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Fic: Dating the Cleverest Boy in the World. Chapter 9.
Hey would you look at this: An actual update! (Try not to faint.) I went back and checked when Chapter 8 was posted, and it was 2010... /o\ Um, apologies? I did post all of 'Alien Abduction' in between then and now... (Yeah, that's not much of an excuse. Sorry again.) Anyways, I'm imagining the reactions will go something like this:
Five Faithful Readers: Hurrah! Update!
Rest of Flist: Umm... Huh? *scroll past*
But for you five (OK, I think it's more than five, but you are certainly a select handful, and I love you all!) - this is going to be my main priority from now on. :) This chapter is more or less the companion piece to the last one - if you remember, then back then Allison met Alex's family. This time it's his turn to meet hers. (Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up. And on AO3 here.)
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: 2025 (AU post-Sound of Drums)
Characters: OCs (Alex, Allison, Allison's family)
Rating: PG-13.
Wordcount: 6000+ words
Thank you's: To![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh for the look-through (all mistakes mine!) and to the_redjay for enabling my rambling.
Chapter 9
A few days before Christmas 2025.
Allison’s mother came to pick them up from the train station, and managed to flummox Alex within moments of meeting them. Allison wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or proud.
“Oh look at you!” her mother exclaimed, holding Alex out at arm’s length after giving him a thorough hug. “All tall and handsome, just like your father - the live chats didn’t do you justice at all!”
Tilting her head, her eyes narrowed.
“Yes, remarkably like your father - it’s almost uncanny. Well apart from the hair.”
Alex didn't move a muscle, but Allison could still sense the tenseness.
“Also I’m not evil,” he said lightly, and her mother waved her hand dismissively.
“Oh all politicians are evil. Your father at least had the grace to be handsome and charming. I voted for him then, and I’d vote for him again. The world’s going to pot anyway, at least with him around Prime Minister’s Question Time was enjoyable to watch.”
Slowly a wide smile spread across Alex’s face.
“Allie? I think I love your mum.”
Her mother laughed.
“And I got you to smile! Marvellous. Now, let’s get home and have a nice cup of tea, it’s freezing! Let’s hope it doesn’t snow...”
“Don’t worry,” Alex said as he picked up their bags, “there will be no snow until Christmas, I guarantee it!”
“Allison - he’s a treasure! This way - I parked down a side road where I didn’t have to pay...”
It was inevitable, Allison supposed, but she couldn’t stop herself from making comparisons. Not that their families were complete opposites, but Lucy’s quietly understated elegance was a million miles from her own mother’s sensible clothing (especially the bright green fleece and the well worn trainers), as well as the bobbed hair which spoke of a hairstyle chosen more for ease than for looks. Not that she could imagine her mother with any other hair cut...
When they reached the house Allison tried to see her home through Alex’s eyes - the tall, Victorian end terrace, the back door leading straight into the cosily cluttered kitchen where a pot of tea was brewing and a freshly-made cake was cooling.
If he didn’t love it, she’d probably have to break up with him.
“Allison,” her mother said, throwing her out of her thoughts, “why don’t you take your things upstairs? I’ve put Alex in Ella’s old room, so you’re only a door away from each other.”
“OK,” she answered, figuring she could do the tour of the house at the same time. Taking their bags up to the second floor, she casually opened the door to her own bedroom with her elbow - then stared in horror at the sight that greeted her before dropping one of the bags so quickly it almost landed on Alex’s foot as she slammed the door shut again.
Alex was looking at her in confusion, but she ignored him and yelled “Mum!” at the top of her voice.
“What is it?” her mother called back up the stairs, and Allison had to fight not to swear.
“My room! You just... left it...”
“I’m not your housekeeper dear,” her mother breezed in her best Mrs Hudson imitation, and Allison closed her eyes in frustration.
“That was never funny!” she said angrily, but her mother had obviously disappeared from hearing distance, and Alex - hopelessly curious as always - was now gently shifting her away from where she was trying block the door, so he could look inside.
Realising that the battle was lost, she let him open the door and then winced as his eyes grew.
“Wow. That’s... I thought you were tidy like me,” he said, looking around, and she tried her best to smile.
“I’ve been tying so hard to be organised these past few months... It was like a new start?”
He nodded, before gingerly taking a step inside and stopping as there wasn’t really any more floor space on which to stand.
“I think I’m impressed. This shows a commitment to mess that I’ve barely seen bettered...” He chuckled. “I should take a picture, just to show Ianto - he’d have a heart attack.”
“Who’s Ianto?” she asked weakly, and he turned to her.
“Jack’s other half. Well, they’re not actually married or anything, but they’ve been together since before I was born. Ianto keeps Jack in check... And tidies up after him. As I’m sure you can appreciate, this is a full time job.”
Although grateful for the diversion, Allison still felt pretty mortified. She’d been doing so well...
(Alex’s bedroom had been as tidy as the one in Cambridge. Old toys neatly lined up on shelves, a choice assortment of books above the desk, a few posters, a wardrobe... “So, where do you keep all your stuff?” she’d asked, half-joking, and he’d shot her an inscrutable look and replied: “Elsewhere.”
When she had lifted a droll eyebrow at him, unamused, he’d abruptly lowered his eyes, seemingly speaking more to himself than to her, voice quiet, but suddenly brimming with emotions. “But it is. I was leaving, so I moved stuff. I was going to be free...”
She’d not known what to say, but then he’d taken a deep breath before smiling wryly.
“And that’s enough self-pity for one day. Come along and choose a guest room...” After that of course there had been the tea party interrupted by his alien-fighting uncle and she’d almost forgotten about his room. His very, very tidy room, and the ‘elsewhere’ where he kept most of his stuff...)
In her case of course, then ‘Where do you keep all your stuff?’ was entirely too obvious.
“So, Ella’s room is there on your right,” she said instead, silently wondering about mothers and... sleeping arrangements. And pondering if she could maybe get him to talk about what he’d wanted to do before he’d been sent to Cambridge.
But first there was the obligatory tea and cake. Remembering her nervousness at Alex’s home, Allison thought to herself that at least no alien hunters were likely to interrupt this little tea party. There were only herself and Alex, her parents, and Jimmy, and Allison’s nervousness began making itself felt again - Jimmy was just so unpredictable. A pox on all little brothers...
Thankfully, after ascertaining that Alex wasn’t interested in rugby, Jimmy concentrated on stuffing his face with cake, so their father was leading the conversation - which of course meant that history came up after about 30 seconds.
“So,” he said, studying Alex over the top of his glasses, “Allison tells me that you are very fond of history. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you not chose it as your area of study?”
Alex shrugged.
“The courses were far too restrictive.”
Jimmy, as always failing to understand the academic mind, stared blankly, a half-eaten piece of cake paused in mid-air.
“Too... restrictive?”
Leaning forward, Alex’s features got more animated, his tea forgotten.
“History isn’t ‘a’ subject, it’s the subject. It contains everything else, is the record of everything else. Language, maths, science, music, art, sociology, psychology, architecture, medicine... History encompasses it all.”
Allison’s father - a history teacher through and through - looked as if it was Christmas already.
“Young man...” he began warmly, before having to remove his glasses, polish them, and then examine Alex anew, “I cannot begin to explain how wonderful it is to meet someone like you. The times I have tried to impart this insight to my pupils, to my own children...”
He sighed, and Alex grinned.
“Allison, I must once again compliment you on your parentage.”
“But,” Jimmy continued, stubborn as ever, and blithely ignoring the conversation he was interrupting, “When you say ‘too restrictive’, what did you want to do? Study everything?”
