Meddling (Jackson Lake, Rosita)
Title: Meddling
Author: humantales
Recipient: glinda_penguin
Rating: G
Character(s): Jackson Lake, Rosita
Warnings (if any): None
Summary: Jackson Lake may not be the Doctor, but that doesn't mean he can't meddle.
Notes: Written for glinda_penguin; her prompt was Rosita and Jackson Lake have fabulous steampunk adventures in their ship, the problems of 19th century gender roles and unwanted romantic liasons have nothing on a certain six year old with an ability to cause a riot in the staidest of boarding schools. Thanks to persiflage_1 for her fast beta.
"Doctor!" Rosita came storming into his study, brandishing an envelope. Jackson sighed, wondering how she managed to look so . . . something in the sensible maid's outfit he'd finally convinced her to wear. "It's from that school. Again." She handed him the letter, scowling. For once, she didn't bring up her disapproval of Frederick's school; he'd forbidden it, but that didn't usually stop her.
He sighed again as he opened it, hoping it was good news. It wasn't.
Dear Professor Lake,
Your son now appears to be seeing ghosts. With the recent death of his mother, we would show some sympathy; however, he has convinced the rest of the boys in his dormitory to assist him in following them. Their adventure would be problematic enough; however, this exploration occurred after hours and took them out of bounds. They would have been out of bounds even if it had not been after hours.
If Frederick cannot accept the rules necessary for the smooth running of this school, perhaps it would be best if he attended another school more suited to providing him the necessary discipline.
Sincerely,
Arnold Penobscot
Headmaster
How could Frederick manage to get into this much trouble? He was six!
Rosita was standing next to his desk, her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish the letter. "Well, what are they complaining about this time?"
Jackson read the letter to her; he was trying to teach Rosita to read, but the project was taking time. When he finished, he looked at her. "What am I going to do with him?"
"It's that school, I tell you," Rosita said, shaking her head. "Frederick's a good boy; it's the school that's wrong."
There were plans for a mechanical dog on the desk, and for an improved difference engine. He had his own students and . . . He'd almost lost Frederick. Pulling out a sheet of paper, Jackson wrote out a note to his son, telling him how unhappy he was at Frederick's continued misbehavior. He signed it, Your loving father. Addressing and sealing the envelope, he handed it to Rosita. "Could you make sure that gets posted, please?"
Snatching the envelope from his hand, she muttered, "I still say you should check out the school."
The school was miles away. A train or carriage would take a full day to get there. It wasn't Rosita's place to tell him how to raise his son. At best, she was a servant girl, and she was only that out of the goodness of his heart. She'd been nothing more than the woman who'd kept him from being killed by that Cybercreature.
Leaning back in his chair, Jackson thought. What would the Doctor do? With a rueful chuckle, he realized that the first answer was, "Be in trouble right along with Frederick." He'd certainly be investigating . . . He'd taught Frederick better than that; he didn't believe in ghosts!
By the time Rosita came to check on him, he'd pulled out all of the letters he'd received from both the headmaster of Frederick's school and Frederick himself. The misbehavior was curiously specific; the only rules Frederick was breaking was being where he wasn't supposed to be. In his letters, he insisted that something odd was happening. "I feel like those metal men are around," one of them said, clearly written by one of the older boys. "The question," he said, "is if there really are more Cybermen about, or if it's something else and Frederick doesn't understand the difference."
"What do we do now, Doctor?" Rosita asked, willing to take his direction now that he was agreeing with her about the school.
Or not. "Of course you're not coming with me," he told her firmly. "This is dangerous business, and it's no place for a woman." Jackson packed his trusty sonic screwdriver, of course, and a device that would detect electrical energy. He was fairly certain he'd read that ghostly manifestations were associated with electricity. He looked longingly at his study; he was sure that there were at least three devices in various states of creation that would be useful, but none of them were ready yet. How did the Time Lords do it?
