’s rumoured that Five only wanted specific memories to be removed, so that he could retain an awareness of his own identity, but the procedure went wrong somehow, and as a result his entire mind was wiped. Regardless of the circumstances, the TARDIS sought to transport him to a small village in 1930s England and implant him with another identity - that of Dr John Smith, a veterinarian.

Initially, things were fairly normal for him. However, as time passed, he started to have odd dreams, dreams involving strange creatures, aliens and specific individuals, people that he sensed he’d known before, but couldn’t remember how or from where. Most of these dreams would erase themselves by the time he woke up in the morning, but every so often a tiny snippet would remain, and as a result, he began to record them in a journal. Minute notes turned into sentences, which then turned into drawings. Despite all of this, however, he believed that he merely possessed a very vivid and unique imagination.

That began to change when he played host to visitors, the very same people that he’d dreamt about time and time again. This is where the bulk of the Fobwatched Five verse ultimately takes place, witnessing John coming to terms with the fact that perhaps there are more to his dreams than meets the eye, though he cannot fathom exactly how - maybe who he encounters will offer him subtle hints, or they might even just drop the bombshell that his current life is a lie, and that at one point, he was very much living an existence that typically wouldn’t look out of place in a dream.

Who knows? Let’s see how things go, eh?

#☆𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝕆𝔽 𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℂ𝕆𝕊𝕄𝕆𝕊☆#🏏 𝕊𝕌𝔹 - 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕣𝕕 [𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕄𝕀ℕ𝔸𝕋𝔼𝔻]#🏏 𝕎ℍ𝔸𝕋 𝕄𝔸𝕂𝔼𝕊 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕋𝕀𝕄𝔼 𝕃𝕆ℝ𝔻 𝕋𝕀ℂ𝕂

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dccomicsnews · 6 years

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This weekend marks the official launch of the highly anticipated DC Universe digital steaming service, and earlier this week they decided to run their beta version for those who have already pre-ordered the service. The beta is limited, so those of us who have it haven’t gotten the chance to see everything, but it did give us a great look at what to expect from the full version.

There are so many great reasons to sign up for this service, and below I list the TOP 10 Reasons to Subscribe to DC Universe. So sit back and enjoy the ride into the wonderful world of all things DC.

10. EXCLUSIVE MERCHANDISE

Not only will you get all sorts of great content to watch and read (as you’ll see below), there’s also a new DC Universe Shop within the app where fans can purchase some awesome merchandise, like t-shirts, statues, mugs, phone cases, and more, with some items being exclusively sold through the app. One of these exclusives is a new line of animated-style Justice League action figures, to complement the popular 6-inch Batman: The Animated Series figures the company has been making lately.

The first wave includes the full initial team line-up – Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern John Stewart, Hawkgirl, and Martian Manhunter – plus Aquaman, who was not a member of the team before they became Justice League Unlimited, but who did appear in several memorable episodes during the first two Justice League seasons.

9. DC COMMUNITY

In the all new DC Community section, fans can join other fans on a plethora of message boards covering all kinds of topics like comics, movies, TV, news, and more. There’s even a section called “Creators Corner” where fans can connect with DC talent.

DC Community shows trending discussions, popular tags, and even gives you the chance to create your own thread covering any topic that’s rattling around in your brain. Do you want to talk about the best Robin? You can make a thread about it. Do you want to discuss your love of the short-lived Birds of Prey TV series? Go ahead! The sky’s the limit!

And DC has vowed to work hard on moderating these boards in order to make it the best possible experience for fans everywhere!

8. ENCYCLOPEDIA

This comprehensive encyclopedia breaks down your favorite characters (like Batman and Superman), as well as some you may have never heard of (like Chaselon and Ferro Lad), with great detail, giving an introduction and history to the character, their origin, powers, essential storylines, team affiliations, and appearances in other media. Some characters are more thorough than others, but this encyclopedia will be always growing and expanding, so if there’s some info you think is missing, you’ll be able to submit it to be added.

There’s also a tab labeled “Related Content” that brings up movies and TV shows, comics, and even trending discussions about that character within the app. This is a great part of DC Universe as it will help to educate DC fans, new and returning, on the characters that live within it.

7. LIVE-ACTION FILMS

As someone who loves films (I even run my own film review site), the fact that the DC Universe app will include live-action films is something I was very happy to hear. Now, from what we’ve been told, there doesn’t seem to be very many live-action films available, at least not yet. We’ll have access to Superman 1-4, Batman (1989), Batman Returns, Batman Forever, Batman & Robin, Batman Begins, and The Dark Knight.