“Yes,” Alex replied completely straight-faced. “But for some reason no one at Cambridge wanted a comprehensive history of the world. Their loss.”
Jimmy now had that selfsame obstinate look on his face that Mike usually had.
“Cause you could have written that in three years,” he said, around the last bit of cake, but sarcasm was wasted on Alex.
“Easily,” he replied, coolly smug, “I’m the cleverest boy in the world, didn’t you know?”
Jimmy leaned backwards, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Cleverest, is that so?”
Alex’s eyes were dancing, and Allison tried not to sigh as she saw the showing-off gene raise its head again. She shot her mother a weary look (momentarily ignoring the fact that she was cross with her) and her mother stifled a smile.
“Try me,” Alex said.
“What do you mean?”
“Ask me anything. Anything at all. Any subject.”
Jimmy stared for a moment, taking the implications on board, then his eyes narrowed.
“So, there’s this guy who knows pi to 40,000 decimal points...”
Alex lifted an eyebrow.
“Only 40,000? Well it’s a start I suppose.”
Taken aback, Jimmy clearly couldn’t believe his ears.
“You know more than that?”
A grin which was pure Saxon; unbearably smug, if it hadn’t been that it was so charming at the same time.
“I know all of it.”
A beat, as Jimmy stared.
“But isn’t it, like, infinite...”
”Yes it is. And I know all of it.”
At which point the conversation was interrupted by Allison’s father bursting out laughing.
“Fantastic. All the points to the Saxon team. Jimmy - give over. He’s not just clever, he’s smart too! All of it. He knows all of it.”
He chuckled and took a sip of his tea, shoulders shaking.
“Just wait until I tell the fellas tomorrow at work. All of it. Beautiful.”
“Dad!” Jimmy protested, and their father fixed him with a fond glance.
“Yes Jimmy, it’s impossible. But you’ll never, ever be able to prove him wrong. Alex - you’ve obviously inherited your father’s brains. Well played young Master Saxon, well played.”
Alex was still smiling, but strangely enough Allison had the impression that her father’s reaction had thrown him as much as it had Jimmy.
But then the talk turned to historical re-enactments, and from then it was no time at all until all the boys decided to go out into her father’s shed to look at all his uniforms and weapons.
Allison looked at her mother as the backdoor slammed, and her mother smiled back.
“Well Allie, would you like to help me clear the table?”
“I suppose,” she said. At least this time the ‘men’ hadn’t gone off to fight actual aliens, just imaginary people from the past - and she knew that if she started saying something about Traditional Gender Roles, her mother would just raise an eyebrow and ask whether she’d rather be outside in the cold, play-acting, or inside the warm kitchen.
It was no contest.
Although looking out of the kitchen window a short while later, watching as Alex and Jimmy had a mock sword fight, she couldn't help silently admiring Alex’s effortless brilliance, as he meticulously and flawlessly demonstrated various moves to Jimmy.
“He certainly is a talented young man,” Allison’s mother remarked, and Allison smiled to herself, not quite watching what she was saying.
“Oh yes - he really is good at everything,” she said, somewhat dreamily, watching as he lithely stepped out of the way of Jimmy’s assault. Moved like a dancer, and so in control...
Her mother’s next words, however, snapped out of her mood very effectively.
“You are being careful, right?” she asked, studying Allison with that no-nonsense face that Allison dreaded above all others, and she could feel her cheeks going hot.
“Mum!” she said, mortified (she was not discussing this with her mother, oh no), and then - realising that her mother was not going to let it go - swallowed and tried to find somewhere to look.
“Yes. Yes of course we are. Very, even.”
(Alex was borderline paranoid, but she really didn’t want to talk about the subject at all.)
Studying her for another long moment, her mother finally nodded.
“Good. I know you’re young, and in love, and that you currently have the freedom to do what you want for the first time, and I would never want to curtail that. However, your father can talk about feminism until he’s blue in the face, but it still doesn’t alter basic biology - until it’s the men who get pregnant, you’re the one who’s going to be worse off if something happens.”
“Yes mum,” she said, keeping her eyes lowered and praying that the ordeal was over now. Her mother had said her piece and surely that would be it, right?
But after another pause her mother said “Allison,” waiting until she looked up before continuing.
“Have you never wondered why your father is such an ardent feminist?”
Allison looked at her blankly. It was just part of who he was - her mother might as well have asked why he wore hideous corduroy trousers. Instead her mother continued, an oddly wistful look on her face:
“I don’t suppose you really took on board what it meant to take my final university exams whilst eight months’ pregnant?”
Not really having an answer for this, Allison mutely shook her head. She’d often enough heard the stories about her parents’ graduation and all the issues with baby Amanda, because her father had insisted on bringing her along - old stories (Amanda screaming her head off during the main speech, Amanda throwing up on the Dean), polished and familiar and somehow unreal in the way stories often were. It shocked Allison to realise that her mother had then only been a few years older than she was now.
“Don’t get me wrong,” her mother continued, “I have never, not for one single moment, regretted having Amanda. Or any of you for that matter. But. I would undoubtedly have had more opportunities in my life without you lot. Certainly without having you so young. And your father knows this. Not that I ever blamed him, but you know what he’s like - he never stopped blaming himself. It is without question the reason he’s been pushing you girls the way he has. The way he sees it he’s making up for ruining the career I might have had.”
“Mum...” Allison said feebly, feeling that peculiar sensation of finally getting something she’d always hoped for and realising that it was very different from what she’d expected. She’d wanted her parents to treat her as a proper adult for ages, but this... She wasn’t sure this brutal honesty was what she’d wished for.
Her mother smiled, and gently cupped her face with both hands.
“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.”
She’d expected Alex’s mother to have a go at her, to worry if she’d hold him back. This came out of the left field, and all she could think to do was nod and say “Yes mum, I promise.”
Then she pulled herself together a bit, and added, “Well we might be like the Curies, you never know. Without the deadly radio activeness, obviously.”
At which point her mother shook her head and muttered about young love, and Allison could try to breathe again.
A few seconds later the mood was thoroughly broken by Jimmy slamming open the door, declaring:
“So, Alex says that his uncle once saved the world with a sword fight-”
To which her mother’s immediate response was, “What have I told you about bringing swords into the house!” and normality was restored.
Still; Allison kept feeling somewhat unsettled for the rest of the day, and was immensely grateful when Ella turned up shortly after dinner, family in tow.
Ella - the ultimate teenage tearaway, who had given their mother more grey hairs than the rest of them combined - had surprised most people by settling down for married bliss with a genuinely decent police officer in her early twenties, establishing herself as the ultimate domestic-goddess-stay-at-home-mum as if she’d never been out partying until the small hours of the morning, with a string of disreputable boyfriends...
Allison sometimes wondered if their father realised that her current role was as much of a rebellion as her previous one had been - she hoped not.
And then her thoughts immediately returned to her mother’s words... Thinking to herself that really mum oughtn’t to worry. Amanda had always been the Golden Child, forever spurred on by their father’s relentless encouragement, and Ella had been the opposite - both of them shaped by his vision in one way or another. Allison had - possibly instinctively - rejected this and always done what she’d wanted, turning a deaf ear to compliments and criticism alike.
She was thrown out of her musings by an insistent 3 year old, shouting that ‘Auntie Al’ needed to see how clever he was at doing somersaults, so she obediently did as she was told, as well as explaining that she was ‘Auntie Allie’ and that Uncle Jimmy was in a lot of trouble now for teaching poor innocents the wrong names.
