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Rating: Teen
DISCLAIMER: This is actually a reference to something else fan-wise. It was inspired heavily by I Am The Doctor, a short on vimeo by Jack Green (the preview is on youtube, here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gD_iC-EZT5M). It has a very different ending, though. (And yes, I may have watched it enough ten years ago that I can still recite every single line with the Doc. what. this is perfectly normal.)
Summary: Like the video, one day a normal bloke wakes up a bit different. (Yes, it's something I use several times over. So sue me, it's a storyline I like. Actually, don't sue me. You won't get much, unless you'd like to be paid in the bar of chocolate I have sitting over on my desk.) It also is odd in that I've actually made a (pretty bad) audio recording of me reading that, but as I'd have to publish that on another site to link to here (and also I'm not that confident in my audiobook skills) it
I don’t know who I am. I have no name. I know my heritage, my legacy, but nothing else. I wander through the streets, lost and alone. I know that sometimes I bring others with me, and that is a sweet joy in my otherwise dreary life, but none are to be found. The few stare at me on the streets, and I feel surprise. I’m not used to being looked at, especially by those who wonder at my appearance, at who I am.
“Have you seen James? He’s disappeared, and I can’t find him anywhere.” That was Tess on the phone. She’s constantly misplacing James. I don’t know what it is about her, or him for that matter, but I’ve never known anyone so careless about their boyfriend before.
I sigh. “Nope. I would check downtown. He’s been known to wander around aimlessly just because he feels like walking before.”
“Right! Right!” She hung up, and I shook my head. She’s not an idiot, but scatterbrained and oblivious she is at times. James, unless he’s out walking, is the practical one.
It takes her precisely 11 minutes and 44 seconds to find James. She drives up next to him, and he looks startled, like a deer ready to flit away. She rolls down the window.
“We were going to go get some ice cream, remember?”
He still looks confused, lost in his mind. "Um...no, not really," he answers, vulnerable, open honesty in his voice.
She laughs. "How could you forget a date with me?"
He studies her so long that she wonders what he's thinking, and begins to worry. "I have absolutely no idea," he answers. But he just keeps standing there, unmoving, staring at her.
Upon a sound, James starts up, on his feet, a bottle of vinegar in his hand.
I feel so helpless, chained like this. I know that a change is coming, that the winds are blowing seeds of destruction into my lush, green, modern valley and I can do nothing to stop it-not here, not while they lock me up and believe me insane.
“Tess, darling, listen to me! You have to get everyone out! You have to-” but the door is shut in my face, and I stare, despairingly, at the blank walls surrounding me-blank as the pages of my soul.
I can’t blame her for not believing me. Upon reflection, I realize how oddly I’ve been behaving. I was still dazed, confused, when I was reacting instinctively. This is something else, though, the knowledge I have in my guts, the instinctive grasp of the intricacies of Time, and if anything they need to listen now.
It’s too late-at the moment, anyway. I am thought crazy, locked in a prison with only my mind as a tool. It’s not a problem. A mind is a useful weapon in any case. Especially in my own. There’s always hope. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the centuries, it’s that hope NEVER dies.
I know it will hurt, what is to come. But she’s so vulnerable, out there, disbelieving. And I have to show her that I’m not crazy, that it is true. That what I’ve been saying is more than just ravings, however badly I’ve been putting it. So I sit crosslegged and meditate, aware that sooner or later something will happen...
Theresa (this is her nickname from those who don't know her well) visits the asylum every day, even if she can’t bear to speak to James. She just wants to see his face, to know that he’s still in there, somewhere, however oddly he’s been behaving.
The next time she goes, though, she’s met with panic on the parts of the staff. She, feeling the flutterings of fear in her heart, touched the nearest running white coated figure and asked what was going on.
“A patient’s having a seizure, we think. He’s gone into convulsions.” She wouldn’t have added any more, but Tess stops her, the flutterings becoming full-fledged flailings.
“Which one?”
“James Milligan.” The nurse hurried off, as Tess pushed past her, wanting only to make it to her James. That could explain his behaviour-if he didn’t have a choice about the matter, with something hurting his beautiful brain...
As soon as her hurrying footsteps came close, she could hear him screaming, as if his lungs were being ripped out and his heart was on fire. His pain cut through her own heart, leaving jagged edges in its wake. She looked into the room to see a twisting, sweaty form, being held down by what, for an asylum, was a crowd of people. She longed to go to him, to hold him in her arms, to save him from the pain.
At last, the echoes of his agony died down, and he fell motionless upon the bed, sweat staining the sheets like blood.
The doctors went into an urgent huddle, discussing in low and important tones the new development. They didn’t notice as James’ eyes suddenly popped open and he sat up in bed, looking straight at her-through the one-way glass...
“Hullo...” he mouthed, face curving in an idiotic smile. He had nothing to be that happy about. He’s just gone through torment; he shouldn’t be smiling.
“Are you okay?” she mouthed back, before she realized that he couldn’t see her. Not really.
At least, that’s what she thought...
“Never better,” she made out. “That was interesting.”
"You were having a seizure." She shook her head, tears beginning to follow as she couldn't bear it, couldn't bear all of the trials he'd had to go through.
He shook his head, feeling his own eyes grow moist as he watched her-she was hurting so badly. Not even the change hurt that much. He wanted to tell her, to show her, but he couldn’t, not like this.
And then an idea occurred to him. They’d forgot to empty his pockets, which was quite good of them because they wouldn’t have known what to make of them. Then again...when he’d first entered this place his pockets hadn’t been...out of the ordinary. So perhaps they had tried to empty his pockets, when they didn’t contain the contents of a whole attic.
“I need a hug,” he ‘spoke’ again.
He saw her tears disappear, as she stared, thinking he was still mad. “Please,” he added, trying to look as innocent as possible.