Now, this is a great, albeit small, selection of films, but I’m really hoping they will put more than just Batman and Superman movies up here. Let’s get films like V for Vendetta, Watchmen, A History of Violence, The Losers, Road to Perdition, RED, RED 2, Swamp Thing, Constantine, etc. This would truly add some great value to the film library. And who knows, maybe they already have plans to add some of these. That would definitely push this farther up on my list.

6. ANIMATED FILMS

The catalogue of animated films based on DC properties is huge, with dozens of quality entries, from the 30+ DCUA (DC Universe Animated Original) films, to films like Subzero and Mystery of the Batwoman, and even the LEGO DC Super Hero films.

The DC Universe app will offer a large array of them, including some of my favorites like Justice League: War, Batman: Under The Red Hood, and even Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. But what shocked me the most was that their newest animated film, The Death of Superman, is actually available to watch on the app, even though it’s only been out for less than two months. And with a 3-4 films release schedule every year just for the DCUA films, this library will continue to grow.

5. DC DAILY

Within the “News” tab is a section for the upcoming daily news show, DC Daily. They recently did a live-stream (of which the video is available to watch on the app) breaking down what you can expect from DC Universe, while also introducing DC Daily and the hosts who will be bringing all the news to the fans. The live stream was hosted by Kevin Smith.

There will be several great and knowledgeable hosts including Tiffany Smith (DC All Access), John Barrowman (Arrow, Doctor Who), Samm Levine (Freaks & Geeks, Inglourious Basterds), Harley Quinn Smith (Yoga Hosers), Sam Humphries (DC Comics Writer – Green Lanterns), Hector Navarro (DC All Access), Clarke Wolfe (Collider Movie Talk, Film HQ), Brian Tong, Markeia McCarty (DC Movie News), and John Kourounis.

DC Daily cast (L to R): Samm Levine, Sam Humphries, Tiffany Smith, John Barrowman (in front), Harley Quinn Smith, Clarke Wolfe, Brian Tong, John Kourounis, Hector Navarro

DC Daily will be replacing DC All Access and will offer news related to the original series on DC Universe and other content that “ties back” to DC Comics and the DC Universe community. The program is scheduled to have the following segments: “Headlines”, for daily news briefs; “Reports”, for an in-depth interview or look at an upcoming book, film, or television series; and “Talk”, for panel discussions.

4. LIVE-ACTION TV SERIES

DC has some of the best live-action comic book TV shows out there, and a lot of them will be available to watch right through the app. We’ll get to see such shows as Wonder Woman, The Flash (1990), Birds of Prey, Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, and even more obscure titles like Human Target.

This would be a spot or two higher on the list if the current DC shows were included, like Arrow, The Flash, Supergirl, Gotham, and all of the others. Hopefully, they’ll eventually make their way to the app once their contracts with the other streaming services expire.

3. ANIMATED TV SERIES

I’ve got four words for you: BATMAN. THE. ANIMATED. SERIES!!!!

When it was announced that the greatest comic book TV series of all time was heading to DC Universe, I was ecstatic. And to make it even better, it’ll be released in fully remastered HD, and I have to say, it looks fantastic!

And if that’s not enough for you, we’ll also be getting a plethora of other great animated shows from the world of DC including Batman Beyond, Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, Batman: Brave and the Bold, Superman: The Animated Series, Static Shock, Teen Titans, Young Justice, and even the old Max Fleischer cartoons from the 1940’s. This is an amazing line up that will keep people busy binging for quite a while.

2. LARGE SELECTION OF COMICS

Unlike other streaming services, DC Universe will also offer a reading component through a large curated selection of some of DC’s best comics. You’ll get to read classic stories like Action Comics #1, Detective Comics #27, and The Dark Knight Returns, as well as getting the chance to check out some more obscure stuff like Doom Patrol and New Gods.

And the built-in comic book reader is fantastic, particularly the panel-by-panel option, which allows you to become fully immersed in what you’re reading, bringing these comics to life.

1. BRAND NEW EXCLUSIVE CONTENT

For me, the biggest reason I chose to commit to this service wasn’t the past DC content, but instead all the future content that’s on the way. There’s only so much previous content, so the fact that they’re developing several new projects exclusive to DC Universe will keep me coming back for more.

Right now, there are four live-action shows and two animated shows in production, with many more to come. I’m also hoping they will dive into original films for the app as well. The shows announced so far are Titans (which will premiere at NYCC, and then hits the streaming service on October 12th, with new episodes each Friday), Doom Patrol, Swamp Thing, Stargirl, the Harley Quinn animated series, and the one many have been waiting for… Young Justice season 3 (titled Young Justice: Outsiders).

