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Fic: Dating the Cleverest Boy in the World. Chapter 36.
This is - almost! - the last chapter. There will be an epilogue also, but then that's it.
It's very strange, having come this far. I posted the first part in the autumn of 2009 - so before the eleventh Doctor was even cast - and the first mention of Allison within the 'verse goes back to 2008.
Also, please make sure you've read Chapter 35 (posted shortly before the 50th Anniversary, so possibly overlooked? *g*), or this'll make no sense...
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: Spring 2044
Characters: Allison, others
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 5800 approx
Feedback: Makes my world go round... No really. You have no idea.
Dedication: For Lamia. ♥
Chapter 36
He looked exactly the same in almost every detail. She’d not seen him in fifteen years, yet it was as if he’d stepped straight out of her memories.
The T-shirt, jeans and trainers were identical, although the duffle coat she’d given him (its connotations probably too painful now) had been swapped for a faded green tweed jacket that was practically threadbare with age (a hand-me-down from one of his titled family, maybe an ancient hunting jacket he’d taken to?) - but jacket apart he was still just Alex, so familiar it felt like falling back through time and being eighteen years old again, properly in love for the first time and so sure love would conquer everything.
(This must have been how the older him had felt when he saw her... No wonder he’d been so shocked. Oh god, how was she supposed to even speak to him?)
He looked so young...
She’d known of course - ageing at different rates being one of the many, many issues she’d tried to get her head around... But it wasn’t fair that he looked 25-30 (at the most) and she looked... Well, younger than 37, but no one was going to knock ten years off her age.
(She was rambling, her mind stuck in a moment. And he still tilted his head just like so when he was puzzled... Why was he looking at her like that? Had she changed that much?)
Then he seemed to catch himself.
“You called. I came.”
In an instant reality reasserted itself.
“Can you help her?”
He smiled then, that small superior smile that she had often resented, but that now meant hope turning to fact.
“I would move galaxies if you so wished, you know that. I will make her good as new, promise.”
Stepping back she let him into the room, realising that Andrew was now staring at them as if he suspected that he himself was going mad.
“Um, I don’t think you’ve ever met? Alex - my husband, Andrew Starbeck. Andrew, this is Alexander Saxon.”
Shaking Alex’s hand as if in a daze, Andrew eventually found his voice.
“But - how the hell did you get here?”
“I’m a time traveller. Time Lord specifically. I received Allie’s message, traced the call back, found a solution and then timed my arrival to be a minute from when Allie called. No need to let you wait any longer than necessary.”
It was exactly what she had predicted, and she could see Andrew take this on board, as he looked from Alex and back to her. He was probably busy trying to remember what she’d said back that awful morning after their initial one-night-stand, dragging up everything she’d said about Alex being lying, cheating and manipulative... Alex didn’t look thrilled either, shooting Andrew a dark look.
“Right, show me the patient - I’m not enjoying feeling like Snape.”
(How had she forgotten his thing about stories? And Snape... It took a moment, then it clicked. Snape, unsuccessful in trying to win Lily’s love as she married James instead, yet going out of his way, continually, to protect her child, because of his unceasing love... It was not a comfortable allusion.)
Standing by the foot end of Emily’s bed, he turned.
“Can I have a closer look? 21st Century diagnostic tools and scanners are not as accurate as they could be.”
“Of course,” she replied, and could sense Andrew’s surprise when Alex walked up to the head of the bed, settling down beside their girl and gently laying his fingertips on her temples as he closed his eyes.
“He’s highly telepathic,” she whispered, and she could now sense Andrew’s unspoken discomfort loud and clear. “And don’t be like that. I trust him.”
Andrew opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a look. After a long moment Alex let his hands fall.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. But not unfixable.”
Reaching into an inside pocket he brought out a metal box about the size of a paperback book, a couple of inches deep. On the side it had several rows of buttons.
“I need you to place your hands here,” he said, holding the box out towards them and motioning the flat top, “a scan of the parental DNA is necessary for optimum results.”
Andrew followed Allison’s lead, but he still looked so sceptical she almost kicked him.
Ignoring both of them Alex busied himself with (she presumed) programming the box, his fingers practically dancing over the tiny buttons.
Then he opened the container, and a golden cloud seemed to lift and then cover Emily, as Alex quietly and efficiently walked around the bed, unhooking all the tubes attaching her to the machines that were keeping her alive...
‘I trust you, I trust you, I trust you...’ she repeated in her mind, watching the golden cloud - or maybe it was more like a swarm? It seemed to have individual motes...
And then every thought vanished from her head as Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes, the cloud disappearing back into the box as Alex stepped away from the bed.
“Mummy? Why am I in bed?”
Then she looked around, studying the hospital room with undiluted astonishment, before looking at her parents with worry.
“What happened?”
Rushing to her side, they both tried to explain that she had been in an accident, and Allison could have cried with joy - every bruise, every injury, gone as if never there.
Soon however, Emily noticed the fourth person in the room.
“Who are you?” she asked bluntly, and they all turned to Alex who had quietly moved into corner.
For a second he seemed uncertain, but then he smiled.
“I’m your fairy godfather. You can call me Mr O’Malley.”
“Huh?” Emily replied, looking at him with a frown. “What’s a fairy godfather?”
”Like a fairy godmother, just a boy instead,” Alex replied, walking up to the bed.
Emily slowly shook her head.
“But you don’t have any wings.”
“Not all fairies have wings,” he countered, sitting down next to her and studying her with great seriousness, as Allison moved away, cautiously curious, pulling Andrew with her. “Have you seen Cinderella? Her fairy godmother doesn’t have wings either.”
It took a moment before Emily caught onto the significance of the whole thing. She looked Alex up and down, tender hope warring with uncertainness.
“Are you... proper magic?” she eventually asked, voice breathless with excitement, and he nodded solemnly.
“Absolutely. You were very poorly, so your mother made a wish and I came and made you better.”
“But Mummy doesn’t believe in magic.”
He chuckled.
“You tell your mother from me that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
This clearly made no sense to Emily, yet she was obviously intrigued by this stranger.
“But are you magic. Proper, real magic. Do you live in fairy land? Do you use fairy dust?”
“Yes, and yes, little Miss Starbeck. Which is a beautiful name by the way. Do you know what a beck is? It’s another word for a stream. So you are like a very small river of stars. All bright, like your hair...”
She giggled.
“Mummy calls me Dandelion Head because my hair goes poof!”
She illustrated with her hands, miming her hair exploding.
“But what’s fairy land like? Is it like in Fantasia with all the fairies that make things frosty and the dancing mushrooms?”
He was now studying her with that selfsame interest and delight he always exhibited when he’d found something new, a focus that was unwavering in intensity, although here it was tempered with a gentleness that she vaguely recalled him exhibiting around children. And when he spoke, his voice sounded as if reciting something from a story book:
“My world is... not really like Disney. The grass is read and stretches all the way out to the horizon, unbroken. There are two suns shining in the sky, which is the colour of burnt orange, and the leaves on the trees are silver. And when the singing fish are migrating, it sounds as if the whole world is made of music.”
Emily was looking at him as if all her birthdays had come at once, her eyes shining. Then she turned to Allison with as much rightful indignation and triumph as could be contained within her four year old body.
