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Fic: Dating the Cleverest Boy in the World. Chapter 27.
As opposed to the previous chapter, this one evolved and branched out into lots of places, some of them unexpected. (I have so much back story in my head - now and again it makes its way into the main story and fulfills multiple purposes. *is pleased*) Mind you, the writing itself isn't great (/understatement), but it'll have to do. It suits the mood at least.
Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up, or just follow the tags. Also on AO3 and The Teaspoon.
Summary: Allison had always thought that university would be an adventure. But she'd not imagined that she'd end up dating Harold Saxon's son.
Setting: Autumn 2028
Characters (this chapter): Allison, Toby, Troy. (OCs)
Rating: 15 (mentions of non-con)
Wordcount: 5500 approx
Feedback: Makes my world go round... No really. You have no idea.
Chapter 27
Allison’s first weeks in Manchester were not exactly an unmitigated success. She was operating more or less on autopilot, and if hadn’t been for Toby and Troy she wasn’t sure how she’d have coped.
Troy had taken one look at her when she’d turned up, and - ignoring Matt and the removal men - had hugged her fiercely, before calling Alex a bastard and other terrible names (not even asking what happened or who had broken up with whom), then told her she needed a haircut and called his current temporary work and told them he’d not be in for the next week. They told him not to bother at all in that case, to which his response was to tell them to sod off.
As she stared at his fierce freckled face wordlessly (had he really just quit a job for her sake?), he shrugged.
“What are gay best friends for?” he asked, aiming for a smile. Instead she for a moment - so brief she almost didn’t catch it - saw a glimpse of the person Toby had spoken about - the hurt young boy beneath the brash exterior. His next words bore it out.
“Besides I’ve been there.”
She nodded, wondering who had hurt him, and why. Still, she felt the need to set things straight.
“Thank you. But he’s not a bastard. Well he is, but I knew that already and I was OK with that. It’s just... complicated. I’ll explain later.”
***
‘Later’ took a while to turn up, however. The mere thought of trying to explain was currently beyond her, and life kept insisting that she do things and function as a human being, rather than curl up in a corner and cry.
Thankfully Toby and Troy were marvellous when it came to helping her get sorted and used to a new town. They unpacked her stuff, found out where all the corner shops and public transport were - as well as all the other details of daily life - and although the flat felt strange and new and lonely, at least it was habitable and warm.
That is, until the central heating broke down on her third day.
As luck would have it (nor not, rather) the landlord was in hospital for some kind of minor surgery and couldn’t get anything done about it, so she had to go buy a little heater in order not to freeze in the sudden autumn cold and had showers at Toby’s.
Plus food was a problem. Alex had always kept all the cupboards and fridge stocked, and suddenly having to remember to constantly buy more food so she didn’t run out was yet another thing to juggle. How had her mum coped with bringing up five children whilst working and running a household? Apparently Allison couldn’t even feed herself.
She vaguely remembered being very strict with herself back when she’d first started university, but she was too exhausted to attempt being organised. Back then she hadn’t had a broken heart...
***
And then there were her studies. Manchester University was huge, one of the largest in the world, and although Cambridge had been a university town, the colleges had all been cosy and old and full of strange, yet comforting traditions. Manchester consisted mostly of shiny modern buildings, all glass and steel, and she felt... displaced - mentally, physically, spatially.
She turned up for enrolment feeling like a plant that had been forcefully uprooted and badly repotted. Inside she was still hurting so much she almost felt numb, constantly turning everything over in her mind, wondering how much had been real, how much he had lied, what next - would he try to win her back, what was she going to do now? She missed him every waking second, so used to being a couple that she constantly found herself wanting to talk to him, or show him something - and instead there was nothing.
The outside was different too - her hair cut in a bob (with a fringe) that made her do a double take every time she caught sight of herself in a reflective surface. Troy assured her that she looked wonderful, and had also insisted on highlights, but she felt like it was just camouflage. (Or maybe that’s what he meant?) He’d also updated her wardrobe, and she felt she couldn’t really complain. It did help to feel different.
She just wasn’t sure who she was yet: Allison Whitwell, newly single, and so very lost.
The figurative ‘lost’ became literal during the enrolment process, as all the corridors looked identical and the place was like a maze. There were supposed to be signs, but she suspected that they were invisible, or had maybe been taped to the ceiling, as she couldn’t see any.
On top of this the university had just installed a new computer system, which of course had all kinds of teething problems, and the process - supposedly taking an hour - took much, much longer. As she’d not brought any food she was starving when she finally left, fuming because of a particularly rude member of staff, and without an ID card as the machines had decided to go into meltdown.
She also had to talk to someone about finances - not that she was in any trouble, but she needed to know how the funding worked and what her budget was and how it all functioned... There were forms and rules and papers that needed signing and sending to different places, and an actual headache was soon added to her woes.
Collapsing on Toby and Troy’s sofa that evening (she wanted to go home, but her flat would be an ice box, and she’d forgotten to buy milk so wouldn’t be able to have any tea), she lamented how difficult everything was. Cambridge had been so much easier, she couldn’t remember anything like this.
She found her voice trailing off, tea cup half way to her mouth, as realisation hit.
Because she did remember things being complicated. Her first few days, trying to find her feet and navigating all the unknowns - it had been just a difficult as now, broken heart apart.
But then there had been Alex.
Alex who had slowly taken over running her life. Her last year, when they lived together, she’d had exactly zero every day issues. It wasn’t just the food shopping, it had been everything. Bills and finances, cleaning, tidying, daily schedules - any practical issue at all was just taken care of without her even having to think about it. He was so reliable that she’d never even noticed.
So much for her feminist ideals and standing on her own two feet.
But it was no good feeling sorry for herself - she would quite simply have to pull herself together. Sooner rather than later.
***
By focussing intently on this goal, she had just about managed to get on top of everyday life by the time the course started. If she could only create a good routine, she should be able to at least function, and hopefully do some actual work. She remembered being rather excited about the course once upon a time... Especially the fact of Professor Brian Cox.
He wasn’t one of the main leaders of the course, but he turned up one of the first days and did an enthusiastic talk, at which point Allison discovered that she was thoroughly underwhelmed, disinterested, and quite frankly couldn’t care less.
Her Alex had created a planet when only a teenager; could hold galaxies in his hands if he so wanted. And although it terrified her, it also meant that she wasn’t exactly impressed with a former pop star who happened to know a bit about particle physics.
