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fredbassettTitle : A Day in the Dean’s Office
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Jean Bolton (OC), Nick Cutter
Disclaimer : Not mine (except Jean), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Dr Nick Cutter is having a bad day.
A/N : Written for Nick Month on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial. My aim is to write an outsider’s POV for each of the characters during the year.
Jean Bolton looked up when she heard the knock on her door. She’d come into work early in the hope of clearing some of the mountain of admin on her desk that was threatening to achieve sentience and stage a mutiny.
The Dean wasn’t an early riser, and, unlike her, he preferred to burn the midnight oil. Between the two of them, the office was rarely left unattended.
The knock was purely rhetorical, as the door started opening immediately.
Dr Nick Cutter looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a week. Dark shadows under his eyes were more like rucksacks than bags, and his hair stood up in hedgehog spikes that owed nothing to styling products and everything to the young academic’s habit of running his hands through his hair when he was agitated or preoccupied. Nick Cutter had only been in post for four years but was already tipped to be Head of Department next year, to break the Buggins’ turn model the CMU had worked on – unsuccessfully – in recent years.
“Hello, Nick.” She smiled at him. “Professor Manton probably won’t be in for at least an hour if it’s him you’re after.”
“No… yes… er…”
“Coffee,” she said, making it a statement not a question.
“Thanks.” He slumped into a chair, staring into space in a way that formed a small, hard knot in her stomach. Nick wasn’t a man who normally wore his heart on his sleeve like this. Something had happened, and she’d bet anything on it being to do with his wife.
Dr Helen Cutter wasn’t a woman who found any favour with Jean. Like Nick, the woman had a undoubtedly brilliant mind, but with it came a hard edge that her husband lacked, a disregard of other people’s feelings that had already led to grumblings from students that had stopped just short of actual complaints, probably because no one wanted to be on the wrong side of her razer-sharp tongue. There were other rumours, too, and Jean had been debating for a while whether to say something to the Dean.
“Biscuit?” she asked, setting the coffee down in front of him.
He shook his head and reached gratefully for the coffee.
“Can I help with something, Nick?” She was going to have to try the motherly approach, even though she was only ten years older than him.
“It’s… it’s Helen…” the words came out as if dragged out by a invisible string, protesting all the way.
It would be, she thought, and wondered if he was going to confirm her suspicions about his wife’s behaviour with the students she singled out as her favourites. The male students.
“She’s gone missing.”
Her eyes widened involuntarily. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all. “When did you last see her?”
“Friday.”
Today was Wednesday. She hadn’t noticed Helen’s absence, but then their paths rarely crossed. Four days. Not long, but he was clearly beside himself with worry.
“Did something happen?” She was conscious of channelling her husband, but she had to do something to get him to talk.
“We… had a row…” he hesitated, then added, “… a bad one.”
She knew Helen Cutter could be volatile, but Nick had always struck here as being fairly level-headed, despite his appalling taste in women. The students liked him and he got on well with the other staff.
“I’m so sorry, Nick. Did she say where she was going?”
An odd look settled on his face, a mix of worry and exasperation. “She was going to the Forest of Dean.”
Jean took a drink of coffee, trying to process what he’d just said. Eventually she gave up and asked, “Why?”
He shrugged helplessly. “She had some sort of daft theory. Wanted to check it out. I think I need to go over there to look for her. I need to take a couple of days off.”
She needed sympathetically. “I’ll explain to Professor Manton, I’m sure that’ll be all right. Term doesn’t start for another week.”
Nick finished his coffee and stood up. “Thanks, Jean. I’m sure I’ll find her and we can sort things out.” For a man who said he was sure, he looked anything but sure. He looked totally adrift. He’d probably spent the last few days stewing over the row and blaming himself for her disappearance, whereas Helen had probably stayed away deliberately as a way of bringing him to heel.
“Take care of yourself, Nick, and let me know when you find her. Just talk things through with her.” Jean ran out of platitudes, and simply watched him as he left the office, convinced he’d finally wised up to the rumours that had been circulating for a while about Helen’s relationship with one of her students. That would explain the row. It would also mean that her boss would be no longer able to sweep things under the carpet.
She sighed and hoped Nick could find his errant wife quickly.
****
Two weeks later, he had got nowhere in his search for Helen. Emergency leave had been grated on the basis of a family emergency.
