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“Tea,” Rachel said, handing Allison a steaming mug. She sat down next to her at the table and sipped at her own drink with a sigh. “It’s the least we deserve after the past few days.”
Allison took it gratefully, shot Rachel an amused look. “I thought making the tea was my job.”
“Ah, well.” She looked a little apologetic. “It shouldn’t be. I’m sorry if Gilmore and his lot had you on kitchen duty when I wasn’t there. I did try to tell them—”
“I can handle myself,” Allison cut in with a laugh. “I’ve never minded making you tea, why should I mind making it for anyone else?”
“You’re usually a little less....”
“Accommodating?” Allison raised a warning eyebrow. “Diplomatic? Helpful?”
“Oh, now you’re putting words into my mouth.” Her lips twisted in amusement, the pretence of annoyance vanishing in a second. “I shan’t rise to it, you know.”
“Very wise.” Allison considered the steam rising in soft curls from her tea for a long minute, looked back up at Rachel with an uncertain expression like she was only touching the surface of what was worrying her. “Daleks, teleports, exploding baseball bats...it’s certainly been an experience.”
“That’s quite the understatement.” Rachel wrapped her hands around the hot mug, elegant fingers curling on top of each other as if the warmth could ground her. “How does one even begin to deal with such an incredible change in perspective in such a short time? Aliens, and not just aliens but creatures so determined to destroy us simply for...for existing.” She shook her head. “When I hoped for life beyond our planet, this really wasn’t quite what I imagined.”
“I always imagined little green men,” Allison said thoughtfully. “Like in the films. This was....”
“This was barbaric,” Rachel finished for her. “Such senseless slaughter, even on a small scale – and we narrowly avoided it being far, far worse.” One nail was worrying at a chip in the china, making a hollow scratching sound. “The Doctor was right about one thing: we humans are very, very good at killing. One World War wasn’t proof enough, we just had to have another to be sure—” She broke off with something that could have been either a sigh or the start of a sob, swiftly covered up.
“And the Daleks are worse,” Allison said sombrely. “It’s not something I’m enjoying thinking about.” She looked carefully at Rachel, uncertainty playing across her face. “Are you...are you alright?”
“Well,” Rachel said, her tone surprisingly bright like she was about to make a clever observation in front of a whole lecture theatre of undergraduates, “today we narrowly avoided unimaginable destruction on multiple fronts and quite possibly, although I’m not entirely sure on this point, witnessed the genocide of an entire alien species. I’m fine, Allison, why wouldn’t I be?”
Allison paused with her mug of tea halfway to her lips, put it back down on the table. “I’m fine too,” she said softly. Her gentle smile wobbled. “Now that the excitement has worn off....”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “Yes, now it all feels....” She shook herself, pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose like she was warding off a headache. “Never mind. The fact is that we survived, more by the Doctor’s ingenuity than our own I’ll grant you but it still feels like a victory of sorts.”
“I suppose so.” Allison looked around the room, the radios and maps and other trappings of a military headquarters suddenly seeming out of place in the local hall. “What now? It almost feels wrong to go back to normal life after this.”
“I know what you mean. It’s not the sort of thing one simply forgets, is it?”
“Are you....” Allison’s fingers tightened around the solid warmth of her mug, her gaze slipping away to study the table as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. “Are you really going to retire? Down in the cellar you said—”
There was silence for a moment then Rachel sighed. “I was just frustrated.”
“You sounded serious to me.”
“I suppose I was, in the moment. But I have projects at the university, friends, research.” Her uneasy tone softened, affection creeping in. “And students, of course.”
Allison’s worried expression relaxed and she looked up at Rachel with undisguised relief. “So you’re staying.”
“It’s back to Cambridge with both of us.” Rachel patted her hand and met her eyes with a raised eyebrow. “You have a PhD to finish, young lady, no more gallivanting around after aliens for you.”
“And you?”
She smiled, a warm secretive smile that held familiar mischief. “Someone has to keep you in check.”
Allison laughed and picked her drink back up. “Cambridge, then,” she said, clinking her mug against Rachel’s like it was a glass of finest champagne rather than slightly weak canteen tea. “Home.”
“Home,” Rachel agreed. “Where else?”