Titans follows young heroes from across the DC Universe as they come of age and find belonging. This gritty take on the classic Titans franchise finds Dick Grayson and a special young girl possessed by a strange darkness named Rachel Roth as they get embroiled in a conspiracy. They’re joined by Starfire and Beast Boy to become a surrogate family and team.

Doom Patrol is a reimagining of one of DC’s strangest group of outcasts: Robotman, Negative Man, Elasti-Woman and Crazy Jane. Led by the mysterious Dr. Niles Caulder they’re called into action by none other than the ultimate hero for the digital age, Cyborg. These rejects band together on a mission that will take them to the weirdest and most unexpected corners of the DC universe.

Swamp Thing is a scary love story following Abby Arcane as she investigates what seems to be a deadly swamp-born virus in a small town in Louisiana but soon discovers that the swamp holds mystical and terrifying secrets.

Stargirl follows High School sophomore Courtney Whitmore who inspires an unlikely group of young heroes to stop the villains of the past. This new DC Universe series reimagines Stargirl and the very first superhero team, the Justice Society of America, in a fun, exciting and unpredictable series.

Harley Quinn tracks the lovable, raucous villain with a fractured psyche after she breaks up with The Joker and tries to make it on her own to become Gotham’s main queen-pin.

Young Justice: Outsiders features the return of the fan favorite animated series with a huge cast of DC’s most iconic young superheroes – plus brand-new characters, many of whom are just discovering their unique meta-powers and special abilities. Set against the backdrop of a rich, deep world that touches all corners of the DC universe, the season focuses on meta–trafficking, and an intergalactic arms race for control of these super–powered youths.

And there you have it folks, the Top 10 Reasons To Subscribe To DC Universe. If you haven’t already done so, be sure sign up and enjoy all of this wonderful content at your fingertips. Head on over to the DC Universe site and sign up right now. You can do the monthly subscription for $7.99/month or you can save some money and do the annual plan for only $74.99/year.

And be sure to share your experiences with the service in our comments section below or hit us up on Facebook or Twitter.

Top 10 Reasons To Subscribe To DC Universe #DCUniverse @TheDCUniverse @DCComics #BatmanDay #DCComics #DCComicsNews This weekend marks the official launch of the highly anticipated DC Universe digital steaming service, and earlier this week they decided to run their beta version for those who have already pre-ordered the service.

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khaelisfics · 6 years

Text

Classroom War - Chapter 4

Paring: John Smith x Rose Tyler Chapter: 4/? Rating: T Word count: 2100 Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, University AU

Read on AO3

Tagging @doctorroseprompts for the fourth chapter of this University AU! :)

Hope you’re ready for it. Coming in five minutes, we can go together. Just need to get my prints. Dr Smith

She frowned at the message that popped up in the corner of her screen and gulped down her small sip of boiling coffee. She had no idea where they needed to go, and she didn’t know much more about the nature of that it. She checked her schedule of the day on her computer, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about her planning - same boring classes given to first year postgraduates, same annoying photocopying sessions, same nerve-wracking research for her article. Nothing that justified such a message and a visit from her archenemy. He must have gotten the wrong date, or better yet, the wrong person. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with that contemptuous man. It was just that kind of day. An alarm clock that didn’t ring, a shower with no hot water, a car that broke down in the middle of a busy avenue. The last thing she needed was an insufferable git over her back.

She shrugged it off as a simple miscommunication and leaned back into her chair. Hopefully, time would fly. She usually wasn’t in any hurry to go back to her cold and empty flat, but that day was an exception. She was sure her exhaustion showed, no matter how well she had hidden the black circles under eyes with her miracle foundation. She was just as sure she looked completely dishevelled, that her clothes didn’t match, and she was almost certain she had forgotten to put her eyeliner under her left eye. Yes, it was most probable she looked like a downright mess that morning. It didn't matter. Just two lessons in an auditorium so big no one would clearly see her face, and then she’d scurry back into her office and lock the door. That was a good plan.

The mail bell chimed again, and while she expected another message from the same Doctor, the name of a very different sender appeared on the screen. A certain President Marshall.

“Are you shitting me?” she cursed through a whisper, eyes roaming over the message and a big ball of anxiety settling low in her stomach.

Dear staff,

I hereby confirm the annual meeting about the extracurricular trip budget will take place this morning at 9:00 in conference room 2.

