#Flossie Tucker (OC)

[nehswritesstuffs]

The Thick of UNIT - Part XVII

So I was going to have Christmas 2012 and the Case of the Remaining Dream Crab conclude before the New Year, but oops it’s almost Valentine’s Day sorry folks.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

When Malcolm’s brother is being at his worst, a surprise visitor arrives on the doorstep and paradigms get shifted. Terribly. [Malcolm/Kate]

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Kate wondered. She was sitting on a chair now, staring at Malcolm and the Doctor as one laid and the other sat on the floor of the laboratory, both a few meters away. Clara was sitting next to her, a mug of tea in her hands.

“It depends on how much is going on in there,” the younger woman replied. “At least we know it could be worse.”

“It could…” Kate frowned at Malcolm’s still form, his head supported by a pillow, and an uneasy thought came over her. “What if this Dream Crab… achieves its goal?” She did not want to say “kill”… not yet.

“Chances are it won’t with the Doctor around,” Clara said. She took a sip of tea and shrugged. “The man this one killed wasn’t exactly the highest quality mind, if you get what I mean. If Malcolm is anything like you, Osgood, and Glenn say he is, then I wouldn’t be too worried. It’s only been half an hour.”

“I still cannot help but worry…”

“…because you have a duty to do so. I have one too, a duty of care, because rare is the idiot that doesn’t need caring for, and these two are a couple of right idiots.”

“I don’t know if that’s the exact word I’d use,” Kate said.

“It’s definitely the word we should use, if only because they are ours and no one else’s.” Clara smiled as she saw Glenn and Osgood return, brandishing the kettle and a tin of biscuits, as well as a bunch of scientific-looking equipment. “What would you say, Glenn? Are the Doctor and Malcolm our idiots?”

“They are whatever you want them to be,” he replied, setting the tin down next to them. “Just remember that we’re not dealing with ordinary men here.”

“My chance at having ordinary in my life is dead,” she told him. “There are only two people, two men, whom I could have ever spent the rest of my life with, and now it seems I’m down to only one option.” She accepted Glenn’s offer of more tea and stared down into her mug, watching the lighter tea from before mix with the fresher, darker stuff, and exhaled heavily. “The Doctor knows that… Danny knew that… and I’m glad that I had both, even for a little while. Malcolm will get out of this, Kate. The Doctor is planning on it.”

“He better, or I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do,” Kate frowned. “I’ll threaten to defund him.”

“You know that’ll never work,” Osgood snickered. Going through her collection of stuff, she went and scraped some of the slime oozing from the Dream Crab into a series of petri dishes. “He doesn’t work here anymore… hasn’t for quite some time.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Kate replied. She held up her cuppa in a silent toast before drinking some more, eyes fixed on Malcolm and the Doctor.

It still didn’t feel like they were going to make it, yet she had to keep her hopes up.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As the end of the year approached, the Stewart-Tuckers were doing their best to enjoy themselves. It was difficult, given that the Tucker Brothers kept on having petty rows, but they soldiered on as they normally did; just because Malcolm and Johnny kept on arguing did not mean that the holidays were going to be ruined. They had been in an argumentative state before and they would likely be in one again before they were too old and senile to remember past five minutes. Life went on as usual, with the family behaving exactly as such—a family.

It wasn’t until it was just before New Year’s Eve when the balance began to tip. Florence had taken Lex and Gordon to the store to procure supplies for their miniature Hogmanay celebration, while Fiona was out with Sean learning how to drive in faithful, ol’ Bessie thanks to some ill-patrolled country roads. That left Malcolm and Kate alone with Flossie and Johnny, the latter of whom had barely come out of his room for nearly two days.

“Da…? Has Uncle Johnny always been a tit?”

“Not always, pet,” Malcolm said. He and Flossie were curled up on the couch, watching the news as they did the year’s retrospective. Kate was in the kitchen, out of earshot concerning their conversation. “You know, you shouldn’t use language like that when talking about your uncle—you only got one o’ them.”

“Yeah, but Mum’s not in the room to be cross at me for cussing.”

“That’s true, but you still shouldn’t be too harsh on Uncle Johnny,” he replied. “His job is a rough one, and it doesn’t surprise me that he has the tendency to act odd.”

“Teaching…?” Flossie scrunched her nose and shifted so that she could look her father in the face. “It doesn’t look that hard. You just have to know stuff.”

“Trust me: it extremely difficult at times,” he assured her. “Uncle Johnny has to attempt to teach dozens of people with brains like pudding stuff that a pudding has no reason to learn. If he even reaches one person, he did his job above and beyond the call of duty. Some people are really good at it, but others aren’t, and one day you’ll find that out yourself.”