She wanted to learn, not to be talked at. Idly she started doodling on her pad, soothing calculations that helped take her mind off things. (She dearly hoped no one would ask whether she was bored, because she would be incapable of feigning enthusiasm...)
As she was leaving, breathing a sigh of relief and hoping she’d never see Professor Cox again, one of her new fellow students caught her by the arm and invited her round for a party that night - apparently a group of them were renting a house together and thus had plenty of room. She smiled, and said something noncommittal in response - she could always pretend that something had come up.
But when mentioning it in passing whilst telling Toby and Troy about the day’s events, Troy immediately decided that she was going. She protested vainly that she’d happier at home watching the TV, and she wasn’t remotely in a party mood, and besides she didn’t have anything to wear. It was one thing forcing herself to be organised - it was hard, but just about doable. But she couldn’t force herself to be cheerful.
Troy, however, was having none of it.
“If you say here, you’ll just sit and cry into your tea. Go! If nothing else, it’s somewhere else to be miserable. And I’ll find some clothes for you.”
So she went.
(She used to be so forceful - now it was easier to let Troy nicely bully her into things. And he was probably right - if nothing else it would be a good opportunity to get to know people, she supposed.)
Still, she felt very out of place. The talk was flowing freely, everyone busy trying to find out about each other - and as they were a pretty international bunch, it was generally interesting. Or it would have been, if she’d been more herself...
It was the sort of group she’d usually flourish in, especially as every country mentioned was one she’d visited - either with the circus, or on their round-the-world trip... But every mention also brought with it a memory of Alex - so effortlessly wonderful and painful that instead she kept quiet, listening, and pretty much blending in with the wallpaper.
At one point someone decided to pass round a some pot (where did people find it so quickly?), but when asked if she wanted some, she declined.
“Go on - live a little!” the lad (Polish, with an unpronounceable name and a strong Yorkshire accent) said - and the flashback was so sudden and so strong that she could barely breathe. It was like unexpectedly getting stabbed.
Alex - bathed in golden light, the setting Florida sun turning his hair platinum, and his eyes dancing...
“Allison, you’re only young once. Live a little.”
They’d been so happy. So stupidly, ridiculously happy, that her current situation felt like living in a world of shades of grey after having been soaked in Technicolor for years...
“I’ve lived,” she said curtly. “And you’re holding it wrong.”
“Ooooh, you’ve lived!” he replied, not put out in the least. “Do tell, love.”
“Sorry,” she said, blindly grabbing her bag (bought on a market in Morocco, with Alex charming the stall holder, effortlessly picking up the local dialect to the point of punning), “I’m really not feeling well. See you Monday?”
Later, curled up in bed, she realised that she knew exactly what the problem was...
“I have nothing in common with all these children, playing at being grownups, but without a shred of responsibility except for managing a timetable.”
The world was so much bigger than any of them realised. So much more serious. So much more wonderful. So much more terrible.
None of them knew what it was like to have a Golden Boy, to touch something truly otherworldly. To be caught between equal measures of awe and fear under a burnt orange sky, where the grass was red and the leaves silver...
She still had a silver leaf. It was tucked into her purse, like some sort of talisman or ward; concrete proof that it hadn’t all been a dream.
Not that any dream could’ve made her cry quite so much...
***
Through everything, at the back of her mind, continually, she was thinking, thinking, thinking. Turning everything over and over again, like some sort of hamster in a wheel - running, but getting nowhere.
But eventually, after the initial shock had died down, she managed to parcel out her feelings and deal with them separately, rather than be overwhelmed with loss as she had been at first.
One, she was hurting because she’d broken up with her boyfriend. That one was normal, that one people understood, that one needed no explanations, and no one asked further questions, because they didn’t know there were further questions to ask. The sheer staggering loss and heartbreak was an ache she knew she’d have to just learn to live with. That’s just what happened when you broke up.
However, that was just the beginning.
Secondly - and most importantly, the thing everything else hinged on - could she ever trust him again? The way he’d violated her mind (or invaded or entered or whatever word fitted best) could still make her suddenly shiver and feel sick. It was partly how it had happened, how something so intimate and tender and close had become something else... But almost more than that had been the fact that he hadn’t understood why she’d been upset. It had been an accident, he hadn’t even known he’d done it...
If she was honest, she was perfectly aware that he was not a bad person. Despite all the lies, she knew him well enough for that. He might shy away from the whole ‘hero’ thing, but - apart from some odd morals - his heart (hearts, she dutifully corrected) were in the right place. No, she wasn’t scared he’d hurt her on purpose (presumably the Doctor or someone would stop him if it came to that, and besides it had been weeks and she’d not heard a thing) - no, she was worried he’d do it unwittingly. And not even understand why it was wrong... She didn’t know if it was a blind spot, or the way he’d been brought up or what. But his utter unconcern, the way he’d smiled when he found out what he’d done...
She could still hear him say ‘I’m highly telepathic’, completely unaware of why this might unsettle her. And if he’d put the golden vision in her head, how could she be sure that there wasn’t anything else? He’d lied so much... And this was on top of all the other stuff - the stuff she’d known about already. The cheating, the refusal to back down, the blatant manipulation, the million and one issues he carried around. All the stuff she’d to a greater or lesser extent turned a blind eye to, except she couldn’t do that any more.
The problems had always been there, they’d just been magnified and become obstacles she couldn’t ignore.
Thirdly... If she chose to trust him, did she actually want him? This had been his main stumbling block she recalled, and even though it was not exactly top of her list, it was still important. Would she want a relationship with ‘the Seeker’, whoever he really was? The boy with his own planet, the alien boy with the human alias... the cleverest boy in the world. Literally. He could give her all the stars in the sky, but not a normal life. None of the things she’d been quietly dreaming of - the ordinary things. Like a life together. Growing old. Children...
Plus, what was her work compared to his? What could she possibly contribute? She didn’t fancy herself as the assistant to the great genius, handing him tools and taking notes.
(In her head, she could hear her mother’s voice. She’d not really understood it at the time, but now? Oh now she did...
“You might change the world, Allie dearest. I remember you in your pushchair, when you were just a toddler, looking at the stars and asking how they got up there. And you’ve never stopped. You are brilliant, and don’t let anyone - no matter how clever or handsome - steer you away from the path you should go.”)