After this had been sorted she had to admire the baby (9 months old, it was scary how time flew), and after taking turns cuddling him (before he began to smell and he was handed back), they all ended up around the kitchen table, the biscuit tin in the middle and cups of tea all round, as the dishwasher hummed in the background. It was the very definition of ‘family’ to Allison and she eagerly soaked up the atmosphere that she had sorely missed whilst away.
Later that night, when Ella & co had left and everyone was in bed, Allison decided to copy Alex’s actions at his home and silently tiptoed to his room. (She knew where all the squeaky floorboards were thanks to Ella - she had tried to explain that she wasn’t in the least interested in sneaking around, but Ella had just lifted an eyebrow and continued her instruction. Allison still remembered it now 5 years later.)
Alex wasn’t asleep, but put his laptop away when he saw her and made room for her in the bed. His opening line wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting however:
“So... who’s the boy you were kissing?”
She stared at him, utterly thrown.
“What boy? Where? What are you talking about?”
“The boy in the picture. On your big pin board.”
His eyes unfocused, as he slowly kept talking.
“Bottom right hand side, between the one of you in a prom dress and the one of Amanda’s children.”
“You were in my room for what... seconds? And you remember that?”
He studied her, a quiet exasperation on his face.
“I remember everything. I could tell you where everything - everything that I could see, that is - is in your room.”
As she didn’t answer, he tilted his head.
“I keep saying this, but no one ever seems to take it on board: I am really, really clever. I can do things normal people can’t. I’m like... Like Sherlock, but better. Now, please tell me - who was he? He looked very cute, you’ve obviously always had good taste.”
For a moment she tried to just shuffle her thoughts around, but it all came back to ‘Yes he’s really clever’ and ‘Goodness he doesn’t even understand the concept of jealousy...’ And he was still waiting for an answer... At which point she suddenly realised that she could try to - vaguely - put her mother’s message across.
Aiming for briefness she explained how that boy had been her first proper boyfriend (her first in almost every way, but there were limits to what she was going to share), and although she’d really really liked him, she’d realised that it wasn’t possible to keep a boyfriend and concentrate on her A-Levels, so she’d dumped him.
Alex listened with perfect composure, but was unable to stop a small smile forming as he replied to her unspoken statement.
“Message received and understood. And don’t worry Allie - I’ll never get in your way of achieving what you’re capable of. No...” he reached out, touched her cheek, the smile fading. “If you leave me it will be for quite, quite different reasons...”
Not having a clue what to say to that she decided to just kiss him, and that worked exceedingly well in getting him out of his weird mood.
***
The following day they went into Leicester to ‘see the sights’ (and maybe do some shopping - Allison had a long list of Christmas presents to buy still) and, because Alex insisted, went to see the castle and the Newarke Houses Museums and Galleries. Having trudged through these an infinite amount of times during her childhood, Allison wasn’t just bored out of her mind, she was also worried at how closely Alex’s enthusiasm mirrored her father’s, and had to forcibly remind herself that in most ways he was very different. Although he even did her father’s trick of talking to all the guides and getting all kinds of extra details out of them; as the morning wore on she gritted her teeth and glumly thought that he’d been right the night before - there were a whole heap of reasons she might decide to leave...
Shopping proved more enjoyable, although when she tried to hint that various items they came across might make good presents for her he just smiled mysteriously and said that her present was all sorted already.
“Can I have it early?” she asked, tugging at his duffel coat in a blunt-as-a-brick attempt to remind him that he was wearing his present, but he just smiled and shook his head.
That evening her mother started one of her impromptu music gatherings, which of course gave Alex another opportunity to show off, playing anything she put in front of him flawlessly.
When the session finally wrapped up, Allison noticed her mother and Alex quietly talking in a corner, and tried to make her way into hearing distance as subtly as possibly, half-alarmed that her mother was giving Alex ‘A Talk’.
What she heard however, when she got close enough, was her mother saying, “Are you sure?”, a surprised, but genuinely pleased, smile on her face, and Alex replying, “Absolutely - I was going to ask anyway.”
Her mother tilted her head and studied him, with a look that made Allison think that Alex had quite probably done what-ever-it-took to thoroughly win her mother over.
“You really are something else, Alexander Saxon,” her mother finally said, and in response he only smiled.
***
The next day promised better things. They were going to what might be Allison's favourite place in the world - certainly the place that had cemented her future in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe. And since Alex was loaded, she figured he wouldn’t mind paying.
The National Space Centre still looked like a giant, white, futuristic beehive, and she could feel her own excitement mounting as they drove up the road towards it. If she could, she’d live here...
As Alex had never been (something she found hard to believe), she eagerly dragged him through everything on offer - the Stellarium, the Rocket Tower, every exhibit and corner she could find, although oddly though, Alex seemed almost subdued throughout - not disinterested at all, but somehow withdrawn in his appreciation. Which was - if Allison was completely honest - a bit of relief.
Finally they ended up in the Planetarium, which, as always, reduced her to silent awe and wonder, as she lost herself to space and endless possibility.
When the lights finally came back on, her head still spinning with stars and beauty, he had gone completely still, looking almost lost. She took his hand.
“I know, it has that effect on me too...”
He turned to her abruptly, shaking his head and eyes flashing as he gripped her hand hard.
“No. You have no idea what I’m feeling.”
Letting go, as if scared he’d hurt her, he curled up, burying his head in his hands, as she started at him in shock.
“Alex... are you OK?”
“No, I’m really not,” he said, voice muffled, and then - lifting his head - gazed up at the now idle dome above them.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to come here, sorry. It’s too well done and... it’s just an illusion. Like a picture of a glass of water in the desert. I can’t get out there - I can’t get out there at all...”
Gently putting a hand on his shoulder, she couldn’t help smiling as she answered.
“But that’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? Learning about it all so one day we will be able to go out there...”
He turned his head and looked at her - just looked - for the longest time, and then smiled a smile that was at once luminous and apologetic.
“You are wonderful, and I am sorry. I knew I was over privileged, but never realised I had quite such a talent for melodrama. I thought my disposition better tempered. I promise to do better from now on.”
“You are... so weird,” she said finally, and he laughed.
“Oh yes. I believe this has been stated many times over by now. C’mon - I’ll drive us back, so you can just relax.”
This last statement, as it turned out, was possibly some kind of elaborate joke - so convoluted that the point even missed Alex himself.
When they finally got home, her mother took one look at her face as she walked through the door and her eyes narrowed.
“Allie. What’s the matter?”
“My boyfriend,”Allison said, with feeling, “drives like a grandma.”
Alex, closing the door behind them, opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.
“No, scratch that, he makes grandmas look like risk-taking racing drivers.”
“Cars,” Alex said in his best know-it-all-voice, “are tiny little death traps on wheels. And drivers are erratic and often half asleep or just useless at steering. I’d rather be slow, but safe, than risk getting you killed because of a business man in an Audi who needs to be in Wolverhampton in half an hour and has only had a cup of coffee since 7 o’clock this morning.”
Allison looked at her mother with quiet exasperation.
“I’ve had this all the way home. Help me.”
Her mother, of course, just laughed.
After tea, Allison was wondering what to do (watching TV seemed a bit dull, and she wasn’t having another music evening), when suddenly the back door burst open and there was a chorus of “Aliiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
Running into the kitchen she was immediately drowned in hugs and kisses from her four best friends.