“Why?”

“You’ll be smarter than a teacher, eventually. If you’ve got any of your mam’s smarts, which you do, then you will find yourself dealing with a teacher with whom you can wipe the fucking floor with before you reach sixth form. Shit, even I was smarter than most of my teachers before uni. The trick is to make them think you respect ‘em, or else it’s all for naught and suddenly you find yourself in detention constantly, nearly failing because you’re on the staff’s bad side, and Granny’s shouting and arguing with you every day about the stupidest shit.”

“She yelled at you and not Uncle Johnny?”

“Auntie Marcia and me, yeah, but your uncle…” Malcolm trailed off as he thought—no, he couldn’t remember his mother and brother ever having a row. In fact, he couldn’t even recall their father having a shout at them.

Huh.

“Time for some nice cuppas,” Kate announced. She walked into the room carrying the tea tray, laden with mugs and a plate of biscuits. Flossie spent little time reaching for her mug and some Jammie Dodgers, slipping off the couch to kneel on the floor between the couch and low table. Her mother and father used the opportunity to sit close together, nearly atop one another, settling in with their tea.

“Da? What do you think it would be like had you stayed in politics with Uncle Jamie and Uncle Cal?” Flossie asked, mouth full of biscuit. She cocked her head at the television, watching the stuttering buffoon that was being replayed from an epic disaster of a PR scandal that May.

“I try not to think about it, pet,” he said. He slid his free arm around Kate’s waist and held her a bit tighter than normal. “I’ve got me my wife, my wee bairn, a few other not-so-wee bairns of varying origins running about… it’s all I need.”

“Well, I think you would’ve been brilliant,” the young girl said.

“You’re saying that because I’m your da.”

“No, I mean it.” Flossie shuffled around and glared at her father. “You could have made it so that man would have been a hero. You could even be helping Mum now.”

“Don’t get too carried away, pet,” Malcolm chuckled. “I’m just your old, worn-out da—there’s nothing heroic about me.”

“You’re dying.”

“Flossie, dear, don’t tease your father,” Kate chuckled. She kissed Malcolm on the cheek and the small child gagged, returning her attention to the television. “Only I’m allowed to do that.”

“Uh… yeah…” Malcolm warily agreed. He felt uncomfortable as they went back to watching the television, wondering if he genuinely did need his hearing checked.

It was then that the doorbell rang, pulling the three’s attention from their cuppas and telly. Malcolm cocked his head and stared in the direction of the front door, knowing that they weren’t expecting anyone that wouldn’t have just walked right in.

“Stay here while I see who it is, yeah?” he said as he stood. He handed his mug to Kate and patted Flossie on the head before walking away. After making his way through the house, he opened the front door to see his brother’s girlfriend standing there, an awkward grin on her face.

“Hi, Malcolm; sorry I’m just dropping in like this…”

“No, no, you were invited, now get the fuck inside, it’s fucking cold out there,” he insisted. He took her bags from her and helped her out of her coat, which he put in the cupboard. “Johnny know you were on your way, Clara?”

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise,” she replied. Before either could continue, Flossie came dashing into the foyer to interrupt them.

“Miss Clara!” the girl gasped. She ran up to the woman and hugged her around the waist. “I thought you were in Blackpool!”

“You’re right, I was, but I’m here now,” Clara chuckled. “Have you been good since I last saw you?”

“Yes! I grew too!”

“Well, that was a given.”

“Flossie,” Kate said as she entered the fold, “please go use the electric kettle and put on some of our new chamomile tea for Miss Clara. I’m sure she needs it after coming here all the way from Blackpool.”

“Oh, yes!” With that, the girl dashed away, leaving the adults to themselves.

“That’s a relief,” Kate smirked. She gave Clara a hug and attempted to lead her into the house. “You have to tell me what’s going on with your father. He must have had a worse fall than expected…”

“I’ll get to that in a bit,” Clara said. She looked at both her guests and bit her lower lip in slight hesitation before continuing. “Can I talk to you both first? With John?”

“Of course,” Malcolm said. He picked her bags back up and the three went up the stairs and over towards Johnny’s room. Arriving at the door, Malcolm knocked before raising his voice slightly.

“Hey, can I come in, or are you still being a raggedy cunt that can’t behave properly at family gatherings?”

“I’m busy,” Johnny replied sourly. Malcolm attempted to open the door anyhow only to find it locked.

“Hold on,” Clara whispered. She then stepped between Malcolm and the door, a knowing smirk on her face. “What if it was me who wanted to come in?”

