FIC: Something Important [Blackadder Goes Forth]
Title: Something Important
Fandom: Blackadder
Characters: George Colthurst St. Barleigh, Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett, Bob Parkhurst
Prompt: #035. Sixth Sense
Word Count: 814
Rating: G
Summary: Bob has a bad feeling about where the spring in General Melchett's step could mean.
Author's Notes: Much thanks to amazonqueenkate for suffering through my own copy-and-paste writing. :)
***
When she saw Melchett smiling when he came out to the car, Bob had a feeling that something important had happened.
This wasn't to say that the general never smiled -- he certainly did whenever Captain Darling had said something silly or amusing, and sometimes he would crack a smile at one of Bob's jokes, but this was different. This felt different.
Bob snapped her feet together and saluted smartly out of habit. Melchett nodded at her, told her to stand at ease, and Bob opened the door for him, again very much out of habit.
When she slid into the driver's seat, she started the engine and turned onto the road. Ostensibly glancing back behind her to make sure no traffic was coming, she noticed the serene smile under the bushy mustache.
"Begging your pardon, sir," she began, turning back to the road and avoiding the ruts, "but you seem rather cheerful this morning."
"I do?" Melchett's eyebrows rose, but he didn't stop looking pleased with himself. "I rather imagine I would, yes."
"If it's not impertinent...?" Bob asked slowly, ready to be told to be quiet and watch where she was going.
"Not at all," Melchett replied in a lordly fashion, sitting back against the seat, still exuding that odd sense of pride. "You remember the fair Georgina, don't you?"
Bob frowned, wondering what George had to do with anything. "Yes, sir. Wasn't she tragically killed, sir?"
It was probably her imagination, but Bob thought that he chuckled at that, as if amusing a favorite nephew of some sort. "It seems Captain Blackadder was very much mistaken."
"He was?" Bob blinked, barely avoiding a rut in time.
"Indeed so." Melchett nodded. "Georgina was at the ball last evening, on the arm of some lieutenant, I believe."
"Oh." She paused. "Oh! Well, that's... that's splendid, sir."
"Mm-hm." Melchett sounded very smug.
"Were you able to speak with her last night, sir?" Bob asked politely, the gears in her head clicking madly. George was captured by the Germans some time ago, and the general hasn't organized any rescue missions...
Melchett scowled. "Her escort kept her busy for most of the evening. But I managed to speak with her for a little while."
"That sounds promising, sir." Bob nodded. "Perhaps you'll see her at the next ball, sir?"
Melchett shook his head. "Before the end of the evening, I requested that she be my guest at my headquarters, and she said she would be all too delighted."
Oh, dear... Bob cleared her throat and made a turn.
Melchett frowned at her. "It's nothing inappropriate, I assure you. Georgina is a lovely, decent woman, and she'll have her own rooms."
"Of course, sir," Bob agreed.
"So why is it that you sound disapproving, hmm?" he asked archly.
Bob blinked, clearing her throat quickly. "I didn't mean anything by it, sir--"
"Out with it," Melchett snarled.
"It's just... well..." She hesitated, and just as she made the turn to the headquarters, it came to her. "She's never explained what happened, has she?"
"I'm sure she has her reasons," the general replied defensively.
"Well, why has she returned, sir, if you don't mind my asking?" Bob asked.
"She said that it was a private matter," Melchett replied haughtily. "And anyway, it isn't really your business to know, is it."
Bob found a spot and turned off the engine, scuttling out to open the door for Melchett. Melchett emerged, looking for all the world like a lion ready to do battle, a model fighting man for the men to look up to.
"Sir..." She looked up at him, remembering not that long ago when he found himself unable to smile for weeks. There were drives to headquarters from some ball or another where Melchett had been inexplicably silent. He'd never cried in front of Bob, of course -- he was a fighting man, after all -- but there was something there. A sadness, a gloom that hung over him ever since Blackadder had told him that she'd been blown up by a cluster of mines.
And now, to see him with a spring in his step... Bob was happy to see him feeling better, but at the same time, she knew it wouldn't end well. Some things were never meant to work, after all.
"We shall speak no more on this matter, Private," Melchett declared briskly. "Now, I'll need you again before lunch. General Jamison wants to call a meeting of some sort."
Bob checked a sigh, but snapped her feet together dutifully and saluted. "Yes, sir."
Melchett nodded approvingly, and if Bob didn't know any better, he might've been ready to pat her on the head. "Good man, good man. Remember, be here at eleven sharp."
"Yes, sir."
As he walked into the building, Bob wondered if Melchett was aware just how flimsy his happiness really was.