Friendly reminder to all, no pipe dreams, part of this budget was allocated to the science faculty earlier this year and the funds are limited. History and languages will be favoured over physics and biology, but every proposition will be carefully studied.

Please do not forget to mail students about cancelled lessons.

I’ll see you all in 15 minutes. Good luck everyone!

P. Marshall

Her head shot up at the sound of the door opening, and she gaped at him. Doctor Smith, full formal suit with a matching tie, old chucks turned into black polished shoes, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, a full stack of copies cradled against his chest and a computer case dangling in his hand.

“Doctor Tyler,” he greeted with a smile - a smile that disappeared when he noticed her appearance, replaced by pinched lips to keep a laugh in. “Oh my, did you get hit by a truck this morning?. That must have hurt.”

“Shut up, Smith, now is really not the time,” she snapped as she feverishly sifted through the papers in her drawer in the vain hope of finding something, anything that could save her.

“Quite right,” he nodded, clearing his throat to chase the persistent tickle that wanted to turn into a giggle. “I thought you’d have prepared better, you know, given I already won the main department budget. My centrifuge works perfectly well, by the way, thanks for asking.”

“I didn’t ask about your bloody toy, and shut the Hell up, I need to think.”

She looked at the time, realized there was only a few minutes left before they’d have to go, and realized there was no point in going to the meeting at all. She had nothing. She groaned into her palms as he put his copies down on her desk and plopped down on the chair with a grin she wanted nothing more but to erase it from his stupid face with a slap.

“Shame you didn’t know about the meeting, isn’t it?” he chuckled, proudly rubbing a hand over his stack of paper. “What city would you have chosen?”

“Don’t know. Milan, probably, they have the most amazing Latin section I know of,” she shrugged, staring at the desk as if she could picture her chances turning to ashes. “We did Exeter last year, because there wasn’t enough budget for that kind of activities, but.... Wait, hold on a minute.”

She squinted at him suspiciously, and her suspicions were only confirmed when his lips twitched and his grin faltered.

“How come you know I didn’t know about it, Doctor Smith?” she asked, much calmer on the outside than on the inside - inside, she was positively boiling and ready to explode.

“I meant, you forgot,” he hurried to correct, though it was obvious from his nervous shrug he had betrayed himself. “Or didn’t get the email, or didn’t read it. How should I know?”

He seemed to shrink on his chair when she rose from her own seat and leant towards him, eyes shooting daggers and whole body oozing anger. He tried to look away, but she was pinning him. He loved it when she looked furious, but that day, he believed he might have gone a step too far. She knew he had something to do with it and she wasn’t about to let him survive this, by the looks of it.

“Do you really think I would have forgotten about this?’ she seethed, dangerously close to his face. “That I would have missed the opportunity to get something I deserve so much more than you do?”

“Probably not,” he shook his head - and he was quick to put his computer case between his feet, should she decide to snatch it away from him and throw it against the wall. “But like I said, maybe you didn't read the email.”

“I read all my emails, just like every goddamned professor in this university, and you know it.”

“Then you didn't get it, so what? I'm not to blame, alright?”

“I receive every useless email about broken toilets and painted doors but I don’t receive the one about this bloody annual meeting?” she chuckled bitterly. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Well it is,” he huffed as a meager defense, folding his arms over his chest.

“Really? A coincidence? Come on Smith, say it. This is your doing again.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, crossed his hands over his stack of paper, opened it again. But no words came out. Either he insisted it wasn’t his fault when she was perfectly aware it was, or he admitted he might have played his part in this scheme when he was perfectly aware she would hate him for the rest of his days and beyond. He didn’t know which was the most dangerous. The worse was, to see the anger and the sadness in her eyes made him feel something he had never felt before - not when it came to the war they waged anyway. Guilt. Because this time, he knew she really deserved it more than he did. Of course, he would never confess that. And a faculty trip to Tokyo he had been planning for weeks was still involved, so part of him was very much eager to fight for it. But then…

She blinked several times as if to dry a tear or two and her knuckles whitened almost imperceptibly, fingers pressing hard against the wood.

“I’ve had a very shite morning, Doctor Smith,” she said with a dejected sigh before she let herself fall back down on her chair. “Please, just tell me it was you so I don’t have to believe a bloody email ruined the last chance I had of getting something out of this sodden university.”

He took off his glasses with one hand a fiddled with a corner of a page, doing his best not to look at her.

“No one received an email about this meeting, actually,” he started, carefully picking his words so it all wouldn’t end in a bloodbath. “It was decided at the half-term meeting three months ago. The meeting you couldn’t attend because you were on sick leave. But everyone else was there. For whatever reason, the President asked me to tell you about it, as if we’re mates or something, but I…. Forgot.”