The door swung open almost instantly, revealing a shocked Johnny. Clara clung to him tightly as Malcolm walked by, placing her bags next to his, the entire scene apparently confusing him. Once Kate had entered the room and the invasion complete, Clara closed the door quietly and locked it.

“What’s with all this secrecy?” Kate wondered. “You’re not normally like this.”

“Well, I have something I want to discuss with all three of you, and I need to get it all out at once or else I am going to become a nervous wreck that won’t be of any use in the slightest.”

“That’s more our Clara,” Malcolm deadpanned.

“Hush,” Johnny said, holding out his hand towards his brother, “this shouldn’t be. Clara, why are you here?”

“Don’t you hush me, you fucking—!”

“Boys, stop it,” Kate snapped. “You’re only making things worse.” She then turned to Clara and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Now what did you want to talk to us about? Is it something back home?”

“It’s not that,” the younger woman said. “First, I have to apologize to you all: I wasn’t in Blackpool the entire time I should have been here. It is true that Dad hurt himself because of that cat, and I did stay with him and Linda through Christmas, but the rest of the time I was back in Glasgow in order to make some appointments.”

“Clara…? What are you saying…? Why are you here…?” Johnny wondered. He was staring at her intently—brow furrowed and eyes intense—as though he had never expected her to show up, let alone so suddenly.

“Just shut up and let me do the talking, yeah?” she said. Clara took hold of one of his hands and took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Kate, Malcolm, you are going to be the only ones who know this for a while, but only because if I don’t tell you both immediately I will burst: Will you both be the godparents for our child?”

The brothers’ eyes nearly bugged at the question. Different versions of shock settled over them, which made Clara more than slightly nervous, which meant Kate stepped in and took over.

“Why of course,” she beamed. “It will be an honor. You know how Malcolm is when it comes to that stuff, but if he can back off making remarks around my children then he certainly can behave himself around yours.”

“I only imagined he’d be one in a secular manner to begin with,” Clara nervously laughed. She glanced up at Johnny, who was still attempting to process the situation. “Are you alright, John? You did say you were ready to start trying, and we did agree that your brother and sister-in-law would be the godparents…”

“You’re pregnant,” he stated. “You’re going to have a baby.”

“Yes, your baby—I’m eight weeks along—that’s what the appointments were for,” she explained. “I know it’s still not a sure thing at this point in the game, but I know it’s what we really wanted and…”

At that, Johnny let go of Clara’s hand and briskly walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Clara’s eyes grew wide and watery, her face twisting in silent, barely contained rage.

“Clara, sit down,” Kate offered, softly pushing her towards the mattress. “Malcolm, give him Hell.”

“I plan on it,” he scowled. Malcolm left the room and carefully closed the door behind him, not wanting to make too much more noise. He went down to the bottom of the stairs and saw Flossie standing there in confusion.

“What’s wrong with Uncle Johnny?” she asked in confusion.

“He’s being a tit again, pet,” Malcolm grunted. “Which way did he go? The lad needs a bollocking.”

“The back garden,” Flossie said. She pointed towards the rear of the house and stared up at her father. “Is everything okay?”

“It will be; I promise,” he assured her.

After patting her on the head, he went outside to find his brother skulking about by the gazebo. Gone were the days when it was a freshly-built project for him, Alastair, and Gordon; the wood was now weathered and in desperate need of some sanding and a coat of paint come springtime, though that was neither here nor there. Malcolm stormed up to Johnny and landed a fist right on his nose, causing the other man to hold his face and cuss under his breath.

“What the fuck was that?!” Malcolm snarled. “You stuff the lass and then you act like you want nothing to fucking do with her?! I expected better from you!”

“That’s not Clara!” Johnny sniped back.

“She’s more than just Clara now—she’s the mother of your child, you fucking waste of space! What the fuck are Mam and Da going to say when they come back and see you acting like this?!”

“Those are not our parents!”

“What the everliving fuck are you talking about?!” Malcolm said, abso-fucking-lutely stunned. “Florence and Sean, our parents, are going to come home from their respective grandnip outings and find that not only there is another on the way, but that you are being a disgrace to the Tucker name. Last time you phoned, you couldn’t’ve been more in love with her—ready to marry and settle down and dash the hopes of all your student admirers—and now look at you. It’s a good thing Marcia ain’t here, or she’d smack you for acting too much like her fucking low-life ex for comfort.”

“Malcolm,” Johnny frowned. He wiped the blood from his nose on his sweatshirt sleeve and stared him down. “Who am I?”

“What the fuck…? What’s this about?”

“Who? Am? I?”

“You’re me brother, who is being a massive tit right now, and…”

Before Malcolm knew it, Johnny had him by the front of his jumper and slammed up against a beam. His pale eyes, the same as his, were nearly wild in anger.