She entered the room and hugged him tightly, trying to hold in the sobs that wracked her body. She was grieving for him, he realized, grieving for the loss of the man she no longer knew. Or at least-she felt she no longer knew. 'I'm still in here!' he longed to shout aloud, to free her from fear and doubt, but he knew she wouldn't believe. How could she? He'd messed up royally this time, and getting her to understand, to believe, would take some doing. He held her as tightly as he could, while doing something sneaky with one hand-gently maneuvering something into her pocket, establishing a connection. She couldn’t ignore this-it was almost definite proof. Assuming she didn’t get too far away before he could use it.
The doctors finally noticed her presence-and the fact that he wasn’t stretched out, unconscious. “You’re not allowed in here!” they began yelling at her. She moved back, eyes welling up with tears again.
To her surprise, he smiled again, a knowing, loving smile that she couldn’t quite place. “I’ll be fine,” he told her, and winked.
It was only as Tess started walking out that she realized there was this poky *thing* in her jacket pocket. She took it out and rolled her eyes, trying to fight back the anguish that threatened to fill her. Somehow, James had managed to slip psychic paper into her possession without anyone noticing. She was about to put it back in despair, but it began to glow, and then what looked like James’ handwriting began to scroll over the paper. “Hullo, Tess. I’m not sure if this is working, but I hope so.” She dropped it with a yelp as if it were on fire. “Ah, yes, I can see that it is. Please keep in contact with the wallet or I can’t read your mind.” She just kept staring at it nervously. “That came out wrong. Just think of it like a conversation-a very strange IM’ing session, if you will. Or...something. I’m not this crazy person trying to get inside your head. I’m just trying to talk to you, since you wouldn’t listen to me otherwise and these not so nice doctors and nurses wouldn’t let me do so anyway. Talk, I mean. They’re all trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, but there’s nothing wrong with me. Just a little...change is all.”
She finally felt the courage to touch the wallet, to pick it back up. ‘What?’ she concentrated on that single word, hard, trying to send it across...
“Ouch! That hurt! You are LOUD, you know that? ;) Yes, I just winked on paper. Blimey this is fun.” The invisible ink halted on the paper as he thought. Finally the invisible quill began moving again. “Do you believe me now?”
This time, she didn’t get to concentrate on her whirling thoughts before he’d picked them up and was already responding.
“I can see you’re still skeptical. Or confused may be a better word for it. That’s fair. I shouldn’t expect you to immediately get used to this. You probably think that this is just a dream, or something. Also fair. Really, I can’t expect too much of you. But I want you to know that I chose this, because soon you’ll be in danger and I...” she could almost see him swallow, “I want you to know that I chose this life because...I care for you, and I want you to be safe. Even if I don’t survive this, even if this means that we can’t be together because...because you can’t handle it, I would die-and change, to protect you. So I’m choosing change, allowing those winds of metamorphosis to forever sweep me off the path of my former life...” His words stopped for a minute, leaving her in suspense. She continued watching the piece of paper in her hands, somehow linking her to the man she still loved despite herself....
“Leave. Leave now.” He was suddenly back, and urgent. The gentle teasing and amusing rambling was gone in a heartsbeat, leaving only a focused, determined individual that threw her totally off guard. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but they are coming. They are coming soon, and you have to get out of the building before they do. Listen to me now and do what I say. You’ll lose contact if you get too far away from me, but I don’t know what that point is. So if I stop talking, that's probably why. In front of you, down the hallway, is an exit sign with doors. Don’t go out those. Instead, there’ll be some stairs to your right. Take them. Yes, I know my instructions are taking you under the ground, just listen. There’ll be another door that’s not alarmed. That’s a good thing-you want to make as little noise as possible. You’ll be in a safe little concrete area with some stairs. I want you to peek up over the edge and make sure no scary...things...are anywhere near you. If you don't see anything, count until 10 and then make a run for it to the nearest place to hide. Then STAY THERE! Don't go anywhere-if I can get out, if I can save these people...even if I can't save these people, as long as I have breath in my body, I will be coming for you. I promise."
She didn’t know why she followed her instructions, but she felt herself without a thought walking down the hallway and taking those shaky steps down into the dark.
In his mind, James was monitoring her movements. He winced as she went onto tiptoes and saw one of the creatures waiting for its fellows to enter the building. Her reaction was particularly noticeable, because she was screaming at the top of her lungs in his head, though not a whimper escaped her physical lips.
‘What do I do now?’ came her frantic cry into his mind, deafening him so much he couldn’t hear the words of his doctors. They probably thought he was either ignoring them or his perception didn’t include them-at this point anyway. They were wrong. He could still feel the general impressions of their thoughts floating around him, as if he were in the particularly gentle embrace of a certain spot on the beach where the ocean ebbed and flowed at a slow, leisurely pace. He could feel the beginnings of a headache stirring-so he was overextending himself, if only a little. His telepathy, he knew, was meant only for mind to mind contact or possibly for a little manipulation of the psychic paper-not this, not his blathering. The further she walked, the more of a strain it was to keep the thread linking them from stretching and breaking, but he tried, because it was the woman he loved, and because he couldn’t let her down.
"Shut up, all of you," he spoke loudly, cutting through their worry.
"He's gone completely mad," one of the nurses muttered, the words escaping her lips before she even had time to think.
He held up a hand, slender, nimble fingers raised in reproach. "Very possibly. Now you," he pointed to one of them, "...are going to recommend an MRI. You've been worrying about proposing that all day because you're just a junior doctor, and they'd very likely take it out of your paycheck or equally horrendous if it doesn't end up being necessary. You haven't told anyone, not even your girlfriend, because you're not sure how she'll react and you're not sure whether she's just interested in you because of the possible money involved and if you get your pay docked you're afraid she'll break up with you even though you love her very much. But you're pretty sure of yourself, just not so much so that you're willing to bet your love life on it. You'd be right, by the way. You'd come up with a lot of strange things in that MRI, things that you couldn't explain in a lifetime. I'm an anomaly, that's all there is to it." The younger doctor turned a bright pink and looked down, away from him.
