Staring death in the face here in the rain, with her hair plastered to her scalp and her heavy robes weighted down with water, she's never felt so utterly useless. The staser falls from her numb fingers; "Oh, go on, do your worst," she says, jerking her chin up with a pride she does not feel, and the ring closes in around her, laser spears levelled at her head and hearts--
A recognisable whirring sounds at her back, building and fading with a resonance that makes her teeth ache with its familiarity, and Romana cannot help but smile.
The TARDIS door creaks open--Romana doesn't dare to turn and look--and the Doctor says, voice measured and curious, "Dear me, did I come at a bad time?"
There is a great deal of shouting and ominous shaking of weapons but it doesn't matter now; before she knows what's happening he has his arm about her waist and is pulling her back protectively into the range of the TARDIS's shields, breath hot against the nape of her cold neck. "All right?" the Doctor whispers in her ear, backing them both up against the TARDIS door, and she puts her hand over his where it still grips tight over her ribs.
The leader spits, pacing outside the shield's circle. "That's a pretty penny you've lost us, boy," he says, his mechanical eye flaring with blue light as his fingers flex on the grip of his spear. "We don't think much of folk who take the bread from the mouths of our children."
"Bounty hunters?" the Doctor says, not a little disappointed, moving himself and Romana back through the door. "How postively mundane, Romana. I'm sorry to interrupt this charming little party, but the President and I have somewhere to be--"
He shuts the door tight on their protests. Romana peels off her robes and leaves them lying in a wet heap of fabric on the floor before she moves to help the Doctor at the console; she shivers in her damp gold gown. "Your timing could do with a bit of work, Doctor," she says, watching as his hands fly, and he looks up from his work and smiles, light from the rotor reflecting the drops of water caught in his long eyelashes.
"I'm trying to do better," he says, and with a final flick of a lever they're off; Romana lets her fingers fall away from the switches and he comes around to her side of the console, leaning against it with a troubled look on his face.
"We need to talk, Romana," he says, and she nods wordlessly, slides her arms around his neck under the collar of his coat. He breathes in shakily, then drags one hand up her arm, wrapping it around her upper arm with his thumb pressing into the hollow of her elbow; another shiver, not of cold this time, runs down her spine. "You have to know there's a traitor on the Council; that's how you ended up on Dac."
"I had wondered," Romana says drily, shutting her eyes briefly against the memory of waking up in the rain, a piercing pain like white lightning at the back of her head; it hadn't been pleasant, and nor had been the last two days on the run from the mercenaries sent to kill her... She shakes her head and says levelly, "We'll take care of them, Doctor. I promise you that."
The Doctor's voice drops to a hoarse whisper. "I was barely--you nearly--"
She rubs her thumb along his jaw. "Doctor," she says, and kisses him into silence.
Requests: Romana I/Jackson, Ross Jenkins/Charley Pollard, The Master/Tegan
Eighth Doctor/Romana II
Staring death in the face here in the rain, with her hair plastered to her scalp and her heavy robes weighted down with water, she's never felt so utterly useless. The staser falls from her numb fingers; "Oh, go on, do your worst," she says, jerking her chin up with a pride she does not feel, and the ring closes in around her, laser spears levelled at her head and hearts--
A recognisable whirring sounds at her back, building and fading with a resonance that makes her teeth ache with its familiarity, and Romana cannot help but smile.
The TARDIS door creaks open--Romana doesn't dare to turn and look--and the Doctor says, voice measured and curious, "Dear me, did I come at a bad time?"
There is a great deal of shouting and ominous shaking of weapons but it doesn't matter now; before she knows what's happening he has his arm about her waist and is pulling her back protectively into the range of the TARDIS's shields, breath hot against the nape of her cold neck. "All right?" the Doctor whispers in her ear, backing them both up against the TARDIS door, and she puts her hand over his where it still grips tight over her ribs.
The leader spits, pacing outside the shield's circle. "That's a pretty penny you've lost us, boy," he says, his mechanical eye flaring with blue light as his fingers flex on the grip of his spear. "We don't think much of folk who take the bread from the mouths of our children."
"Bounty hunters?" the Doctor says, not a little disappointed, moving himself and Romana back through the door. "How postively mundane, Romana. I'm sorry to interrupt this charming little party, but the President and I have somewhere to be--"
He shuts the door tight on their protests. Romana peels off her robes and leaves them lying in a wet heap of fabric on the floor before she moves to help the Doctor at the console; she shivers in her damp gold gown. "Your timing could do with a bit of work, Doctor," she says, watching as his hands fly, and he looks up from his work and smiles, light from the rotor reflecting the drops of water caught in his long eyelashes.
"I'm trying to do better," he says, and with a final flick of a lever they're off; Romana lets her fingers fall away from the switches and he comes around to her side of the console, leaning against it with a troubled look on his face.
"We need to talk, Romana," he says, and she nods wordlessly, slides her arms around his neck under the collar of his coat. He breathes in shakily, then drags one hand up her arm, wrapping it around her upper arm with his thumb pressing into the hollow of her elbow; another shiver, not of cold this time, runs down her spine. "You have to know there's a traitor on the Council; that's how you ended up on Dac."
"I had wondered," Romana says drily, shutting her eyes briefly against the memory of waking up in the rain, a piercing pain like white lightning at the back of her head; it hadn't been pleasant, and nor had been the last two days on the run from the mercenaries sent to kill her... She shakes her head and says levelly, "We'll take care of them, Doctor. I promise you that."
The Doctor's voice drops to a hoarse whisper. "I was barely--you nearly--"
She rubs her thumb along his jaw. "Doctor," she says, and kisses him into silence.
Requests: Romana I/Jackson, Ross Jenkins/Charley Pollard, The Master/Tegan