Chapter Text
He sat with her crumpled body, trying to keep her talking.
Trying to keep her here.
She was dying.
Dying in his arms.
Katherine Sally Fiona Lethbridge-Stewart was dying in his arms tonight.
He tries to keep her talking as he does so.
He should have told her. More often. Plainly. Without restraint.
"I love you
Christofer Ibrahim watched the light leave her eyes. She shuddered.
The spread she had prepared included salad and chicken, plus an overipe avocado she had refused to throw out, leaving the salad cold. The potato soup had congealed as well, and the chicken she had slaved over was now covered in her blood.
Silence.
Somewhere, distantly, a phone kept ringing.
Shirley.
It took him a moment to realize it was Kate’s.
He answered.
“Kate? Kate, respond, Chirstofer is anyone still there”
Christofer closed his eyes briefly, then forced his voice steadily. Telling her
“It’s me. Shirley.” A pause. “Greyhound Actual is in critical condition. Greyhound Two assuming callsign. Greyhound Actual. Greyhound 56, Target building opposite. India House. Estimate floor 35.” Christofer said as he sat there with her in his lap.
Deliberate.
Her face, her left, had taken much of the bullet damage.
Her eye. Her once beautiful eyes. How had not noticed until now?
"You have the most beauituful eyes in the world." He tells her.
Trying.
Trying to get a response from her. Anything. He keeps pressure on the wound, not letting up for a second. He refuses to believe this is the end.
The words felt mechanical. Borrowed. Necessary.
He looked down at her body again. Broken. Faint pulse.
7.62×54mm.
Old round.
Soviet.
EMTs came in fast. No hesitation. They took her out of his arms like she was already gone.
Necessary.
They cut what was left of her clothing. Forced the airway. She fought the tube on instinct; choking, resisting, body refusing to accept it.
He held her hand while they worked. Her hand.
They moved her.
He lost contact when they pushed past him.
Then she left the room with the paramedics. God what have they done?
He stood there for half a second longer than he should have.
Then he put the phone back in his face.“This is Greyhound Actual. Request UNIT Bravo Squad to Royal Hope Hospital. Assigned to guard Greyhound Two. Acting under Geneva directive.”
His voice didn’t break.
It didn’t change at all
Later, he sat alone, Kate’s files spread across the desk. He reads every report, every annotation, every contingency she had prepared for the crisis below the ocean floor. The dinner she had made he picked at the salad with rice and avocado. She had made a salad she had insisted on having chicken and pears with a balsamic vinaigrette.
She had insisted that ramen was not a filling diet after having talked to Mel who was still in Sydney.
Mel. Telling him not to do anything stupid. She remembers the last time he was in medical.
It falls flat.
Severance.
Geneva.
Promotion.
It had been the standing position of the original Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart that the head of UNIT operate with the same clearance as the Doctor.
That condition was now met.
Christofer closed the file.
There was work to do.
Now was not the time for sentiment.
Since that last meeting that Kate had attended, it had cropped up in a dozen intelligence reports.
He didn’t like it.
Didn’t like the gaps.
Didn’t like the tone.
Didn’t like what it implied.
A conspiracy circling around Kate, Homo Aqua, and the usual actors that come up in a crisis like this. The names circled him.
One that stood out above all others.
Sir Keith Spears
duSollier
Spears
Shaw
His laptop pinged.
A message.
From the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.
Condolences. Formal. Brief.
And a summons.
A meeting at 10 Downing Street.
The car rolls up and he keeps everything on. The blood is still drying on his jeans and shirt, left visible so they can see what they have done.
God, what have they done?
Harry Stimpson, Prime Minister, greets him at the door and says he heard.
“How did you hear so fast?”
“Bingham looped me in.”
“What is the latest with Homo Aqua?”
“Kate’s latest stunt with them caused negotiations to cease entirely,” Admiral duSollier says, typing as she speaks, looking at him with clear disdain.
“That isn’t like her.”
He doesn’t like the implication forming in his own mind.
He would not say outright that he had fallen in love with her.
He just knew.
Politicians would not understand it.
“Someone else must have escalated.”
Someone.
An aide arrives. His first order comes immediately.
“I want Brigadier Bambera reactivated to help us deal with Homo Aqua. Fly her in from Peru. Now.”
Harry stands there quietly, watching him.
“Where is Sir Keith Spears?” Christofer asks, still standing. “He’s been in half a dozen memos regarding Severance, in every meeting since first contact—and now, conveniently, he’s not here when one of us is assassinated? That’s too convenient, if you ask me.”
Amdiral duSollier looks at him like he’s grown a third head. He looks back at her, then at General Mallory who has no idea until now what the failure in communication means.
He sits.
“I am reactivating Bambera because,” he pauses, “she will take point on all Cabinet briefings from here on out.”
Christofer scans the room, properly taking stock of everything.
“He is unavailable at the moment.”
He sits back down in the nerve centre of UNIT HQ underneath Empress Hall and is briefed by Shirley on the escalating situation. Bambera already mad that she has been dragged out of retirement but here nonetheless.
“Homo Aqua is escalating. They are demanding a representative and the current one is comprised due to relations with Salt.”
Christofer exhales as he looks at Shirley and gives her a dead-eyed stare.
“Barclay duPont is NOT in active custody?”
“YES. He is in active custody. As is, Salt, the ambassador orignally Bambera shouted, “now tell us why you have me and Shirley on your shortlist general? Homo Aqua will think it is us.”
“And we couldn’t get the other one, could we?”
“Not unless you want to bring Jo Grant Jones out of retirement.” Shirley said with a grin on her face.
Christofer glares at Shirley.
“I already reactivated Bambera. Two is asking for trouble.
This causes Bambera to scoff.
"General, I didn't-
He waves a hand, not dismissive but focused now on Shirley.
“Christofer—.” Shirley started
“I want full intelligence review. I want security audit of Severance access points, internal and external. Every clearance, every breach vector, every failure.”
No one interrupted.
“Trace funding, communications, and personnel movement. If they infiltrated UNIT or any adjacent structure, I want it identified.”
Another pause.
“And I want it fast.”
The room stayed still.
Because the situation had already moved past escalation.
Now it was retaliation waiting to happen.