"As for these other tests, hmm, that'd be interesting." He was already up on his skinny legs, striding across the room and picking up the papers sitting on the counter.
"That's interesting," he remarked conversationally, flipping through the papers faster than the eye could follow-though he seemed to be taking it in at a glance. Glasses seemed to have appeared from nowhere and were now resting on the bridge of his nose. "When were these done?"
"Day before yesterday," the younger doctor answered before anyone could stop him.
"Interesting as well. Apparently the change started long before I was aware then. I'm already in the advanced stages. Quite fascinating."
"What?" A senior doctor, identifiable by his gray hair, asked the question, determined to stop this insanity.
"Well, look," he shoved the papers in the other man's face, pointing out sections that he'd found so fascinating. "My emotional hormones-serotonin, adrenaline, that sort of thing, have all but disappeared, there's this new one that you can't identify, and, oh, look, some Norepinephrine! Oh, good! I love Norepinephrine!"
The man snatched his papers out of the madman's hands. "You, sir, are in a mental asylum."
Before he could go on, the skinny bloke nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. I am." He was completely missing the point, but it wasn't as if he hadn't expected this. If someone was insane...
"Then maybe you ought to lay down and let us doctors do our job." He wasn't gentle, and knew he was getting looks from his colleagues-another House, they were thinking. Even if they were completely barmy, that didn't meant that one couldn't be gentle with 'em. But this one was just so irritating.
"Or you ought to stop asking questions and let me do my job as the Doctor." He'd gone from bubbly to serious in less than a second, and suddenly had something in his hand-so what had he managed to smuggle in?
One of the nurses screamed and fainted away, obviously thinking that it was some sort of weapon. He glanced over at her with a detached, puzzled look, and began running the slim metal tube in his hand over the doors and windows. "Kidding. Asking questions is not a bad thing, never stop asking questions. Except when you'd be distracting me from saving the world, which would be bad, although not horrible, because if anyone would yell at me I'd have an excuse at least. I love it when it's not my fault...trouble is, that doesn't happen very often." He spouted out this nonsense quickly, though half-heartedly; his attention was elsewhere-thinking about something else, and on the metal thing in his hand pointing at the wooden door.
"What are you talking about-" The skeptic was cut short, as something heavy *CRUNCHED* the door inwards, sending the skinny bloke to the ground, the metal object skittering out of his hand.
They all wondered whether they'd gone crazy. The thing now panting over the remains of the door trapping the patient looked somewhat like a giant turtle, but it had more of the legs of a panther, apt for pouncing, although covered in the leathery skin of a turtle. The patient frantically scrambled for the metal thing, but it was out of his reach. He had to keep avoiding the beak pecking and stabbing at him, sometimes only by centimetres.
"Well, don't just stand there!" he growled after a minute, the strain already showing in his voice. "You're in danger, go on, hurry."
A quick thinking woman grabbed something large and heavy, but he shook his head emphatically. "You don't know what you're doing, and you'll only get yourself hurt if you make it mad. Now, please, I have the situation under control-just go before its master shows up."
That made a majority of them run. They didn't believe he was in any way capable of handling the situation, but none of them wanted to argue when he was buying them the chance to escape. He cast one last despairing glance at his sonic before turning his attention to preventing his face getting eaten by a pouncing turtle in another way. 'No sonic? Fine. I can still do this...'
A second later, he came up with a plan and went utterly still, slumping to the floor as if he had gone unconscious. The thing on top of him snuffled in satisfaction as the rest who hadn't left ran for it, screaming. It began to turn around, having new targets now, but the Doctor sprang into life, letting the surge of energy reach through every cell and artery, pumping breath into him. This momentum was enough for him to turn the tables on the much heavier and stronger foe, slamming it-and the splintering remnants of the door-onto the ground beside him. It growled, struggling to get free.
"Oh, no, you don't," he muttered, sprinting for his sonic and fumbling frantically with the controls. It finally shrugged off the broken wood and crouched, then sprang into the air. He barely managed to get the sonic up in time and pointed it directly at the animal falling toward him, feeling his hearts pound. He saw its eyes beginning to close...but the momentum was too strong. It wasn't going to stop.
His eyes widened in shock as he dived to the side, rolling out of the way. Even so, he felt the crash-hard, through the floor. The snuffling burbles were the first sign he had that it was safe to see the world again.
He sat up quickly, eyes wide open, hand already running through his hair. He glanced over in amazement at the sleeping drugleth, which was completely indifferent to the remains of the cabinet it had shattered sticking out of its open beak.
"That would've hurt," he stated matter-of-factly before realizing that he was alive. He had made it-more than that, he had done it. He stared for a second at his sonic before whooping in joy. "Aww, that was brilliant! Amazing! Aww, you are so clever, you!" He paused, the happiness deflated as soon as it had appeared. "Annnnd...there was no one around to see it." He sighed, a long, drawn out sigh before he made it to his feet slowly, stretching along the way. "Some day," he promised himself, before remembering something very important that he'd forgotten. "Tess..." he whispered, setting off along the darkened corridors, hitting a fire alarm along the way, hoping that the rest of the doctors and patients would get out if they hadn't already. No casualties-not today.
Tess had done as her James had said, only hoping that he would make it himself. Gone was the thought of doubt, a shadow in her mind. Now she believed.
She'd been joined in the gazebo in the garden across the street by a variety of other people-patients, doctors...people she'd never seen before. And a few she had. She'd grabbed the eldest doctor by the collar and demanded to know where James was. He'd stammered out that he'd told them to go, that there was this...thing...
Tess had only once ever screamed at someone in her life, and that was when her daddy told her that mummy wasn't coming back and that she'd have a new mum. She'd gotten to like the new one over the years, and wasn't an angry sort of person anyway. But this one time, she completely lost her temper.