“Forgot, or chose not to tell me just to rob me of the opportunity? Again?”

“I did want to tell you,” he assured her, hoping she would see the truth in his words. “I just… Wanted to wait a little so you’d have less time to prepare. You know you’ve always been better than me for this kind of stuff, and I thought it would be good to have a bit of a head start. And then, I really forgot.”

“So, you mean to tell me that during those three long months you’ve been working on your project, it didn’t occur to you just once that it would be good to, maybe, I don’t know, bloody tell me about it?” she stated much too calmly to his liking, her frustration obviously ramping up into the kind of quiet anger he knew didn’t bode well. “Tell you what, if you don’t want to play by the rules, then fine, we’ll both play by my rules.”

“How do you mean, your rules, Doctor Tyler?” he asked, shuffling nervously on his seat.

“Fear not, I am a woman of fairness and equality. Unlike you, it seems”

He watched, just a bit scared, as she rose from her chair and offered a mischievous smile he was quite sure wasn’t meant to be reassuring. She took a sip of her coffee, winking at him above the ridge of the cup, then slowly brought it up over his stack of copies.

“No reason why you can have notes when I don’t.”

He jumped from his chair with a loud shriek when he understood what her intention was, but it was too late. It was just a drip, at first, but a drip that turned into a steady stream splashing over the neat piles until it was swimming in a pool of hot coffee.

“Are you out of your mind?” he barked as he shoved her away, mindlessly wiping the top with the back of his sleeve. “I don’t have time to get more copies, you’ve just ruined half of my presentation, stupid woman!”

“And your suit,” she grinned, purposefully looking at the soaked deep blue material of his jacket. “Now, we all know Doctor Smith is useless without his notes, don’t we? All you ever do during your presentations is read. Boring. This will add some spice, won’t it?”

“I still have my slides, you won’t get away with this, Tyler!”

“Your slides? What slides?”

He looked up from the disastrous mess his papers had melted into and gasped, glancing down between his feet to make sure it wasn’t his computer case in her hands. He found out it was. She must have stolen it from him while he was busy trying to save bits and pieces of his notes - she hadn’t been wrong when she had said he was useless without his notes. So, if he didn’t get his computer back with his precious slides… He didn’t want to think about it.

“Doctor Tyler, this is my property and I demand you give it back, right now,” he ordered, pointing a threatening finger at her, a hard scowl spread over his features.

She simply raised an eyebrow, shoved the case inside a drawer, turned the key in the locket to secure it, and offered the key in the crook of her palm. Just as he was about to snatch it back from her, she threw it through her open window and faked a moan of apology.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor, it appears I’ve lost the key,” she smiled, mockingly tugging on her drawer to make sure it was properly locked. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough time to look for it, you’ll have to do without it. But surely the brilliant Doctor Smith doesn’t need slides to convince the committee of the utmost importance of a trip to Backwater-Upon-Moron to learn more about, what was it, ass fissioning?”

“You’ll pay for this, Doctor Tyler,” he growled, a low rumble in his throat. “I spent hours and hours on this and you’ve just ruined all of it.”

“You ruined it all for me the moment you decided not to tell me,” she shot back, picking up the soaked papers to throw them in her bin. “That’s all you ever do, ruin my career, ruin my faculty, day after day, you just stand in my way and make sure nothing good ever happens to me! I’m tired of you and your bloody childish pride and ambitions!”

“They are not childish....”

“You want to wank at night, oh yes, I’m so good at what I do, I’m the best, look at me, ‘m Mister Clever Scientist, king to the humanities peasants,” she continued in a high-pitched voice, as if she hadn’t heard his interruption, “then please, wank away all you want, but don’t expect me to give you a hand. I’m going to this meeting, and I’ll give it my best shot just because I don’t want to make it easy for you. Now get the Hell away from here and tell the President I’ll be five minutes late.”

“You can tell him yourself, some ginormous head case told me I’m not good at delivering messages,” he muttered, kicking the chair back under the desk. “I meant it, by the way. I really wanted to tell you. You’d better give me my computer back after the meeting, Doctor Tyler.”

“Sure, just find the keys, Doctor Smith. Now go.”

“With pleasure. Nutter.”

He made sure to slam the door on his way out, before he leaned against it, a heavy sigh flowing out of his mouth. She made sure to throw her empty cup of coffee at the door, before she leaned back in her chair, a tired moan flowing out of her mouth. Well, at least, neither of them would get what they wanted at that meeting, he believed. And, well, at least, both of them would make a poor impression on the committee, she believed.