“You see Mummy? Magic is real!”
Alex laughed softly, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Oh your mother knows - she’s been to my world once.”
Emily’s jaw dropped, and Allison could feel questions arise in Andrew also.
“Mummy! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Before Allison could answer however, Emily turned back to Alex, eyes wide as something had clearly struck her.
“Do you know if mushrooms smell like fairies’ bottoms?”
Alex didn’t falter for a moment. Indeed, he seemed beyond charmed, the previous tension having vanished entirely.
“Well, that depends if a fairy has been sitting on the mushroom or not.”
Her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, Emily then smiled widely.
“Are rainbows heavy or light? 'Cause I've been arguing with my friends.”
“They weight nothing at all - they're made of light and colours.”
“Why aren’t there any unicorns in the zoo?”
“The last wizard took them all away to fairy land to keep them safe. I was only a little boy then, but I got to help.”
“Really?” The word was barely above a breath, and Allison was now beginning to worry that it’d all be too much for Emily. How were they ever going to keep this up? Then Emily reached out, a chubby hand imploringly attaching itself to Alex’s sleeve.
“If you’re my fairy godfather, will you bring me fairy dust for my birthday present?”
A beat, then he slowly shook his head.
“I’m sorry, only fairies are allowed fairy dust. It could be dangerous around ordinary people.”
Seeing how her face fell, he put a finger under her chin.
“However, I brought some tonight to make you better. Would you like to see?”
And in front of Emily’s ever-widening eyes he brought out the box, opening it with a flourish - the golden cloud practically dancing out into the room, before weaving in and out in complex and beautiful patterns, and Allison could tell that even Andrew was enchanted. Her golden boy... Emily was right - it was like touching magic.
After a few minutes however, he herded his ‘fairy dust’ back in its box, and studied Emily with a touch of concern.
“I think you need a little rest Miss Starback. Magic needs time to stabilise, I’m sure you know that.”
“But I’m not the tiniest littlest bit tired!” she protested, as he reached out, his hands gently cradling her face.
“Not a problem, little princess.”
Within a second she was out, and he laid her back down on the bed, carefully covering her with the duvet.
“What did you do?” Andrew asked, by now in equal measures stunned and unsettled.
“Just put her to sleep for an hour or so, which should help all the restored parts of her mind settle. If you mean how did I fix her, then it wasn’t fairy dust, it was Chula technology - nano bots, programmed to rebuild living tissue. Wonderfully clever thing.”
He got up, patting his coat to make sure the box was still there, then attempted a smile.
“This was... Not what I expected. Your daughter is beyond delightful as I’m sure you know. But I really can’t stay, so I guess this is goodbye.”
Andrew frowned, like he wasn’t hearing correctly.
“You mean you’re leaving.”
“Yes? I didn’t think you’d have a problem with that...”
But Andrew shook his head, and Allison could feel something brewing. She just couldn’t work out what.
“That magic box of yours - nano bots or whatever it is - does it work on anyone?”
Alex nodded slowly.
“If it’s programmed right, yes.”
Allison had rarely seen Andrew properly angry, but she recognised the signs with alarm. Stepping up to Alex so they were face to face, he spoke slowly and deliberately:
“So let me get this straight. You are just going to leave. And you are expecting me to take my perfectly healed daughter and quite simply walk out of here.”
“I... I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Alex replied, and Andrew looked ready to punch him.
“There is a little boy down the corridor who was born with half his face missing and most of his insides on the outside. He’s three months old and he will probably not live to see his first birthday. There’s a ten year old girl who’s been battling a very rare cancer for years, and is losing the fight. There is a lad of seven two doors down who has a degenerative disease there is no cure for, and he is in constant pain. To mention but a few! You have a cure for all this - and you are going to leave them here to rot!”
Alex had gone completely still, and when he replied his voice was very, very quiet.
“I am not a hero or a god. The world and its problems are not my responsibility.”
Allison wanted to intervene somehow, wanted to warn Andrew that quiet meant dangerous when it came to Alex, although Andrew certainly had a point... She’d been too close, back then, to really take it all on board except for how it affected her and her choice. Andrew was far more blunt:
“You know what? I don’t give a shit about what you are. But you have a chance to end suffering right here and now. To help other children every bit as deserving as mine. Don’t you fucking dare walk out!”
And then - Alex smiled. The bright happy smile Allison thought she’d never see again. Ignoring Andrew entirely, he turned and caught her eyes.
“Loved by a good man. You see? Babushka was right.”
Andrew was staring from one to the other, his anger stumbling.
“What?”
Alex patted him on the arm.
“What that means, Mr Starbeck, is that I am all yours. Lead on, I’ll be your miracle maker for the day.”
A beat, then he tilted his head, studying the now speechless Andrew.
“You see, I thought she was making do. Stupid of me probably, but I’m hopelessly arrogant. Allie - I should have trusted you, I’m sorry.”
“What...” Andrew said, and Alex’s smile faded, until it was the selfsame sad little smile his older self would wear as armour, and Allison could feel her heart contracting.
“A long time ago Allison and I had our fortunes told. It was the summer we ran away with the circus - did she ever tell you about that? Anyway, Babushka seems to have been spot on, and I knew then, that- that I would probably lose her. I may be many things, but ‘a good man’ is never going to be an apt description. I hope you keep giving her everything I never could.”
And with that he pulled the box out of his pocket and strode out of the room, leaving Andrew to stand blinking in confusion.
Allison smiled, swiftly kissing him on the cheek.
“Told you he was like Ferris Bueller. Now go change people’s lives.”
(Her Alex... He would die saving the world, yet still resisting the labels for hero and villain. She dearly hoped he would one day find someone who would hold onto him the way she hadn’t been able to.)
Feeling unexpectantly exhausted, she sat down by Emily’s bedside, gently stroking her daughter’s unruly curls, watching as her chest slowly rose and fell, black eyelashes touching rosy cheeks without a hint of blemish - the nightmare of the past few days receding, yet she knew it would never be forgotten. She idly wondered what her life would have been like if she had never met Alex’s future self, if she’d had a choice, if she’d chosen differently... There would never have been a curious little girl whose existence turned around fairies and unicorns and magic. And she would not have been wooed with music and fallen in love with possibility and hope, would be living without Adelaide as friend and focal point... The mere thought of everything she could have lost without knowing it made her hand shake. She’d been so angry, she remembered, so upset at having had her choice taken away. With hindsight, she had known nothing at all about life; had no concept of what her choices had been.
And Alex’s future self had made sure she went down the right path - gently guiding her, showing her just enough to help her find her way. Had given her this life.
She had no idea how to thank him.
***
When Andrew and Alex returned, Andrew still bore the same expression - stunned, yet cautious.
“What exactly did you do to all the staff and... everything?”
Alex smiled secretively.
“Like I said, can’t have this turn into a news story. So I... took care of it. Torchwood will sort the rest.”
Andrew didn’t look convinced, but Alex changed his focus by adding: “I really do need to be going, although I suppose I should really offer my congratulations first.”
Andrew looked at Allison, who looked at Alex.
“What do you mean? Like, belated wedding congratulations?”