Could she have both? Could she live in two worlds? And even if she chose to just say ‘Love conquers all’ and throw herself and her life at him (and a part of her was desperate to do so), it’d... be like Highlander. Did she want that?
On and on and on her thoughts went, with no resolution in sight...
Studying turned out to be the only thing that really stopped this constant thought-carousel, so she worked, and she worked hard.
And there, at least, was an area where she could just be herself. Alex had never interfered with her studies in any way, to the point of actively avoiding helping her if she was stuck.
He’d been incredibly secretive with his own work of course, so she’d thought it was some kind of reciprocal thing. Now, however, she began to suspect that he had left it alone in order to leave her one part of her life which was completely her own. She’d gotten where she was entirely by her own efforts, with no help from him at all, and could concentrate without feeling his absence. She was unsure whether to be grateful, or whether the degree of planning and foresight this displayed on his part was just plain disturbing. Because it meant that he’d anticipated their ending from the moment they began...
Her fellow students noticed her ‘work ethic’ of course. She’d always known she was clever, but during her BA she’d had Chen to constantly push her (they’d been neck and neck the whole time), not to mention Alex’s casual genius which had left her trailing.
Knowing what he was had somehow helped her to trust her own talent more. She’d felt... not inadequate, but always behind. He’d been so effortlessly dazzling that it had felt unfair. Knowing that it was unfair, that he was just naturally vastly more intelligent, was actually helpful.
The upshoot of all this was that she swiftly found herself miles ahead of everyone else, and people began referring to her as ‘that scarily brilliant one from Cambridge’.
Which she rather liked, if she was honest.
***
One Friday evening when she’d allowed herself to be dragged out on the town by the Polish twins (Przemyslaw had a twin sister it turned out, her name being the far more pronounceable Magdalena), Allison found herself quizzed again.
“But why are you in such a rush? I love studying too, but we’re in Manchester,” Magdalena said, twirling a blue cocktail in her hand and studying the nightlife all around them.
Allison sighed, trying to get her thoughts into order. Her impatience was nagging her every day... But then she had a goal. Had seen the practical applications of what they were doing - it wasn’t theory, it was real. And although they might think she was just showing off - well, did it really matter?
“It’s not that I don’t like it here, it’s just - I want to do things with my life. I have a job waiting for me at NASA, and the sooner I can finish my education, the sooner I can go do something useful.”
Magdalena’s eyes widened.
“NASA? Are you serious?”
“I spent a summer there as an intern. I was... Adelaide Brooke’s PA, basically. I helped with Project Pitstop.”
People here tended to know their NASA staff, and she could sense how she instantly went up in their estimation.
“Kurwa! Adelaide Brooke? But then you are crazy clever...”
Allison smiled, and for once it was genuine. She had a future, and it was hers. Adelaide had wanted her, not ‘the Golden Boy’. Had even sent a message recently making sure that Allison was still interested, and on track.
So yes, she’d see if she could shave time off her MA and maybe start a Doctorate next year. If the rules could bend for Alex, they could bend for her too.
***
After several weeks, she finally told Toby and Troy the truth about the break-up.
It was Toby who, in the middle of a meal (they’d invited her over for tea, still not trusting her to feed herself), looked at her and in his usual unceremonious way said:
“Allison, what happened? I know Alex was... complicated, but you seemed ready to put up with that. So?”
She froze where she sat, then slowly lowered her fork, sitting silently for a long moment before speaking.
“He’s not human.”
She saw Troy getting ready to say something, and forestalled him.
“I don’t mean he’s inhuman. I mean... not human. Alien. A different species. From a different planet.”
“But he looks perfectly normal,” Toby replied, frowning.
“Yeah, apparently his species predates humanity by millions of years. We look like them.”
They just stared at her mutely, so she pulled her phone out of her bag and brought up the relevant gallery. (She’d named it after the space co-ordinates, and locked it with a password. Anyone who might get hold of her phone would think it was something to do with her studies.)
“Here. This is his planet. And when I say ‘his planet’, I don’t mean his ‘home planet’ where he’s from. I mean the planet he created. He doesn’t have a home planet, his species is practically extinct.”
Still looking at her like she had a screw loose they gingerly took the phone from her, jaws gradually dropping as they looked through the images... the golden sky, the red grass, the forests, the spaceship, his ‘house’...
Eventually Toby looked up, studying her with wonder.
“Allison, this is... incredible.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said softly, recalling far too well how swept away she’d been. Golden wonder all around her, like a fairy tale...
“So why- I don’t understand.”
She lowered her eyes, intently studying her unfinished meal. She didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“It’s complicated. But... He can do anything. Anything. For example he’s also highly telepathic. Can walk into someone’s head as easily as touching their hand.”
Looking up again Toby seemed confused, but when she turned to Troy she could see him slowly nod, eyes having turned dark.
“He’s got all the power. You did right leaving him.”
The affirmation - reached without having to explain - left her almost staggering with relief. She didn’t know what had happened to Troy in his past for him to be able to pinpoint the heart of the issue with such precision (and he’d probably be as unwilling to share as she), but she was nonetheless grateful.
“Thank you,” she said, nearly crying (she’d never been one to burst into tears, now anything could do it), but Troy’s expression didn’t change, and Toby was now watching him warily.
“I don’t understand. If they love each other...”
Troy shook his head.
“That’s what makes it worse.”
At which point Toby became obstinate.
“This is nothing like you and- and- that bastard who took advantage of you.”
“It was pretty much 50-50,” Troy said, still looking at Allison. “We both used love to get what we wanted. He might have been... ‘exploiting’ me, but hell, I was the one who seduced him, and I knew exactly what I was doing - or so I thought back then at least. Love is a terrible thing when it’s used as a weapon, and he used it against me right from the start. Alex understood that - told me so to my face, as a matter of fact. I think - hope - he’s decent enough not to use it against you Allie, but damn it’s a powerful weapon, and he holds all the cards. So yeah, you did right getting out. Trust me, you’ll find someone else. And it won’t be the same, it probably won’t be that... intense. But it might just be so much better than you ever imagined.”
He took Toby’s hand, a look of pure adoration on his face, and Allison slowly nodded.
It was a greater insight into Troy than she’d ever expected, and although he was obviously projecting, she took on board what he said.