He looked at his fob watch and calculated times. Assuming he wasn't blown off course, there was still plenty of daylight in the afternoon to get there, and he'd be able to return the next day before his own duties. Fortunately, he had no classes until the afternoon tomorrow. Finding a basket, he piled everything he thought he would need.
Rosita met him at the front door with two carpet bags. Before he could ask, she said, "I didn't think you'd remember to pack clothes for tomorrow, so I did. And I'm coming as well; you're useless without me."
Shaking his head, Jackson walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. Rosita, unfortunately, followed, but he didn't think that was a battle he could win. "It isn't proper; you know that," he said as they walked to the TARDIS.
"Good thing I'm not, then, isn't it?" she replied.
Did it make him a terrible person, Jackson wondered, that he was so excited about the expedition? It was as if the taste of the Doctor's life that he'd had, that tiny little glimpse, had made normal life boring. At least fatherhood hadn't been turned boring; he wondered idly if the Doctor had ever had that wonderful adventure.
The balloon ride took longer than he'd expected; the air currents kept throwing them off course. While fighting the winds, Jackson started trying to design rudders for the balloon, like those for a boat. Unfortunately, he didn't know that much about boats, which just left him with something else to research.
When they finally landed, dusk was just turning to night. Rosita handed him one of the sandwiches she'd prepared as they walked toward the school. Hoping it wasn't too late, Jackson knocked on the door. Within a short amount of time, he was sitting in the Headmaster's office while Rosita had been taken to the kitchens.
After the normal pleasantries, Jackson held up his equipment. "It occurred to me that, if I could prove to Frederick that these stories aren't true, he might channel that energy to where it belongs, in his schoolwork. I certainly should have written first, but I thought it best to address this as quickly as possible."
Penobscot looked taken aback. "Were you away from home? I don't see how you could have made it here so quickly."
With his best smile, Jackson said, "That's down to the TARDIS. Tethered Aerial Release Developed In Style, y'see. Still a bit at the mercy of the air currents, but we were able to overcome those little problems. If you'd like, I could show you in the morning."
"That's quite all right," Dunwhiddle said, still looking unnerved. Jackson knew many people were taken that way at first; it was simply a matter of perseverance. "Why don't I take you to the boys' dormitory; lights out is in half an hour, so you'll just have time."
It was wonderful to see Frederick again, and school was most definitely agreeing with him. He was smiling and cheerful, and he'd made several good friends with the other boys in his dormitory.
The demonstration of Jackson's devices was a huge success as well. His main device, the one that determined the presence or absence of electrical energy, worked perfectly. Within fifteen minutes, all of the boys, including Frederick, were convinced that there were no ghosts in the school. Unfortunately, five minutes later, as Jackson was convincing the boys to head back downstairs, one of them pointed behind him and said, "Look! One of them's there!"
Sure enough, even though there were no readings on Jackson's detection device, there was a spectre on the far side of the dormitory. If Jackson hadn't been looking into recent ghost sightings, he might have been taken in, but he had read about the fake spiritualists that used phosphorescence to glow and appear ghostly. He started chasing after the fake ghost, assuming that it was an older boy playing pranks on the younger boys. He was shocked to find himself holding a grown man.
"That's Mr. Priestly, the mathematics teacher!" Frederick said, looking at Jackson with wide eyes. The other boys just looked envious.
"Well, then I'm sure your Headmaster will want to see him before we notify the police," Jackson said. Holding Priestly tightly by the collar, Jackson marched him down to the Headmaster's office, trailed by Frederick and the other boys. Opening the door with a bit of forgivable flourish, Jackson found himself facing the headmaster and another teacher who were, unfortunately, holding guns. Guns which they immediately turned to point at Jackson. One of the prefects who had come along with the younger boys noticed Jackson's frantic hand motions to get the boys out, and did so with commendable speed and quiet, but that left Jackson to be tied and gagged while the criminals made their escape.