The fury in her voice was one that doctors and psychologists, having worked with a number of patients with anger issues, for years, had never heard. It went beyond violence, was like the sound of thunder. She threw the man into his fellows. "So you left him in there to die?!?"
Frantically she dug into her pockets, searching for the psychic paper. It turned out that she'd dropped it on the ground, and a shaking middle-aged woman handed her its stained pages. Louder than ever through the pain and fear in her mind, she reached out to James, looking for any sign of him in her mind, on the page.
"OUCH!!!!" came his answer, but he didn't respond more than that.
'James?' she asked carefully, trying not to be too loud about it. She still hadn't gotten the hang of it yet.
She blinked as her vision faded out, and suddenly it was as if she was inside his head.
"Whoa!" he gasped, feeling her frantically mentally checking his body for wounds. "I'm okay, you know." he said after a moment, amused, catching his breath.
It was as if she was running right behind him, and noticed something. Both of them turned to look, and Tess shrieked at what she saw coming at them.
"OOOOOWWWIIIEEE! Not only did you have to hurt my mental ears, but you had to make me scream like a girl! Not fair!"
She could tell he didn't mean it, the slightest hint of a smile on his face as he began to run, arms pumping and breath flying, as the monster bounded after them.
"What is it?" she asked, feeling the air move in and out of his lungs as if they were her own, feeling slightly breathless despite the fact that she was merely standing, holding a piece of paper in her hands. Not very strenuous-and yet, here she was, part of this-somehow.
Despite the fact that he was about as breathless as she was, he still somehow managed to find breath enough to speak. "It's called a Drugleth. It's a pet-of sorts. Actually, it's a pet as hunting hounds are pets. Its main purpose, in case you haven't noticed, is chasing down prey-such as we."
"What?" she asked, brain struggling to keep up with his energetic steps.
He quirked a smile 'at her', even though he knew she wasn't really there, she could feel he knew. "Oh, it's not as if they're going to eat us. Well...most of us, anyway. Well...actually, probably, it won't touch me. The rest of the universe may not be safe, but we are. Well, by we I mean me. I have no idea about you. Actually, no, that's a lie. I know-you're safe, because I'm here. I promise you that, and you can trust me. Because I'm the Doctor."
He felt her shrink back a little, and would've hugged her if he could. Instead, he just smiled and reached out to her, establishing the connection, then, on his end. "I've never known the psychic paper to do this. Really, I oughtn't to know anything about it at all, but then...I oughtn't be the Doctor, either. So we're settled on that end. As for other things...well...what was I saying? Oh, right. I think you've somehow tapped into some function it's never done before. See, it's only supposed to transmit in writing thoughts. But it seems that's not all it does. It's natural for it to have that connection with me, and somehow you hitched a ride on that connection to get into my head. That doesn't make sense, does it? I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, what?" she asks, and he can but shrug.
"Like I said before, I'm sorry. I wish I weren't this confusing, but I am, so...I'll work on it, I promise." He was turned towards where they both imagined her to be, and so wasn't paying attention when the sharp Drugleth beak went for the flesh on the back of his leg.
They both screamed as the creature tore through cloth and sinew, leaving a ragged, bloody edge behind. He was lucky that the creature missed its target, or his whole leg would've been lost. She could feel his thoughts leaking through, the thoughts that he had kept so carefully tucked away before now. He immediately pivoted, a hand holding the sonic screwdriver out in a second, pointing unerringly at the thing that had bit him. It staggered back, sleepy, but aroused by the taste of blood in its mouth. It wanted more. A mass of them grew at the end of the hallway. "Time to go," he stated cheerily, his ego and happy face masking the pain within. He turned around and ran, the leg screaming at him in fury as his hearts pounded away, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to keep him going. His lungs felt like someone had filled them with acid, and yet somehow he'd gotten the strength to go on.
It's when she sees herself that she's jolted back into the real world.
Tess opens her eyes to see James running toward her. She remembers he's done something fancy with his sonic, so hopefully he won't be followed. She looks anxiously behind him, but there's nothing. And then he smiles, one of his big, open, honest smiles that only makes her love him all the more and rush to envelop him in a giant hug.
He laughs and pounds her on the back. "Careful, you silly goose. I am the walking wounded, y'know."
She remembers his wound as if it were her own and tries to get him to sit down so she can take a look at it.
He shakes his head, very serious. "Not here-we don't want to have to go face more Drugleth-or worse, have them follow us. Or lead their masters to us." She nods, feeling the stirrings of fear flow through her.
"It's blood. Won't they know to follow it?"
"Concrete. Lots of weird environments and smells-and anyway, my blood doesn't smell normal. Let's get a little ways away at least, okay?" He can't look at her, just keeps looking around at their surroundings like a dog searching for a scent.
She nods again, pulling him close for another hug, which he soon breaks out of and slips his cool hand in her warm one. "The rest of you lot, you could come with us, but I don't recommend it. Going to the nearest facility to help process everyone's probably your best bet."
An elderly doctor stepped forward, a look of consternation in his eyes. "You can't do that!"
Tess shivered, as the Doctor let go of her hand and merely turned around. He didn't speak one word, but he didn't need to. The look of scorn in his eyes was too much for anyone to withstand, not like this. 'And just how are you going to stop me?' was written on every feature. Here was the Oncoming Storm, the terror that chilled the blood.
The doctor would've been stupid and kept arguing with The Doctor, but his colleagues pulled him away. "Thank you," one of them whispered.
Instantly, a broad smile was on James' face, and he winked at the woman. "No problem!"
He pulled them into the nearest mall, and she looked at him, surprised. "Isn't that a bad idea?"
"Why would it be a bad idea?" He looked at her as if she were crazy.
She gestured. "All the people around-all the possible people that might get hurt?"
James' eyes turned hurt, afraid, but he quickly covered it. "Lots of places to hide," he mouthed at her, trying not to draw attention to them, then pulled her behind one of the shops.