“What is my name?!” he bellowed. Malcolm shoved him off, watching his brother stagger a couple feet away due to the force.

“Madison John Basil Tucker,” he said. “We call you John and Johnny because you never liked Madison, ‘specially after that fucking mermaid movie made all the girls laugh at you. You know, the one that came out right after uni?” Johnny narrowed his eyes at him, setting him off even worse. “What the fuck is this about?! You’re scaring Clara—who I would have expected you to sweep off her feet and carry down to the courthouse before it closes for the holiday—you scared Flossie… you’re scaring me! What is going on?!”

“You are dying.”

“I thought we went over this…”

“No, Malcolm, it’s the truth,” Johnny said gravely. “We are not here, not really. You and I are in the bowels of UNIT at this very moment; this right here? It’s why you’ve got that headache. An alien is boring into your skull, killing you with pleasantries and an ideal world for you to believe in.”

“…an alien…?” Malcolm scoffed. “Kate’s the one that handles those bent gits, not me. What are you on about?”

“We are in UNIT right now because I brought in the alien for Osgood to examine and it escaped from its container. I am in your brain to help you fight this, not to be a nuisance.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at his brother, not believing him. “If you’re in my brain, then how the fuck are you managing that? You’re only human.”

“That’s where everyone in this dreamscape is wrong, including you,” Johnny said. “I am the Doctor, a Time Lord of the planet Gallifrey in the constellation Kasterborous. I travel in a space-time ship and am basically an idiot who tries to help out, but the thing is that I have established a telepathic connection in order to save you, because if I don’t Kate is going to have my hide.”

“There’s only one part of that I believe, and it’s that my Kate will likely be the one to murder you and make it look like an accident.” Malcolm went and began walking back towards the house—his brother’s mind was truly shot. Something had happened within the past three weeks to make him like this and he needed to figure out the whens and whys of the matter. It would involve calling up some old mates, especially some of the old crowd from his days clawing for devolution, but he would definitely get to the bottom of this.

“Malcolm, you have to listen to me!”

Fuck… he and Kate would have to make sure that Clara didn’t leave their sights. She couldn’t go back to Scotland, nor could she go to Blackpool, not with the way things were. She might even need to have the baby before everything’s settled and that wouldn’t be until the damned summer…

“We don’t have much time, Malcolm! The clock is ticking!”

…at least Flossie would be thrilled, until she learned to change a nappy…

“Malcolm!”

“Don’t you try to fucking talk to me, you fucking mental waste of cum and skin!” he screamed, spinning around to meet his brother face-to-face. “Your girlfriend is up the fucking duff and you’re raving on about being an alien and other shit I don’t even want to try to fucking pronounce! Can’t you see you’ve basically told us all that you’re dumping her?! Kate and I are going to have to clean up your mess, so don’t you think you’ve got an iota of claim to anything now.”

“That is not Clara, nor is it Kate, nor is this our lives!” Johnny insisted. “The only reason I am here is because coming into your consciousness via the telepathic connection made it so that my past and current desires blended with yours during the creation of the false environment we’re in!”

“Then what the fuck is yours, huh?” Malcolm spat lowly. “Fucking a woman half your age until she’s pregnant and then walking away?”

“Having a family again,” Johnny replied. His voice was level and grave, with a tone that sent a shiver down Malcolm’s spine. “Back on Gallifrey, I was married. It was a beautiful union, one where our family could only grow in size, to the point where when I ran away, I did so with my granddaughter in tow. I did so many things wrong back then—from the way I thought to how I acted—and starting over anew with Clara—my Clara—would be a way to salvage myself and do things right.”

“You have a granddaughter?”

“She was by my side until she fell in love and I had to let her go on her own. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t miss her, and she would want me to try to do better by Clara and any children I have with her… if we even can have children.”

“So let me get this straight,” Malcolm grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are an extraterrestrial alien from outer fucking space old enough to have a granddaughter and your being here means that another alien is picking up on the fact you want to shag a lass until she pops out a kid?”

“Not in such terms, but yes,” Johnny said. He averted his eyes from Malcolm, his neck and cheeks beginning to blush red at the thought. “That’s not all though.”

“Whoop-dee-fucking-do; what a surprise. What else is there?”

“You had wanted not only a father, but a family of your own,” he said. “Sean is an invention of the dreamscape, as is your marriage.”

“You take that back,” Malcolm snarled. “Kate is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’ll be damned if she’s just a wet dream!”