He had no idea how long he sat there. Eventually, he heard a loud banging and clattering, then quiet again. Some time after that, one of the prefects came in and cut him loose. "Sorry, sir," the boy said. "None of us knew."
Rubbing his wrists, Jackson smiled and said, as bracingly as he could, "No way you could. What's happened while I've been tied up?"
The boy's smile was a little weak, but Jackson thought he deserved full credit for the attempt. "Your maid, sir, she had a broom and . . . She's got a bit of a, er . . . " He seemed to have no idea how to finish his sentence.
Jackson quite understood; Rosita was a bit of a force. "Why don't you take me to her? And then get yourself off to bed."
When he got to the main hall, Jackson realized that none of the boys might be sleeping tonight. There were several policemen questioning everyone in sight and several other teachers. As Jackson watched the proceedings bemusedly, Rosita came up to him. "I think we might need to leave," she said quietly. When he turned to look at her, she scowled and said, "That one bobby over there; he wants me to go with him. And I don't think he wants to question me either; I think he wants to 'question' me."
It took Jackson a minute to understand her meaning, but then he sighed. Even in a proper maid's uniform, Rosita drew men's eyes. He nodded and spoke to the man who appeared to be in charge. After giving a statement and his address, they were told they were free to go.
It was one thing for the Doctor to pilot the TARDIS at night in the middle of London; it hadn't been bright, but there had been enough light to navigate by. Here, far from the city and its gaslights, the only way of navigating would be by the stars, and Jackson didn't think that was such a good idea. When he mentioned this, Rosita rolled her eyes and pulled out the materials they'd need to spend the night comfortably by the TARDIS. She also rolled her eyes when he told her that her virtue was safe with him; he heard her mutter something about "more's the pity".
When the sun rose, Rosita handed him another sandwich for breakfast and off they went, back to London and his position. Jackson smiled; a small adventure, but some form of criminal activity had been stopped, and Frederick was safe and in good hands again. He could hear a voice in his head say, "Fantastic!"
Author: humantales
Recipient: glinda_penguin
Rating: G
Character(s): Jackson Lake, Rosita
Warnings (if any): None
Summary: Jackson Lake may not be the Doctor, but that doesn't mean he can't meddle.
Notes: Written for glinda_penguin; her prompt was Rosita and Jackson Lake have fabulous steampunk adventures in their ship, the problems of 19th century gender roles and unwanted romantic liasons have nothing on a certain six year old with an ability to cause a riot in the staidest of boarding schools. Thanks to persiflage_1 for her fast beta.
"Doctor!" Rosita came storming into his study, brandishing an envelope. Jackson sighed, wondering how she managed to look so . . . something in the sensible maid's outfit he'd finally convinced her to wear. "It's from that school. Again." She handed him the letter, scowling. For once, she didn't bring up her disapproval of Frederick's school; he'd forbidden it, but that didn't usually stop her.
He sighed again as he opened it, hoping it was good news. It wasn't.
Dear Professor Lake,
Your son now appears to be seeing ghosts. With the recent death of his mother, we would show some sympathy; however, he has convinced the rest of the boys in his dormitory to assist him in following them. Their adventure would be problematic enough; however, this exploration occurred after hours and took them out of bounds. They would have been out of bounds even if it had not been after hours.
If Frederick cannot accept the rules necessary for the smooth running of this school, perhaps it would be best if he attended another school more suited to providing him the necessary discipline.
Sincerely,
Arnold Penobscot
Headmaster
How could Frederick manage to get into this much trouble? He was six!
Rosita was standing next to his desk, her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish the letter. "Well, what are they complaining about this time?"
Jackson read the letter to her; he was trying to teach Rosita to read, but the project was taking time. When he finished, he looked at her. "What am I going to do with him?"
"It's that school, I tell you," Rosita said, shaking her head. "Frederick's a good boy; it's the school that's wrong."
