Doctor Who | Hallowed Halls
Mar. 18th, 2008 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eponymous_roseTitle: Hallowed Halls
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponymous_rose
Word Count: 854
Rating: PG
Characters: Liz Shaw, references to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Third Doctor
Liz frowned down at the mess of papers. "And what would you have me do with this lot, Mr.-?"
The young man slumped into a chair across from her desk, grinning indolently. "Johnson. Well," he said, "there's a mistake there, somewhere. Has to be. Number three, I expect."
"All right," said Liz, with as much of a level tone as she could muster. "Snell's Law."
The student cocked his head to one side. "Excuse me?"
Liz gathered up the pile of papers and placed it back on his side of the desk. "Angle of incidence equals-?"
Johnson stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "I-"
She leaned forward, only absently noted the way his eyes shifted from her face to her buttoned-up top and back again; after Silurians and Autons and goodness only knew what else, a sexually starved undergraduate was hardly worthy of her attention. "Look," she said, "if you haven't yet mastered the simplest principles of optics, my only suggestion to you is to withdraw from the course, review your A-levels, and reconsider your options."
The tips of his ears flushed red, and he didn't move to take the papers from her. "I came here to get help-"
"You came here to trick or coerce me into doing your work for you," Liz said, and tapped her fingers on the pile of paper. "Did you want these? I could bin them for you if you'd rather."
With an abrupt movement, he was suddenly far too close for comfort, and for a moment his outstretched hand looked green and scaly, and she was back in the barn with the Silurian coming nearer-
She hadn't realised how hard she'd pushed away from her desk until her chair thudded against the wall behind her and she stumbled to her feet.
Johnson was staring up at her, genuinely perplexed, from where he'd been reaching to retrieve his papers from the desk. "What-"
Liz found herself looking around for the nearest exit - but no, he'd left the door open, and- and she was being quite ridiculous, anyway. With as much dignity as she could muster, she straightened her chair and sat back in place behind her desk. Without a word, Johnson scooped up his papers and stomped out of the room.
"Mad, frigid bitch," she heard him mutter as he slammed the door behind him.
Grimacing, she crossed her arms on the desk, and after a moment's hesitation lowered her head as well. Rumours had already been spreading about her unexplained sabbatical, ranging from the mundane (she'd wanted to finish yet another degree, or publish some paper) to the downright ridiculous (she'd been institutionalised, in prison, hard-faced Professor Lizard Shaw with a few dark secrets up her sleeve).
None of them came anywhere near the truth, of course - but then, protecting the Earth from hordes of alien invaders hardly fell under the purview of most cases of academic leave.
And yet here she was, subject to the resentful stares of the students closest to her in age, and the paternal, patronising tones of the faculty, living out what seemed a perfectly normal, dreary life. She wondered sometimes whether she might have listened to the Brigadier, might have stayed with UNIT, if only for another year, and whether it might have changed her still further.
She raised her head and peered over at the closed door, feeling an overwhelming urge to open it a crack, just in case-
"Jumping at shadows," she murmured to herself. "A noted side-effect of any number of traumatic experiences."
The old Liz Shaw, the one she'd been before meeting the Doctor and the universe outside her front door, would have left it at that, would have stubbornly refused to open the door, would have faced down her fears and systematically eliminated that blemish on her perfect façade.
She walked over and opened the door wide, catching a strange look from a couple of girls passing by, and remembered the Doctor speaking to her, serious and earnest for once, after a particularly nasty business with a race of flesh-eating spongoids. He'd told her that fear was perfectly natural, that trying to suppress it was just like hiding away, was less brave than facing it head-on, and she'd nodded dutifully and ignored his words, filing her panic away for analysis at a later date, every inch the professional, capable scientist.
Now Liz paused in the doorway, taking in this small concession to her fear, and smiled. The Brigadier had joked with her, once, about how being around aliens made him feel just that much more human, and she was starting to understand what he'd meant.
As she sat back at her desk and retrieved the thesis she'd been perusing, she knew that she could keep playing at being the old Liz Shaw, stern and businesslike, and never, never afraid, but that would be the easiest way, wouldn't it?