“What are you doing here?” Allison asked when the profuse greetings had subsided, “I thought you were-”
She waved a hand to indicate the four corners they’d all been scattered to, and they laughed conspiratorially.
“We were sneaky and planned to come see you, because it’s been forever, Little Miss Clever,” they started explaining, but a soft chuckle cut them off.
Turning, Allison saw Alex draped in the doorway, as casually suave as James Bond (if James Bond ever wore jeans & a T-shirt) and with a smile no less self-assured.
“You’ve come to see me,” he said, looking the group over, and Allison could almost feel her friends’ curiosity go through the roof.
“Oh my god, listen to him!" "Who does he think he is?”
They were rounding on him now, and most normal boys would be quaking in their boots. Alex, of course, was far from normal, and Allison knew that rather than being intimidated, he was enjoying himself far too much.
“I think..." he said slowly, "That I’m a genuine gentleman,” and taking the hand of the nearest girl, he kissed the back of it with utmost grace, “and I am utterly charmed to meet you.”
For just a second he shot Allison a look, winking, and she had to cover her laughter with a cough.
“Um guys - my boyfriend, Alexander Saxon.”
It turned out to be a truly marvellous evening. When questioned closer on the ‘gentleman’ claim, Alex happily expanded up on the fact that he was Lord Cole’s nephew and second in line to the title - after which he promptly offered to introduce them all to his cousin Geoffrey, but only if they promised to, if at all possible, marry the young man in question and have many, many children so Alex would never have to be bothered with large, ostentatious country houses and piles of money.
"He's not joking," Allison said, and then Alex offered to get them all drinks. He proceeded to spend the rest of the evening being attentive, witty and charming to such an extent that when her friends finally left - close to midnight - he had them practically eating out of his hand, and they declared him the catch of the Century as they walked out to the waiting taxi.
That night, as Allison was getting ready for bed, she couldn't help turning the last few days over in her head. Most people, as one got to know them, showed a certain consistency in their behaviour, but Alex... Alex really was different. The longer she knew him, the more sides he seemed to display - during the last few days she'd had the inveterate show off, the history enthusiast, the anguished star gazer, the pedantic driver and now the consummate charmer, to name but the most prominent of his facets... She remembered finding this chameleon talent a bit disturbing back when they'd first met - unsure if any of it was actually the 'real' him, or just some kind of performance. Now she was leaning more towards the idea that he was quite simply a collection of all these different aspects, and at some point she'd have a more or less complete picture - like collecting pieces of a jigsaw.
She mentioned this as she kissed him goodnight a little later, and he tilted his head, the light above illuminating his hair like a halo. For a second she felt like the world went topsy turvy - it was Alexander Saxon, someone who had until less than half a year ago been a figure only known faintly from newspapers, and he was standing there on her landing. Then he spoke, and the odd spell was broken.
"As always, you are exceedingly perceptive, Allie. Although I wonder what you will make of the whole picture once you have it..."
She shook her head. If obliqueness was a virtue, it was one he had in abundance. And yet - the moment in the Planetarium kept coming back to her. For the briefest moment something had happened to throw him out of his usual equilibrium, and she had seen something... raw and vulnerable that she didn’t know how to deal with. And neither did he, clearly. He’d sealed up so impeccably that she almost felt she had dreamt it, but not knowing how to broach the subject, she decided to ask Matt and Josh once they were all back at Cambridge.
The final thought in her mind as she drifted off to sleep, however, was a deeply reassuring one: Despite all the talk about History, his heart obviously belonged to the stars, just the same as hers.
***
The last day, and as they stood on the cold train platform waiting, her mother pulled a small pot with a twig in it out of her sturdy bag, and handed it over to Alex. Allison raised an eyebrow, but Alex's face broke out into a wide grin.
"Thank you, that's perfect."
Her mother looked slightly concerned.
"Cuttings are supposed to be done in late summer..." she began, but he took the pot and looked at the twig with great appreciation.
"Oh I'm very good at growing things," he said, and Allison tapped her mother’s shoulder.
"What is it?" she asked, and her mother smiled.
"A cutting from the plum tree - I asked him what he’d like as a Christmas present, and that is what he chose."
"I'll make my own plum jam in future," he said happily, and Allison shook her head.
"In, like, twenty years time," she replied, and he studied the tiny twig fondly.
"I'm very patient," he said, before pulling out a very small and very light present from a pocket, telling her to under no circumstances to open it before Christmas morning.
Then Toby’s train pulled up to the platform, and there were quick introductions and shaking of hands, until Alex looked up and pulled a face.
“The Cardiff train will be here soon. Better get across the tracks.”
Allison frowned.
“Cardiff? Aren’t you going home?”
“A boy’s holidays are his own property,” Alex said with dancing eyes, “And I am going on the road with Mahbub Ali.”
“You... what?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, literary reference - Kim, by Kipling. I’ve found it rather apropos recently. Essentially this is the compromise I reached with my Uncle, if you remember? I’m allowed a modicum of freedom in my holidays, so I’m off to Jack’s.”
“But it’s Christmas in two day’s time,” she said, and he shrugged, eyes still wide and happy. “I’ll stretch them if need be.”
“Good luck with that,” she answered, smiling to take the edge off the words, and he laughed again.
”Time is a funny thing.”
And then, after a swift, if dizzying kiss, he was gone, holdall over one shoulder and twiglet cradled in his left hand.
***
Allison discovered that Alex had been only too right when he talked about time stretching, as the two days in question turned out to be almost impossibly long. Partly because she missed Alex, who might as well have vanished off the face of the Earth for all she could get hold of him (‘Torchwood regrets to inform you that the person you are trying to get hold of is currently unavailable’ the polite recording repeated every time she called; 'Boys', she thought, and refused to worry), and partly because she was driven to distraction by trying to work out what was inside the tiny box he’d given her.
Having come up with approximately half a million different possibilities, the reality still managed to stun her as she finally stared into the inside of it on Christmas Morning, forgetting about the multicoloured tree, the tea cup on the table next to her, the decorations and the Christmas music playing on the radio as well as the rest of her family who were tearing into their own presents.
"So, what did he get you?" Jimmy asked nosily, and she slowly picked up the small pieces of paper that might just as well have been made of fairy dust, for all that she'd ever expected to hold one in her hand.
"Tickets to the Live Simpsons Musical," she said faintly.
The Simpsons Musical... The first proper hologram musical, a feat of engineering and invention and musical ingenuity, the tickets for which were more expensive than gold; and they were hers.
Looking in the box, she saw a note.
"Why 'S'?" Jimmy asked, puzzled, and Allison answered distractedly, voice distant.
"For Saxon. He always signs stuff that way."
She didn't care how he signed his name, didn't care that he was weird and strange with multiple personalities and sometimes moody. All she could think was: 'He is the perfect boyfriend.'
Chapter 10
Five Faithful Readers: Hurrah! Update!
Rest of Flist: Umm... Huh? *scroll past*
But for you five (OK, I think it's more than five, but you are certainly a select handful, and I love you all!) - this is going to be my main priority from now on. :) This chapter is more or less the companion piece to the last one - if you remember, then back then Allison met Alex's family. This time it's his turn to meet hers. (Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up. And on AO3 here.)
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: 2025 (AU post-Sound of Drums)
Characters: OCs (Alex, Allison, Allison's family)
Rating: PG-13.
Wordcount: 6000+ words
Thank you's: To
kathyh for the look-through (all mistakes mine!) and to the_redjay for enabling my rambling.A few days before Christmas 2025.
Allison’s mother came to pick them up from the train station, and managed to flummox Alex within moments of meeting them. Allison wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or proud.