There were plans for a mechanical dog on the desk, and for an improved difference engine. He had his own students and . . . He'd almost lost Frederick. Pulling out a sheet of paper, Jackson wrote out a note to his son, telling him how unhappy he was at Frederick's continued misbehavior. He signed it, Your loving father. Addressing and sealing the envelope, he handed it to Rosita. "Could you make sure that gets posted, please?"
Snatching the envelope from his hand, she muttered, "I still say you should check out the school."
The school was miles away. A train or carriage would take a full day to get there. It wasn't Rosita's place to tell him how to raise his son. At best, she was a servant girl, and she was only that out of the goodness of his heart. She'd been nothing more than the woman who'd kept him from being killed by that Cybercreature.
Leaning back in his chair, Jackson thought. What would the Doctor do? With a rueful chuckle, he realized that the first answer was, "Be in trouble right along with Frederick." He'd certainly be investigating . . . He'd taught Frederick better than that; he didn't believe in ghosts!
By the time Rosita came to check on him, he'd pulled out all of the letters he'd received from both the headmaster of Frederick's school and Frederick himself. The misbehavior was curiously specific; the only rules Frederick was breaking was being where he wasn't supposed to be. In his letters, he insisted that something odd was happening. "I feel like those metal men are around," one of them said, clearly written by one of the older boys. "The question," he said, "is if there really are more Cybermen about, or if it's something else and Frederick doesn't understand the difference."
"What do we do now, Doctor?" Rosita asked, willing to take his direction now that he was agreeing with her about the school.
Or not. "Of course you're not coming with me," he told her firmly. "This is dangerous business, and it's no place for a woman." Jackson packed his trusty sonic screwdriver, of course, and a device that would detect electrical energy. He was fairly certain he'd read that ghostly manifestations were associated with electricity. He looked longingly at his study; he was sure that there were at least three devices in various states of creation that would be useful, but none of them were ready yet. How did the Time Lords do it?
He looked at his fob watch and calculated times. Assuming he wasn't blown off course, there was still plenty of daylight in the afternoon to get there, and he'd be able to return the next day before his own duties. Fortunately, he had no classes until the afternoon tomorrow. Finding a basket, he piled everything he thought he would need.
Rosita met him at the front door with two carpet bags. Before he could ask, she said, "I didn't think you'd remember to pack clothes for tomorrow, so I did. And I'm coming as well; you're useless without me."
Shaking his head, Jackson walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. Rosita, unfortunately, followed, but he didn't think that was a battle he could win. "It isn't proper; you know that," he said as they walked to the TARDIS.
"Good thing I'm not, then, isn't it?" she replied.
Did it make him a terrible person, Jackson wondered, that he was so excited about the expedition? It was as if the taste of the Doctor's life that he'd had, that tiny little glimpse, had made normal life boring. At least fatherhood hadn't been turned boring; he wondered idly if the Doctor had ever had that wonderful adventure.
The balloon ride took longer than he'd expected; the air currents kept throwing them off course. While fighting the winds, Jackson started trying to design rudders for the balloon, like those for a boat. Unfortunately, he didn't know that much about boats, which just left him with something else to research.
When they finally landed, dusk was just turning to night. Rosita handed him one of the sandwiches she'd prepared as they walked toward the school. Hoping it wasn't too late, Jackson knocked on the door. Within a short amount of time, he was sitting in the Headmaster's office while Rosita had been taken to the kitchens.
After the normal pleasantries, Jackson held up his equipment. "It occurred to me that, if I could prove to Frederick that these stories aren't true, he might channel that energy to where it belongs, in his schoolwork. I certainly should have written first, but I thought it best to address this as quickly as possible."
Penobscot looked taken aback. "Were you away from home? I don't see how you could have made it here so quickly."
With his best smile, Jackson said, "That's down to the TARDIS. Tethered Aerial Release Developed In Style, y'see. Still a bit at the mercy of the air currents, but we were able to overcome those little problems. If you'd like, I could show you in the morning."
