Doctor Who - Bridge Over Troubled Water
Title: Bridge Over Troubled Water
For: whoverse30
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Liz Shaw / Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart
Prompt: #26 - Writer’s Choice: Quote (given to me by persiflage_1)
Word Count: 2,598
Summary: The smallest moments in life, while seemingly insignificant, have a habit of becoming the most important when nothing else makes sense.
Author’s Notes: I began this for Pers when she gave me the prompt back in February, two weeks later my Grandfather died. Which, because of the content, led me to stop writing this until recently.
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?
- Rupert Brooke's 'The Old Vicarage, Grantchester'
Little girls liked to have tea. It seemed there was some innate compulsion to immerse themselves in the sophistication of the act. They revelled in the prim and proper actions that set young ladies apart from the apparent dirt and grime of little boys. The first time Alistair had been introduced to this concept was when his daughter turned five...
She had two friends, and her mildly amused brother, seated at her colouring table as she served them invisible biscuits and tea. After watching her for a few minutes it occurred to him that she was mimicking her mother, or at least what she’d observed of Liz’s behaviour on the rare occasion that she was forced to invite other UNIT wives to tea. The five year old had her mother’s actions down to a fine art. She made faces every time she didn’t like the conversation, sighed heavily whenever someone requested another cup, and every now and then she’d leave the room. After the third disappearance Alistair walked out into the hallway to see what she was doing.
Sophie rested against the wall tapping a short brown stick against her leg, it wasn’t until she put it in her mouth and took it out again that he realised she was pretending it was a pipe. He’d caught his wife many times sneaking out of a social event simply to hold her pipe between her lips for a minute, knowing the smell of tobacco would be too obvious if she lit it. Suppressing a chuckle, he watched as Sophie slipped the stick back into her pocket and turned to head back into her party. Her green eyes widened as she saw her father, much like Liz’s whenever she was caught, and then she smiled brightly. “Come and have tea Daddy?”
He glanced back into the play room at the small table. “I don’t wish to interrupt your game,” He began, though he was well aware of the fact that he was unable to deny his daughter anything.
“Please Daddy?” She slid her tiny hand into his and looked up at him. “You can sit next to me.”
“Alright then,” He said and chuckled as she attempted to pull him into the room. As he followed her into the room he watched the smile fade on his son’s face. The young boy instantly stood and saluted his father, an action he had taken to after a visit to the base. And though he had assured Liz constantly over the two weeks he had been doing it that it was just some childish phase, he was starting to worry that he’d been wrong. “At ease soldier,” He said firmly and patted his son’s shoulder as the boy sat down again. “Now you’ll have to walk me through this. I’m afraid I haven’t been to a tea party before.”
“You have to be introduced by the... the...” Sophie hesitated and looked at her brother.
“Hostess,” Michael stage whispered, unaware just how obvious he was to the rest of the table.
“You have to be introduced by the hostess,” She said confidently. If there was one thing that was certain with the youngest of the Lethbridge-Stewart family, it was that she trusted her big brother explicitly. “This is the...” She paused momentarily while she worked out the word she was about to say. “The Brigadier.”
Amused by the introduction, Alistair played a long and shook hands with each of the children as they introduced themselves. Each of them had thought up elaborate names with titles that they believed suited the occasion rather than the people they were pretending to be. Though once he’d been acquainted with Lord Muck, Lady Snotberry and the Grand Duchess of Scotland Yard, he hadn’t been prepared for the title his daughter had chosen.
“Doctor Sophie Lethbridge-Stewart,” The young girl introduced herself confidently.
“Are you a Medical Doctor?” Alistair asked conversationally.
“I’m a lots-of-things Doctor,” Sophie began to explain as she leaned forward and began to pour tea with a steady hand. “I can work at a hopsicle and for the mil-tree... and I can lec-cha on Particle Physics.”
He smiled at that. His ever curious daughter couldn’t say the word ‘hospital’, or write her name without it turning into a squiggly line, but if anyone asked she could tell them exactly what Particle Physics was. Though he was certain she didn’t completely understand it.
“Would you like milk with your tea Daddy?” She asked with a bright smile, as though her previous statement had been the most natural thing in the world.