Studying her like she was some sort of imbecile, he shook his head.
“How can you not know?”
Then a thought appeared to occur to him.
“Of course - you’re only human.”
Eyes guarded, yet mischievous, he shot Andrew a look.
“Apologies Mr Starbeck, but I’m going to have to get up close and personal with your wife for a moment.”
In two steps he was beside her, before falling to his knees; resting his head against her belly, right hand spread out across her abdomen, frowning in concentration as Allison froze in surprise.
“Never done this before, need to concentrate. Hang on... ”
Slowly his eyes fell shut, the softest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth.
“It’s a boy!”
Allison could only stare at him open-mouthed, before lifting her head and catching Andrew’s eyes. He - if possible - looked even more shocked than she felt.
Letting go of her, Alex got back on his feet, looking from one to the other.
“So, congratulations on the next little Starbeck.”
Allison involuntarily brought her hands up to her stomach. She’d not been keeping track, but she couldn’t be more than a couple of days past when her period was due - and he could tell?
(Another baby. Another baby. How the hell would they fit another baby into their lives? Parts of her were panicking - morning sickness and swollen ankles and sleepless nights and 2 am feeds - although if today had taught her anything, it was that life was immensely precious. They’d have to make it work, somehow.)
“But how...” Andrew said, too stunned to take it in, and Allison’s mind immediately jumped on the question in a far too literal manner, realising that it must have been that night after the concert. The first proper concert of all his works; and he’d been so darn handsome and elated from the evening (white tie - it was where she’d gotten the idea for him being a Silver Fox), they’d never even considered... timing. A blush crept up her cheeks, which only intensified when she realised just how delicate and awkward the whole situation was with Alex right there...
Alex shrugged, but Allison - knowing him far too well, and still able to read him - knew that it was just a front. Could see the tenseness in his shoulders and the way his smile was a tiny bit too forced. She’d been too wrapped up in her own emotions to really think about what this must cost him - but to see her like this, literally carrying someone else’s child, having all the things he never could... It had to cut him too deep for words.
“Oh I knew the second I saw her. It’s... fairly obvious. The hormones and... everything.”
Allison could tell Andrew was trying to come to terms with all her own stumbling blocks - the sheer otherness that she had never quite managed to grapple with successfully. Slowly, however, he took his eyes off Alex and turned to her, and she could read every emotion on his face. Not just the revelation about the baby, but above that a single realisation: ‘You chose me.’ He had never - because she’d never talked about it - had any kind of real understanding of what she’d left behind. Now he did, and she walked over to him, taking his hand.
“Andrew - could I have just a moment alone with Alex? Please?”
He nodded, and she knew that they’d have many, many long talks later about all the things she’d failed to mention.
“Of course Al. I’ll go make some tea.”
A sort of spluttering noise interrupted them.
“Al? He calls you ‘Al’? And you haven’t killed him?”
Allison bit her lip.
“It’s... a thing. When we met. I-”
“Nevermind. Sorry. I should know you... Nevermind.”
A moment later they stood facing each other, alone for the first time since... Well, that was complicated.
“It’s strange,” she eventually said. “You look younger than me.”
For a second he seemed taken aback.
“I’m fifty-three,” he replied cautiously. “I got your call... a long, long time ago. Took me a while before I was ready to see you. Heck, just look at the jacket - I bought it the day I received your letter, way back, because I just needed some kind of... marker, some kind of break with the past. Chose it mostly because it looked hard wearing, although thirty years of use have rather taken its toll I suppose.”
Thirty years - it had been twice as long for him as for her. The jacket like a physical sign of the time that had gone... And yet - despite the fact that he was older than Andrew - he didn’t just look young, he... seemed young. (Ageing at different rates. It wasn’t just physical.) She wasn’t sure how to reply to what he’d said, and he obviously wasn’t expecting an answer as he continued almost immediately:
“Allie, just one question. Are you are happy? Is this what you wanted?”
She nodded, eyes welling up again.
“Yes. Yes, I am happy. In ways I can't even explain. If-”
She stopped, trying to get her thoughts under control. “Even if it was possible, I wouldn't change a thing. I'm sorry if that sounds..."
Her voice trailed off, because there was no nice way of saying it, but he merely shrugged lightly, a strangely bitter smile on his face that his words went on to explain.
“Of course I could change it - I just wanted to make sure. Hoped you didn’t have regrets...” He looked away. “Sorry, none of my business I know, I shouldn’t-”
But she shook her head, trying to make sure she was understanding him properly. It couldn’t be...
“But - it’s been thirty years for you. Surely you couldn’t rewrite your own life?”
He looked surprised.
“Course I could. Well, maybe not rewrite, but I could pluck us out of our timelines if I wanted to. It’d be... complex, but nothing a small paradox machine couldn’t cope with.”
Abruptly lowering his eyes, he looked away from her shocked face.
“Sorry again. That’s the kind of thing I shouldn’t say, I know. The kind of thing that made you leave in the first place. I am just fantastically talented at shooting myself in the foot.”
But she wasn’t listening, her mind containing only one thought: He’d lied. The older him, meeting the younger her... He’d lied. Had made her think they couldn’t be. Had forced her to embrace life, giving her this...
Abruptly she stepped forward, hugging him tightly and clinging like she would never let go.
“Thank you,” she said, voice hardly more than a whisper, trying not to let the tears overcome her. She could sense his surprise, and pulled away a little, looking into his eyes - his beautiful brown eyes... One day they would be blue and guarded, but they would still be his.
“Thank you for loving me enough to let go. For loving me enough to give me all this.”
He was studying her with surprise writ all over his face, clearly wondering what had brought this on. And she couldn’t tell him, because it was a message for the future... A message he wouldn’t understand for years and years. But one day - one day he’d meet her again, young and confused and lost, and he would selflessly step back and giver her a life she couldn’t have begun to imagine then... She wiped away a tear, shaking her head.
“Sorry, the last few days- I’m all over the place, emotionally. It’s just- I’d never know what I’d be missing, right? If you did it, I’d never know...”
It was now his turn to look shocked, with added incredulity on top and a dash of offence.
“Allison. What kind of person would I be to take all this away from you? All I ever wanted was to make you happy. And Andrew can obviously give you all the things I can’t... I know I’m not a-”
She cut him off by literally laying a finger across his lips. There were a few things she needed him to understand. Important things. He had helped her, the least she could do was to help him in return. His path was so much longer, but if nothing else she could set the record straight.
“Alex, listen. I know you won’t believe me, but you are a good man. And I hope that one day you’ll come to accept that. Maybe find someone who can convince you... But until then please take my word. Besides, I don’t love Andrew because of his sometimes rigid morals - as a matter of fact that’s something we usually argue about, and they nearly broke us up before we’d even got together. Please don’t think that somehow you didn’t measure up, or put yourself in the Snape box, because that’s just stupid and illogical. And...” she took his hands, looked into his eyes, needing him to understand. “If you really want to know, then Andrew and I... It was the music.”
It took a couple of seconds, but then she saw the jigsaw puzzles in his mind rearrange themselves into the correct pattern. (He was so impossibly clever - times like these it was a blessing.)