“Oh look at you!” her mother exclaimed, holding Alex out at arm’s length after giving him a thorough hug. “All tall and handsome, just like your father - the live chats didn’t do you justice at all!”
Tilting her head, her eyes narrowed.
“Yes, remarkably like your father - it’s almost uncanny. Well apart from the hair.”
Alex didn't move a muscle, but Allison could still sense the tenseness.
“Also I’m not evil,” he said lightly, and her mother waved her hand dismissively.
“Oh all politicians are evil. Your father at least had the grace to be handsome and charming. I voted for him then, and I’d vote for him again. The world’s going to pot anyway, at least with him around Prime Minister’s Question Time was enjoyable to watch.”
Slowly a wide smile spread across Alex’s face.
“Allie? I think I love your mum.”
Her mother laughed.
“And I got you to smile! Marvellous. Now, let’s get home and have a nice cup of tea, it’s freezing! Let’s hope it doesn’t snow...”
“Don’t worry,” Alex said as he picked up their bags, “there will be no snow until Christmas, I guarantee it!”
“Allison - he’s a treasure! This way - I parked down a side road where I didn’t have to pay...”
It was inevitable, Allison supposed, but she couldn’t stop herself from making comparisons. Not that their families were complete opposites, but Lucy’s quietly understated elegance was a million miles from her own mother’s sensible clothing (especially the bright green fleece and the well worn trainers), as well as the bobbed hair which spoke of a hairstyle chosen more for ease than for looks. Not that she could imagine her mother with any other hair cut...
When they reached the house Allison tried to see her home through Alex’s eyes - the tall, Victorian end terrace, the back door leading straight into the cosily cluttered kitchen where a pot of tea was brewing and a freshly-made cake was cooling.
If he didn’t love it, she’d probably have to break up with him.
“Allison,” her mother said, throwing her out of her thoughts, “why don’t you take your things upstairs? I’ve put Alex in Ella’s old room, so you’re only a door away from each other.”
“OK,” she answered, figuring she could do the tour of the house at the same time. Taking their bags up to the second floor, she casually opened the door to her own bedroom with her elbow - then stared in horror at the sight that greeted her before dropping one of the bags so quickly it almost landed on Alex’s foot as she slammed the door shut again.
Alex was looking at her in confusion, but she ignored him and yelled “Mum!” at the top of her voice.
“What is it?” her mother called back up the stairs, and Allison had to fight not to swear.
“My room! You just... left it...”
“I’m not your housekeeper dear,” her mother breezed in her best Mrs Hudson imitation, and Allison closed her eyes in frustration.
“That was never funny!” she said angrily, but her mother had obviously disappeared from hearing distance, and Alex - hopelessly curious as always - was now gently shifting her away from where she was trying block the door, so he could look inside.
Realising that the battle was lost, she let him open the door and then winced as his eyes grew.
“Wow. That’s... I thought you were tidy like me,” he said, looking around, and she tried her best to smile.
“I’ve been tying so hard to be organised these past few months... It was like a new start?”
He nodded, before gingerly taking a step inside and stopping as there wasn’t really any more floor space on which to stand.
“I think I’m impressed. This shows a commitment to mess that I’ve barely seen bettered...” He chuckled. “I should take a picture, just to show Ianto - he’d have a heart attack.”
“Who’s Ianto?” she asked weakly, and he turned to her.
“Jack’s other half. Well, they’re not actually married or anything, but they’ve been together since before I was born. Ianto keeps Jack in check... And tidies up after him. As I’m sure you can appreciate, this is a full time job.”
Although grateful for the diversion, Allison still felt pretty mortified. She’d been doing so well...
(Alex’s bedroom had been as tidy as the one in Cambridge. Old toys neatly lined up on shelves, a choice assortment of books above the desk, a few posters, a wardrobe... “So, where do you keep all your stuff?” she’d asked, half-joking, and he’d shot her an inscrutable look and replied: “Elsewhere.”
When she had lifted a droll eyebrow at him, unamused, he’d abruptly lowered his eyes, seemingly speaking more to himself than to her, voice quiet, but suddenly brimming with emotions. “But it is. I was leaving, so I moved stuff. I was going to be free...”
She’d not known what to say, but then he’d taken a deep breath before smiling wryly.
“And that’s enough self-pity for one day. Come along and choose a guest room...” After that of course there had been the tea party interrupted by his alien-fighting uncle and she’d almost forgotten about his room. His very, very tidy room, and the ‘elsewhere’ where he kept most of his stuff...)
In her case of course, then ‘Where do you keep all your stuff?’ was entirely too obvious.
“So, Ella’s room is there on your right,” she said instead, silently wondering about mothers and... sleeping arrangements. And pondering if she could maybe get him to talk about what he’d wanted to do before he’d been sent to Cambridge.
But first there was the obligatory tea and cake. Remembering her nervousness at Alex’s home, Allison thought to herself that at least no alien hunters were likely to interrupt this little tea party. There were only herself and Alex, her parents, and Jimmy, and Allison’s nervousness began making itself felt again - Jimmy was just so unpredictable. A pox on all little brothers...
Thankfully, after ascertaining that Alex wasn’t interested in rugby, Jimmy concentrated on stuffing his face with cake, so their father was leading the conversation - which of course meant that history came up after about 30 seconds.
“So,” he said, studying Alex over the top of his glasses, “Allison tells me that you are very fond of history. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you not chose it as your area of study?”
Alex shrugged.
“The courses were far too restrictive.”
Jimmy, as always failing to understand the academic mind, stared blankly, a half-eaten piece of cake paused in mid-air.
“Too... restrictive?”
Leaning forward, Alex’s features got more animated, his tea forgotten.
“History isn’t ‘a’ subject, it’s the subject. It contains everything else, is the record of everything else. Language, maths, science, music, art, sociology, psychology, architecture, medicine... History encompasses it all.”
Allison’s father - a history teacher through and through - looked as if it was Christmas already.
“Young man...” he began warmly, before having to remove his glasses, polish them, and then examine Alex anew, “I cannot begin to explain how wonderful it is to meet someone like you. The times I have tried to impart this insight to my pupils, to my own children...”
He sighed, and Alex grinned.
“Allison, I must once again compliment you on your parentage.”
“But,” Jimmy continued, stubborn as ever, and blithely ignoring the conversation he was interrupting, “When you say ‘too restrictive’, what did you want to do? Study everything?”
“Yes,” Alex replied completely straight-faced. “But for some reason no one at Cambridge wanted a comprehensive history of the world. Their loss.”
Jimmy now had that selfsame obstinate look on his face that Mike usually had.
“Cause you could have written that in three years,” he said, around the last bit of cake, but sarcasm was wasted on Alex.
“Easily,” he replied, coolly smug, “I’m the cleverest boy in the world, didn’t you know?”
Jimmy leaned backwards, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Cleverest, is that so?”
Alex’s eyes were dancing, and Allison tried not to sigh as she saw the showing-off gene raise its head again. She shot her mother a weary look (momentarily ignoring the fact that she was cross with her) and her mother stifled a smile.
“Try me,” Alex said.
“What do you mean?”
“Ask me anything. Anything at all. Any subject.”
Jimmy stared for a moment, taking the implications on board, then his eyes narrowed.
“So, there’s this guy who knows pi to 40,000 decimal points...”
Alex lifted an eyebrow.
“Only 40,000? Well it’s a start I suppose.”
Taken aback, Jimmy clearly couldn’t believe his ears.