He pondered for a moment if he ought to go at all. No notes, no slides, mouth full of anger and head full of resentment. No use in going. And Doctor Tyler was right, anyway. She deserved that budget more than he did. She was right. He should have played fair and square from the beginning, told her about the meeting and give her a chance, just like everyone else had, but he hadn’t. Because of him, she wouldn’t get her chance to go to Milan with her students, just like she hadn’t gotten her chance to get a few lousy books. He understood why she hated him. And she was right to.

Instead of taking the elevator to the conference room, he kept walking towards his office. That was a battle he didn’t want to fight, much less to win.

She pondered for a moment if she ought to go at all. No notes, no slides, blood boiling with frustration and head full of furious thoughts. No use in going. And Doctor Smith would go anyway. Even without his stuff, she knew he would be better than she could ever be. She had nothing. If he had played fair and square, she would have had her chances, she could have presented something worth at least part of that budget, but he hadn't. Because of him, she wouldn’t get her chance to o to Milan with her students, or anywhere else for that matter. Just like she hadn’t gotten her chance to get a few books and a modicum of money to revamp the department. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. She could blame him for not telling her about the meeting, but she knew he hadn’t lied, and just forgotten. Just another vile trick that had turned sour. And she had ruined his chances, too. He had worked hard for this, and she had destroyed all of it. She understood why he was angry. And he was right to.

Instead of preparing a sketch of ideas she could present at the meeting, she crossed her arms over her desk and buried her face in the crook of an elbow. That was a battle she didn’t want to fight, much less to win.

#doctorroseprompts #ten x rose #university au #enemies to lovers #trope #fun #humour #john smith x rose tyler

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raywritesthings · 7 years

Text

Disorganized

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna is temping as an attendance secretary at a school where she meets John Smith, an absent-minded single father. AO3 link

Donna was never taking a school position again. Not even if it paid well.

Already she’d had to deal with twelve tardies, ten different parents calling their kids in sick after the day had already started, and a whole slew of students turning in permission slip forms for a field trip to the zoo last minute. And it wasn’t even lunch.

It wasn't that she didn't like kids. She liked them a lot — though the worst of the teenagers she could do with a bit less of — and in truth couldn't wait to be a mum someday. Even if her mother said she'd already waited too long. But being an attendance secretary meant she was living vicariously through chasing down a bunch of other people's kids trying to skive off. She was making sure the temp agency knew her job preferences after this!

The day kept wearing on at its slow pace. At the least the office was finally empty of anyone but her; Donna thought now was a good time to make use of that electric tea kettle while she went through the attendance logs and called all the parents of the absentees.

The door opened just as she was tossing the tea bag, of course, so she took the second she was turned away to draw in a breath and plaster a smile on her face. Then she spun the chair around to face her very unwelcome visitor.

“Here we go,” said the skinniest man she’d ever seen, dropping a small stack of paper on her desk without even looking at her and turning back for the door.

Oh, that was it.

“Oi!” She barked. The man stopped right in his tracks. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

He looked round, actually seeming to notice her for the first time, and his eyes widened. “You’re not Cheryl.”

“Well duh,” she replied, not very professionally.

He hurried back over to the desk, practically tripping over himself. “Sorry, so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude — I don’t mean to be, usually — Cheryl’s just made it quite clear she likes to get through this quickly as possible. Didn’t realize she was...out.”

“She’s having surgery. She’ll be back in six months. I’m just the temp,” she answered his unspoken question.

He deflated slightly. “Oh. Well, six months, that’s something.”

Donna looked at him. “You said you don’t usually mean to be rude?”

“Yeah,” he scrubbed a hand over his cheek, looking quite sheepish. “Usually. But, er, six months is an awful long time for you to be ‘just the temp’. You’ll be seeing me, anyway, so probably best to do names. I’m John.”

“Donna.”

“Nice to meet you, Donna,” he said with a smile, showing off a lot of teeth.

“Why will I be seeing you?”

“Oh, well—” he gestured to the stack of paper still sitting between them “—this tends to happen quite a lot. Almost every day. It’s my daughter, see, she is brilliant. But she’s a little scatterbrained. Gets that from me, I’m afraid.” He thumbed through the pages. “It’s homework today. Probably be a permission slip tomorrow. Always something.”

He said it all in a very fast ramble which Donna could only watch and try to keep up with. “What’s her name?”

“Smith. Jenny Smith,” he supplied. “I think she’s in maths right now.”