They walked down one of the back ways until he found a bench to sit down on and did so, wincing. "Now you can do it. Whatever," he told her, looking away from her. At first, she didn't have a clue of what he was talking about, but then remembered. The wound. She'd meant to bandage it.
"Right. James...are you going to explain what's going on?" She knelt down, looking at it carefully, and began to unwind her scarf to tie around his leg.
"I'm not sure I understand everything myself yet. It's all still a little vague. But I'm the Doctor. At least, partially-I wasn't, but now I am." She finished tying it off, and he got up, tested it, pain still sneaking through around his eyes. "It's a bit bulky, and stands out a little. But at least I've got poofy pants." He grabbed her hand, began pulling her out back into the crowd outside. "All I know is, I am developing the physiology of a Time Lord, and I have the memories of the Doctor. But I'm still me, and there was no watch involved, so I'm not a lie. At least, I don't think so. At the beginning I thought I was crazy. Now I don't think so. I could be wrong, but I doubt that as well. It was just...not having memories was terrifying. You don't know what that's like. I didn't have real memories, let alone fake ones. Well, not that these are fake. But you get the idea."
"James....that still doesn't help. Could you explain better? Please. I...I think I believe you, but...I'm scared, and it's all so...."
She was cut off, as he rammed into her mouth, pressing against her, suddenly a very, very warm, flaming thing against her. She choked a bit, as her breath was cut off, and suddenly she breathed his essence, the fiery soul of the Time Lord in love.
She was pushed onto the stand, as his mouth worked against her own, as he passionately pulled her against him, his hands all over her. She felt herself grow as hot as him, though only half from passion and half from embarrassment. This was as good as any of her highest rated dreams-and yet, she didn't really want this in real life. Did she? She heard chuckling, and one man yell "Get a room!".
In but a minute he was gone again, pulling away from her, his hand slipping into her own as he dragged her off toward the restrooms.
Pleasant as it was, she stopped completely when they were out of sight. "James! What was that? ...You're scaring me."
He looked as red as she could ever remember, running his hand through his hair. "I apologize. Not for kissing you-for kissing you like that. We needed to blend in, and they'd never think of me doing that. Because it doesn't fit me, you know. The masters of the Drugleth? They've got specialists that blend in, and they were looking for us. I sensed them."
Again, the familiar fear ran through her-that, beautiful as he was, he was completely barmy, that the 'specialists' weren't real, that he really did belong in the asylum.
gynabs nivubg firward name: Nawin or Tawin
pvsarvatopma; slo;;s seadon
Tess began screaming, and he instantly dropped the spanner and the radio on the floor of the TARDIS, ignoring it shattering into pieces.
When he reached her room, she was sitting up in bed, sheets drawn around her, eyes wide with terror, sweat bleeding from her.
His sonic whipped out, as did his glasses. Warily, he looked around the room, poked the screwdriver half-heartedly at the various closets. "Are you okay?" he asked tightly, frightened of the answer that would meet him.
"Doctor, I'm fine, I..." Her voice caught in her throat, and he imagined her wiping tears away with her sleeve.
"Sounds like it to me," he remarked, sarcasm barely audible to any but her.
"I was just dreaming. Please, do I at least get a hug?"
He felt himself softening, but merely turned around and buzzed the sonic in her face for a bit before it disappeared into his coat and she was in his arms, crying.
"I love you, Doctor James. Really I do. But...the Oncoming Storm..."
He smiled at her, that loving, sad smile that had appeared on his face so often of late, and pulled him closer to him, holding her tightly.
He goes undercover at a school. For some reason, Tess isn't there. It's where Luke, Clyde, and Maria go to school. They mark him as out of the ordinary. Sarah Jane comes as a journalist and talks to him, trying to figure out who he is. Tess calls. She's freaking out because the land is desolate (she's in the future) and he's dead. He writes it off as a simple conversation about clothes. There's this sound that only he can hear (well, he then Luke). It takes him over for a bit, and Sarah Jane terrorizes him as he put Luke in danger. Then Tess calls again, threatening Sarah Jane because she can hear him screaming. When he wakes up, he's fought off the thing and has been dreaming about corridors. He's pretty calm and loving about the whole thing, and when it turns out that he's wearing the shirt she saw his body in she panics. He says that at the very least she'll see him again-Time Lords sometimes get glimpses of the future and he'll die in her arms. She wants to avoid him, but he says "It doesn't work like that. Even if you try to circumvent it, it'll happen. I don't know if I'm old by that point, or what yet. Life, and living it, is worth more than the fear of death." He says, calmly, "Well, we always knew that might be a possibility. I'm a bit clumsy when it comes to keeping safe [etc]" "How can you be so calm about death? Especially when you're not going to..." Later, he ends up not dying, and she hugs him. "I'm glad you didn't die." "I don't care about it one way or another, but I'm glad I still have many more years with you."
"Everything has its ending, but that ending is in of itself beautiful, because it's the last shared moments of consciousness in the dawning of a new world. How do we deprive ourselves of that beauty, what right do we have to turn away? Yes, we should do all that we can, but in the end...there is a beginning. I know it may sound cliche, but it's true. Remind me sometime to let you see what I see, to know of the beauty."
A Time Loop he prevents...He's just going to school one day when he gets a letter from Tess...from a nursing home...
He goes there only to find her, aged, waiting for him. She starts crying, saying that she's ugly now, and old, but he refuses to hear it. "You're beautiful to me. I'm a Time Lord, Tess. I don't care how old you look...I'm just mad...that I was deprived of the chance of seeing you grow old. I'll prevent this, Tess. I promise." "But I'm here now. You can't have prevented it, because I'm here now." "Tess. I'm the Doctor. The impossible is my specialty. Trust me." And despite all he's done, despite the things she's seen...she can't help but trust him. (that doesn't really belong here, but it's a good statement, so it's here. probably will be relocated somewhere else shortly.)