“I will bear that in mind,” she said, and then couldn’t help smiling, because the two of them were adorable, and Troy grinned back:
“Damn straight. And as your future-brother-in-law, I want you to be as happy as me.”
She blinked, the words instantly sweeping away the previous topic.
“Future- wait! you’re engaged?”
An odd sort of pause followed, during which her brother and Troy looked at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. Eventually Troy answered.
“Well, we are according to Andrew.”
“We can’t remember it,” Toby continued. “We were way too drunk. Which was Troy’s fault by the way.”
“Hey, I resent that. OK, so I found the quiz, but it was Andrew’s idea to turn it into a drinking game!”
Toby bit his lip, eyes dancing.
“I don’t think he realised just how-”
Shooting Allison a sudden glance, he cut the sentence short.
“Sorry, I don’t think you want to know.”
Troy rolled his eyes.
“It was about sex. And because I’ve done everything under the sun, pretty much, and very successfully made your lovely brother happy in ways that would make you blush, we got very, very, very drunk, and now Andrew is claiming that one of us proposed - he won’t say who - and keeps teasing us about wedding bells.”
Her appetite having miraculously recovered, she ate another forkful, then asked:
“Who’s Andrew?”
Apparently the mischievous ‘Andrew’ was the conductor of the small amateur orchestra Toby was part of, and soon enough the talk spun out along lines of everyday issues, and Allison could try to relax. The mere fact of not carrying the secret all on her own helping a lot.
However, a few days later she learned more about Troy’s past than she had ever wanted.
***
It was Saturday and they’d gone into the centre of town to do some shopping, just the two of them. (Toby wasn’t one for shops - the only places he enjoyed being the farmer’s market and computer stores.)
Walking down a high street, laughing because Troy was unable to go anywhere without commenting on everyone they saw, complete with on-the-spot improvisations and throwaway bitchy comments, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, face turning completely white, before dragging her into a narrow side-street so quickly that she nearly dropped her bags.
“Troy?” she asked, “what is it?”
“Sh!” he said, eyes wide, and she followed his line of sight, seeing a thuggish youth walk past, oblivious to anything, earphones in his ears and a cigarette in his hand.
He passed by the ginnel without ever looking up, and she turned back to Troy, a hundred questions on her lips, before realising that he’d sunk down to a sitting position, knees drawn up protectively, and looking so shell-shocked that she wondered if this was how she’d looked to Matt...
“Troy?” she asked gently, setting her bags aside and crouching down by him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. Even so he spoke, voice detached and not sounding like himself at all.
“I... never thought I’d see him here. His territory is miles away...”
Carefully laying a hand on his, she tried to work out what had happened.
“Is this the guy you were in love with?”
The words seemed to shake him out of his stasis.
“No. No no no. I was in love with my teacher, so very, very long ago... That - that was the guy who-”
He swallowed, then abruptly buried his head in his hands for a long moment, before letting them fall down again helplessly.
“It was some months after I arrived here. I was behind on the rent. No, it wasn’t rent, I just happened to be staying in this house, I can’t even remember how, I kept moving from place to place, but this guy wanted money... He was bad news I knew, there were tons of drugs everywhere, but I never thought- I mean, it was only temporary, I just needed somewhere to crash- Anyway I’d been unable to get any work for a while, so I didn’t have any money. I said I’d leave, that I’d pay him as soon as I could, but he- He decided that if I didn’t have any cash there were other ways I could pay. After all, I’d been sleeping with half of Manchester already, I shouldn’t mind him and his friends having some fun also...”
Allison remembered Toby’s furious protectiveness, and she’d guessed at something like this. But having it confirmed was something else entirely.
“There were about ten of them,” Troy continued, voice flat and emotionless. “I don’t think they expected me to fight back... But I suppose being bullied my whole childhood finally paid off, I’m used to being ganged up on. And I got lucky - no one was guarding the door. So I ran. I had nothing - not my phone, not my wallet, not my passport - nothing. I could hear them laugh, because they knew I had nowhere to go. And when they saw me again they’d make me pay...”
He shivered, his freckles standing out darkly against the whiteness of his face. She didn’t know what to say, although she remembered Toby telling her his part of the tale.
“If I hadn’t by chance still had your brother’s number in my pocket- If he hadn’t taken me in...”
Troy swallowed again, and instinctively she moved forward and just held him as tightly as she could. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, try to imagine what might have happened. And to think she’d disliked him so much when they first met...
When he seemed to have recovered she gently let go, and he looked up at her, almost childlike.
“But what if they find me? What if they come after me? Toby thinks I’m worried for myself, but that’s not it - what if they hurt him? I never - I never thought I’d have someone like him, that I could be happy... And I’m so scared it’ll all be taken away.”
“Troy-” she began, but he shook his head, the vulnerable look abruptly replaced by scathing cynicism.
“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not going to the police. For starters, what would I say? ‘Oh by the way I was nearly gang-raped two years ago, please find them all and lock them up forever so I don’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.’ Yeah, that’ll work.”
He scoffed.
“Even if I thought they’d give a fuck about some random gay kid who got himself into a stupid fix, it’s not like they could do anything...”
Allison sat back on her heels, the answer coming to her so swiftly that she almost worried. It would appear that she couldn’t cut the ties with her previous life as completely as she’d imagined.
“You need Jack,” she said.
Troy tilted his head, and she explained.
“Jack is Torchwood. I know what you’re going to say, those thugs aren’t aliens, but Torchwood often branches out. And they’re... not the police. They can basically do what they want - and if that means tracking down some nasty people who deserve what’s coming to them, then I suspect they’ll be more than happy to. I swear to you, I’ll make sure you and Toby will be able to sleep soundly for the rest of your lives.”
She stood up, held out her hand.
“I’ll be seeing Jack at graduation, I’ll ask him then. You’re coming, right? You’ll have to tell him everything, but don’t worry - he’s incapable of being shocked.”
Troy took her hand, yet looked at her as if he suspected witch craft.
She smiled back, but had to admit some hard truths to herself...
One, she had so far been incredibly self-absorbed in her whole outlook, easily ignoring the fact that other people had come through far, far worse than she had; and Two... Apparently she was just as willing as Alex to manipulate and use dubious methods for her own benefit if she saw so fit.
And now graduation was looming...
What would he say? And how would she feel, seeing him again? How had he been coping? Where did they go from here?