“She is not the dream, but the marriage is,” Johnny clarified. “The dreamscape had you two meeting earlier than you actually did, facilitating you not only becoming a father figure to her children while they were young, but the creation of a third child who doesn’t actually exist…”

“…and how do you know all this? Tell me quick, before I bust yer balls and the bairn Clara’s carrying is the only one you’ll ever have.”

Just then, cutting them off, a familiar honking noise came from around the house and Bessie drove around the bend with Fiona at the wheel. Sean was grinning giddily as the teen came to a stop and put the vehicle into park a few meters away on the lawn.

“That’s me,” Johnny said. “I have different faces, and that was one of them. The dreamscape used it because it made us being brothers more plausible.” The two watched as Sean and Fiona got out of the car and came over to them, their excitement bursting at the seams.

“Did you see me Uncle Johnny?! Dad?! I should be able to pass my driver’s exam easy when I turn eighteen!” Fiona’s voice kept going higher and higher as she talked. “Grandfather says I’ll be more than ready at this rate!”

“I am not your grandfather,” Johnny said, his own voice level and calm. In an instant, Sean melted into a puddle and sank into the ground, not fazing Fiona one bit.

“I know you didn’t want me to take the car out, but see? I can drive it by myself with no scratches or dents or anything!”

“Fiona?”

“Yeah Uncle Johnny?”

“Who was driving with you?”

“No one,” the teen said guiltily. “I know I really should have brought someone along if I was going to go out… but I really wanted to, and…!”

“Fiona!” Flossie shouted, running out of the house. “Where were you?! Mum and Da were worried!”

“Took Bessie out for a joyride,” the elder sister grinned. She was pulled along by Flossie into the house, which left Malcolm stunned.

“See? Now do you believe me?” Johnny asked. Malcolm looked at his brother—no, the Doctor—and swallowed hard.

“What do we need to do?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Something’s happening!” Osgood gasped, stepping back from the Dream Crab. She pointed at the Doctor’s face, where his nose was beginning to drip blood. “Clara?! Is this normal…?”

“I don’t know,” Clara said. She and Kate both put their tea down and went over to where the Doctor and Malcolm were on the floor, both looking at the Time Lord’s face. Clara accepted a handkerchief from Glenn and dabbed at the blood, noting that it had stopped just as suddenly as it came.

“Is the strain too much?” Glenn wondered.

“No, it can’t be—the Doctor’s mental capacity is much higher than ours,” Kate frowned. “Do you think something happened in the dreamscape?”

“Possibly,” Clara said. She stared at the Doctor’s face, attempting to decipher his lack of expression. “Come on, Doctor. I know you can do it, you clever boy, you.

“All you need to do is run.”

[nehswritesstuffs]

The Thick of UNIT - Part XVIII

This chapter was a bear to get out, but that’s because I’ve been scheduling things for a long time to come (at least 36 chapters overall!) and the brainstorming of that was getting in the way.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Convinced by the Doctor, Malcolm needs to figure out what is anchoring him in the deadly dream before it’s too late. [Malcolm/Kate]

As the two men walked into the house, an uncomfortable air began to settle on them. Malcolm and the Doctor were both now on the same page when it came to the situation they currently found themselves in—they were both in the recesses of Malcolm’s mind, inside a dreamscape meant to kill him. They watched from afar as Flossie jumped on Fiona’s back and was carried out of sight, knowing that the job ahead of them was liable to be a difficult one.

“Remember: we have to do this little by little,” the Doctor warned. “Otherwise the dreamscape will likely collapse on itself and then I might never get you out of here.”

“That’s a fucking comfort,” Malcolm snorted. “How do we do this? By loudly acknowledging that this isn’t reality?”

“We have to go around and figure out what’s tying you here,” the Doctor stated. “You cannot be tied by someone who does not exist, nor one who never existed, so that narrows it down slightly.”

“Your old face and Flossie.”

“Correct. Additionally, I’ve been doing some analysis of this particular Crab’s tactics while stuck up in that room and have figured that only vast amounts of change in a relationship can ultimately get you out of here. When it was Clara and me, we were released by acknowledging that we wanted little more than to remain with one another. This, coupled with some plain honesty, was what kept us alive.”

“…and applying that here rules out Mam, Gordon, and Lex, who already act little different than they do normally.”

“Also correct. Now the question is to figure out who out of the two remaining is the anchor…”

“There you two are!” Kate said as she came down the stairs. She approached Malcolm and the Doctor, slapping the latter across the face. “What the bloody hell has gotten into you?!”

“Kate, I…”

“That poor girl is upstairs sobbing while you’re down here doing… I don’t know what… just making her more upset! Some father and husband you’re turning out to be!”