Fandom: Blackadder
Characters: George Colthurst St. Barleigh, Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett, Bob Parkhurst
Prompt: #035. Sixth Sense
Word Count: 814
Rating: G
Summary: Bob has a bad feeling about where the spring in General Melchett's step could mean.
Author's Notes: Much thanks to amazonqueenkate for suffering through my own copy-and-paste writing. :)
***
When she saw Melchett smiling when he came out to the car, Bob had a feeling that something important had happened.
This wasn't to say that the general never smiled -- he certainly did whenever Captain Darling had said something silly or amusing, and sometimes he would crack a smile at one of Bob's jokes, but this was different. This felt different.
Bob snapped her feet together and saluted smartly out of habit. Melchett nodded at her, told her to stand at ease, and Bob opened the door for him, again very much out of habit.
When she slid into the driver's seat, she started the engine and turned onto the road. Ostensibly glancing back behind her to make sure no traffic was coming, she noticed the serene smile under the bushy mustache.
"Begging your pardon, sir," she began, turning back to the road and avoiding the ruts, "but you seem rather cheerful this morning."
"I do?" Melchett's eyebrows rose, but he didn't stop looking pleased with himself. "I rather imagine I would, yes."
"If it's not impertinent...?" Bob asked slowly, ready to be told to be quiet and watch where she was going.
"Not at all," Melchett replied in a lordly fashion, sitting back against the seat, still exuding that odd sense of pride. "You remember the fair Georgina, don't you?"
Bob frowned, wondering what George had to do with anything. "Yes, sir. Wasn't she tragically killed, sir?"
It was probably her imagination, but Bob thought that he chuckled at that, as if amusing a favorite nephew of some sort. "It seems Captain Blackadder was very much mistaken."
"He was?" Bob blinked, barely avoiding a rut in time.
"Indeed so." Melchett nodded. "Georgina was at the ball last evening, on the arm of some lieutenant, I believe."
"Oh." She paused. "Oh! Well, that's... that's splendid, sir."
"Mm-hm." Melchett sounded very smug.
"Were you able to speak with her last night, sir?" Bob asked politely, the gears in her head clicking madly. George was captured by the Germans some time ago, and the general hasn't organized any rescue missions...
Melchett scowled. "Her escort kept her busy for most of the evening. But I managed to speak with her for a little while."
"That sounds promising, sir." Bob nodded. "Perhaps you'll see her at the next ball, sir?"
Melchett shook his head. "Before the end of the evening, I requested that she be my guest at my headquarters, and she said she would be all too delighted."
Oh, dear... Bob cleared her throat and made a turn.
Melchett frowned at her. "It's nothing inappropriate, I assure you. Georgina is a lovely, decent woman, and she'll have her own rooms."
"Of course, sir," Bob agreed.
"So why is it that you sound disapproving, hmm?" he asked archly.
Bob blinked, clearing her throat quickly. "I didn't mean anything by it, sir--"
"Out with it," Melchett snarled.
"It's just... well..." She hesitated, and just as she made the turn to the headquarters, it came to her. "She's never explained what happened, has she?"
"I'm sure she has her reasons," the general replied defensively.
"Well, why has she returned, sir, if you don't mind my asking?" Bob asked.
"She said that it was a private matter," Melchett replied haughtily. "And anyway, it isn't really your business to know, is it."
Bob found a spot and turned off the engine, scuttling out to open the door for Melchett. Melchett emerged, looking for all the world like a lion ready to do battle, a model fighting man for the men to look up to.
"Sir..." She looked up at him, remembering not that long ago when he found himself unable to smile for weeks. There were drives to headquarters from some ball or another where Melchett had been inexplicably silent. He'd never cried in front of Bob, of course -- he was a fighting man, after all -- but there was something there. A sadness, a gloom that hung over him ever since Blackadder had told him that she'd been blown up by a cluster of mines.
And now, to see him with a spring in his step... Bob was happy to see him feeling better, but at the same time, she knew it wouldn't end well. Some things were never meant to work, after all.
"We shall speak no more on this matter, Private," Melchett declared briskly. "Now, I'll need you again before lunch. General Jamison wants to call a meeting of some sort."
Bob checked a sigh, but snapped her feet together dutifully and saluted. "Yes, sir."
Melchett nodded approvingly, and if Bob didn't know any better, he might've been ready to pat her on the head. "Good man, good man. Remember, be here at eleven sharp."
"Yes, sir."
As he walked into the building, Bob wondered if Melchett was aware just how flimsy his happiness really was.