He starts asking about family, and begins to get close to crying himself. Like 11th Regeneration. She says she never married or had kids-couldn't, after him. But she was somewhat adopted into a family, has nieces and nephews. "where are they?" he asks, choking. "I just hate the thought of you being on your own, all those years...It must've been so lonely."
"Now I know how you feel..." she teases, then begins having a heart attack. He panics and saves her, but it's a near thing. So it's him out investigating with a frail old Tess interspersed. Eventually, he does get her back...but she remembers. Vaguely.
He meets David Tennant, who's in disguise (it's a party) and just casually calls him David. He's casual the whole time, as if they're very good friends. Eventually, something happens, and David believes. He says to tell John the Doctor said hi.
Trial-submit memories as evidence, but then physically out of the head, so completely amnesiac. At least, supposed to be. Time Lords don't work like that (at least, not completely-some impressions remain). turns out that they've got the wrong one (alternate dimension Doctor, who's done more of the sort of stuff to get himself thrown in the Pandorica), they can't kill James, who's innocent, and someone who loves someone as strongly as he loves Tess can't be killed-law.
He tapped away at the keyboard, faster than normal eyes could follow. He had no problem absorbing the endless streams of data crawling across the keyboard, though. Occasionally, he would push his glasses down his nose, to better see the pictures that accompanied the words at these quick speeds, then replace them to their original place on his nose. He was just closing out the program when he felt the cold touch of steel against his neck.
He slipped his glasses into his pocket surreptitiously and put his hands up, slowly swiveling around in his chair to face the man behind him. The gun touched the tip of his nose, and he went cross-eyed staring at it. He quickly moved his gaze to the officer holding the gun, taking in the green army wear and the scarlet beret with the familiar world insignia and wings.
"Oh, hello, Corporal," he remarked, conversationally. The officer was having none of it.
"No funny business. You're under arrest, and will be interrogated soon enough. In the meantime, don't move, and I'd be obliged if you would remain silent."
The intruder was sympathetic, and added a touch of seriousness to his voice. "No one's going anywhere...Nate, isn't it? Trust me, I want to meet your superior officer as much as you do. Probably for different reasons."
This statement made the officer even more worried, but his jumpy manner barely communicated itself as he took out a radio. "Greyhound, we've found a saboteur in the Research Compound. Proceeding to bring the intruder in, sir."
Even though he really wasn't supposed to be here, and his actions could easily be construed as that of sabotage, he still couldn't help but interject, "Saboteur?" He was horrified. That wasn't very glorious a title for one thing. He'd have preferred espionage, or intelligence operative trained in counter-production methods. Something spiffy.
In warning, the gun pressed itself further into the skin on his nose, and he subsided, eying it (and the man holding the gun) warily. His chance would come, sooner or later, but he hadn't been lying. He'd been wanting to meet the Brigadier for a long time, and not just for practical reasons.
At last, the man stopped talking on the radio and addressed him again. "Move."
He nodded, and began to get up, when his pocket began to sing. "Is there a hero somewhere/Someone who appears and saves the day..."
He glanced down at his pocket and winced. "That's mine," he stated, as if the man couldn't tell.
"No sudden moves," he was warned, as the corporal reached into his pocket and pulled out two decks of cards and a mint before finally finding his mobile.
For the first time the intruder's eyes widened, with a hint of fear, but he was smart enough not to move. "She's not involved." This seemed to be pleading more than a statement of fact-so this one feared for the safety of a woman accomplice. Interesting, and very possibly useful. They'd get more answers this way.
"Yes?" he asked, trying to muffle his voice as much as possible.
"Hi, James! How's it going? You know how you told me your hedrin particle detector wouldn't pick up anything? It has. I hope you'll get back soon from your intelligence-gathering expedition-something's definitely going on." The voice sounded young, naive, and didn't seem to match this impudent man's manner. He had to be older than her by at least four years, but it was likely that his charm and age only made it easier to lead this innocent girl astray.
The officer merely grunted, hoping she'd give something away. Having her to get this mysterious intruder to talk would be very useful.
"Well, you must not be getting along very well; you usually talk a lot more than this! I kinda miss that. But you know...whenever you're done, meet me at the coffeeshop at the corner. I've got some stuff you'd like to see, and I'll buy you a smoothie. Okay? I know you always like it when I pay, and I might as well. Just want to see your frowning face-and I'll soon fix that! Love ya, see ya soon!" She closed the mobile, not letting him respond-for which the man was grateful. He didn't want to have to try to pretend to be another much longer-she was sure to notice.
"Please." Somehow, the man knew that the game was up, that his helper was in jeopardy. Somehow he'd known that she'd given her location away. "She's honestly not involved. Not this time. Just let her go-you've got me. You don't need her."
"We need any and all involved in this, to get down to the bottom of the matter," the Corporal stated without a touch of compassion.
For the first time in a little while, the intruder surprised him. He was stupid enough to surge out of his seat, heedless of the dangerous metal maw ready to swallow his last breaths. Instead of killing him, though, the UNIT official just hit his opponent over the head with the blunt edge of his weapon, and the intruder slumped to the ground...
He came to himself in a chair, tied. He wasn't very pleased with himself.
He couldn't help himself, though, when it came to the woman he loved...he just hoped she was intelligent enough to stay out of the way. Just to be sure, though, he connected to the psychic paper, the echo of the first communication he'd had with her so long ago. "That wasn't me on the phone. Stay away, please. I'll get in touch with you again when I possibly can."
It hurt, to reach that far. The mental strain made him grit his teeth, bracing against the pain.
"So you're awake." He voice was familiar, and despite the agony beginning to throb through him, he glanced up into the unfriendly face of the Brigadier, that he'd known since he was but a child.
"Hello, Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart!" he managed, as chipper as he could muster. If his hands were free, he would be massaging his head. The headache was beginning. By now he really should know better than to overreach himself.
His old friend frowned. "How do you know my name?" he asked, as anxious as the Corporal had been.
