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eponymous_roseTitle: Higher Education (2/5)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponymous_rose
Word Count: 744
Rating: PG
Characters: Third Doctor, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Liz Shaw (this chapter)
Spoilers: Set soon enough after The Silurians that the Doctor still holds a considerable grudge.
Summary: The spaces between, the things the Doctor can do that nobody ever questions - the easier lessons learned amid the adventures and the danger.
It had been the Brigadier who'd given him the idea in the first place, as they sat together in the infirmary, getting their various cuts and scrapes bandaged after a particularly vicious scuffle with a band of marauding Argentellians.
"You know," Lethbridge-Stewart said, flinching as the nurse pressed a butterfly bandage onto the cut over his eyebrow, "much of that could have been avoided if you'd simply let my men attack from the start."
The Doctor cast him an acerbic glance that he hoped wasn't entirely marred by the bruise he could feel swelling over his eye. "Brigadier," he said, "not all of us are as prone to violence as you. I wanted to negotiate a peaceful surrender."
"Nonsense," the Brigadier said, smirking. "You wanted to steal their power source to boost that infernal police box of yours, and only then send them packing if at all convenient. At least I'm honest about my motives." The nurse, a pretty young thing, finished applying the bandage, and the Brigadier smiled at her.
The Doctor rolled his eyes as she winked back. "And how is Miss Shaw?" he snapped, and both the nurse and the Brigadier started.
"She's doing rather better," the nurse said. "She should be awake soon."
"Good," said the Doctor, and stretched out the awkward pause that ensued. "Would you let us know when that happens?" he said at last, and the nurse nodded, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, ducking out of the room.
As she left, the Brigadier stared at the Doctor with an unfamiliar expression, dark and guarded, and the Doctor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers with a dramatic sigh. "Well?"
The Brigadier shrugged, shook his head, but the tension still hung heavy in the air. "It's nothing, Doctor. You can be quite infuriating."
With a snort, the Doctor stood up and stretched, wincing at the pull on his bruised shoulder. "Don't snap at me for your own shortcomings, Lethbridge-Stewart," he said.
The effect was instantaneous; the Brigadier leapt to his feet and jabbed a finger into the Doctor's chest. "Now, you listen to me," he said, and his voice was so sharp that the Doctor could only blink at him in astonishment. "I've had more than enough of your arrogant self-superiority! If you hadn't been so determined to talk your way out of that situation, if you hadn't hesitated, then Miss Shaw wouldn't have been wounded. It was sheer luck that the knife didn't hit anything vital, Doctor, sheer luck - and the whole mess would have been avoided if you'd just let me do my job instead of sitting around like a chump trying to talk things out!"
Ordinarily, when the Brigadier was angry enough to lose that irritating veneer of self-control, the Doctor could at the very least summon up a scathing reply. Now he just stared, and the Brigadier glared back, breathing hard.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said after a moment, and the words felt unfamiliar on his lips. "I only thought-"
"That's the problem, isn't it?" said the Brigadier. "You only thought." For a moment, it looked as though he were about to say something more, but he shook his head, turned and stormed from the room, nearly upsetting a tray of bandages and antiseptic in his wake.
The Doctor wanted to call after the Brigadier, to mention the race that had died in flames because the Brigadier had acted instead of thinking, to make some sort of snide comment about military intelligence, to ask after his wife, to apologise again, but he sat in silence as the door to the examination room slammed.
He didn't go to visit Liz until she was out of hospital, and even then he didn't stay long, fidgeting with nearly every object in her flat until she suggested, politely, that he might as well fix her broken telephone while he was at it. She returned to work within a week, pale but resolute, and gradually the Doctor could stand in the same room as the Brigadier without a full-scale war erupting.
Two weeks after repulsing the Argentellian invasion, the Doctor dug through the TARDIS stores and found an old manual, yellowed and worn, buried at the bottom of a trunk of curios.
He picked it up, dusted off the cover, ran his fingers along the raised lettering.
"Venusian Aikido," he read, and sighed. "The art of self-defense."