“Kate, that’s not Clara, and you’re not real either,” the Doctor said gravely. The woman instead curled her lip and sneered at him.

“That does it; I want you out of my house and away from my family, do you understand? I am not going to tolerate such behavior, especially out of my husband’s own brother. You have crossed several lines, John, and I am not going to stand for it.”

“If you will just listen to me…!”

“You have no room for an argument! Malcolm will bring your stuff to the pub with Gordon when he gets back. Until then: good bye.” She then began shoving him towards the back garden door, setting the lock once he was outside. Spinning around, she faced her husband and growled, “Don’t you dare let him back in, not until I say.”

“Okay, but I…”

“Make some tea and bring it upstairs; we need it badly if we’re going to get through this.” At that, she stormed back up the stairs, presumably to comfort Clara some more. Malcolm waited until he no longer heard footsteps before going to the door and cracking it open a wee bit.

“Doctor…?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“What the fuck are we going to do now?!”

“See if you can talk to Fiona since she’s not livid with me; remember that breaking the hold on your consciousness involves explicit understanding and statements as far as what’s going on.”

“Gotcha. See you on the other side.”

Malcolm closed the door and began to creep around the house. Reminders of a life he should have had met him at every turn, making the situation all the more unbearable. Family portraits done in a studio, keepsakes from holiday trips that never happened, clutter from school work and projects and visitors strewn about everywhere… it was nearly unbearable.

Finally, Malcolm gave up and went into the kitchen to at least put the kettle on. He kept his hands busy with preparing tea, nearly not noticing that the teen he had been searching for had come into the room, her hands full of paperwork. She sat down at the table and spread her things out.

“Oh, tea? There enough for me?”

“Yeah,” Malcolm nodded. He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves; it was now or never, you tit. “Hey, Fiona, I need to talk to you.”

“You read my mind, Dad,” she said, flipping through papers.

“…I did…?”

“Yeah, I need to know if you were planning on going to the school play next month during the first weekend or the weekend after,” she replied. She found the piece of paper she was searching for and began writing on it. The man she believed to be her stepfather stepped slightly closer; it was a list of things he did not understand at first, but then remembered the dreamscape’s invention: she was in the drama department. “We need ushers and Flossie would be perfect if you brought her in the dress she wore for the old headmaster's funeral. You know... the white with black fake-lace.”

“You don't want me to do it?” he asked.

“It would be easier, but Floss is cuter,” the teen said frankly. “Not a lot of room for cute when doing the Scottish Play, after all. It'll help offset the inevitable gloom.”

“...and I wouldn't? You’re doing the Scottish Play. I’m Scottish.”

“…and that would play into things, unless you ditched the Weegie for the night, and it would still not work. You've just got this face, Dad...”

Malcolm sighed and steeled himself for the worst. He did not want to do it, but if it got him out of the death-trap he was in, then so fucking be it.

“Fiona, lass, I'm not your da. I never have been.”

“Dad... we've been through this,” Fiona groaned. “I know you're not always comfortable with me calling you that when Gordy doesn't, but it is what you are to me. You helped raise me, so you’re my dad. Fuck anyone who doesn't believe otherwise, because they can't understand what a real family is if it bit them in the bloody cock.”

“No, they wouldn't...”

“Then what are you so glum over? Not a single person questions that we're related, even when I should have that beaky nose of yours but don’t, so why start here?”

Fuck, this was difficult. Malcolm knew that the teen before him was not the Fiona of the real world. They looked the same, yeah, but this was a Fiona that grew up under different circumstances as the real one. It was faint, but he could nearly envision the one who actually existed instead—the one whose rich-fuck father sent her to a posh school where she was surrounded on nearly all sides by the spawn of Whitehall's worst and dullest, destined to repeat their patents' incompetencies and sins. She was not Fiona Tucker, nor Fiona Lethbridge-Stewart, but Fiona Ferrero, and she had only known him since partway through the year, not long as she could remember.

That still did not make denying the girl in front of him any easier.

“I am not your da,” he repeated. “Your mam and I never met when you were a child, I have not married her or adopted you, and you don't go to the village school because your da Loris is a tit. You are not the real Fiona.”

A worried expression swept across the teen's face before she dissolved and melted into the floor, just as the Doctor's other form had outside. The papers she had brought into the room dissolved as well, removing all trace of her existence. Now the kitchen was empty aside from him and it left a sinking feeling in his gut.

“It's not her,” he muttered to himself, "and it can't be Mam, Gordon, or Lex—they aren't treating me any different—so it's got to be... Kate.” He swallowed hard; if denying Fiona was bad, then he wasn't sure what he was in for.