"That's quite all right," Dunwhiddle said, still looking unnerved. Jackson knew many people were taken that way at first; it was simply a matter of perseverance. "Why don't I take you to the boys' dormitory; lights out is in half an hour, so you'll just have time."
It was wonderful to see Frederick again, and school was most definitely agreeing with him. He was smiling and cheerful, and he'd made several good friends with the other boys in his dormitory.
The demonstration of Jackson's devices was a huge success as well. His main device, the one that determined the presence or absence of electrical energy, worked perfectly. Within fifteen minutes, all of the boys, including Frederick, were convinced that there were no ghosts in the school. Unfortunately, five minutes later, as Jackson was convincing the boys to head back downstairs, one of them pointed behind him and said, "Look! One of them's there!"
Sure enough, even though there were no readings on Jackson's detection device, there was a spectre on the far side of the dormitory. If Jackson hadn't been looking into recent ghost sightings, he might have been taken in, but he had read about the fake spiritualists that used phosphorescence to glow and appear ghostly. He started chasing after the fake ghost, assuming that it was an older boy playing pranks on the younger boys. He was shocked to find himself holding a grown man.
"That's Mr. Priestly, the mathematics teacher!" Frederick said, looking at Jackson with wide eyes. The other boys just looked envious.
"Well, then I'm sure your Headmaster will want to see him before we notify the police," Jackson said. Holding Priestly tightly by the collar, Jackson marched him down to the Headmaster's office, trailed by Frederick and the other boys. Opening the door with a bit of forgivable flourish, Jackson found himself facing the headmaster and another teacher who were, unfortunately, holding guns. Guns which they immediately turned to point at Jackson. One of the prefects who had come along with the younger boys noticed Jackson's frantic hand motions to get the boys out, and did so with commendable speed and quiet, but that left Jackson to be tied and gagged while the criminals made their escape.
He had no idea how long he sat there. Eventually, he heard a loud banging and clattering, then quiet again. Some time after that, one of the prefects came in and cut him loose. "Sorry, sir," the boy said. "None of us knew."
Rubbing his wrists, Jackson smiled and said, as bracingly as he could, "No way you could. What's happened while I've been tied up?"
The boy's smile was a little weak, but Jackson thought he deserved full credit for the attempt. "Your maid, sir, she had a broom and . . . She's got a bit of a, er . . . " He seemed to have no idea how to finish his sentence.
Jackson quite understood; Rosita was a bit of a force. "Why don't you take me to her? And then get yourself off to bed."
When he got to the main hall, Jackson realized that none of the boys might be sleeping tonight. There were several policemen questioning everyone in sight and several other teachers. As Jackson watched the proceedings bemusedly, Rosita came up to him. "I think we might need to leave," she said quietly. When he turned to look at her, she scowled and said, "That one bobby over there; he wants me to go with him. And I don't think he wants to question me either; I think he wants to 'question' me."
It took Jackson a minute to understand her meaning, but then he sighed. Even in a proper maid's uniform, Rosita drew men's eyes. He nodded and spoke to the man who appeared to be in charge. After giving a statement and his address, they were told they were free to go.
It was one thing for the Doctor to pilot the TARDIS at night in the middle of London; it hadn't been bright, but there had been enough light to navigate by. Here, far from the city and its gaslights, the only way of navigating would be by the stars, and Jackson didn't think that was such a good idea. When he mentioned this, Rosita rolled her eyes and pulled out the materials they'd need to spend the night comfortably by the TARDIS. She also rolled her eyes when he told her that her virtue was safe with him; he heard her mutter something about "more's the pity".
When the sun rose, Rosita handed him another sandwich for breakfast and off they went, back to London and his position. Jackson smiled; a small adventure, but some form of criminal activity had been stopped, and Frederick was safe and in good hands again. He could hear a voice in his head say, "Fantastic!"