He’d spent a good half an hour playing along during that oh so important first tea party, thankful to have his son helping him along the way when he wasn’t sure what to do. And it became customary that they have tea together once a week after that first game. Sophie seemed to delight in being able to share her game of pretend with her father, going to great lengths at bed time when telling her mother everything they had done. And while Liz abhorred the real thing she was happy to join them on occasion. After all the entire concept was both mentally and socially stimulating for their daughter, which meant it would be better if they encouraged her actions.
As the years progressed Sophie was given real tea cakes and real drinks to serve to her guests whenever she felt like throwing a party. New characters would be introduced based on books that were read to her at bed time. But as time went by she began to grow out of what she termed as ‘such childishness’ and became more inclined to simply read a book or run down to the park with her brother to play cricket or rugby - depending on the season. Though she never quite grew out of being Daddy’s Little Girl, tea parties were long forgotten.
Twenty-four years later he found himself having tea once more.
As the women of the family gathered to discuss funeral plans, Alistair sat quietly in the study staring out the window. It was not even twelve hours since he’d been informed his son had died, but he had to let Liz deal with it in her own way. If that meant making sure that every minute detail was taken care of before the day was through then so be it. He would only get in her way, as she’d pointed out in a heated moment a few days after the death of her father. So he hid himself away in the study, keeping to himself as the morning stretched into a long and painful afternoon. The sound of the old wooden door slowly swinging open caught his attention, breaking the silence he’d become so lost in, and he turned in his armchair to see blue eyes staring at him.
“I b’ought you some tea Pa,” His granddaughter said, glancing behind her hesitantly as though she were worried she was going to get caught doing something wrong.
“That’s my Angel,” He chuckled, motioning for her to come in.
She grinned then and pushed the door open a little further before disappearing. There was another moment of silence before the little red head reappeared, carefully carrying two tea cups. Ensuring she didn’t spill anything, she made her way across the room and settled both cups down on the table sitting between the two large armchairs. “Careful, Pa, it’s hot,” She warned him before hurrying back to close the door.
While she wasn’t looking, Alistair glanced at his tea cup and smiled. He had assumed that tea would be too hot for her to carry one cup let alone two, and he was right. “Did you pour this yourself Sarah?” He asked as she hurried back and scrambled up onto the chair sitting opposite his.
“Milk bottle is too big,” Sarah told him seriously as she positioned herself comfortable against the cushion. “And Nanny is too busy, so I asked Archie to do it for me. Is your tea perfect?” She asked curiously.
He carefully picked up the cup and sipped the cold milk. “Indeed it is,” He assured her, though decided to leave it be. The ever observant five year old had just lost her father, there was no need to correct her when it came to making tea. It was the thought that counted in such a situation. “Are you alright, Sarah Jane?”
The young girl sat up straight and shook her head, red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Grandpa you’re being silly,” She giggled, leaning over the arm of the chair as she whispered the problem to him. “You’re mixing me with Aunt Sarah again! I’m little Sarah, not Sarah Jane!”
“My apologies, Sarah,” He chuckled, realising the presence of his granddaughter was exactly what he needed. “Where is everybody else? I thought Archie would have taken you down to the river by now.”
“No,” The girl muttered quietly and pushed herself further over the arm of the chair, sipping from her cup without picking it up. Though she knew she was supposed to sit still, and not drink milk like a cat, she was also well aware that her Grandfather would let her get away with anything. “Mummy’s crying again an’ Aunt Sophie is making everyone tea, even though Aunt Sarah says she needs to stop. An’ Nanny is busy on the phone... An’ Archie an’ Lila says I’m too little to play with them in the attic because I need help up the steps. Even though they’re not supposed to be up there but I tried to tell Nanny an’ she didn’t listen to me. So I says I was going to take tea to you Pa, an’ Archie says he’d help me. An’ he did.” She nodded her head firmly as she completed her list of observations. “He’s a good brother.” She added quietly.
“Are you alright, Sarah?” He ventured to ask again, taking care to say her name correctly.