“Hey, did you do it?” Malcolm turned towards the kitchen window and saw the Doctor popping his head in through the window above the sink.

“Fiona’s gone, so that leaves Kate,” Malcolm stated. “If this doesn’t get us the fuck out of here, I am going to fuck you over so hard, you’ll wish you stayed by your granddaughter’s side, wherever the fuck that is, because it will not be pleasant.”

“Less posturing, more action,” the Doctor said. He was about to say more when he ducked out quickly, having seen something that spooked him. Malcolm turned and saw Clara standing in the entryway to the kitchen, her face red and puffy from crying, and tried not to cringe.

“Was that John?” she asked.

“Clara, lass, I…”

“That shit—” she hissed. Clara went out the nearest door and Malcolm carefully watched the scene that unfolded from the window. He could not hear a thing, yet watched as Clara and the Doctor had an argument. It ended when the Time Lord grabbed her and planted a deep kiss on her lips before she dissolved in his arms.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around Malcolm from behind, making him jump. Kate laughed, gently spinning her beau around so that they were face-to-face.

“Skittish today, aren’t we?” she teased. When he didn’t answer, she merely chuckled. “Hey, Flossie has a DVD in; do you want to get in a quick one before the house is full again?”

“I… um… are you sure, love?”

“The other kids are out, as is your mum; nothing is stopping us for at least half an hour.”

Well fuck, she had the entire pregnancy debacle with the imaginary Clara wiped from her consciousness. Malcolm tried to protest, but Kate put a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.

“You’ll feel better once we’re upstairs,” she promised. She took his hand and led him through the house. Up the stairs, to their room, and she gently held his shoulders as she eased him into sitting on the bed. She straddled his lap and rested her arms on either side of his neck. Her nails scratched the back of his neck and her perfume filled his nose. “Was I right?”

“Well, you weren’t wrong…”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” She kissed him tenderly, one hand on his back and the other ruffling his hair, her fingers grasping the greying strands. “I’d like my house-husband to remember me fondly after I leave tonight for my shift at work. Is that too much to ask?” She leaned him back and used the hand not in his hair to grope his quickly-bulging cock fondly through his trousers. “Does this mean we’re in agreement?”

Every single fucking fiber of his being wanted her to shag him into euphoria, except the one single part of him that could ignore her partly-buttoned blouse and invitingly warm thighs.

“There’s something I’d like us to talk about first,” he blurted. Kate frowned at that, her brow furrowing into a scowl.

“You’re turning down sex; the last time you did this was because you didn’t want to shag while I was so close to Flossie’s due date…”

“That’s… that’s what I want to talk about. Sort of.” His prick softened almost instantly as she rolled off him, sitting upright on the bed with her face set in a stern glare. “How long have we been married?”

“You know that perfectly well.”

“I want to hear you say it, though.” He sat up and faced her; his stomach twisted at her irritation.

“It will be ten years in June,” she replied. “Is this about that?”

“Kate? What if this wasn’t real?”

Her face was stone as she considered his words. “What do you mean?”

“I’m mad about you—you know that—but, what if… what if this wasn’t real? If we weren’t real? Fucking… Kate, this is going to kill me.”

“Oh, Malcolm…” Kate shifted her position on the mattress and brought his head down so that he could lay down with his head between her breasts. “Listen, I know you’ve been having a hard time coping with Flossie getting older and needing you less, but now’s not the time to be existential.”

“I’m not being fucking existential; if I wanted to do that, I’d go to work.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t take that job at UNIT, but get some sort of unrelated hobby,” she suggested. “Maybe get into that woodworking course you’ve been wanting to take down at the village hall; I know you’ve said you wanted to be able to make your projects with Gordon have a bit more character.”

“No, that’s not it…”

“…then how about we see about expanding some of the flower beds in the spring? Gardening has always been something we’ve done together…”

“No, love, I…” He swallowed hard and leaned up to kiss her, hard, before murmuring against her mouth, “I don’t want to die and then never get the chance to turn down sex again.”

“What are you..?”

“You’re not real, Kate; the real Kate is in UNIT, watching over me as I fight an alien attempting to eat my mind like some sort of demented pudding, while the Doctor is attempting to save me from the inside. You are not real, this marriage is not real, and although my love for you is most certainly real, this life we have is far from being the real deal.”

In an instant, the woman caressing him melted away, leaving only himself in the bed. Malcolm curled up atop the bedspread, covering his face in a pillow to hide his tears.

Why couldn’t his life be this? This world, this life that he had here, was so beautiful it was making him nauseous as he dismantled it. He had a quiet existence here, though a meaningful one, and it was cruel to deny him.