Author:
eponymous_roseWord Count: 744
Rating: PG
Characters: Third Doctor, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Liz Shaw (this chapter)
Spoilers: Set soon enough after The Silurians that the Doctor still holds a considerable grudge.
Summary: The spaces between, the things the Doctor can do that nobody ever questions - the easier lessons learned amid the adventures and the danger.
It had been the Brigadier who'd given him the idea in the first place, as they sat together in the infirmary, getting their various cuts and scrapes bandaged after a particularly vicious scuffle with a band of marauding Argentellians.
"You know," Lethbridge-Stewart said, flinching as the nurse pressed a butterfly bandage onto the cut over his eyebrow, "much of that could have been avoided if you'd simply let my men attack from the start."
The Doctor cast him an acerbic glance that he hoped wasn't entirely marred by the bruise he could feel swelling over his eye. "Brigadier," he said, "not all of us are as prone to violence as you. I wanted to negotiate a peaceful surrender."
"Nonsense," the Brigadier said, smirking. "You wanted to steal their power source to boost that infernal police box of yours, and only then send them packing if at all convenient. At least I'm honest about my motives." The nurse, a pretty young thing, finished applying the bandage, and the Brigadier smiled at her.
The Doctor rolled his eyes as she winked back. "And how is Miss Shaw?" he snapped, and both the nurse and the Brigadier started.
"She's doing rather better," the nurse said. "She should be awake soon."
"Good," said the Doctor, and stretched out the awkward pause that ensued. "Would you let us know when that happens?" he said at last, and the nurse nodded, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, ducking out of the room.
As she left, the Brigadier stared at the Doctor with an unfamiliar expression, dark and guarded, and the Doctor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers with a dramatic sigh. "Well?"
The Brigadier shrugged, shook his head, but the tension still hung heavy in the air. "It's nothing, Doctor. You can be quite infuriating."
With a snort, the Doctor stood up and stretched, wincing at the pull on his bruised shoulder. "Don't snap at me for your own shortcomings, Lethbridge-Stewart," he said.
The effect was instantaneous; the Brigadier leapt to his feet and jabbed a finger into the Doctor's chest. "Now, you listen to me," he said, and his voice was so sharp that the Doctor could only blink at him in astonishment. "I've had more than enough of your arrogant self-superiority! If you hadn't been so determined to talk your way out of that situation, if you hadn't hesitated, then Miss Shaw wouldn't have been wounded. It was sheer luck that the knife didn't hit anything vital, Doctor, sheer luck - and the whole mess would have been avoided if you'd just let me do my job instead of sitting around like a chump trying to talk things out!"
Ordinarily, when the Brigadier was angry enough to lose that irritating veneer of self-control, the Doctor could at the very least summon up a scathing reply. Now he just stared, and the Brigadier glared back, breathing hard.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said after a moment, and the words felt unfamiliar on his lips. "I only thought-"
"That's the problem, isn't it?" said the Brigadier. "You only thought." For a moment, it looked as though he were about to say something more, but he shook his head, turned and stormed from the room, nearly upsetting a tray of bandages and antiseptic in his wake.
The Doctor wanted to call after the Brigadier, to mention the race that had died in flames because the Brigadier had acted instead of thinking, to make some sort of snide comment about military intelligence, to ask after his wife, to apologise again, but he sat in silence as the door to the examination room slammed.
He didn't go to visit Liz until she was out of hospital, and even then he didn't stay long, fidgeting with nearly every object in her flat until she suggested, politely, that he might as well fix her broken telephone while he was at it. She returned to work within a week, pale but resolute, and gradually the Doctor could stand in the same room as the Brigadier without a full-scale war erupting.
Two weeks after repulsing the Argentellian invasion, the Doctor dug through the TARDIS stores and found an old manual, yellowed and worn, buried at the bottom of a trunk of curios.
He picked it up, dusted off the cover, ran his fingers along the raised lettering.
"Venusian Aikido," he read, and sighed. "The art of self-defense."
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Date: 2008-03-03 06:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-07 03:24 am (UTC)