“Reach for the Stars?” he asked, with new-found comprehension and acceptance, and she nodded.
“Reach for the Stars.”
***
Early Spring 2030, Manchester
She was hopelessly jet lagged, but there was nothing to be done about that. Dragging her luggage through the door she noticed the mountains of post on the table and could feel her heart sink. Who’d have thought half a year in America could pile up to such an extent? She had meant to come back for Christmas, but one of her fellow students had invited her to stay ‘for the Holidays’ and it had been great to experience an American Christmas. Not to mention that it had stopped there from being any reminders of Alex...
Toby and Troy had looked after the flat for her, and assured her that they had gotten rid of all the junk mail. Even so... After making a cup of tea (they had stocked up her fridge, she’d have to kiss them both!) she settled down to sort through everything.
A large A4 envelope caught her eyes, and she pulled it out from beneath a pile, causing the whole thing to topple to the floor. But she hardly noticed, as she realised the envelope had no address written on it, instead bearing only the word ‘Al’.
Puzzled she tore it open. It contained what appeared to be sheets of music, with a hand-written letter on top.
Below he had scribbled a web address, followed by ‘Password: You’re clever, work it out’.
Turning her eyes from the letter to the music, she read the title:
‘(For Allison, who taught me to) Reach for the Stars.
A musical piece for orchestra, with flute and piano’
She glanced at the sheet music, but then decided to listen instead. Plugging her phone into the sound system, it took her a moment to work out the password for the website, but then she laughed and typed it in.
The music began, and initially she was puzzled. It was clearly a celestial theme, wide and expansive, but - strangely at odds with it - was the piano. As though it were playing an entirely different piece of music, the rhythm jarring - small and low-key, uninterested in the grand scope of the orchestra. Then the flute joined, but rather than follow the piano it expanded upon the main theme, bright, clear and jubilant, and the piano in turn began to falter, stuttering in its tune. She listened, breath caught, as the two instruments seemed to argue, sometimes intersecting, sometimes clashing, until things came to a head and they both stopped. The orchestra continued, unaffected, and after a moment the flute came back, more quiet, but still picking up on the wider theme. Another moment, and then... the piano joined. At first unsure, picking up a note here and a note there, but slowly it built, interweaving its original tune with the orchestra and supporting the flute, the flute soaring higher than before - the piece ending with the two instruments triumphantly ascending, building and re-imagining the celestial theme all over.
It wasn’t until the piece ended that she realised she was crying. How had he done that? How had he wrapped up all his feelings, everything they were and could be, and turned it into music?
Looking at the envelope, she was suddenly gripped with fear. How long had it been there? How long had he waited? Since before Christmas maybe? Had he thought Toby and Troy had sent it to her? Did he think she wasn’t interested?
Glancing at the clock - it was now midmorning - she decided she didn’t have a moment to waste. It was possibly due to the jet lag and the lack of sleep, but it was imperative that she see him as soon as she could, making sure she grasped this opportunity. She had lost one love through lack of momentum, she wouldn’t lose another. Because he loved her, wanted her to soar and reach for the stars - the stars that she had apparently help him see for the first time... of that the music had left her absolutely sure. And he’d be there, the stabilising piano supporting her high flying ideas...
She reached his school in less than half an hour, and to her relief the lady at reception remembered her from the previous spring when she’d done her talk, even going to the trouble of telling her where she could find Andrew - he’d be finishing a lesson any minute and then there’d be a ten minute break...
She barely heard the last part, already setting off along a corridor, teenagers moving along slowly, watching her with puzzled eyes.
She got to the classroom in question just as he emerged out of the door, staring at her with pure astonishment. He’d not changed at all - same beard and colourful shirt, leather satchel slung over his shoulder.
“Al? What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, she put her arms around him and just kissed him. For a moment he appeared frozen, but then he folded his arms around her in response, deepening the kiss as if this was all they’d ever done. She could faintly hear wolf whistles and cat calling from the kids, but she didn’t care.
When she eventually pulled away, his face was delighted but deeply surprised, and all around there were young voices trying to get catch their attention and talking to each other.
“Sir! Sir! Is that your girlfriend?”
“Sir! Sir! Do you know she’s really scary?”
“Scary? Really? She don’t look scary.”
“She’s the one who came to do that talk last year about science and stuff? And Kyle was being a moron like he always is and she proper told him off - like, he was all ‘I’m sorry Miss, I won’t talk like that again, Miss’. Totally terrified.”
“I remember that! Proper good that was, Kyle’s such a jerk. And she’s, like, all inspirational and stuff and dead clever. I’m going to do marine biology because of her.”
But Andrew ignored them all, watching only her.
“Al...” he said, almost helplessly, and she smiled, feeling like she was grasping onto life for the first time in what seemed like years.
“The answer is yes.”
“To... the dedication?”
“To everything. You and me...” She almost laughed with the sheer joy of the moment. “I’m going to send people to Mars, and you are going to write the music. And we? Are going to be happy.”
***
She saw the Seeker once more, years later, whilst on holiday in Venice for their 25th wedding anniversary. It was Andrew who pointed him out, saying ‘Look at that guy - his coat’s like a post box!’
She turned, and instantly spotted the coat wearer in the distance. He was a distinctively featured man with vividly orange hair, standing in a gondola and holding out his hand to a pretty, brown haired woman who looked vaguely familiar. She was laughing, and Allison - taking in the way the woman snuggled up to him once they were seated - figured she had to be something far more intimate than ‘just a friend’.
She smiled, and held on more tightly to Andrew’s arm. A last worry had finally been laid to rest.
‘Maybe we were never meant to be, my beautiful, golden boy - time and impossibility tearing us apart. But I am glad we have both found happiness even so.’
Epilogue
It's very strange, having come this far. I posted the first part in the autumn of 2009 - so before the eleventh Doctor was even cast - and the first mention of Allison within the 'verse goes back to 2008.
Also, please make sure you've read Chapter 35 (posted shortly before the 50th Anniversary, so possibly overlooked? *g*), or this'll make no sense...
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: Spring 2044
Characters: Allison, others
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 5800 approx
Feedback: Makes my world go round... No really. You have no idea.
Dedication: For Lamia. ♥
Chapter 36
He looked exactly the same in almost every detail. She’d not seen him in fifteen years, yet it was as if he’d stepped straight out of her memories.
The T-shirt, jeans and trainers were identical, although the duffle coat she’d given him (its connotations probably too painful now) had been swapped for a faded green tweed jacket that was practically threadbare with age (a hand-me-down from one of his titled family, maybe an ancient hunting jacket he’d taken to?) - but jacket apart he was still just Alex, so familiar it felt like falling back through time and being eighteen years old again, properly in love for the first time and so sure love would conquer everything.
(This must have been how the older him had felt when he saw her... No wonder he’d been so shocked. Oh god, how was she supposed to even speak to him?)
He looked so young...
She’d known of course - ageing at different rates being one of the many, many issues she’d tried to get her head around... But it wasn’t fair that he looked 25-30 (at the most) and she looked... Well, younger than 37, but no one was going to knock ten years off her age.
(She was rambling, her mind stuck in a moment. And he still tilted his head just like so when he was puzzled... Why was he looking at her like that? Had she changed that much?)