Nothing had been said about Helen’s extra-curricular activities and it appeared Nick was blaming himself for not having taken her research more seriously, although from what Jean had heard of her work, she’d been heading sharply towards the more barking mad end of academia.
According to her husband, a detective sergeant, there’d been no trace of Helen since the day she’d walked out of the house and driven to the Forest of Dean. Her car had been found there, not far from Clearwell, but no one remembered seeing her. Naturally, suspicion had fallen on Nick, it always did in those circumstances, but absolutely no evidence had been found to connect him with her disappearance and even her David, who wasn’t normally known for giving any possible suspect the benefit of the doubt, had to admit that he appeared completely blameless.
As she’d expected, the missing person investigation had focussed briefly on Helen’s activities with the students, but they’d closed ranks and closed their mouths, whether out of deference to Nick’s feelings or through a desire to keep out of the spotlight, Jean couldn’t say. In private, the Dean heaved a large sigh of relief when Helen Cutter didn’t return to work. Replacing her was a lot easier than having to suspend her pending enquiries, and Professor Manton was not a man who liked that sort of thing. The carpet in the office was positively lumpy with everything that had been swept under it in the years she’d worked for him.
The police never did find her, nor did Nick. She watched him struggling to cope as the months stretched on into years, but eventually, he seemed to find some peace, helped by his growing friendship with Stephen Hart. Stephen had deferred his studies and had taken a job as Nick’s lab technician. The Dean had pulled some strings behind the scenes to make the position permanent when Stephen had shown no inclination to move on. Stephen was good for Nick, helping to pull him back before a liking for good scotch tipped over into alcohol dependence, making sure he didn’t turn into a recluse, and just generally being at his side to help pick up the pieces when things became too much.
Jean watched the pair of them, pleased that Nick had someone dependable at his side. Pleased that Stephen had at last pledged allegiance to the right Cutter.
As far as she knew, the truth Helen’s about infidelities never did come out.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Jean Bolton (OC), Nick Cutter
Disclaimer : Not mine (except Jean), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Dr Nick Cutter is having a bad day.
A/N : Written for Nick Month on
primeval_denial. My aim is to write an outsider’s POV for each of the characters during the year.Jean Bolton looked up when she heard the knock on her door. She’d come into work early in the hope of clearing some of the mountain of admin on her desk that was threatening to achieve sentience and stage a mutiny.
The Dean wasn’t an early riser, and, unlike her, he preferred to burn the midnight oil. Between the two of them, the office was rarely left unattended.
The knock was purely rhetorical, as the door started opening immediately.
Dr Nick Cutter looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a week. Dark shadows under his eyes were more like rucksacks than bags, and his hair stood up in hedgehog spikes that owed nothing to styling products and everything to the young academic’s habit of running his hands through his hair when he was agitated or preoccupied. Nick Cutter had only been in post for four years but was already tipped to be Head of Department next year, to break the Buggins’ turn model the CMU had worked on – unsuccessfully – in recent years.
“Hello, Nick.” She smiled at him. “Professor Manton probably won’t be in for at least an hour if it’s him you’re after.”
“No… yes… er…”
“Coffee,” she said, making it a statement not a question.
“Thanks.” He slumped into a chair, staring into space in a way that formed a small, hard knot in her stomach. Nick wasn’t a man who normally wore his heart on his sleeve like this. Something had happened, and she’d bet anything on it being to do with his wife.
Dr Helen Cutter wasn’t a woman who found any favour with Jean. Like Nick, the woman had a undoubtedly brilliant mind, but with it came a hard edge that her husband lacked, a disregard of other people’s feelings that had already led to grumblings from students that had stopped just short of actual complaints, probably because no one wanted to be on the wrong side of her razer-sharp tongue. There were other rumours, too, and Jean had been debating for a while whether to say something to the Dean.
“Biscuit?” she asked, setting the coffee down in front of him.
He shook his head and reached gratefully for the coffee.
“Can I help with something, Nick?” She was going to have to try the motherly approach, even though she was only ten years older than him.
“It’s… it’s Helen…” the words came out as if dragged out by a invisible string, protesting all the way.
It would be, she thought, and wondered if he was going to confirm her suspicions about his wife’s behaviour with the students she singled out as her favourites. The male students.
“She’s gone missing.”
Her eyes widened involuntarily. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all. “When did you last see her?”
“Friday.”
Today was Wednesday. She hadn’t noticed Helen’s absence, but then their paths rarely crossed. Four days. Not long, but he was clearly beside himself with worry.