She’d not heard a word, as if he’d vanished from the planet itself (which he probably had). Maybe he’d just buried himself in work like her? He'd said something about singing fish...
Chapter 28.
Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up, or just follow the tags. Also on AO3 and The Teaspoon.
Summary: Allison had always thought that university would be an adventure. But she'd not imagined that she'd end up dating Harold Saxon's son.
Setting: Autumn 2028
Characters (this chapter): Allison, Toby, Troy. (OCs)
Rating: 15 (mentions of non-con)
Wordcount: 5500 approx
Feedback: Makes my world go round... No really. You have no idea.
Chapter 27
Allison’s first weeks in Manchester were not exactly an unmitigated success. She was operating more or less on autopilot, and if hadn’t been for Toby and Troy she wasn’t sure how she’d have coped.
Troy had taken one look at her when she’d turned up, and - ignoring Matt and the removal men - had hugged her fiercely, before calling Alex a bastard and other terrible names (not even asking what happened or who had broken up with whom), then told her she needed a haircut and called his current temporary work and told them he’d not be in for the next week. They told him not to bother at all in that case, to which his response was to tell them to sod off.
As she stared at his fierce freckled face wordlessly (had he really just quit a job for her sake?), he shrugged.
“What are gay best friends for?” he asked, aiming for a smile. Instead she for a moment - so brief she almost didn’t catch it - saw a glimpse of the person Toby had spoken about - the hurt young boy beneath the brash exterior. His next words bore it out.
“Besides I’ve been there.”
She nodded, wondering who had hurt him, and why. Still, she felt the need to set things straight.
“Thank you. But he’s not a bastard. Well he is, but I knew that already and I was OK with that. It’s just... complicated. I’ll explain later.”
‘Later’ took a while to turn up, however. The mere thought of trying to explain was currently beyond her, and life kept insisting that she do things and function as a human being, rather than curl up in a corner and cry.
Thankfully Toby and Troy were marvellous when it came to helping her get sorted and used to a new town. They unpacked her stuff, found out where all the corner shops and public transport were - as well as all the other details of daily life - and although the flat felt strange and new and lonely, at least it was habitable and warm.
That is, until the central heating broke down on her third day.
As luck would have it (nor not, rather) the landlord was in hospital for some kind of minor surgery and couldn’t get anything done about it, so she had to go buy a little heater in order not to freeze in the sudden autumn cold and had showers at Toby’s.
Plus food was a problem. Alex had always kept all the cupboards and fridge stocked, and suddenly having to remember to constantly buy more food so she didn’t run out was yet another thing to juggle. How had her mum coped with bringing up five children whilst working and running a household? Apparently Allison couldn’t even feed herself.
She vaguely remembered being very strict with herself back when she’d first started university, but she was too exhausted to attempt being organised. Back then she hadn’t had a broken heart...
And then there were her studies. Manchester University was huge, one of the largest in the world, and although Cambridge had been a university town, the colleges had all been cosy and old and full of strange, yet comforting traditions. Manchester consisted mostly of shiny modern buildings, all glass and steel, and she felt... displaced - mentally, physically, spatially.
She turned up for enrolment feeling like a plant that had been forcefully uprooted and badly repotted. Inside she was still hurting so much she almost felt numb, constantly turning everything over in her mind, wondering how much had been real, how much he had lied, what next - would he try to win her back, what was she going to do now? She missed him every waking second, so used to being a couple that she constantly found herself wanting to talk to him, or show him something - and instead there was nothing.
The outside was different too - her hair cut in a bob (with a fringe) that made her do a double take every time she caught sight of herself in a reflective surface. Troy assured her that she looked wonderful, and had also insisted on highlights, but she felt like it was just camouflage. (Or maybe that’s what he meant?) He’d also updated her wardrobe, and she felt she couldn’t really complain. It did help to feel different.
She just wasn’t sure who she was yet: Allison Whitwell, newly single, and so very lost.
The figurative ‘lost’ became literal during the enrolment process, as all the corridors looked identical and the place was like a maze. There were supposed to be signs, but she suspected that they were invisible, or had maybe been taped to the ceiling, as she couldn’t see any.
On top of this the university had just installed a new computer system, which of course had all kinds of teething problems, and the process - supposedly taking an hour - took much, much longer. As she’d not brought any food she was starving when she finally left, fuming because of a particularly rude member of staff, and without an ID card as the machines had decided to go into meltdown.
She also had to talk to someone about finances - not that she was in any trouble, but she needed to know how the funding worked and what her budget was and how it all functioned... There were forms and rules and papers that needed signing and sending to different places, and an actual headache was soon added to her woes.
Collapsing on Toby and Troy’s sofa that evening (she wanted to go home, but her flat would be an ice box, and she’d forgotten to buy milk so wouldn’t be able to have any tea), she lamented how difficult everything was. Cambridge had been so much easier, she couldn’t remember anything like this.
She found her voice trailing off, tea cup half way to her mouth, as realisation hit.
Because she did remember things being complicated. Her first few days, trying to find her feet and navigating all the unknowns - it had been just a difficult as now, broken heart apart.
But then there had been Alex.
Alex who had slowly taken over running her life. Her last year, when they lived together, she’d had exactly zero every day issues. It wasn’t just the food shopping, it had been everything. Bills and finances, cleaning, tidying, daily schedules - any practical issue at all was just taken care of without her even having to think about it. He was so reliable that she’d never even noticed.
So much for her feminist ideals and standing on her own two feet.
But it was no good feeling sorry for herself - she would quite simply have to pull herself together. Sooner rather than later.
By focussing intently on this goal, she had just about managed to get on top of everyday life by the time the course started. If she could only create a good routine, she should be able to at least function, and hopefully do some actual work. She remembered being rather excited about the course once upon a time... Especially the fact of Professor Brian Cox.
He wasn’t one of the main leaders of the course, but he turned up one of the first days and did an enthusiastic talk, at which point Allison discovered that she was thoroughly underwhelmed, disinterested, and quite frankly couldn’t care less.
Her Alex had created a planet when only a teenager; could hold galaxies in his hands if he so wanted. And although it terrified her, it also meant that she wasn’t exactly impressed with a former pop star who happened to know a bit about particle physics.