Then he seemed to catch himself.
“You called. I came.”
In an instant reality reasserted itself.
“Can you help her?”
He smiled then, that small superior smile that she had often resented, but that now meant hope turning to fact.
“I would move galaxies if you so wished, you know that. I will make her good as new, promise.”
Stepping back she let him into the room, realising that Andrew was now staring at them as if he suspected that he himself was going mad.
“Um, I don’t think you’ve ever met? Alex - my husband, Andrew Starbeck. Andrew, this is Alexander Saxon.”
Shaking Alex’s hand as if in a daze, Andrew eventually found his voice.
“But - how the hell did you get here?”
“I’m a time traveller. Time Lord specifically. I received Allie’s message, traced the call back, found a solution and then timed my arrival to be a minute from when Allie called. No need to let you wait any longer than necessary.”
It was exactly what she had predicted, and she could see Andrew take this on board, as he looked from Alex and back to her. He was probably busy trying to remember what she’d said back that awful morning after their initial one-night-stand, dragging up everything she’d said about Alex being lying, cheating and manipulative... Alex didn’t look thrilled either, shooting Andrew a dark look.
“Right, show me the patient - I’m not enjoying feeling like Snape.”
(How had she forgotten his thing about stories? And Snape... It took a moment, then it clicked. Snape, unsuccessful in trying to win Lily’s love as she married James instead, yet going out of his way, continually, to protect her child, because of his unceasing love... It was not a comfortable allusion.)
Standing by the foot end of Emily’s bed, he turned.
“Can I have a closer look? 21st Century diagnostic tools and scanners are not as accurate as they could be.”
“Of course,” she replied, and could sense Andrew’s surprise when Alex walked up to the head of the bed, settling down beside their girl and gently laying his fingertips on her temples as he closed his eyes.
“He’s highly telepathic,” she whispered, and she could now sense Andrew’s unspoken discomfort loud and clear. “And don’t be like that. I trust him.”
Andrew opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a look. After a long moment Alex let his hands fall.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. But not unfixable.”
Reaching into an inside pocket he brought out a metal box about the size of a paperback book, a couple of inches deep. On the side it had several rows of buttons.
“I need you to place your hands here,” he said, holding the box out towards them and motioning the flat top, “a scan of the parental DNA is necessary for optimum results.”
Andrew followed Allison’s lead, but he still looked so sceptical she almost kicked him.
Ignoring both of them Alex busied himself with (she presumed) programming the box, his fingers practically dancing over the tiny buttons.
Then he opened the container, and a golden cloud seemed to lift and then cover Emily, as Alex quietly and efficiently walked around the bed, unhooking all the tubes attaching her to the machines that were keeping her alive...
‘I trust you, I trust you, I trust you...’ she repeated in her mind, watching the golden cloud - or maybe it was more like a swarm? It seemed to have individual motes...
And then every thought vanished from her head as Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes, the cloud disappearing back into the box as Alex stepped away from the bed.
“Mummy? Why am I in bed?”
Then she looked around, studying the hospital room with undiluted astonishment, before looking at her parents with worry.
“What happened?”
Rushing to her side, they both tried to explain that she had been in an accident, and Allison could have cried with joy - every bruise, every injury, gone as if never there.
Soon however, Emily noticed the fourth person in the room.
“Who are you?” she asked bluntly, and they all turned to Alex who had quietly moved into corner.
For a second he seemed uncertain, but then he smiled.
“I’m your fairy godfather. You can call me Mr O’Malley.”
“Huh?” Emily replied, looking at him with a frown. “What’s a fairy godfather?”
”Like a fairy godmother, just a boy instead,” Alex replied, walking up to the bed.
Emily slowly shook her head.
“But you don’t have any wings.”
“Not all fairies have wings,” he countered, sitting down next to her and studying her with great seriousness, as Allison moved away, cautiously curious, pulling Andrew with her. “Have you seen Cinderella? Her fairy godmother doesn’t have wings either.”
It took a moment before Emily caught onto the significance of the whole thing. She looked Alex up and down, tender hope warring with uncertainness.
“Are you... proper magic?” she eventually asked, voice breathless with excitement, and he nodded solemnly.
“Absolutely. You were very poorly, so your mother made a wish and I came and made you better.”
“But Mummy doesn’t believe in magic.”
He chuckled.
“You tell your mother from me that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
This clearly made no sense to Emily, yet she was obviously intrigued by this stranger.
“But are you magic. Proper, real magic. Do you live in fairy land? Do you use fairy dust?”
“Yes, and yes, little Miss Starbeck. Which is a beautiful name by the way. Do you know what a beck is? It’s another word for a stream. So you are like a very small river of stars. All bright, like your hair...”
She giggled.
“Mummy calls me Dandelion Head because my hair goes poof!”
She illustrated with her hands, miming her hair exploding.
“But what’s fairy land like? Is it like in Fantasia with all the fairies that make things frosty and the dancing mushrooms?”
He was now studying her with that selfsame interest and delight he always exhibited when he’d found something new, a focus that was unwavering in intensity, although here it was tempered with a gentleness that she vaguely recalled him exhibiting around children. And when he spoke, his voice sounded as if reciting something from a story book:
“My world is... not really like Disney. The grass is read and stretches all the way out to the horizon, unbroken. There are two suns shining in the sky, which is the colour of burnt orange, and the leaves on the trees are silver. And when the singing fish are migrating, it sounds as if the whole world is made of music.”
Emily was looking at him as if all her birthdays had come at once, her eyes shining. Then she turned to Allison with as much rightful indignation and triumph as could be contained within her four year old body.
“You see Mummy? Magic is real!”
Alex laughed softly, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Oh your mother knows - she’s been to my world once.”
Emily’s jaw dropped, and Allison could feel questions arise in Andrew also.
“Mummy! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Before Allison could answer however, Emily turned back to Alex, eyes wide as something had clearly struck her.
“Do you know if mushrooms smell like fairies’ bottoms?”
Alex didn’t falter for a moment. Indeed, he seemed beyond charmed, the previous tension having vanished entirely.
“Well, that depends if a fairy has been sitting on the mushroom or not.”
Her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, Emily then smiled widely.
“Are rainbows heavy or light? 'Cause I've been arguing with my friends.”
“They weight nothing at all - they're made of light and colours.”
“Why aren’t there any unicorns in the zoo?”
“The last wizard took them all away to fairy land to keep them safe. I was only a little boy then, but I got to help.”
“Really?” The word was barely above a breath, and Allison was now beginning to worry that it’d all be too much for Emily. How were they ever going to keep this up? Then Emily reached out, a chubby hand imploringly attaching itself to Alex’s sleeve.
“If you’re my fairy godfather, will you bring me fairy dust for my birthday present?”
A beat, then he slowly shook his head.
“I’m sorry, only fairies are allowed fairy dust. It could be dangerous around ordinary people.”
Seeing how her face fell, he put a finger under her chin.
“However, I brought some tonight to make you better. Would you like to see?”
And in front of Emily’s ever-widening eyes he brought out the box, opening it with a flourish - the golden cloud practically dancing out into the room, before weaving in and out in complex and beautiful patterns, and Allison could tell that even Andrew was enchanted. Her golden boy... Emily was right - it was like touching magic.
