Distractions

[hedda62]

I have to make a heck of a lot of plant labels this week, and complete many other similar tasks, so I could use a little fannish distraction (of the more creative sort than randomly browsing tumblr (which I still do not belong to, oh god tell me I'm not going to have to do this) or rewatching POI s2).

So, feel free to prompt - DVD commentaries on my fic, trope ficlets, Important Fandom Questions, whatever - and I'll fit in answers as I have time. I think you all know my fandoms, and I'll just tell you if you prompt something I can't do.

(Yes, that is a pay phone with a green roof in the DW icon. Seen in a California state park.)

Comments

[hedda62]

I did that one already - to your prompt, in fact. *g* Here it is.

Feel free to prompt another one, though.

[raven]

So clearly I left my brain in my other trousers. Um, how about Simon and Alys, outsider POV?

[hedda62]

This is one of the half-dozen scenarios I considered, and I'm not sure it's the best response to the prompt, but it's fun to think about, so here we are.

*

The nice thing about working the night shift, Vorberg had theorized with admittedly limited experience to back it up, was that it was quiet except when something bad happened, at which time the need to act was abundantly clear. The first night on guarding-suddenly-crazy-Simon-Illyan duty had blown that theory out of the ionosphere; he'd been called other people's names, told he couldn't exist, berated urgently about things that had happened before he was born, seized by the arm and shaken, and wept on by the man he'd idolized since he was fourteen, and there was nothing he could do about any of it except report the request for Miles Vorkosigan's presence. And nothing came of that, until he took matters into his own hands.

When Vorkosigan and the Vorpatrils mother and son took over bedside duty, he breathed a sigh of relief and retreated to the chair in the hall, pacing up and down a few times an hour in a nod to physical therapy. His legs no longer ached enough to keep him awake, and he wasn't allowed to read or watch vids on duty, so he people-watched, alternating between surreptitious and blandly threatening in best ImpSec style. Over the course of the nights before and after Illyan's surgery, he unmasked two thieves (the one stealing drugs he had to report, but the one pilfering office supplies he just glared at) and took private note of a sex scandal involving an analyst, a medical technician and a captain in Domestic Affairs. He also plotted five different building exit strategies dependent on location of infiltration or fire, composed several letters of complaint about the Dendarii Mercenaries (pleasantly uncensored because they could never be sent), and did a lot of soul-searching about his career prospects. And watched Simon Illyan and Alys Vorpatril fall in love.

At first he thought it must be a figment of his imagination - over many long space journeys he'd exhausted all the shoot-em-up vids early and discovered that he really preferred romantic comedies - but the signs were unmistakable, and he wasn't fool enough to think that age did anything to stop people from getting gooey-eyed over each other. His instructions included an hourly security check of Illyan's room, so to begin with he witnessed a lot of hand-holding and the calming effect Lady Vorpatril had on the Chief's agitation. Not that he spent any more time in the present with her than he did with anyone else, but it didn't seem to matter: clearly she made him feel better, whether he was calling her by her first name or her title, whether he was fantasizing Cetagandan war threats or gossiping over tea. Even in the day before the surgery, Illyan's semi-conscious ravings and desperate silences seemed less horrible when she was in his sight.

When they'd operated on him and he'd come somewhat back to himself - to Vorberg's great and secret relief - the partiality continued, in the sense that Illyan was more relaxed with Lady Alys than with anyone else, and less apt to hide his memory problems. Not that he did anything about it, and neither did she; Vorberg still walked in on a lot of arm-touching and eye-locking, but there was a declaration of feelings, it didn't happen on his shift. He considered casually dropping a book-disc of "My ImpSec Lover" into Lady Alys's bag, or having a dozen red roses delivered to Illyan with a Mysterious Admirer card in her handwriting, but this was HQ after all and he'd be found out, and then Illyan got sprung and the opportunity for playing Cupid passed by. Besides, it was none of his business.

Though he was secretly pleased, when on security detail at the Imperial Betrothal, to see another happy couple canoodling in a corner when they thought no one was watching.

[philomytha]

Oh, I do love Vorberg and his determined loyalty! About the only thing that could make it better is a bit of matchmaking :-). And oh yes, Alys and Simon and their very restrained courtship ♥

[hedda62]

Glad you liked it - and Vorberg is, I'm sure, underappreciated by many. :)

[raven]

Awwww! I love this! Vorberg is so quickly and adorably characterised here - he's a romantic! He doesn't like shoot-'em-up movies! "My ImpSec Lover"!!!! Thank you so much for this. <3 <3 <3

[hedda62]

Glad you liked it! I think Vorberg is in general appreciative of things going well and competently, including romance. :)