“You know more than that?”
A grin which was pure Saxon; unbearably smug, if it hadn’t been that it was so charming at the same time.
“I know all of it.”
A beat, as Jimmy stared.
“But isn’t it, like, infinite...”
”Yes it is. And I know all of it.”
At which point the conversation was interrupted by Allison’s father bursting out laughing.
“Fantastic. All the points to the Saxon team. Jimmy - give over. He’s not just clever, he’s smart too! All of it. He knows all of it.”
He chuckled and took a sip of his tea, shoulders shaking.
“Just wait until I tell the fellas tomorrow at work. All of it. Beautiful.”
“Dad!” Jimmy protested, and their father fixed him with a fond glance.
“Yes Jimmy, it’s impossible. But you’ll never, ever be able to prove him wrong. Alex - you’ve obviously inherited your father’s brains. Well played young Master Saxon, well played.”
Alex was still smiling, but strangely enough Allison had the impression that her father’s reaction had thrown him as much as it had Jimmy.
But then the talk turned to historical re-enactments, and from then it was no time at all until all the boys decided to go out into her father’s shed to look at all his uniforms and weapons.
Allison looked at her mother as the backdoor slammed, and her mother smiled back.
“Well Allie, would you like to help me clear the table?”
“I suppose,” she said. At least this time the ‘men’ hadn’t gone off to fight actual aliens, just imaginary people from the past - and she knew that if she started saying something about Traditional Gender Roles, her mother would just raise an eyebrow and ask whether she’d rather be outside in the cold, play-acting, or inside the warm kitchen.
It was no contest.
Although looking out of the kitchen window a short while later, watching as Alex and Jimmy had a mock sword fight, she couldn't help silently admiring Alex’s effortless brilliance, as he meticulously and flawlessly demonstrated various moves to Jimmy.
“He certainly is a talented young man,” Allison’s mother remarked, and Allison smiled to herself, not quite watching what she was saying.
“Oh yes - he really is good at everything,” she said, somewhat dreamily, watching as he lithely stepped out of the way of Jimmy’s assault. Moved like a dancer, and so in control...
Her mother’s next words, however, snapped out of her mood very effectively.
“You are being careful, right?” she asked, studying Allison with that no-nonsense face that Allison dreaded above all others, and she could feel her cheeks going hot.
“Mum!” she said, mortified (she was not discussing this with her mother, oh no), and then - realising that her mother was not going to let it go - swallowed and tried to find somewhere to look.
“Yes. Yes of course we are. Very, even.”
(Alex was borderline paranoid, but she really didn’t want to talk about the subject at all.)
Studying her for another long moment, her mother finally nodded.
“Good. I know you’re young, and in love, and that you currently have the freedom to do what you want for the first time, and I would never want to curtail that. However, your father can talk about feminism until he’s blue in the face, but it still doesn’t alter basic biology - until it’s the men who get pregnant, you’re the one who’s going to be worse off if something happens.”
“Yes mum,” she said, keeping her eyes lowered and praying that the ordeal was over now. Her mother had said her piece and surely that would be it, right?
But after another pause her mother said “Allison,” waiting until she looked up before continuing.
“Have you never wondered why your father is such an ardent feminist?”
Allison looked at her blankly. It was just part of who he was - her mother might as well have asked why he wore hideous corduroy trousers. Instead her mother continued, an oddly wistful look on her face:
“I don’t suppose you really took on board what it meant to take my final university exams whilst eight months’ pregnant?”
Not really having an answer for this, Allison mutely shook her head. She’d often enough heard the stories about her parents’ graduation and all the issues with baby Amanda, because her father had insisted on bringing her along - old stories (Amanda screaming her head off during the main speech, Amanda throwing up on the Dean), polished and familiar and somehow unreal in the way stories often were. It shocked Allison to realise that her mother had then only been a few years older than she was now.
“Don’t get me wrong,” her mother continued, “I have never, not for one single moment, regretted having Amanda. Or any of you for that matter. But. I would undoubtedly have had more opportunities in my life without you lot. Certainly without having you so young. And your father knows this. Not that I ever blamed him, but you know what he’s like - he never stopped blaming himself. It is without question the reason he’s been pushing you girls the way he has. The way he sees it he’s making up for ruining the career I might have had.”
“Mum...” Allison said feebly, feeling that peculiar sensation of finally getting something she’d always hoped for and realising that it was very different from what she’d expected. She’d wanted her parents to treat her as a proper adult for ages, but this... She wasn’t sure this brutal honesty was what she’d wished for.
Her mother smiled, and gently cupped her face with both hands.
“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.”
She’d expected Alex’s mother to have a go at her, to worry if she’d hold him back. This came out of the left field, and all she could think to do was nod and say “Yes mum, I promise.”
Then she pulled herself together a bit, and added, “Well we might be like the Curies, you never know. Without the deadly radio activeness, obviously.”
At which point her mother shook her head and muttered about young love, and Allison could try to breathe again.
A few seconds later the mood was thoroughly broken by Jimmy slamming open the door, declaring:
“So, Alex says that his uncle once saved the world with a sword fight-”
To which her mother’s immediate response was, “What have I told you about bringing swords into the house!” and normality was restored.
Still; Allison kept feeling somewhat unsettled for the rest of the day, and was immensely grateful when Ella turned up shortly after dinner, family in tow.
Ella - the ultimate teenage tearaway, who had given their mother more grey hairs than the rest of them combined - had surprised most people by settling down for married bliss with a genuinely decent police officer in her early twenties, establishing herself as the ultimate domestic-goddess-stay-at-home-mum as if she’d never been out partying until the small hours of the morning, with a string of disreputable boyfriends...
Allison sometimes wondered if their father realised that her current role was as much of a rebellion as her previous one had been - she hoped not.
And then her thoughts immediately returned to her mother’s words... Thinking to herself that really mum oughtn’t to worry. Amanda had always been the Golden Child, forever spurred on by their father’s relentless encouragement, and Ella had been the opposite - both of them shaped by his vision in one way or another. Allison had - possibly instinctively - rejected this and always done what she’d wanted, turning a deaf ear to compliments and criticism alike.
She was thrown out of her musings by an insistent 3 year old, shouting that ‘Auntie Al’ needed to see how clever he was at doing somersaults, so she obediently did as she was told, as well as explaining that she was ‘Auntie Allie’ and that Uncle Jimmy was in a lot of trouble now for teaching poor innocents the wrong names.
After this had been sorted she had to admire the baby (9 months old, it was scary how time flew), and after taking turns cuddling him (before he began to smell and he was handed back), they all ended up around the kitchen table, the biscuit tin in the middle and cups of tea all round, as the dishwasher hummed in the background. It was the very definition of ‘family’ to Allison and she eagerly soaked up the atmosphere that she had sorely missed whilst away.
Later that night, when Ella & co had left and everyone was in bed, Allison decided to copy Alex’s actions at his home and silently tiptoed to his room. (She knew where all the squeaky floorboards were thanks to Ella - she had tried to explain that she wasn’t in the least interested in sneaking around, but Ella had just lifted an eyebrow and continued her instruction. Allison still remembered it now 5 years later.)
Alex wasn’t asleep, but put his laptop away when he saw her and made room for her in the bed. His opening line wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting however:
“So... who’s the boy you were kissing?”
She stared at him, utterly thrown.
“What boy? Where? What are you talking about?”
“The boy in the picture. On your big pin board.”
His eyes unfocused, as he slowly kept talking.
“Bottom right hand side, between the one of you in a prom dress and the one of Amanda’s children.”