Yes, it was cruel to deny him, but it was crueler to deny others the chance to build the closest thing they could to this life. Now he just needed to figure out the final way to get out.

“Did you find Kate?” the Doctor asked, barging into the room. He saw Malcolm and tilted his head, attempting to figure out what was going on. “You aren’t ill, are you?”

“No, dipshit,” Malcolm muttered from underneath the pillow. “I found Kate.”

“Where is she?” The Doctor lifted the pillow from Malcolm’s face to see the other man glaring at him. “Did you tell her?”

“Yes, I told her, now let me go back.”

The Doctor dropped the pillow and began to pace around the room. “We really should be back in UNIT right now.”

“Wait, you mean it wasn’t Fiona or Kate?!” Malcolm stood and squared his shoulders in an attempt at intimidation. “You said it was one of them!”

“It was only logical!”

“Fuck your logic!” It was then that realization spread through him, weighing heavy on his shoulders. “If it’s not my wife and it’s not my stepdaughter, then that can only mean it is my non-existent daughter. Fuck!” He turned towards the Doctor and scowled. “I thought you said that Flossie can’t be it!”

“Clara and I were what were keeping one another in our dreamscapes, along with another man who died earlier in the year,” the Doctor said. “It makes sense that only a hint of reality can keep one grounded in fantasy.”

“Well, obviously it didn’t work, you bent space-fuck! Now what am I going to do?! I can’t exactly bring anyone back!”

“Why would you want to bring them back?!”

“So that I can die in peace; is that so wrong?!” To Hell with it—fuckall to this entire shitty fuckfest of cuntastic proportions. He was done. “My life has been shit, Doctor! Utter shit! I got mocked from the schoolyard to university for anything and everything; my accent, my family, my brains… you pick it, they picked with it. My careers in journalism and government were supposed to be used to make shit better, make things work that weren’t, and then it got derailed. I was dragged through the mud and hung out to dry. Now my life’s work is down the drain, and even though I’ve found a new purpose at UNIT, I can’t even hang onto the peace I find there!”

The Doctor stayed silent, staring at Malcolm from behind a steely mask.

“This life,” Malcolm continued, “is the best life I could have had. My career was not in complete tatters when I retired, I have a bairn of me own and had an actual hand in raising others, and I’ve settled into a stable sense of purpose here! Can’t I die on my terms?”

“Not this time,” the Doctor said. “If you die here and now, in this farce of reality, then not only will Kate find a way to make me regenerate at least five times over, but Osgood will be mortified to the point of drastic measure. That doesn’t even include what your family would do…”

“What would we do, Uncle Johnny?” The two men turned their attention over towards the door and saw Flossie standing just outside the bedroom door. She held a toy close to her chest—a stuffed wolf that was a present from her Auntie Sammy—and appeared as though she was about to cry.

“Floss, kiddo, we’re talking.”

“You’re not talking, you’re shouting. What’s wrong?”

“Just adult stuff.”

“Tell her,” the Doctor frowned. “You have to tell her yourself, or it won’t work.”

“You have to tell me what, Da?” Flossie wondered. She came up to him and hugged his leg, not wanting to let go. “Tell me.”

Malcolm’s heart broke as he looked down at his daughter’s face. If he said nothing, then she would grow up to look like her mother, though with the curls and eyes he inherited from his mother. A whole lifetime of milestones lay ahead of her, ahead of him as her father. Did he really have the right to take that away? Could he end it all with only a few words instead of die having watched her grow?

Yes, he had to, because he was Malcolm Fucking Tucker, and he was not going to die in a fantasy.

Bending down, Malcolm knelt in front of Flossie, holding her shoulders so that she would look at him. She hugged her toy wolf as her brows knit together in worry. It shattered her father’s heart, making him bite the inside of his lips as he braced himself.

“Flossie, darling, you’re not real.”

“What…? Da, why do you say that?”

“…because as much as I want you to be real, you’re not,” he replied. “You are a figment of my imagination, existing only because an alien is tricking me into dying.” He choked back a sob as he prepared himself. “I have never had a daughter, and I never will because I met the love of my life after she could no longer have children. You have never existed and you never shall.”

“Daddy…”

Flossie stepped backwards, putting distance between her and the men. Her eyes grew wide before she shut them and screamed. The room shattered around them, the three then standing in the middle of nothingness. Malcolm tried to reach forward to console her, yet girl and toy both burst, dissolving into the inky black surrounding them. He turned towards the Doctor, eyes rimmed in red from tears old and fresh alike.

“Look at what you made me fucking do!”

“Yes; now, wake up.”

In an instant, Malcolm was falling.

Down, down, down…

I’m sorry.