Donna spun her chair back towards the computer, but paused. “Your name’s John Smith?”

He grimaced. “I know.” John Smith watched her click and type her way through a search for Jenny Smith, who was indeed in maths. Very advanced maths.

Donna took up the phone and punched in the extension with one hand. “Hi, this is Donna from attendance. Jenny Smith’s father is here to drop off her homework.” She listened politely, then said, “Thank you. Bye,” and hung up the line.

“You’re rather good at all that,” John Smith observed.

“It’s just typing.” Donna shrugged off the compliment. “You know, if she has so much trouble keeping track of her things you ought to draw up a checklist for her to go through in the morning before she leaves. Make sure she’s got everything then.” She glanced up to see him staring at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh, that’s brilliant!” His face split into an ecstatic grin. “A checklist! Can’t believe I’ve never thought of that before — oh, you’re good!”

“Alright, let’s not get too excited,” Donna said, rather flustered. No one ever reacted to one of her ideas like that.

He was already digging through his pockets for a scrap of paper which he slapped on the counter, then helped himself to one of her pens. Then he paused, pen hovering over paper. “Blimey, can’t seem to think of it all at once.”

“Then take it home,” she told him. Was he hopeless or what! “Your wife might know better.”

Something in his expression shuttered, except his eyes which suddenly seemed so impossibly sad. “Yes, she probably would have.”

Donna froze. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” he excused immediately, voice almost carefully light, and Donna knew it was absolutely not alright at all. “You weren’t — it was ages ago. Jenny hardly remembers her, which, well. I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this,” he said abruptly, backing away a step. “I can handle it.”

“I’ll help!” Donna blurted, standing and leaning over to snag his hand before he could get too far away. “We can draw up a list right now, together.”

He stared down at their joined hands for a moment, then his eyes slowly rose to meet Donna’s.

“Okay,” he agreed softly. With him suddenly being so close she was able to notice he had large, brown eyes. Currently they were gazing into hers.

Donna sat back down, her hand sort of slipping out of his, and smoothed her skirt. John cleared his throat and produced a pair of glasses from somewhere which he perched on his nose. Then he helpfully pushed his paper just a little closer and angled to the side so she could read it.

The scrap looked to be torn off a bit of stationary and the name John Smith, PhD was printed at the bottom. So he was some sort of Dr. Smith then, an oddball genius. He seemed the type.

“Alright, so, homework?” She offered as an opener. He nodded and jotted it down.

“Permission slips.”

Donna glanced up at him. “How many does she need?”

“Jenny goes on a lot of extracurricular trips. She's really clever,” he defended. It might have come off as boastful if he wasn't talking about his daughter. Instead, Donna found it rather sweet. “Not to mention all the times she comes with me.”

“Do you travel a lot?” She wondered what his job was, or a way to ask without sounding nosy.

“Oh yes.” He thought for a moment, then continued on, “Change of clothes. She runs track after school.”

Donna was starting to get a vivid picture in her mind of an overachieving teenager, maybe with her dad's glasses or bright smile. “How about schoolbooks?”

“Right. See, I would've missed that completely!”

“Probably should add notebooks too, then.”

“Uh-huh. And backpack,” he said, writing it down.

“Backpack?” Donna echoed.

He met her eyes briefly. “It's happened.”

“You said she gets this from you?”

“Who do you think let her out the door without the backpack?”

Donna looked at him but couldn't seem to keep from smiling, even as she shook her head. He grinned at her.

Then they were both laughing. She wasn't sure who started or how it had come over her so suddenly, but there were practically tears in her eyes and John was liable to fall over the counter and into her lap, bent double as he was.

The door out into the corridor swung open. “Dad?”

They both froze, then John spun around which allowed Donna a view of a pretty blonde in a ponytail before he was engulfing her in a hug. “Jenny! How's your day going?”

“Better now. I didn't think you'd still be here. You're not normally!” It was obvious to anyone with eyes the two adored each other, and considering what Donna already knew about their family she found herself very glad to see it.

An unexpected bout of nerves joined that feeling when John stated, “Well, normally Donna isn't here.”

“Hi,” Donna greeted.

Jenny looked over the desk at her. “Hello. Is Cheryl gone?”

“Only for six months.”

The girl’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

“I know,” her father commiserated. Donna fixed him with a look and he straightened up. “She's having surgery. We’ll have to send a card.”

“Add it to the list,” Donna suggested.

“What list?” Asked Jenny.

“Oh, Donna's helping me write up a list for you to go over in the morning,” he announced brightly. “Her idea.”