“You were in my room for what... seconds? And you remember that?”
He studied her, a quiet exasperation on his face.
“I remember everything. I could tell you where everything - everything that I could see, that is - is in your room.”
As she didn’t answer, he tilted his head.
“I keep saying this, but no one ever seems to take it on board: I am really, really clever. I can do things normal people can’t. I’m like... Like Sherlock, but better. Now, please tell me - who was he? He looked very cute, you’ve obviously always had good taste.”
For a moment she tried to just shuffle her thoughts around, but it all came back to ‘Yes he’s really clever’ and ‘Goodness he doesn’t even understand the concept of jealousy...’ And he was still waiting for an answer... At which point she suddenly realised that she could try to - vaguely - put her mother’s message across.
Aiming for briefness she explained how that boy had been her first proper boyfriend (her first in almost every way, but there were limits to what she was going to share), and although she’d really really liked him, she’d realised that it wasn’t possible to keep a boyfriend and concentrate on her A-Levels, so she’d dumped him.
Alex listened with perfect composure, but was unable to stop a small smile forming as he replied to her unspoken statement.
“Message received and understood. And don’t worry Allie - I’ll never get in your way of achieving what you’re capable of. No...” he reached out, touched her cheek, the smile fading. “If you leave me it will be for quite, quite different reasons...”
Not having a clue what to say to that she decided to just kiss him, and that worked exceedingly well in getting him out of his weird mood.
The following day they went into Leicester to ‘see the sights’ (and maybe do some shopping - Allison had a long list of Christmas presents to buy still) and, because Alex insisted, went to see the castle and the Newarke Houses Museums and Galleries. Having trudged through these an infinite amount of times during her childhood, Allison wasn’t just bored out of her mind, she was also worried at how closely Alex’s enthusiasm mirrored her father’s, and had to forcibly remind herself that in most ways he was very different. Although he even did her father’s trick of talking to all the guides and getting all kinds of extra details out of them; as the morning wore on she gritted her teeth and glumly thought that he’d been right the night before - there were a whole heap of reasons she might decide to leave...
Shopping proved more enjoyable, although when she tried to hint that various items they came across might make good presents for her he just smiled mysteriously and said that her present was all sorted already.
“Can I have it early?” she asked, tugging at his duffel coat in a blunt-as-a-brick attempt to remind him that he was wearing his present, but he just smiled and shook his head.
That evening her mother started one of her impromptu music gatherings, which of course gave Alex another opportunity to show off, playing anything she put in front of him flawlessly.
When the session finally wrapped up, Allison noticed her mother and Alex quietly talking in a corner, and tried to make her way into hearing distance as subtly as possibly, half-alarmed that her mother was giving Alex ‘A Talk’.
What she heard however, when she got close enough, was her mother saying, “Are you sure?”, a surprised, but genuinely pleased, smile on her face, and Alex replying, “Absolutely - I was going to ask anyway.”
Her mother tilted her head and studied him, with a look that made Allison think that Alex had quite probably done what-ever-it-took to thoroughly win her mother over.
“You really are something else, Alexander Saxon,” her mother finally said, and in response he only smiled.
The next day promised better things. They were going to what might be Allison's favourite place in the world - certainly the place that had cemented her future in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe. And since Alex was loaded, she figured he wouldn’t mind paying.
The National Space Centre still looked like a giant, white, futuristic beehive, and she could feel her own excitement mounting as they drove up the road towards it. If she could, she’d live here...
As Alex had never been (something she found hard to believe), she eagerly dragged him through everything on offer - the Stellarium, the Rocket Tower, every exhibit and corner she could find, although oddly though, Alex seemed almost subdued throughout - not disinterested at all, but somehow withdrawn in his appreciation. Which was - if Allison was completely honest - a bit of relief.
Finally they ended up in the Planetarium, which, as always, reduced her to silent awe and wonder, as she lost herself to space and endless possibility.
When the lights finally came back on, her head still spinning with stars and beauty, he had gone completely still, looking almost lost. She took his hand.
“I know, it has that effect on me too...”
He turned to her abruptly, shaking his head and eyes flashing as he gripped her hand hard.
“No. You have no idea what I’m feeling.”
Letting go, as if scared he’d hurt her, he curled up, burying his head in his hands, as she started at him in shock.
“Alex... are you OK?”
“No, I’m really not,” he said, voice muffled, and then - lifting his head - gazed up at the now idle dome above them.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to come here, sorry. It’s too well done and... it’s just an illusion. Like a picture of a glass of water in the desert. I can’t get out there - I can’t get out there at all...”
Gently putting a hand on his shoulder, she couldn’t help smiling as she answered.
“But that’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? Learning about it all so one day we will be able to go out there...”
He turned his head and looked at her - just looked - for the longest time, and then smiled a smile that was at once luminous and apologetic.
“You are wonderful, and I am sorry. I knew I was over privileged, but never realised I had quite such a talent for melodrama. I thought my disposition better tempered. I promise to do better from now on.”
“You are... so weird,” she said finally, and he laughed.
“Oh yes. I believe this has been stated many times over by now. C’mon - I’ll drive us back, so you can just relax.”
This last statement, as it turned out, was possibly some kind of elaborate joke - so convoluted that the point even missed Alex himself.
When they finally got home, her mother took one look at her face as she walked through the door and her eyes narrowed.
“Allie. What’s the matter?”
“My boyfriend,”Allison said, with feeling, “drives like a grandma.”
Alex, closing the door behind them, opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.
“No, scratch that, he makes grandmas look like risk-taking racing drivers.”
“Cars,” Alex said in his best know-it-all-voice, “are tiny little death traps on wheels. And drivers are erratic and often half asleep or just useless at steering. I’d rather be slow, but safe, than risk getting you killed because of a business man in an Audi who needs to be in Wolverhampton in half an hour and has only had a cup of coffee since 7 o’clock this morning.”
Allison looked at her mother with quiet exasperation.
“I’ve had this all the way home. Help me.”
Her mother, of course, just laughed.
After tea, Allison was wondering what to do (watching TV seemed a bit dull, and she wasn’t having another music evening), when suddenly the back door burst open and there was a chorus of “Aliiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
Running into the kitchen she was immediately drowned in hugs and kisses from her four best friends.
“What are you doing here?” Allison asked when the profuse greetings had subsided, “I thought you were-”
She waved a hand to indicate the four corners they’d all been scattered to, and they laughed conspiratorially.
“We were sneaky and planned to come see you, because it’s been forever, Little Miss Clever,” they started explaining, but a soft chuckle cut them off.
Turning, Allison saw Alex draped in the doorway, as casually suave as James Bond (if James Bond ever wore jeans & a T-shirt) and with a smile no less self-assured.
“You’ve come to see me,” he said, looking the group over, and Allison could almost feel her friends’ curiosity go through the roof.
“Oh my god, listen to him!" "Who does he think he is?”
They were rounding on him now, and most normal boys would be quaking in their boots. Alex, of course, was far from normal, and Allison knew that rather than being intimidated, he was enjoying himself far too much.
“I think..." he said slowly, "That I’m a genuine gentleman,” and taking the hand of the nearest girl, he kissed the back of it with utmost grace, “and I am utterly charmed to meet you.”
For just a second he shot Allison a look, winking, and she had to cover her laughter with a cough.
“Um guys - my boyfriend, Alexander Saxon.”