After a few minutes however, he herded his ‘fairy dust’ back in its box, and studied Emily with a touch of concern.
“I think you need a little rest Miss Starback. Magic needs time to stabilise, I’m sure you know that.”
“But I’m not the tiniest littlest bit tired!” she protested, as he reached out, his hands gently cradling her face.
“Not a problem, little princess.”
Within a second she was out, and he laid her back down on the bed, carefully covering her with the duvet.
“What did you do?” Andrew asked, by now in equal measures stunned and unsettled.
“Just put her to sleep for an hour or so, which should help all the restored parts of her mind settle. If you mean how did I fix her, then it wasn’t fairy dust, it was Chula technology - nano bots, programmed to rebuild living tissue. Wonderfully clever thing.”
He got up, patting his coat to make sure the box was still there, then attempted a smile.
“This was... Not what I expected. Your daughter is beyond delightful as I’m sure you know. But I really can’t stay, so I guess this is goodbye.”
Andrew frowned, like he wasn’t hearing correctly.
“You mean you’re leaving.”
“Yes? I didn’t think you’d have a problem with that...”
But Andrew shook his head, and Allison could feel something brewing. She just couldn’t work out what.
“That magic box of yours - nano bots or whatever it is - does it work on anyone?”
Alex nodded slowly.
“If it’s programmed right, yes.”
Allison had rarely seen Andrew properly angry, but she recognised the signs with alarm. Stepping up to Alex so they were face to face, he spoke slowly and deliberately:
“So let me get this straight. You are just going to leave. And you are expecting me to take my perfectly healed daughter and quite simply walk out of here.”
“I... I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Alex replied, and Andrew looked ready to punch him.
“There is a little boy down the corridor who was born with half his face missing and most of his insides on the outside. He’s three months old and he will probably not live to see his first birthday. There’s a ten year old girl who’s been battling a very rare cancer for years, and is losing the fight. There is a lad of seven two doors down who has a degenerative disease there is no cure for, and he is in constant pain. To mention but a few! You have a cure for all this - and you are going to leave them here to rot!”
Alex had gone completely still, and when he replied his voice was very, very quiet.
“I am not a hero or a god. The world and its problems are not my responsibility.”
Allison wanted to intervene somehow, wanted to warn Andrew that quiet meant dangerous when it came to Alex, although Andrew certainly had a point... She’d been too close, back then, to really take it all on board except for how it affected her and her choice. Andrew was far more blunt:
“You know what? I don’t give a shit about what you are. But you have a chance to end suffering right here and now. To help other children every bit as deserving as mine. Don’t you fucking dare walk out!”
And then - Alex smiled. The bright happy smile Allison thought she’d never see again. Ignoring Andrew entirely, he turned and caught her eyes.
“Loved by a good man. You see? Babushka was right.”
Andrew was staring from one to the other, his anger stumbling.
“What?”
Alex patted him on the arm.
“What that means, Mr Starbeck, is that I am all yours. Lead on, I’ll be your miracle maker for the day.”
A beat, then he tilted his head, studying the now speechless Andrew.
“You see, I thought she was making do. Stupid of me probably, but I’m hopelessly arrogant. Allie - I should have trusted you, I’m sorry.”
“What...” Andrew said, and Alex’s smile faded, until it was the selfsame sad little smile his older self would wear as armour, and Allison could feel her heart contracting.
“A long time ago Allison and I had our fortunes told. It was the summer we ran away with the circus - did she ever tell you about that? Anyway, Babushka seems to have been spot on, and I knew then, that- that I would probably lose her. I may be many things, but ‘a good man’ is never going to be an apt description. I hope you keep giving her everything I never could.”
And with that he pulled the box out of his pocket and strode out of the room, leaving Andrew to stand blinking in confusion.
Allison smiled, swiftly kissing him on the cheek.
“Told you he was like Ferris Bueller. Now go change people’s lives.”
(Her Alex... He would die saving the world, yet still resisting the labels for hero and villain. She dearly hoped he would one day find someone who would hold onto him the way she hadn’t been able to.)
Feeling unexpectantly exhausted, she sat down by Emily’s bedside, gently stroking her daughter’s unruly curls, watching as her chest slowly rose and fell, black eyelashes touching rosy cheeks without a hint of blemish - the nightmare of the past few days receding, yet she knew it would never be forgotten. She idly wondered what her life would have been like if she had never met Alex’s future self, if she’d had a choice, if she’d chosen differently... There would never have been a curious little girl whose existence turned around fairies and unicorns and magic. And she would not have been wooed with music and fallen in love with possibility and hope, would be living without Adelaide as friend and focal point... The mere thought of everything she could have lost without knowing it made her hand shake. She’d been so angry, she remembered, so upset at having had her choice taken away. With hindsight, she had known nothing at all about life; had no concept of what her choices had been.
And Alex’s future self had made sure she went down the right path - gently guiding her, showing her just enough to help her find her way. Had given her this life.
She had no idea how to thank him.
When Andrew and Alex returned, Andrew still bore the same expression - stunned, yet cautious.
“What exactly did you do to all the staff and... everything?”
Alex smiled secretively.
“Like I said, can’t have this turn into a news story. So I... took care of it. Torchwood will sort the rest.”
Andrew didn’t look convinced, but Alex changed his focus by adding: “I really do need to be going, although I suppose I should really offer my congratulations first.”
Andrew looked at Allison, who looked at Alex.
“What do you mean? Like, belated wedding congratulations?”
Studying her like she was some sort of imbecile, he shook his head.
“How can you not know?”
Then a thought appeared to occur to him.
“Of course - you’re only human.”
Eyes guarded, yet mischievous, he shot Andrew a look.
“Apologies Mr Starbeck, but I’m going to have to get up close and personal with your wife for a moment.”
In two steps he was beside her, before falling to his knees; resting his head against her belly, right hand spread out across her abdomen, frowning in concentration as Allison froze in surprise.
“Never done this before, need to concentrate. Hang on... ”
Slowly his eyes fell shut, the softest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth.
“It’s a boy!”
Allison could only stare at him open-mouthed, before lifting her head and catching Andrew’s eyes. He - if possible - looked even more shocked than she felt.
Letting go of her, Alex got back on his feet, looking from one to the other.
“So, congratulations on the next little Starbeck.”
Allison involuntarily brought her hands up to her stomach. She’d not been keeping track, but she couldn’t be more than a couple of days past when her period was due - and he could tell?
(Another baby. Another baby. How the hell would they fit another baby into their lives? Parts of her were panicking - morning sickness and swollen ankles and sleepless nights and 2 am feeds - although if today had taught her anything, it was that life was immensely precious. They’d have to make it work, somehow.)
“But how...” Andrew said, too stunned to take it in, and Allison’s mind immediately jumped on the question in a far too literal manner, realising that it must have been that night after the concert. The first proper concert of all his works; and he’d been so darn handsome and elated from the evening (white tie - it was where she’d gotten the idea for him being a Silver Fox), they’d never even considered... timing. A blush crept up her cheeks, which only intensified when she realised just how delicate and awkward the whole situation was with Alex right there...