She wanted to learn, not to be talked at. Idly she started doodling on her pad, soothing calculations that helped take her mind off things. (She dearly hoped no one would ask whether she was bored, because she would be incapable of feigning enthusiasm...)
As she was leaving, breathing a sigh of relief and hoping she’d never see Professor Cox again, one of her new fellow students caught her by the arm and invited her round for a party that night - apparently a group of them were renting a house together and thus had plenty of room. She smiled, and said something noncommittal in response - she could always pretend that something had come up.
But when mentioning it in passing whilst telling Toby and Troy about the day’s events, Troy immediately decided that she was going. She protested vainly that she’d happier at home watching the TV, and she wasn’t remotely in a party mood, and besides she didn’t have anything to wear. It was one thing forcing herself to be organised - it was hard, but just about doable. But she couldn’t force herself to be cheerful.
Troy, however, was having none of it.
“If you say here, you’ll just sit and cry into your tea. Go! If nothing else, it’s somewhere else to be miserable. And I’ll find some clothes for you.”
So she went.
(She used to be so forceful - now it was easier to let Troy nicely bully her into things. And he was probably right - if nothing else it would be a good opportunity to get to know people, she supposed.)
Still, she felt very out of place. The talk was flowing freely, everyone busy trying to find out about each other - and as they were a pretty international bunch, it was generally interesting. Or it would have been, if she’d been more herself...
It was the sort of group she’d usually flourish in, especially as every country mentioned was one she’d visited - either with the circus, or on their round-the-world trip... But every mention also brought with it a memory of Alex - so effortlessly wonderful and painful that instead she kept quiet, listening, and pretty much blending in with the wallpaper.
At one point someone decided to pass round a some pot (where did people find it so quickly?), but when asked if she wanted some, she declined.
“Go on - live a little!” the lad (Polish, with an unpronounceable name and a strong Yorkshire accent) said - and the flashback was so sudden and so strong that she could barely breathe. It was like unexpectedly getting stabbed.
Alex - bathed in golden light, the setting Florida sun turning his hair platinum, and his eyes dancing...
“Allison, you’re only young once. Live a little.”
They’d been so happy. So stupidly, ridiculously happy, that her current situation felt like living in a world of shades of grey after having been soaked in Technicolor for years...
“I’ve lived,” she said curtly. “And you’re holding it wrong.”
“Ooooh, you’ve lived!” he replied, not put out in the least. “Do tell, love.”
“Sorry,” she said, blindly grabbing her bag (bought on a market in Morocco, with Alex charming the stall holder, effortlessly picking up the local dialect to the point of punning), “I’m really not feeling well. See you Monday?”
Later, curled up in bed, she realised that she knew exactly what the problem was...
“I have nothing in common with all these children, playing at being grownups, but without a shred of responsibility except for managing a timetable.”
The world was so much bigger than any of them realised. So much more serious. So much more wonderful. So much more terrible.
None of them knew what it was like to have a Golden Boy, to touch something truly otherworldly. To be caught between equal measures of awe and fear under a burnt orange sky, where the grass was red and the leaves silver...
She still had a silver leaf. It was tucked into her purse, like some sort of talisman or ward; concrete proof that it hadn’t all been a dream.
Not that any dream could’ve made her cry quite so much...
Through everything, at the back of her mind, continually, she was thinking, thinking, thinking. Turning everything over and over again, like some sort of hamster in a wheel - running, but getting nowhere.
But eventually, after the initial shock had died down, she managed to parcel out her feelings and deal with them separately, rather than be overwhelmed with loss as she had been at first.
One, she was hurting because she’d broken up with her boyfriend. That one was normal, that one people understood, that one needed no explanations, and no one asked further questions, because they didn’t know there were further questions to ask. The sheer staggering loss and heartbreak was an ache she knew she’d have to just learn to live with. That’s just what happened when you broke up.
However, that was just the beginning.
Secondly - and most importantly, the thing everything else hinged on - could she ever trust him again? The way he’d violated her mind (or invaded or entered or whatever word fitted best) could still make her suddenly shiver and feel sick. It was partly how it had happened, how something so intimate and tender and close had become something else... But almost more than that had been the fact that he hadn’t understood why she’d been upset. It had been an accident, he hadn’t even known he’d done it...
If she was honest, she was perfectly aware that he was not a bad person. Despite all the lies, she knew him well enough for that. He might shy away from the whole ‘hero’ thing, but - apart from some odd morals - his heart (hearts, she dutifully corrected) were in the right place. No, she wasn’t scared he’d hurt her on purpose (presumably the Doctor or someone would stop him if it came to that, and besides it had been weeks and she’d not heard a thing) - no, she was worried he’d do it unwittingly. And not even understand why it was wrong... She didn’t know if it was a blind spot, or the way he’d been brought up or what. But his utter unconcern, the way he’d smiled when he found out what he’d done...
She could still hear him say ‘I’m highly telepathic’, completely unaware of why this might unsettle her. And if he’d put the golden vision in her head, how could she be sure that there wasn’t anything else? He’d lied so much... And this was on top of all the other stuff - the stuff she’d known about already. The cheating, the refusal to back down, the blatant manipulation, the million and one issues he carried around. All the stuff she’d to a greater or lesser extent turned a blind eye to, except she couldn’t do that any more.
The problems had always been there, they’d just been magnified and become obstacles she couldn’t ignore.
Thirdly... If she chose to trust him, did she actually want him? This had been his main stumbling block she recalled, and even though it was not exactly top of her list, it was still important. Would she want a relationship with ‘the Seeker’, whoever he really was? The boy with his own planet, the alien boy with the human alias... the cleverest boy in the world. Literally. He could give her all the stars in the sky, but not a normal life. None of the things she’d been quietly dreaming of - the ordinary things. Like a life together. Growing old. Children...
Plus, what was her work compared to his? What could she possibly contribute? She didn’t fancy herself as the assistant to the great genius, handing him tools and taking notes.
(In her head, she could hear her mother’s voice. She’d not really understood it at the time, but now? Oh now she did...
“You might change the world, Allie dearest. I remember you in your pushchair, when you were just a toddler, looking at the stars and asking how they got up there. And you’ve never stopped. You are brilliant, and don’t let anyone - no matter how clever or handsome - steer you away from the path you should go.”)
Could she have both? Could she live in two worlds? And even if she chose to just say ‘Love conquers all’ and throw herself and her life at him (and a part of her was desperate to do so), it’d... be like Highlander. Did she want that?