There was no response as she sat back in her chair and stared out the window. A little frown set in her brow, mimicking the look her father used to have as a child and managing to make her appear even more like her Grandmother. “Daddy’s not coming home,” She said seriously, repeating what she had been told earlier. “...Even though he was going to take us fishing on Sunday.” With a heavy sigh she turned her attention to her favourite person in the world. The odd look in her little blue eyes conveyed the millions of questions that were running through her mind. “Are you sad because Daddy’s gone?” She asked, managing to sound her age and so much older at the same time.
“Yes,” He told her honestly, noticing the same inquisitive spark that Michael had worn at such an age. From the moment he had begun asking questions they had agreed to always answer him honestly. More importantly Liz had made him agree that she would take on all science based questions if he handled all those that dealt with religion. So when a seven year old Michael asked them both where people went after they died, he recalled there being an excruciatingly long pause before Liz had left the room. Looking at his granddaughter’s calm expression he wondered whether Michael or Hannah had discussed the subject with her already, and what he was supposed to say if they hadn’t. “I am very sad that he’s gone.” He muttered, more to himself.
Sarah nodded slowly, letting her head fall back against the chair. “Me too,” She admitted quietly. “I’m going to miss him lots.”
“You’re allowed to miss him, Angel,” Alistair told her.
“Grandpa?”
Pushing himself up in his chair, he looked to his youngest grandchild and smiled sadly. “Yes Sarah Jane?”
She didn’t bother to correct him, her mind too preoccupied. “Do you want a hug?” Her eyes widened as she looked at him, waiting. “Daddy always gives me a hug when I’m sad. It makes me feel better. It might make you feel better ‘bout Daddy going away.”
“I think a hug from you would definitely make me feel better,” He assured her.
In an instant she scrambled down from the chair and moved across to his chair, struggling to climb up onto his lap even as he picked her up. She couldn’t seem to get to him fast enough. Her little arms went around his neck and she kissed his cheek. “It be okay, Grandpa,” She whispered, resting her head on his shoulder as he hugged her back. “It be okay.”
At the door Liz froze as she realised she was interrupting something very important. For the first time that day she just stopped, watching her husband holding their granddaughter. She had intended on seeing if he wanted lunch or a cup of tea after realising she hadn’t seen or heard from him for several hours. But it seemed that Sarah had already taken care of that for her.
“Now how about this tea...” Alistair began in an effort to cheer them both up. “Do you know I believe your Grandmother hides biscuits in her desk drawer? We can’t very well have tea without biscuits, can we?”
“Can’t very well,” Sarah repeated with a violent shake of her head. “Bet I could find them.” A look of pure glee sparkled in her eyes. She scrambled down from his lap and ran towards the desk, oblivious of her Grandmother standing in the doorway.
However her Grandfather wasn’t so ignorant. Pushing himself out of his chair, leaning heavily on his cane, Alistair made his way to the door. “Just pretend you weren’t aware we raided your biscuit drawer,” He told her quietly in an effort to make her smile.
“As I always do,” Liz assured him, her voice slightly croaky. “I feel like I’ve been on the phone for months and that I haven’t seen you in years.”
“There were a number headstrong women in a room attempting to manage everything,” As he spoke his fingers lightly laced with hers, relishing the contact. “It rather felt like I wasn’t needed.”
She pushed the door open a little further and moved closer to him. A soft kiss was place against his lips and she smiled sadly. “I need you,” Her usually strong voice whispered the words, as though the world would collapse were anyone to hear such an admission. “I always need you.”
“I’m here, Lizzie,” He promised her, pulling her into a hug. Though he wasn’t entirely unaccustomed to seeing his wife’s vulnerable side it never failed to break his heart. They stood like that a moment longer before Sarah declared she had found the biscuits, becoming quite thrilled the moment she saw her Grandmother.
Unable to resist any of her grandchildren, Liz agreed to join them both for tea even though Alistair warned her it was simply milk and biscuits. It didn’t matter really in the long run. The three of them sat down to tea, making sure to observe the proper etiquette. They talked about the weather at length, Sarah seemed to believe this was extremely important and would bring it up at every opportunity, and now and again they said nothing at all. The important thing was, they were having tea. For Sarah it was a pleasant afternoon and for her Grandparents it was a welcome distraction from their son’s death.