Alex shrugged, but Allison - knowing him far too well, and still able to read him - knew that it was just a front. Could see the tenseness in his shoulders and the way his smile was a tiny bit too forced. She’d been too wrapped up in her own emotions to really think about what this must cost him - but to see her like this, literally carrying someone else’s child, having all the things he never could... It had to cut him too deep for words.
“Oh I knew the second I saw her. It’s... fairly obvious. The hormones and... everything.”
Allison could tell Andrew was trying to come to terms with all her own stumbling blocks - the sheer otherness that she had never quite managed to grapple with successfully. Slowly, however, he took his eyes off Alex and turned to her, and she could read every emotion on his face. Not just the revelation about the baby, but above that a single realisation: ‘You chose me.’ He had never - because she’d never talked about it - had any kind of real understanding of what she’d left behind. Now he did, and she walked over to him, taking his hand.
“Andrew - could I have just a moment alone with Alex? Please?”
He nodded, and she knew that they’d have many, many long talks later about all the things she’d failed to mention.
“Of course Al. I’ll go make some tea.”
A sort of spluttering noise interrupted them.
“Al? He calls you ‘Al’? And you haven’t killed him?”
Allison bit her lip.
“It’s... a thing. When we met. I-”
“Nevermind. Sorry. I should know you... Nevermind.”
A moment later they stood facing each other, alone for the first time since... Well, that was complicated.
“It’s strange,” she eventually said. “You look younger than me.”
For a second he seemed taken aback.
“I’m fifty-three,” he replied cautiously. “I got your call... a long, long time ago. Took me a while before I was ready to see you. Heck, just look at the jacket - I bought it the day I received your letter, way back, because I just needed some kind of... marker, some kind of break with the past. Chose it mostly because it looked hard wearing, although thirty years of use have rather taken its toll I suppose.”
Thirty years - it had been twice as long for him as for her. The jacket like a physical sign of the time that had gone... And yet - despite the fact that he was older than Andrew - he didn’t just look young, he... seemed young. (Ageing at different rates. It wasn’t just physical.) She wasn’t sure how to reply to what he’d said, and he obviously wasn’t expecting an answer as he continued almost immediately:
“Allie, just one question. Are you are happy? Is this what you wanted?”
She nodded, eyes welling up again.
“Yes. Yes, I am happy. In ways I can't even explain. If-”
She stopped, trying to get her thoughts under control. “Even if it was possible, I wouldn't change a thing. I'm sorry if that sounds..."
Her voice trailed off, because there was no nice way of saying it, but he merely shrugged lightly, a strangely bitter smile on his face that his words went on to explain.
“Of course I could change it - I just wanted to make sure. Hoped you didn’t have regrets...” He looked away. “Sorry, none of my business I know, I shouldn’t-”
But she shook her head, trying to make sure she was understanding him properly. It couldn’t be...
“But - it’s been thirty years for you. Surely you couldn’t rewrite your own life?”
He looked surprised.
“Course I could. Well, maybe not rewrite, but I could pluck us out of our timelines if I wanted to. It’d be... complex, but nothing a small paradox machine couldn’t cope with.”
Abruptly lowering his eyes, he looked away from her shocked face.
“Sorry again. That’s the kind of thing I shouldn’t say, I know. The kind of thing that made you leave in the first place. I am just fantastically talented at shooting myself in the foot.”
But she wasn’t listening, her mind containing only one thought: He’d lied. The older him, meeting the younger her... He’d lied. Had made her think they couldn’t be. Had forced her to embrace life, giving her this...
Abruptly she stepped forward, hugging him tightly and clinging like she would never let go.
“Thank you,” she said, voice hardly more than a whisper, trying not to let the tears overcome her. She could sense his surprise, and pulled away a little, looking into his eyes - his beautiful brown eyes... One day they would be blue and guarded, but they would still be his.
“Thank you for loving me enough to let go. For loving me enough to give me all this.”
He was studying her with surprise writ all over his face, clearly wondering what had brought this on. And she couldn’t tell him, because it was a message for the future... A message he wouldn’t understand for years and years. But one day - one day he’d meet her again, young and confused and lost, and he would selflessly step back and giver her a life she couldn’t have begun to imagine then... She wiped away a tear, shaking her head.
“Sorry, the last few days- I’m all over the place, emotionally. It’s just- I’d never know what I’d be missing, right? If you did it, I’d never know...”
It was now his turn to look shocked, with added incredulity on top and a dash of offence.
“Allison. What kind of person would I be to take all this away from you? All I ever wanted was to make you happy. And Andrew can obviously give you all the things I can’t... I know I’m not a-”
She cut him off by literally laying a finger across his lips. There were a few things she needed him to understand. Important things. He had helped her, the least she could do was to help him in return. His path was so much longer, but if nothing else she could set the record straight.
“Alex, listen. I know you won’t believe me, but you are a good man. And I hope that one day you’ll come to accept that. Maybe find someone who can convince you... But until then please take my word. Besides, I don’t love Andrew because of his sometimes rigid morals - as a matter of fact that’s something we usually argue about, and they nearly broke us up before we’d even got together. Please don’t think that somehow you didn’t measure up, or put yourself in the Snape box, because that’s just stupid and illogical. And...” she took his hands, looked into his eyes, needing him to understand. “If you really want to know, then Andrew and I... It was the music.”
It took a couple of seconds, but then she saw the jigsaw puzzles in his mind rearrange themselves into the correct pattern. (He was so impossibly clever - times like these it was a blessing.)
“Reach for the Stars?” he asked, with new-found comprehension and acceptance, and she nodded.
“Reach for the Stars.”
Early Spring 2030, Manchester
She was hopelessly jet lagged, but there was nothing to be done about that. Dragging her luggage through the door she noticed the mountains of post on the table and could feel her heart sink. Who’d have thought half a year in America could pile up to such an extent? She had meant to come back for Christmas, but one of her fellow students had invited her to stay ‘for the Holidays’ and it had been great to experience an American Christmas. Not to mention that it had stopped there from being any reminders of Alex...
Toby and Troy had looked after the flat for her, and assured her that they had gotten rid of all the junk mail. Even so... After making a cup of tea (they had stocked up her fridge, she’d have to kiss them both!) she settled down to sort through everything.
A large A4 envelope caught her eyes, and she pulled it out from beneath a pile, causing the whole thing to topple to the floor. But she hardly noticed, as she realised the envelope had no address written on it, instead bearing only the word ‘Al’.
Puzzled she tore it open. It contained what appeared to be sheets of music, with a hand-written letter on top.
Al
So, I wrote this, and I want to dedicate it to you. Not just for pestering me about trying to follow my dreams, but also for helping me to notice how much bigger the world is. If you’re not happy to have your name associated with it, don’t worry - I know we didn’t part on the best of terms. I just wanted you to have this. I hope you understand what I was trying to do.
Yours,
Andrew
Below he had scribbled a web address, followed by ‘Password: You’re clever, work it out’.
Turning her eyes from the letter to the music, she read the title:
A musical piece for orchestra, with flute and piano’
She glanced at the sheet music, but then decided to listen instead. Plugging her phone into the sound system, it took her a moment to work out the password for the website, but then she laughed and typed it in.
