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who_contest2015-03-07 08:23 pm
flowsoffire.livejournal.com) wrote in who_contest2015-03-07 08:23 pm
Entry tags:
Steel to Steel (a Yellow challenge entry)
Title: Steel to Steel
Rating: K+
Genre: General, very faint hints of romance if you squint your eyes out.
Word Count: 450 words (took some pain to get it so far down, let me tell you)
Pairings or Characters: Liz Shaw, Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, mentions of the Third Doctor.
Spoilers: set right after the events of The Silurians, pre-Ambassadors of Death. I guess there are light/implied spoilers for The Silurians.
Warnings: none.
Summary: The Brigadier’s choices are not met with approval.
“Is he going to be sulking for long, do you think?”
Elizabeth Shaw doesn’t reply at once, taking her time to step out of the car. “Iwouldn’t call it ‘sulking’,” she says eventually.
“Mmm. Quite right.” She raises an eyebrow at the admission.
She pats Bessie and looks down at her, and at her own long-fingered hand standing out pale against the yellow, rather than to glance towards the Brigadier. She doesn’t move as he clears his throat. Let him assume that she’s listening.
“I suppose he is inside?”
“Correct.”
The silence stretches then, until exasperation gets the better of Liz. “Why come at all, if not to see him?” she demands sharply, turning at last.
“I spoke to him before.”
“Oh, certainly, you spoke. Unfortunately, it might have been better to listen. Possibly even to apologize.”
He doesn’t answer that, only towers over her, clear-cut and stern in his pale military uniform. She liked him better when animated—arguing with the Doctor and herself, his eyes blazing fiercely. “I had little choice about the Silurians—”
“You did—you made one. I never said I don’t see why.”
“Then why such resentment?” he exclaims in frustration. “There is so much work, so much good yet to be done, if we only get past this disagreement. We miss his expertise greatly. And yours.”
She nods once, acknowledging truth—yet she does not budge, braced against the brazenly yellow car, straight as steel to match his.
He understands the message, as his narrowed eyes tell her.
“I will not bother you anymore, miss Shaw,” he says gruffly. “One word with the Doctor, and I will be on my way. My men need me.”
“I’m sure they do.” She doesn’t, not quite.
He walks off with a clumsy nod, and she doesn’t know whether to chuckle or sigh. The Doctor will not respond well to his strictness and impatience. Those terribly irksome men.
They must clear things up, in the end, for there is work to be done indeed. She longs for that, admittedly. Bickering with the Brigadier is but an extra.
Still, she does smile to herself at the thought.
Rating: K+
Genre: General, very faint hints of romance if you squint your eyes out.
Word Count: 450 words (took some pain to get it so far down, let me tell you)
Pairings or Characters: Liz Shaw, Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, mentions of the Third Doctor.
Spoilers: set right after the events of The Silurians, pre-Ambassadors of Death. I guess there are light/implied spoilers for The Silurians.
Warnings: none.
Summary: The Brigadier’s choices are not met with approval.
“Is he going to be sulking for long, do you think?”
Elizabeth Shaw doesn’t reply at once, taking her time to step out of the car. “Iwouldn’t call it ‘sulking’,” she says eventually.
“Mmm. Quite right.” She raises an eyebrow at the admission.
She pats Bessie and looks down at her, and at her own long-fingered hand standing out pale against the yellow, rather than to glance towards the Brigadier. She doesn’t move as he clears his throat. Let him assume that she’s listening.
“I suppose he is inside?”
“Correct.”
The silence stretches then, until exasperation gets the better of Liz. “Why come at all, if not to see him?” she demands sharply, turning at last.
“I spoke to him before.”
“Oh, certainly, you spoke. Unfortunately, it might have been better to listen. Possibly even to apologize.”
He doesn’t answer that, only towers over her, clear-cut and stern in his pale military uniform. She liked him better when animated—arguing with the Doctor and herself, his eyes blazing fiercely. “I had little choice about the Silurians—”
“You did—you made one. I never said I don’t see why.”
“Then why such resentment?” he exclaims in frustration. “There is so much work, so much good yet to be done, if we only get past this disagreement. We miss his expertise greatly. And yours.”
She nods once, acknowledging truth—yet she does not budge, braced against the brazenly yellow car, straight as steel to match his.
He understands the message, as his narrowed eyes tell her.
“I will not bother you anymore, miss Shaw,” he says gruffly. “One word with the Doctor, and I will be on my way. My men need me.”
“I’m sure they do.” She doesn’t, not quite.
He walks off with a clumsy nod, and she doesn’t know whether to chuckle or sigh. The Doctor will not respond well to his strictness and impatience. Those terribly irksome men.
They must clear things up, in the end, for there is work to be done indeed. She longs for that, admittedly. Bickering with the Brigadier is but an extra.
Still, she does smile to herself at the thought.