It turned out to be a truly marvellous evening. When questioned closer on the ‘gentleman’ claim, Alex happily expanded up on the fact that he was Lord Cole’s nephew and second in line to the title - after which he promptly offered to introduce them all to his cousin Geoffrey, but only if they promised to, if at all possible, marry the young man in question and have many, many children so Alex would never have to be bothered with large, ostentatious country houses and piles of money.
"He's not joking," Allison said, and then Alex offered to get them all drinks. He proceeded to spend the rest of the evening being attentive, witty and charming to such an extent that when her friends finally left - close to midnight - he had them practically eating out of his hand, and they declared him the catch of the Century as they walked out to the waiting taxi.
That night, as Allison was getting ready for bed, she couldn't help turning the last few days over in her head. Most people, as one got to know them, showed a certain consistency in their behaviour, but Alex... Alex really was different. The longer she knew him, the more sides he seemed to display - during the last few days she'd had the inveterate show off, the history enthusiast, the anguished star gazer, the pedantic driver and now the consummate charmer, to name but the most prominent of his facets... She remembered finding this chameleon talent a bit disturbing back when they'd first met - unsure if any of it was actually the 'real' him, or just some kind of performance. Now she was leaning more towards the idea that he was quite simply a collection of all these different aspects, and at some point she'd have a more or less complete picture - like collecting pieces of a jigsaw.
She mentioned this as she kissed him goodnight a little later, and he tilted his head, the light above illuminating his hair like a halo. For a second she felt like the world went topsy turvy - it was Alexander Saxon, someone who had until less than half a year ago been a figure only known faintly from newspapers, and he was standing there on her landing. Then he spoke, and the odd spell was broken.
"As always, you are exceedingly perceptive, Allie. Although I wonder what you will make of the whole picture once you have it..."
She shook her head. If obliqueness was a virtue, it was one he had in abundance. And yet - the moment in the Planetarium kept coming back to her. For the briefest moment something had happened to throw him out of his usual equilibrium, and she had seen something... raw and vulnerable that she didn’t know how to deal with. And neither did he, clearly. He’d sealed up so impeccably that she almost felt she had dreamt it, but not knowing how to broach the subject, she decided to ask Matt and Josh once they were all back at Cambridge.
The final thought in her mind as she drifted off to sleep, however, was a deeply reassuring one: Despite all the talk about History, his heart obviously belonged to the stars, just the same as hers.
The last day, and as they stood on the cold train platform waiting, her mother pulled a small pot with a twig in it out of her sturdy bag, and handed it over to Alex. Allison raised an eyebrow, but Alex's face broke out into a wide grin.
"Thank you, that's perfect."
Her mother looked slightly concerned.
"Cuttings are supposed to be done in late summer..." she began, but he took the pot and looked at the twig with great appreciation.
"Oh I'm very good at growing things," he said, and Allison tapped her mother’s shoulder.
"What is it?" she asked, and her mother smiled.
"A cutting from the plum tree - I asked him what he’d like as a Christmas present, and that is what he chose."
"I'll make my own plum jam in future," he said happily, and Allison shook her head.
"In, like, twenty years time," she replied, and he studied the tiny twig fondly.
"I'm very patient," he said, before pulling out a very small and very light present from a pocket, telling her to under no circumstances to open it before Christmas morning.
Then Toby’s train pulled up to the platform, and there were quick introductions and shaking of hands, until Alex looked up and pulled a face.
“The Cardiff train will be here soon. Better get across the tracks.”
Allison frowned.
“Cardiff? Aren’t you going home?”
“A boy’s holidays are his own property,” Alex said with dancing eyes, “And I am going on the road with Mahbub Ali.”
“You... what?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, literary reference - Kim, by Kipling. I’ve found it rather apropos recently. Essentially this is the compromise I reached with my Uncle, if you remember? I’m allowed a modicum of freedom in my holidays, so I’m off to Jack’s.”
“But it’s Christmas in two day’s time,” she said, and he shrugged, eyes still wide and happy. “I’ll stretch them if need be.”
“Good luck with that,” she answered, smiling to take the edge off the words, and he laughed again.
”Time is a funny thing.”
And then, after a swift, if dizzying kiss, he was gone, holdall over one shoulder and twiglet cradled in his left hand.
Allison discovered that Alex had been only too right when he talked about time stretching, as the two days in question turned out to be almost impossibly long. Partly because she missed Alex, who might as well have vanished off the face of the Earth for all she could get hold of him (‘Torchwood regrets to inform you that the person you are trying to get hold of is currently unavailable’ the polite recording repeated every time she called; 'Boys', she thought, and refused to worry), and partly because she was driven to distraction by trying to work out what was inside the tiny box he’d given her.
Having come up with approximately half a million different possibilities, the reality still managed to stun her as she finally stared into the inside of it on Christmas Morning, forgetting about the multicoloured tree, the tea cup on the table next to her, the decorations and the Christmas music playing on the radio as well as the rest of her family who were tearing into their own presents.
"So, what did he get you?" Jimmy asked nosily, and she slowly picked up the small pieces of paper that might just as well have been made of fairy dust, for all that she'd ever expected to hold one in her hand.
"Tickets to the Live Simpsons Musical," she said faintly.
The Simpsons Musical... The first proper hologram musical, a feat of engineering and invention and musical ingenuity, the tickets for which were more expensive than gold; and they were hers.
Looking in the box, she saw a note.
Merry Christmas Allie
Know you love the Simpsons, so this struck me as something you'd appreciate. I can get more tickets if you want your friends to come along, but I thought it'd be nice to go there for New Year's Eve, just the two of us, and make a proper night of it. We could start with a nice restaurant (The Ritz maybe?), go the see the show, and then make our way down to see the fireworks. Let me know what you'd like, and I'll make arrangements - your wish is my command.
Yours,
S
"Why 'S'?" Jimmy asked, puzzled, and Allison answered distractedly, voice distant.
"For Saxon. He always signs stuff that way."
She didn't care how he signed his name, didn't care that he was weird and strange with multiple personalities and sometimes moody. All she could think was: 'He is the perfect boyfriend.'
Chapter 10
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Allie's conversation with her mom was too funny, and too realistic. Hee! I like the detail with her sister Ella; that's a good observation, and it fills in the backstory beautifully ::admires::
But I can't help thinking that poor Allie is going to be ticked when she finds out the real story. Yikes!
And even speaking as a simpson's fan the idea of a live musical holographic simpson's show gives me a headache. Hee!
no subject
*gives you cookie*
I really enjoyed Allie's family, and (as I just re-read the previous chapter) make a nice contrast to Alex's.
They're lovely, aren't they? Vaguely modelled on my in-laws, because they just have this wonderful dynamic, and it's as far from the tensions that fill the Saxon household as possible.
Allie's conversation with her mom was too funny, and too realistic. Hee!
Isn't it just? There is no way of touching that subject without major awkwardness. (Although her mother is of course awesome and is just trying to look out for her daughter.)
I like the detail with her sister Ella; that's a good observation, and it fills in the backstory beautifully ::admires::
Oh Ella - I can't even remember why I made their father a feminist in the first place (it's that long ago), but the repercussions were fascinating once I began to flesh everything out. Of course it all comes from the best possible motives, but...
But I can't help thinking that poor Allie is going to be ticked when she finds out the real story. Yikes!
Ah yes. It's not going to be easy.
And even speaking as a simpson's fan the idea of a live musical holographic simpson's show gives me a headache. Hee!
LOL. I had the idea for a musical for a long time, and as they now beginning to use actual holograms in concerts I though 'Hey - that could totally work!' I'm sure it'd be amazing. :)