(What followed was not at all what she had expected. Not least, because it would change her life.)
The music began, and initially she was puzzled. It was clearly a celestial theme, wide and expansive, but - strangely at odds with it - was the piano. As though it were playing an entirely different piece of music, the rhythm jarring - small and low-key, uninterested in the grand scope of the orchestra. Then the flute joined, but rather than follow the piano it expanded upon the main theme, bright, clear and jubilant, and the piano in turn began to falter, stuttering in its tune. She listened, breath caught, as the two instruments seemed to argue, sometimes intersecting, sometimes clashing, until things came to a head and they both stopped. The orchestra continued, unaffected, and after a moment the flute came back, more quiet, but still picking up on the wider theme. Another moment, and then... the piano joined. At first unsure, picking up a note here and a note there, but slowly it built, interweaving its original tune with the orchestra and supporting the flute, the flute soaring higher than before - the piece ending with the two instruments triumphantly ascending, building and re-imagining the celestial theme all over.
It wasn’t until the piece ended that she realised she was crying. How had he done that? How had he wrapped up all his feelings, everything they were and could be, and turned it into music?
Looking at the envelope, she was suddenly gripped with fear. How long had it been there? How long had he waited? Since before Christmas maybe? Had he thought Toby and Troy had sent it to her? Did he think she wasn’t interested?
Glancing at the clock - it was now midmorning - she decided she didn’t have a moment to waste. It was possibly due to the jet lag and the lack of sleep, but it was imperative that she see him as soon as she could, making sure she grasped this opportunity. She had lost one love through lack of momentum, she wouldn’t lose another. Because he loved her, wanted her to soar and reach for the stars - the stars that she had apparently help him see for the first time... of that the music had left her absolutely sure. And he’d be there, the stabilising piano supporting her high flying ideas...
She reached his school in less than half an hour, and to her relief the lady at reception remembered her from the previous spring when she’d done her talk, even going to the trouble of telling her where she could find Andrew - he’d be finishing a lesson any minute and then there’d be a ten minute break...
She barely heard the last part, already setting off along a corridor, teenagers moving along slowly, watching her with puzzled eyes.
She got to the classroom in question just as he emerged out of the door, staring at her with pure astonishment. He’d not changed at all - same beard and colourful shirt, leather satchel slung over his shoulder.
“Al? What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, she put her arms around him and just kissed him. For a moment he appeared frozen, but then he folded his arms around her in response, deepening the kiss as if this was all they’d ever done. She could faintly hear wolf whistles and cat calling from the kids, but she didn’t care.
When she eventually pulled away, his face was delighted but deeply surprised, and all around there were young voices trying to get catch their attention and talking to each other.
“Sir! Sir! Is that your girlfriend?”
“Sir! Sir! Do you know she’s really scary?”
“Scary? Really? She don’t look scary.”
“She’s the one who came to do that talk last year about science and stuff? And Kyle was being a moron like he always is and she proper told him off - like, he was all ‘I’m sorry Miss, I won’t talk like that again, Miss’. Totally terrified.”
“I remember that! Proper good that was, Kyle’s such a jerk. And she’s, like, all inspirational and stuff and dead clever. I’m going to do marine biology because of her.”
But Andrew ignored them all, watching only her.
“Al...” he said, almost helplessly, and she smiled, feeling like she was grasping onto life for the first time in what seemed like years.
“The answer is yes.”
“To... the dedication?”
“To everything. You and me...” She almost laughed with the sheer joy of the moment. “I’m going to send people to Mars, and you are going to write the music. And we? Are going to be happy.”
She saw the Seeker once more, years later, whilst on holiday in Venice for their 25th wedding anniversary. It was Andrew who pointed him out, saying ‘Look at that guy - his coat’s like a post box!’
She turned, and instantly spotted the coat wearer in the distance. He was a distinctively featured man with vividly orange hair, standing in a gondola and holding out his hand to a pretty, brown haired woman who looked vaguely familiar. She was laughing, and Allison - taking in the way the woman snuggled up to him once they were seated - figured she had to be something far more intimate than ‘just a friend’.
She smiled, and held on more tightly to Andrew’s arm. A last worry had finally been laid to rest.
‘Maybe we were never meant to be, my beautiful, golden boy - time and impossibility tearing us apart. But I am glad we have both found happiness even so.’
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The description of the music actually made me cry…
Thank you.
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Thank you! <3 And yes, they were the obvious solution. Plus, they handily could double up as fairy dust! *g*
The description of the music actually made me cry…
Really? That makes me more pleased than I can explain. It's very difficult to put something like that across in writing, but I tried. And I wanted people to understand why she made the choice she did.
And thank you for reading!
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(DOLPHIN NOISES VERY ACCEPTABLE!)
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Seeing the how things turned out, watching Allison compare both of the lives she could have lived, it helped to sooth my wounded shipper heart. The how and why of how she got back together with Andrew is wonderful. Both of them ended up obtaining their dreams through the other, even if they weren't sure what those dreams really were until they happened.
The final little bit, where Allison sees Seeker during their anniversary trip, was a wonderful note to end things on. The idea of both of them finding happiness helped to dull the ache of them having to pursue their own separate lives.
I've really enjoyed the journey they story has taken me on. It was a wonderful trip, and I'm very glad I took a chance and decided to read it (cause I am still woefully under informed about the whoniverse). Thanks for sharing it with all of us.
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Oh, I can see that. :)
Alex's whole interaction with Emily was wonderful. I might have had my hands in front of my face making little squeaks of adorbs the whole time I was reading.
♥ (Although I hope she wasn't sickeningly cute? OTOH I did want to show how no one in their right mind would want to rewrite time so she never existed.)
Seeing the how things turned out, watching Allison compare both of the lives she could have lived, it helped to sooth my wounded shipper heart.
Oh good! As that was exactly what I was aiming for. It's not that she and Alex wouldn't have been great together, but the time just wasn't right. Also I wanted her to have ALL THE THINGS, and whilst Alex could give her all the stars in the sky, he couldn't give her an Emily.
The how and why of how she got back together with Andrew is wonderful. Both of them ended up obtaining their dreams through the other, even if they weren't sure what those dreams really were until they happened.
Oooh, I love how you put that! Yes, exactly. There is definitely an element of turning Allison into an Alex-like figure (inspirational and with vision outside of the narrow confines of the world), but Andrew has talents of his - he has an artistic side that Alex (and Allison) do not. So they complement each other very well.
The final little bit, where Allison sees Seeker during their anniversary trip, was a wonderful note to end things on. The idea of both of them finding happiness helped to dull the ache of them having to pursue their own separate lives.
I dislike the idea of 'soulmates' - if you can only be happy with ONE person, that rather ruins life if you can't have them... He takes longer to move on, but then he has a longer life. Mostly I just wanted them both happy. <3
I've really enjoyed the journey they story has taken me on. It was a wonderful trip, and I'm very glad I took a chance and decided to read it (cause I am still woefully under informed about the whoniverse). Thanks for sharing it with all of us.
Thank *you* for reading, and taking a chance on a 'verse you might not be very familiar with. Mind you, it's now so AU that it's practically original! *g*