And while tea was said to have marvellous healing properties, it seemed that merely the concept alone could do the world of good.
For: whoverse30
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Liz Shaw / Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart
Prompt: #26 - Writer’s Choice: Quote (given to me by persiflage_1)
Word Count: 2,598
Summary: The smallest moments in life, while seemingly insignificant, have a habit of becoming the most important when nothing else makes sense.
Author’s Notes: I began this for Pers when she gave me the prompt back in February, two weeks later my Grandfather died. Which, because of the content, led me to stop writing this until recently.
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?
- Rupert Brooke's 'The Old Vicarage, Grantchester'
Little girls liked to have tea. It seemed there was some innate compulsion to immerse themselves in the sophistication of the act. They revelled in the prim and proper actions that set young ladies apart from the apparent dirt and grime of little boys. The first time Alistair had been introduced to this concept was when his daughter turned five...
She had two friends, and her mildly amused brother, seated at her colouring table as she served them invisible biscuits and tea. After watching her for a few minutes it occurred to him that she was mimicking her mother, or at least what she’d observed of Liz’s behaviour on the rare occasion that she was forced to invite other UNIT wives to tea. The five year old had her mother’s actions down to a fine art. She made faces every time she didn’t like the conversation, sighed heavily whenever someone requested another cup, and every now and then she’d leave the room. After the third disappearance Alistair walked out into the hallway to see what she was doing.
Sophie rested against the wall tapping a short brown stick against her leg, it wasn’t until she put it in her mouth and took it out again that he realised she was pretending it was a pipe. He’d caught his wife many times sneaking out of a social event simply to hold her pipe between her lips for a minute, knowing the smell of tobacco would be too obvious if she lit it. Suppressing a chuckle, he watched as Sophie slipped the stick back into her pocket and turned to head back into her party. Her green eyes widened as she saw her father, much like Liz’s whenever she was caught, and then she smiled brightly. “Come and have tea Daddy?”
He glanced back into the play room at the small table. “I don’t wish to interrupt your game,” He began, though he was well aware of the fact that he was unable to deny his daughter anything.
“Please Daddy?” She slid her tiny hand into his and looked up at him. “You can sit next to me.”
“Alright then,” He said and chuckled as she attempted to pull him into the room. As he followed her into the room he watched the smile fade on his son’s face. The young boy instantly stood and saluted his father, an action he had taken to after a visit to the base. And though he had assured Liz constantly over the two weeks he had been doing it that it was just some childish phase, he was starting to worry that he’d been wrong. “At ease soldier,” He said firmly and patted his son’s shoulder as the boy sat down again. “Now you’ll have to walk me through this. I’m afraid I haven’t been to a tea party before.”
“You have to be introduced by the... the...” Sophie hesitated and looked at her brother.
“Hostess,” Michael stage whispered, unaware just how obvious he was to the rest of the table.
“You have to be introduced by the hostess,” She said confidently. If there was one thing that was certain with the youngest of the Lethbridge-Stewart family, it was that she trusted her big brother explicitly. “This is the...” She paused momentarily while she worked out the word she was about to say. “The Brigadier.”
Amused by the introduction, Alistair played a long and shook hands with each of the children as they introduced themselves. Each of them had thought up elaborate names with titles that they believed suited the occasion rather than the people they were pretending to be. Though once he’d been acquainted with Lord Muck, Lady Snotberry and the Grand Duchess of Scotland Yard, he hadn’t been prepared for the title his daughter had chosen.
“Doctor Sophie Lethbridge-Stewart,” The young girl introduced herself confidently.
“Are you a Medical Doctor?” Alistair asked conversationally.
“I’m a lots-of-things Doctor,” Sophie began to explain as she leaned forward and began to pour tea with a steady hand. “I can work at a hopsicle and for the mil-tree... and I can lec-cha on Particle Physics.”
He smiled at that. His ever curious daughter couldn’t say the word ‘hospital’, or write her name without it turning into a squiggly line, but if anyone asked she could tell them exactly what Particle Physics was. Though he was certain she didn’t completely understand it.
“Would you like milk with your tea Daddy?” She asked with a bright smile, as though her previous statement had been the most natural thing in the world.