On and on and on her thoughts went, with no resolution in sight...
Studying turned out to be the only thing that really stopped this constant thought-carousel, so she worked, and she worked hard.
And there, at least, was an area where she could just be herself. Alex had never interfered with her studies in any way, to the point of actively avoiding helping her if she was stuck.
He’d been incredibly secretive with his own work of course, so she’d thought it was some kind of reciprocal thing. Now, however, she began to suspect that he had left it alone in order to leave her one part of her life which was completely her own. She’d gotten where she was entirely by her own efforts, with no help from him at all, and could concentrate without feeling his absence. She was unsure whether to be grateful, or whether the degree of planning and foresight this displayed on his part was just plain disturbing. Because it meant that he’d anticipated their ending from the moment they began...
Her fellow students noticed her ‘work ethic’ of course. She’d always known she was clever, but during her BA she’d had Chen to constantly push her (they’d been neck and neck the whole time), not to mention Alex’s casual genius which had left her trailing.
Knowing what he was had somehow helped her to trust her own talent more. She’d felt... not inadequate, but always behind. He’d been so effortlessly dazzling that it had felt unfair. Knowing that it was unfair, that he was just naturally vastly more intelligent, was actually helpful.
The upshoot of all this was that she swiftly found herself miles ahead of everyone else, and people began referring to her as ‘that scarily brilliant one from Cambridge’.
Which she rather liked, if she was honest.
One Friday evening when she’d allowed herself to be dragged out on the town by the Polish twins (Przemyslaw had a twin sister it turned out, her name being the far more pronounceable Magdalena), Allison found herself quizzed again.
“But why are you in such a rush? I love studying too, but we’re in Manchester,” Magdalena said, twirling a blue cocktail in her hand and studying the nightlife all around them.
Allison sighed, trying to get her thoughts into order. Her impatience was nagging her every day... But then she had a goal. Had seen the practical applications of what they were doing - it wasn’t theory, it was real. And although they might think she was just showing off - well, did it really matter?
“It’s not that I don’t like it here, it’s just - I want to do things with my life. I have a job waiting for me at NASA, and the sooner I can finish my education, the sooner I can go do something useful.”
Magdalena’s eyes widened.
“NASA? Are you serious?”
“I spent a summer there as an intern. I was... Adelaide Brooke’s PA, basically. I helped with Project Pitstop.”
People here tended to know their NASA staff, and she could sense how she instantly went up in their estimation.
“Kurwa! Adelaide Brooke? But then you are crazy clever...”
Allison smiled, and for once it was genuine. She had a future, and it was hers. Adelaide had wanted her, not ‘the Golden Boy’. Had even sent a message recently making sure that Allison was still interested, and on track.
So yes, she’d see if she could shave time off her MA and maybe start a Doctorate next year. If the rules could bend for Alex, they could bend for her too.
After several weeks, she finally told Toby and Troy the truth about the break-up.
It was Toby who, in the middle of a meal (they’d invited her over for tea, still not trusting her to feed herself), looked at her and in his usual unceremonious way said:
“Allison, what happened? I know Alex was... complicated, but you seemed ready to put up with that. So?”
She froze where she sat, then slowly lowered her fork, sitting silently for a long moment before speaking.
“He’s not human.”
She saw Troy getting ready to say something, and forestalled him.
“I don’t mean he’s inhuman. I mean... not human. Alien. A different species. From a different planet.”
“But he looks perfectly normal,” Toby replied, frowning.
“Yeah, apparently his species predates humanity by millions of years. We look like them.”
They just stared at her mutely, so she pulled her phone out of her bag and brought up the relevant gallery. (She’d named it after the space co-ordinates, and locked it with a password. Anyone who might get hold of her phone would think it was something to do with her studies.)
“Here. This is his planet. And when I say ‘his planet’, I don’t mean his ‘home planet’ where he’s from. I mean the planet he created. He doesn’t have a home planet, his species is practically extinct.”
Still looking at her like she had a screw loose they gingerly took the phone from her, jaws gradually dropping as they looked through the images... the golden sky, the red grass, the forests, the spaceship, his ‘house’...
Eventually Toby looked up, studying her with wonder.
“Allison, this is... incredible.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said softly, recalling far too well how swept away she’d been. Golden wonder all around her, like a fairy tale...
“So why- I don’t understand.”
She lowered her eyes, intently studying her unfinished meal. She didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“It’s complicated. But... He can do anything. Anything. For example he’s also highly telepathic. Can walk into someone’s head as easily as touching their hand.”
Looking up again Toby seemed confused, but when she turned to Troy she could see him slowly nod, eyes having turned dark.
“He’s got all the power. You did right leaving him.”
The affirmation - reached without having to explain - left her almost staggering with relief. She didn’t know what had happened to Troy in his past for him to be able to pinpoint the heart of the issue with such precision (and he’d probably be as unwilling to share as she), but she was nonetheless grateful.
“Thank you,” she said, nearly crying (she’d never been one to burst into tears, now anything could do it), but Troy’s expression didn’t change, and Toby was now watching him warily.
“I don’t understand. If they love each other...”
Troy shook his head.
“That’s what makes it worse.”
At which point Toby became obstinate.
“This is nothing like you and- and- that bastard who took advantage of you.”
“It was pretty much 50-50,” Troy said, still looking at Allison. “We both used love to get what we wanted. He might have been... ‘exploiting’ me, but hell, I was the one who seduced him, and I knew exactly what I was doing - or so I thought back then at least. Love is a terrible thing when it’s used as a weapon, and he used it against me right from the start. Alex understood that - told me so to my face, as a matter of fact. I think - hope - he’s decent enough not to use it against you Allie, but damn it’s a powerful weapon, and he holds all the cards. So yeah, you did right getting out. Trust me, you’ll find someone else. And it won’t be the same, it probably won’t be that... intense. But it might just be so much better than you ever imagined.”
He took Toby’s hand, a look of pure adoration on his face, and Allison slowly nodded.
It was a greater insight into Troy than she’d ever expected, and although he was obviously projecting, she took on board what he said.
“I will bear that in mind,” she said, and then couldn’t help smiling, because the two of them were adorable, and Troy grinned back:
“Damn straight. And as your future-brother-in-law, I want you to be as happy as me.”