“Did something happen?” She was conscious of channelling her husband, but she had to do something to get him to talk.
“We… had a row…” he hesitated, then added, “… a bad one.”
She knew Helen Cutter could be volatile, but Nick had always struck here as being fairly level-headed, despite his appalling taste in women. The students liked him and he got on well with the other staff.
“I’m so sorry, Nick. Did she say where she was going?”
An odd look settled on his face, a mix of worry and exasperation. “She was going to the Forest of Dean.”
Jean took a drink of coffee, trying to process what he’d just said. Eventually she gave up and asked, “Why?”
He shrugged helplessly. “She had some sort of daft theory. Wanted to check it out. I think I need to go over there to look for her. I need to take a couple of days off.”
She needed sympathetically. “I’ll explain to Professor Manton, I’m sure that’ll be all right. Term doesn’t start for another week.”
Nick finished his coffee and stood up. “Thanks, Jean. I’m sure I’ll find her and we can sort things out.” For a man who said he was sure, he looked anything but sure. He looked totally adrift. He’d probably spent the last few days stewing over the row and blaming himself for her disappearance, whereas Helen had probably stayed away deliberately as a way of bringing him to heel.
“Take care of yourself, Nick, and let me know when you find her. Just talk things through with her.” Jean ran out of platitudes, and simply watched him as he left the office, convinced he’d finally wised up to the rumours that had been circulating for a while about Helen’s relationship with one of her students. That would explain the row. It would also mean that her boss would be no longer able to sweep things under the carpet.
She sighed and hoped Nick could find his errant wife quickly.
****
Two weeks later, he had got nowhere in his search for Helen. Emergency leave had been grated on the basis of a family emergency.
Nothing had been said about Helen’s extra-curricular activities and it appeared Nick was blaming himself for not having taken her research more seriously, although from what Jean had heard of her work, she’d been heading sharply towards the more barking mad end of academia.
According to her husband, a detective sergeant, there’d been no trace of Helen since the day she’d walked out of the house and driven to the Forest of Dean. Her car had been found there, not far from Clearwell, but no one remembered seeing her. Naturally, suspicion had fallen on Nick, it always did in those circumstances, but absolutely no evidence had been found to connect him with her disappearance and even her David, who wasn’t normally known for giving any possible suspect the benefit of the doubt, had to admit that he appeared completely blameless.
As she’d expected, the missing person investigation had focussed briefly on Helen’s activities with the students, but they’d closed ranks and closed their mouths, whether out of deference to Nick’s feelings or through a desire to keep out of the spotlight, Jean couldn’t say. In private, the Dean heaved a large sigh of relief when Helen Cutter didn’t return to work. Replacing her was a lot easier than having to suspend her pending enquiries, and Professor Manton was not a man who liked that sort of thing. The carpet in the office was positively lumpy with everything that had been swept under it in the years she’d worked for him.
The police never did find her, nor did Nick. She watched him struggling to cope as the months stretched on into years, but eventually, he seemed to find some peace, helped by his growing friendship with Stephen Hart. Stephen had deferred his studies and had taken a job as Nick’s lab technician. The Dean had pulled some strings behind the scenes to make the position permanent when Stephen had shown no inclination to move on. Stephen was good for Nick, helping to pull him back before a liking for good scotch tipped over into alcohol dependence, making sure he didn’t turn into a recluse, and just generally being at his side to help pick up the pieces when things became too much.
Jean watched the pair of them, pleased that Nick had someone dependable at his side. Pleased that Stephen had at last pledged allegiance to the right Cutter.
As far as she knew, the truth Helen’s about infidelities never did come out.
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no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 09:50 pm (UTC)I've always enjoyed the 'outsider POV'. It can give some great insights into the characters. Very nice!
The carpet in the office was positively lumpy with everything that had been swept under it in the years she’d worked for him.
*snorfles* Super line!
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 07:37 am (UTC)I was pleased with that line, thanks! *g*
no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 11:18 pm (UTC)Some lovely lines here and Jean is brilliant.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 09:51 pm (UTC)Really liked Jean and her thoughts on Helen and Cutter, she was very sweet. Although I do believe they all kept quiet to avoid a scandal, but, well, maybe that's just me ;-)
Great fic!
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Date: 2019-02-05 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-08 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-09 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-26 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-27 08:11 am (UTC)