He’d spent a good half an hour playing along during that oh so important first tea party, thankful to have his son helping him along the way when he wasn’t sure what to do. And it became customary that they have tea together once a week after that first game. Sophie seemed to delight in being able to share her game of pretend with her father, going to great lengths at bed time when telling her mother everything they had done. And while Liz abhorred the real thing she was happy to join them on occasion. After all the entire concept was both mentally and socially stimulating for their daughter, which meant it would be better if they encouraged her actions.
As the years progressed Sophie was given real tea cakes and real drinks to serve to her guests whenever she felt like throwing a party. New characters would be introduced based on books that were read to her at bed time. But as time went by she began to grow out of what she termed as ‘such childishness’ and became more inclined to simply read a book or run down to the park with her brother to play cricket or rugby - depending on the season. Though she never quite grew out of being Daddy’s Little Girl, tea parties were long forgotten.
Twenty-four years later he found himself having tea once more.
As the women of the family gathered to discuss funeral plans, Alistair sat quietly in the study staring out the window. It was not even twelve hours since he’d been informed his son had died, but he had to let Liz deal with it in her own way. If that meant making sure that every minute detail was taken care of before the day was through then so be it. He would only get in her way, as she’d pointed out in a heated moment a few days after the death of her father. So he hid himself away in the study, keeping to himself as the morning stretched into a long and painful afternoon. The sound of the old wooden door slowly swinging open caught his attention, breaking the silence he’d become so lost in, and he turned in his armchair to see blue eyes staring at him.
“I b’ought you some tea Pa,” His granddaughter said, glancing behind her hesitantly as though she were worried she was going to get caught doing something wrong.
“That’s my Angel,” He chuckled, motioning for her to come in.
She grinned then and pushed the door open a little further before disappearing. There was another moment of silence before the little red head reappeared, carefully carrying two tea cups. Ensuring she didn’t spill anything, she made her way across the room and settled both cups down on the table sitting between the two large armchairs. “Careful, Pa, it’s hot,” She warned him before hurrying back to close the door.
While she wasn’t looking, Alistair glanced at his tea cup and smiled. He had assumed that tea would be too hot for her to carry one cup let alone two, and he was right. “Did you pour this yourself Sarah?” He asked as she hurried back and scrambled up onto the chair sitting opposite his.
“Milk bottle is too big,” Sarah told him seriously as she positioned herself comfortable against the cushion. “And Nanny is too busy, so I asked Archie to do it for me. Is your tea perfect?” She asked curiously.
He carefully picked up the cup and sipped the cold milk. “Indeed it is,” He assured her, though decided to leave it be. The ever observant five year old had just lost her father, there was no need to correct her when it came to making tea. It was the thought that counted in such a situation. “Are you alright, Sarah Jane?”
The young girl sat up straight and shook her head, red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Grandpa you’re being silly,” She giggled, leaning over the arm of the chair as she whispered the problem to him. “You’re mixing me with Aunt Sarah again! I’m little Sarah, not Sarah Jane!”
“My apologies, Sarah,” He chuckled, realising the presence of his granddaughter was exactly what he needed. “Where is everybody else? I thought Archie would have taken you down to the river by now.”
“No,” The girl muttered quietly and pushed herself further over the arm of the chair, sipping from her cup without picking it up. Though she knew she was supposed to sit still, and not drink milk like a cat, she was also well aware that her Grandfather would let her get away with anything. “Mummy’s crying again an’ Aunt Sophie is making everyone tea, even though Aunt Sarah says she needs to stop. An’ Nanny is busy on the phone... An’ Archie an’ Lila says I’m too little to play with them in the attic because I need help up the steps. Even though they’re not supposed to be up there but I tried to tell Nanny an’ she didn’t listen to me. So I says I was going to take tea to you Pa, an’ Archie says he’d help me. An’ he did.” She nodded her head firmly as she completed her list of observations. “He’s a good brother.” She added quietly.
“Are you alright, Sarah?” He ventured to ask again, taking care to say her name correctly.