She blinked, the words instantly sweeping away the previous topic.
“Future- wait! you’re engaged?”
An odd sort of pause followed, during which her brother and Troy looked at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. Eventually Troy answered.
“Well, we are according to Andrew.”
“We can’t remember it,” Toby continued. “We were way too drunk. Which was Troy’s fault by the way.”
“Hey, I resent that. OK, so I found the quiz, but it was Andrew’s idea to turn it into a drinking game!”
Toby bit his lip, eyes dancing.
“I don’t think he realised just how-”
Shooting Allison a sudden glance, he cut the sentence short.
“Sorry, I don’t think you want to know.”
Troy rolled his eyes.
“It was about sex. And because I’ve done everything under the sun, pretty much, and very successfully made your lovely brother happy in ways that would make you blush, we got very, very, very drunk, and now Andrew is claiming that one of us proposed - he won’t say who - and keeps teasing us about wedding bells.”
Her appetite having miraculously recovered, she ate another forkful, then asked:
“Who’s Andrew?”
Apparently the mischievous ‘Andrew’ was the conductor of the small amateur orchestra Toby was part of, and soon enough the talk spun out along lines of everyday issues, and Allison could try to relax. The mere fact of not carrying the secret all on her own helping a lot.
However, a few days later she learned more about Troy’s past than she had ever wanted.
It was Saturday and they’d gone into the centre of town to do some shopping, just the two of them. (Toby wasn’t one for shops - the only places he enjoyed being the farmer’s market and computer stores.)
Walking down a high street, laughing because Troy was unable to go anywhere without commenting on everyone they saw, complete with on-the-spot improvisations and throwaway bitchy comments, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, face turning completely white, before dragging her into a narrow side-street so quickly that she nearly dropped her bags.
“Troy?” she asked, “what is it?”
“Sh!” he said, eyes wide, and she followed his line of sight, seeing a thuggish youth walk past, oblivious to anything, earphones in his ears and a cigarette in his hand.
He passed by the ginnel without ever looking up, and she turned back to Troy, a hundred questions on her lips, before realising that he’d sunk down to a sitting position, knees drawn up protectively, and looking so shell-shocked that she wondered if this was how she’d looked to Matt...
“Troy?” she asked gently, setting her bags aside and crouching down by him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. Even so he spoke, voice detached and not sounding like himself at all.
“I... never thought I’d see him here. His territory is miles away...”
Carefully laying a hand on his, she tried to work out what had happened.
“Is this the guy you were in love with?”
The words seemed to shake him out of his stasis.
“No. No no no. I was in love with my teacher, so very, very long ago... That - that was the guy who-”
He swallowed, then abruptly buried his head in his hands for a long moment, before letting them fall down again helplessly.
“It was some months after I arrived here. I was behind on the rent. No, it wasn’t rent, I just happened to be staying in this house, I can’t even remember how, I kept moving from place to place, but this guy wanted money... He was bad news I knew, there were tons of drugs everywhere, but I never thought- I mean, it was only temporary, I just needed somewhere to crash- Anyway I’d been unable to get any work for a while, so I didn’t have any money. I said I’d leave, that I’d pay him as soon as I could, but he- He decided that if I didn’t have any cash there were other ways I could pay. After all, I’d been sleeping with half of Manchester already, I shouldn’t mind him and his friends having some fun also...”
Allison remembered Toby’s furious protectiveness, and she’d guessed at something like this. But having it confirmed was something else entirely.
“There were about ten of them,” Troy continued, voice flat and emotionless. “I don’t think they expected me to fight back... But I suppose being bullied my whole childhood finally paid off, I’m used to being ganged up on. And I got lucky - no one was guarding the door. So I ran. I had nothing - not my phone, not my wallet, not my passport - nothing. I could hear them laugh, because they knew I had nowhere to go. And when they saw me again they’d make me pay...”
He shivered, his freckles standing out darkly against the whiteness of his face. She didn’t know what to say, although she remembered Toby telling her his part of the tale.
“If I hadn’t by chance still had your brother’s number in my pocket- If he hadn’t taken me in...”
Troy swallowed again, and instinctively she moved forward and just held him as tightly as she could. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, try to imagine what might have happened. And to think she’d disliked him so much when they first met...
When he seemed to have recovered she gently let go, and he looked up at her, almost childlike.
“But what if they find me? What if they come after me? Toby thinks I’m worried for myself, but that’s not it - what if they hurt him? I never - I never thought I’d have someone like him, that I could be happy... And I’m so scared it’ll all be taken away.”
“Troy-” she began, but he shook his head, the vulnerable look abruptly replaced by scathing cynicism.
“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not going to the police. For starters, what would I say? ‘Oh by the way I was nearly gang-raped two years ago, please find them all and lock them up forever so I don’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.’ Yeah, that’ll work.”
He scoffed.
“Even if I thought they’d give a fuck about some random gay kid who got himself into a stupid fix, it’s not like they could do anything...”
Allison sat back on her heels, the answer coming to her so swiftly that she almost worried. It would appear that she couldn’t cut the ties with her previous life as completely as she’d imagined.
“You need Jack,” she said.
Troy tilted his head, and she explained.
“Jack is Torchwood. I know what you’re going to say, those thugs aren’t aliens, but Torchwood often branches out. And they’re... not the police. They can basically do what they want - and if that means tracking down some nasty people who deserve what’s coming to them, then I suspect they’ll be more than happy to. I swear to you, I’ll make sure you and Toby will be able to sleep soundly for the rest of your lives.”
She stood up, held out her hand.
“I’ll be seeing Jack at graduation, I’ll ask him then. You’re coming, right? You’ll have to tell him everything, but don’t worry - he’s incapable of being shocked.”
Troy took her hand, yet looked at her as if he suspected witch craft.
She smiled back, but had to admit some hard truths to herself...
One, she had so far been incredibly self-absorbed in her whole outlook, easily ignoring the fact that other people had come through far, far worse than she had; and Two... Apparently she was just as willing as Alex to manipulate and use dubious methods for her own benefit if she saw so fit.
And now graduation was looming...
What would he say? And how would she feel, seeing him again? How had he been coping? Where did they go from here?
She’d not heard a word, as if he’d vanished from the planet itself (which he probably had). Maybe he’d just buried himself in work like her? He'd said something about singing fish...
Chapter 28.