He didn't dare answer directly, instead continuing on. "It used to be Corporal, and you were in the army. You met your scientific advisor in the Underground with the Yeti and the Master Intelligence, and soon after the group of UNIT was created. It needed a leader, so you were promoted to Brigadier and put in charge of said group. You've seen quite a lot-Cybermen, Silurians, Daleks....even Morgaine, of King Arthur fame."
"How could you know that?" the Brigadier asked.
The young man actually scrubbed at the back of his head with a hand. "Erm, that would be difficult to explain."
"Explain away, then," Lethbridge-Stewart ordered, voice dry and unamused.
"That wasn't me on the phone," the intruder growled, annoyed, eyes giving away his worry for his accomplice.
"Oh, I knew." The woman looked slightly pleased with herself. "But I knew that if someone had your phone, then they'd taken you prisoner, and I didn't want to leave you."
"It'd be easier if you weren't here," he looked away, trying to wipe away the worry on his face.
"Oh, I know. I make more work, but at least you get an extra pair of hands." She winked at him, and despite himself, the possible saboteur glanced up and smiled at her, a smile full of love and fun.
"Well, you always make things more interesting. So," he turned his attention back to the Brigadier again, who didn't know whether to look pleased or furious, "...what's the plan now that she's here?"
The curly-haired man watched the two young things sitting in their cells. For a while, the male was still awake, reading, making notes, occasionally looking over at the female with a wistful, gentle look that he easily recognized as love.
Before the night, he still suspected that, for once, surprisingly, the Brigadier actually knew what he was talking about-that these were definitely against them and were responsible for the sabotage. That this one was hard-hearted, a mastermind and very possibly the Master, if not someone almost as bad.
Now he was having trouble believing the truth of it, despite himself. Eventually, the male leaned backwards, resting his head against the wall. It took but a minute for the captive to drift off, and the book slipped from his hand, falling on the floor.
The two were a very sweet couple. Until the female had gone to sleep, they spent the time singing duets, some of which hadn't even been written yet. The Doctor didn't often think of himself as a romantic, but this scene definitely tugged at his heart strings, as much as it showed them as anachronisms that didn't belong. The male soon began moaning and moving around, just a little. Eventually, it was bad enough that the blankets fell off, and the male was left shivering in the dark, propped up against the wall.
He felt his sympathies start drifting toward this perfect couple. For one thing, other than the possible issue of sabotage, the only reason that this one had gotten thrown in a cell was his dislike and thus reaction to authority, and the Doctor knew what that was like, all too well.
The male suddenly sat up, eyes wide and clear, fear making the chills and shivering that much worse. "They're coming," he whispered distinctly-in Gallifreyan.
"I'm sorry?" the Doctor responded in English, hoping to draw the unsuspecting mystery out, if it wasn't just a fluke.
"They're coming. Darkness is coming, and I don't think I'm enough," he confided, still in a language that no one really had a right to know.
"You're a Time Lord?" the Doctor managed in his native tongue, in shock. But the younger Gallifreyan (if he was from Gallifrey) didn't hear, falling back into sleep.
But that gave him ideas. A lot of ideas, for different tests. He had to know.
"So, these Torchwood people..." Benton began, but the young man cut him short with a look.
"Could I handle this one?" He'd put it as a question, directed at the Doctor, but it was merely a statement of fact.
The white, curly-haired head nodded in response, and the younger version was already moving, as if he already knew the answer.
He walked straight up to a woman, tall, aristocratic, and black-haired. "Hullo."
"Sorry, there's been an accident. The whole area's cordoned off. I'm afraid you'll have to go around."
"Accident my foot." He snorted. "Riiiight. Tell me another. In reality, you're Torchwood, and you're looking at something I'd really like to have a gander."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she did her best to cover her surprise. "I'm sorry; I don't know what you're talking about. We're local police, and we only just barely arrived on the scene ourselves."
The young impudent grinned wryly. "When I said 'tell me another', I didn't literally mean it. Look, I want to speak to your man in charge." When she showed no indication of moving or helping him along, he sighed. "Two words: Captain Jack. You're afraid the Rift may be growing wider, and I'm afraid you might be right. Cooperation will make this whole thing a lot less difficult for both of us. We might even be able to stop it!" His smile grew, until it covered his face.
"You're coming with me." She'd dropped the act entirely, cold and harsh. He'd put himself in harm's way-they'd try to erase his brain if they could-but he was confident in his ability to protect himself and sauntered along in front, following her nudges without complaint. He was aware he was on shaky ground, and unlike UNIT, Torchwood thought it could get away with anything. One mere stranger who just happened to know too much wasn't all that much of an obstacle.
"Aisha, I told you not to leave your place at the barrier," a familiar voice spoke without looking up. He had trouble concealing a smile as he saw the familiar coat and untidily combed hair.
"This one seemed to know a little too much about what we were doing here. I thought it best you talked to him." She saluted, pivoted and went back to the barrier.
"So, what do you think you know then?" The leader of Torchwood looked over and grinned, amused, at the sight that met his eyes. This bloke was skinny, young, maybe twenty, if anything. He was dressed in . He had somewhat medium length hair that he kept pushing out of his eyes, which were an odd, brownish green. All in all, not a very imposing figure-though a handsome one. One that he'd like to get to know better if he wasn't on duty. Probably just a young journalist or curious student.
"Welllll....that's quite a large question and would probably take hours to answer. But I can say this. You're Torchwood, first formed in 1879 by Queen Victoria. You're here dealing with what seems to be a growing Rift-Rift in Time, that is. The main one's in Cardiff and that's where your base is. I'd really love to see that, but never mind about that, business first. You were created to deal with alien threats and one man-called the Doctor. Everyone's always wondered why he was chosen-I mean, dangerous he might be, but he's not THAT bad. You've always thought it was a mistake, a misunderstanding, but that's not true. At least, I don't think so. I don't have any proof, but I think that Queen Victoria was infected by the lupine wavelength haemovariform-you'd call it a werewolf-and that bit of alienness in her mind was trying to defend itself from any that might give it away and spoil its plans."