“Oh. Thank you, you didn't have to.” If the girl was embarrassed she was hiding it well.

“That's your homework there, miss,” Donna said, nodding to the little stack. “Lucky thing your father could stop by with it.”

“I know,” Jenny agreed, scuffing her foot on the floor. “But, er, Dad, didn't you have that lunch meeting for work?”

“Oh, right!” John’s eyes had gone impossibly wide and one of his hands dragged through his hair, messing it up even more than it already had been. “I forgot!” He kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Have a good day. Donna, lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” she found herself saying, though he was already sprinting out the door. Hang on, was he wearing trainers with that suit?

“Well, I should get back to class,” Jenny excused herself after having watched her dad rush off. “Thanks for your help!”

“No problem,” she replied.

“I guess I won’t be seeing you much, which is sort of a shame, really, because you seem very nice.” She clearly had inherited her father’s habit of rambling as well. “I think I’d like you.”

“Thanks.” Her computer chirped with an email notification and Donna half-turned to address it.

“Dad seems to, anyway.”

Donna looked up sharply, but Jenny Smith was already walking out the door with her homework. She couldn’t have meant...no. No, Donna was reading way too much into this odd, adorable little family that she barely knew and had no reason to be so strangely charmed by, and she needed to stop right now. John Smith had just walked out the door and out of her life like any other person. He’d probably already forgotten her, absent-minded as he was.

Yet not two minutes later John himself was back with another sheepish grin. “This is yours,” he said, placing the pen down on her desk.

“Yes it is, thank you.”

He stood there another moment. Donna arched an eyebrow.

“Aren't you running late?”

“Yes, yes I am. Well, um—” he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet once “—bye.”

“Bye,” said Donna, and watched him go again.

She turned back to the computer and finally opened the email. Trouble was, she couldn't seem to muster the focus to do more than skim it. Her whole day had taken an unexpected turn when he’d shown up, and she couldn't seem to just settle back into the normal routine.

Yet it was over, wasn't it?

—-

The next day, Donna was already well on her way to a headache and possibly a cold. This place was crawling with germs; yet another joy of motherhood she was getting to experience secondhand on this assignment. Lovely.

As it was, she barely even lifted her head to greet the person who entered the office, but then felt her mouth drop open in shock. “John!”

“Donna, hello!” He was beaming at her yet again, and she couldn't keep from smiling back, even as he placed a book on the counter. “This is for Jenny. She forgot it in the car.”

“What happened to the checklist?”

“Yeah, I forgot where I put that, too,” he admitted.

“Check your suit pockets,” she advised. He was wearing another one today in blue, no tie.

“Oh yeah, that's probably it.” He frowned. “I just dropped it off at the cleaners’, though.”

Donna shook her head. “Oh, you are hopeless.”

“I know,” he agreed, smiling wanly.

“I’ll write you another one,” she said, grabbing one of the stacks of post-its sitting at her workstation.

“Oh, thank you. You're brilliant, really.”

Donna glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He had his elbows propped on the counter and looked like he couldn't be happier anywhere else in the world, waiting on her. No one ever looked at her like that.

She finished the list and, before she could lose her nerve, ripped off the post-it, flipped it over, and scrawled her number on the back.

Donna half-stood and pressed the sticky bit on the back of his hand. “There, shouldn't forget it now.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, grinning, and pulled it off to instead tuck into his breast pocket. He didn't look at the other side. “Sorry to keep bothering you like this.”

“I don't mind,” she answered. “Have to pass the time somehow. I’ll let Jenny’s teacher know to send her down.”

“Brilliant. Well, I should get going. It was good seeing you. Again, I mean.”

She had to press her lips together to keep from giving him a silly grin. “You too.”

“Right.” He was having just as much difficulty leaving as yesterday, and possibly more. “Bye then, Donna.”

“Bye, John.”

It was only after the door swung shut behind him that Donna released the breath she'd been holding. Had she gone mad? Giving her number to some man she'd known only a day, and at work! Her mum would be going spare.

There was no guarantee he'd see it, of course. Even if he did, he might not even realize what it was.

But if he did…

Donna reminded herself sternly that there was no guarantee he'd even call. He hadn't said he was interested, in dating or her, and there was every chance she'd taken his friendliness as a sign incorrectly. Nerys would say she was. At any rate, it was Jenny Smith who needed her attention now. Donna picked up the desk phone and dialed.

If her eyes kept straying to her purse where her mobile currently sat, well, no one needed to know but her.

#ten x donna #doctor x donna #donna noble #tenth doctor #doctor who #jenny #the doctor #my writing

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