And if the Doctor had taught her anything, it was the value of the road less travelled.
Author:
eponymous_roseWord Count: 854
Rating: PG
Characters: Liz Shaw, references to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Third Doctor
Liz frowned down at the mess of papers. "And what would you have me do with this lot, Mr.-?"
The young man slumped into a chair across from her desk, grinning indolently. "Johnson. Well," he said, "there's a mistake there, somewhere. Has to be. Number three, I expect."
"All right," said Liz, with as much of a level tone as she could muster. "Snell's Law."
The student cocked his head to one side. "Excuse me?"
Liz gathered up the pile of papers and placed it back on his side of the desk. "Angle of incidence equals-?"
Johnson stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "I-"
She leaned forward, only absently noted the way his eyes shifted from her face to her buttoned-up top and back again; after Silurians and Autons and goodness only knew what else, a sexually starved undergraduate was hardly worthy of her attention. "Look," she said, "if you haven't yet mastered the simplest principles of optics, my only suggestion to you is to withdraw from the course, review your A-levels, and reconsider your options."
The tips of his ears flushed red, and he didn't move to take the papers from her. "I came here to get help-"
"You came here to trick or coerce me into doing your work for you," Liz said, and tapped her fingers on the pile of paper. "Did you want these? I could bin them for you if you'd rather."
With an abrupt movement, he was suddenly far too close for comfort, and for a moment his outstretched hand looked green and scaly, and she was back in the barn with the Silurian coming nearer-
She hadn't realised how hard she'd pushed away from her desk until her chair thudded against the wall behind her and she stumbled to her feet.
Johnson was staring up at her, genuinely perplexed, from where he'd been reaching to retrieve his papers from the desk. "What-"
Liz found herself looking around for the nearest exit - but no, he'd left the door open, and- and she was being quite ridiculous, anyway. With as much dignity as she could muster, she straightened her chair and sat back in place behind her desk. Without a word, Johnson scooped up his papers and stomped out of the room.
"Mad, frigid bitch," she heard him mutter as he slammed the door behind him.
Grimacing, she crossed her arms on the desk, and after a moment's hesitation lowered her head as well. Rumours had already been spreading about her unexplained sabbatical, ranging from the mundane (she'd wanted to finish yet another degree, or publish some paper) to the downright ridiculous (she'd been institutionalised, in prison, hard-faced Professor Lizard Shaw with a few dark secrets up her sleeve).
None of them came anywhere near the truth, of course - but then, protecting the Earth from hordes of alien invaders hardly fell under the purview of most cases of academic leave.
And yet here she was, subject to the resentful stares of the students closest to her in age, and the paternal, patronising tones of the faculty, living out what seemed a perfectly normal, dreary life. She wondered sometimes whether she might have listened to the Brigadier, might have stayed with UNIT, if only for another year, and whether it might have changed her still further.
She raised her head and peered over at the closed door, feeling an overwhelming urge to open it a crack, just in case-
"Jumping at shadows," she murmured to herself. "A noted side-effect of any number of traumatic experiences."
The old Liz Shaw, the one she'd been before meeting the Doctor and the universe outside her front door, would have left it at that, would have stubbornly refused to open the door, would have faced down her fears and systematically eliminated that blemish on her perfect façade.
She walked over and opened the door wide, catching a strange look from a couple of girls passing by, and remembered the Doctor speaking to her, serious and earnest for once, after a particularly nasty business with a race of flesh-eating spongoids. He'd told her that fear was perfectly natural, that trying to suppress it was just like hiding away, was less brave than facing it head-on, and she'd nodded dutifully and ignored his words, filing her panic away for analysis at a later date, every inch the professional, capable scientist.
Now Liz paused in the doorway, taking in this small concession to her fear, and smiled. The Brigadier had joked with her, once, about how being around aliens made him feel just that much more human, and she was starting to understand what he'd meant.
As she sat back at her desk and retrieved the thesis she'd been perusing, she knew that she could keep playing at being the old Liz Shaw, stern and businesslike, and never, never afraid, but that would be the easiest way, wouldn't it?
And if the Doctor had taught her anything, it was the value of the road less travelled.
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