There was no response as she sat back in her chair and stared out the window. A little frown set in her brow, mimicking the look her father used to have as a child and managing to make her appear even more like her Grandmother. “Daddy’s not coming home,” She said seriously, repeating what she had been told earlier. “...Even though he was going to take us fishing on Sunday.” With a heavy sigh she turned her attention to her favourite person in the world. The odd look in her little blue eyes conveyed the millions of questions that were running through her mind. “Are you sad because Daddy’s gone?” She asked, managing to sound her age and so much older at the same time.
“Yes,” He told her honestly, noticing the same inquisitive spark that Michael had worn at such an age. From the moment he had begun asking questions they had agreed to always answer him honestly. More importantly Liz had made him agree that she would take on all science based questions if he handled all those that dealt with religion. So when a seven year old Michael asked them both where people went after they died, he recalled there being an excruciatingly long pause before Liz had left the room. Looking at his granddaughter’s calm expression he wondered whether Michael or Hannah had discussed the subject with her already, and what he was supposed to say if they hadn’t. “I am very sad that he’s gone.” He muttered, more to himself.
Sarah nodded slowly, letting her head fall back against the chair. “Me too,” She admitted quietly. “I’m going to miss him lots.”
“You’re allowed to miss him, Angel,” Alistair told her.
“Grandpa?”
Pushing himself up in his chair, he looked to his youngest grandchild and smiled sadly. “Yes Sarah Jane?”
She didn’t bother to correct him, her mind too preoccupied. “Do you want a hug?” Her eyes widened as she looked at him, waiting. “Daddy always gives me a hug when I’m sad. It makes me feel better. It might make you feel better ‘bout Daddy going away.”
“I think a hug from you would definitely make me feel better,” He assured her.
In an instant she scrambled down from the chair and moved across to his chair, struggling to climb up onto his lap even as he picked her up. She couldn’t seem to get to him fast enough. Her little arms went around his neck and she kissed his cheek. “It be okay, Grandpa,” She whispered, resting her head on his shoulder as he hugged her back. “It be okay.”
At the door Liz froze as she realised she was interrupting something very important. For the first time that day she just stopped, watching her husband holding their granddaughter. She had intended on seeing if he wanted lunch or a cup of tea after realising she hadn’t seen or heard from him for several hours. But it seemed that Sarah had already taken care of that for her.
“Now how about this tea...” Alistair began in an effort to cheer them both up. “Do you know I believe your Grandmother hides biscuits in her desk drawer? We can’t very well have tea without biscuits, can we?”
“Can’t very well,” Sarah repeated with a violent shake of her head. “Bet I could find them.” A look of pure glee sparkled in her eyes. She scrambled down from his lap and ran towards the desk, oblivious of her Grandmother standing in the doorway.
However her Grandfather wasn’t so ignorant. Pushing himself out of his chair, leaning heavily on his cane, Alistair made his way to the door. “Just pretend you weren’t aware we raided your biscuit drawer,” He told her quietly in an effort to make her smile.
“As I always do,” Liz assured him, her voice slightly croaky. “I feel like I’ve been on the phone for months and that I haven’t seen you in years.”
“There were a number headstrong women in a room attempting to manage everything,” As he spoke his fingers lightly laced with hers, relishing the contact. “It rather felt like I wasn’t needed.”
She pushed the door open a little further and moved closer to him. A soft kiss was place against his lips and she smiled sadly. “I need you,” Her usually strong voice whispered the words, as though the world would collapse were anyone to hear such an admission. “I always need you.”
“I’m here, Lizzie,” He promised her, pulling her into a hug. Though he wasn’t entirely unaccustomed to seeing his wife’s vulnerable side it never failed to break his heart. They stood like that a moment longer before Sarah declared she had found the biscuits, becoming quite thrilled the moment she saw her Grandmother.
Unable to resist any of her grandchildren, Liz agreed to join them both for tea even though Alistair warned her it was simply milk and biscuits. It didn’t matter really in the long run. The three of them sat down to tea, making sure to observe the proper etiquette. They talked about the weather at length, Sarah seemed to believe this was extremely important and would bring it up at every opportunity, and now and again they said nothing at all. The important thing was, they were having tea. For Sarah it was a pleasant afternoon and for her Grandparents it was a welcome distraction from their son’s death.
And while tea was said to have marvellous healing properties, it seemed that merely the concept alone could do the world of good.