He went through this monologue as if it were conversational, as if he were talking about the weather or his tea. Captain Jack stared at him, feeling the fear rush through him as the thought that this was no ordinary boy-that this had to be an alien of some sort-went through his mind. Some sort of arrogant, believing-it-can't-be-stopped alien. The confidence was unnerving.
"Look-I don't know how you got all that, but..." Jack began.
The alien sighed. "You're Captain Jack. You're a Time Agent-or used to be, anyway. You're not anymore 'cos they wiped your memory for something you didn't do, for something you don't even remember. You then became a con man, but then you met the Doctor, became immortal, and got stranded here on Earth, where you've been working for Torchwood and waiting for the Doctor ever since..."
Harkness didn't react as he'd expected, and it was clear no one else had anticipated his move either.
In two swift strides he'd crossed to the boy's side, pressed an alien blade against the throat. "How do you know that? You're not a Time Agent, are you?"
He could feel the boy gulp. "Nope, never. Didn't mean...to frighten anyone." He couldn't manage many words, probably realized that his gab had gotten him into this mess in the first place, that making any moves was likely to make the man holding a weapon to his throat more nervous, and wanted to avoid death by blood loss. And then he realized that he could feel other things, through his touch.
The breath of the intruder had slowed down, not sped up. In contrast to the utter confidence of earlier, he did seem slightly afraid now, eyes dilating. He'd gone very still. His skin was cool, not like a human's. And, most telling of all, through the arm and the blood vessels in the neck he could feel that the heartbeat had an echo-a very distinctive echo.
"You're not the Master, are you?" he whispered into the other's ear, letting the blade draw a little of the purple blood from the o-so-soft neck.
A chuckle burst out of the throat, though the boy almost certainly didn't intend to do so, since it dug the edge a little further into the flesh. The expression soon turned to a grimace of pain. "Would this be his approach? Really?" The voice was a little harsh from the blood and loss. Jack could feel the pleasure of having this Time Lord so close, but let him go, quickly wiping and sheathing the sword. The young Gallifreyan stepped away from him cautiously, nursing his throat with a wounded look back. "You certainly have a way of making a man feel welcome, Captain Jack."
"Doctor?" he asked cautiously, feeling the heat begin to build up in his cheeks.
The look that met him was serious, and, if he could imagine it, the tiniest bit embarrassed. "Erm...no and yes, but we'll go with yes for right now. You can call me Doctor, or Doctor Milligan, or Doctor James, or just James. I really don't care."
"Are you undercover then?" The former Time Agent cast an appreciative eye once more over the young body in front of him.
It was the Doctor's turn to blush slightly. "Again, no and yes, but go with yes. It's the easiest explanation. Now, I came with UNIT, and they're really hankering to get in on this..."
Captain Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not them. Inefficient bunglers."
The look this time was stern and took no 'buts' for an answer. "They're with me, or rather, I'm with them. Either you let them in on this, or we both take off and leave you to it."
The Torchwood leader could hardly believe his ears. "Is this blackmail?" he asked incredulously.
The Doctor merely laughed. "You could call it that if you liked, yeah."
Captain Jack Harkness sighed. "Okay, fine. They get in. I want you near me on this one, Doctor."
The Time Lord nodded, already heading off. "I should probably let them in before your sentry there decides them hanging around is a bad thing and scuttles them off," he called over his shoulder.
The younger Doctor is surprisingly forthright about his relationship with Tess, which makes the Brig at least uncomfortable.
He kisses Martha-he wants to be with all these people, but can't, because he loves Tess. "Did you just kiss me?" "Blimey. Teenage human hormones with the passion of a Time Lord. Quite the mix." "Don't worry, Martha. Your Prince Charming will come. Someday. And it won't be chauvenistic like a fairy tale, because honestly, you deserve better. You probably deserve better than me, too, but anyway."
He's regenerated, and Tess is taking care of him. He's finally feeling a little better, and they're strolling around, when she remarks, "I'm lucky." "Hmm?" he asks, curious. He was just thinking about how his regeneration has robbed her of the man she loved, and now she has to get used to someone different. Well, eventually, but still. And I'm thinking this is his third body, so he's been there once before. "Well, people are happy and passionate and in love when they first meet. And then they marry, and then some of the magic dies-it's supposed to, you know, but...it's supposed to be more compassion, happiness, etc. And that's when people..." she turns purple, "...well, some people, start to cheat. Because they want to feel that happy, lovely passion. And I'm lucky because I get to fall in love with the same man. Over and over again. Because you may change, and it's like having a new man there kissing me or whatever, but at the same time, you're still the same man. I don't have to leave anyone to get that kick. Whatever other people may think." He looked away. At first, she thought he was offended, because he was looking anywhere but at her. It was only when he spoke, voice watery and full of tears, that she realized he was so touched he was ready to cry. "That...may be the sweetest thing I've ever heard," he managed, trying desperately not to choke up.
James' roommate turns into a Time Agent, and the first thing that happens is the attraction, especially to James, which freaks him out more than a bit. He doesn't know what's going on, and is really close to suicide before James convinces him that he's not the only one who's changed....
He does this thing (James) where he sticks his tongue through his teeth and touches the very bottom of his lip. He must be getting it from Satoru, then...
Scott, the son, ends up meeting the real Doctor. And having to talk him out of dying. He shows him sort of a Turn Left, what would happen if he wasn't there to stop it. Then he yells at him a bit. "The only reason, Doctor, that you would deserve death is if you accept it!"
Younger Martha Jones meets them...in a bank. It's a different dimension, but she doesn't realize it. When they both realize that the bank is being robbed, and Tess is taken as a hostage, James and Martha must join forces to thwart the evil behind this seemingly ordinary crime...
(James manages to get them to agree to a phone call every half hour to make sure she's safe and this madman stays off their backs)
