whoniverse1000 | Fic Post

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He went through lives quickly. Too quickly, in fact, far faster than all the other warriors who went out to battle. Was he careless? Stupid? Or had he realised that the High Council would give him as many new faces as he needed to win the War?

Leela thought it selfish and vain. She had fought in as many battles as he, and often with him, but she still wore her own face. She did not act so foolishly, so cruelly, so madly.

Watching him in battle, she understood: he could not control his recklessness. The hatred and the fear had consumed him. Wild and rabid, he would hurt and kill until he was put down.

And yet, when she asked him of his new faces, he merely said that it was strange, strange as Leela could not understand. To wake up in a body that was not your own yesterday, to speak and hear the voice of a stranger. That's what caused regeneration sickness. That's why so many Time Lord minds could not handle any more than thirteen forms.

He added, then, that each new body needed breaking in. Exercise, battle, a full exploration of the new form's facets. And as she was a warrior, he asked her to assist him in this exploration. He even offered for this battle to be on her terms.

And so, each time he died, she battled him in bodies to learn what man he had become.

---

Requests: Leela/Torvald, Narvin/Torvald, Romana II/Pandora

Before he had ever seen her with this pair of eyes, it was easier to pretend. It was almost possible to forget, when all he had was remembrances from another lifetime, that the other man who lives inside his memories ever had a wife. But after that first mission together, there’s no more pretending to be done. He has to see her again.

Arranging another mission together for the two of them is time-consuming, tricky, and diverts far more of his attention than he ought to spare. Even once he manages that, it's nearly impossible to engineer that mission specifically to include a moment when, by way of eluding pursuit, they are forced to squeeze themselves into a very cozy broom cupboard, but he’s cleverer than anyone has ever given him credit for, and he gets the job done.

“Watch where you put your hands, or you will not have them tomorrow,” she hisses, as they awkwardly shove themselves into the too-small space.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Savage,” he sneers. They both end up facing the door, he standing behind her. “Do you think I need to stoop to groping humans in dark rooms?”

“I do not know what you would do,” she says. “You cannot pretend to me that your species are cold and do not think of such things.”

He bends his head, inclining it towards the crook of her neck, and breathes deep. His nose may be different, but the scent of her is the same, earth and sweat and spices. “I’m not a deviant like that so-called husband of yours,” he says, his hearts hammering so hard he’s afraid she may hear them.

She turns back to look at him. Their faces are very near, but she’s looking at him with loathing burning behind her eyes. “No,” she agrees. “You are not like him. My Andred was ten times the man you are.”

She opens the door a crack and peers out into the corridor. It’s empty, and she’s out of the cupboard without looking back at him, nearly running down the hall.

“Yes, he was,” he whispers to himself, as he’s hurrying after her. “He had you.”

---

Requests: Romana II/Braxiatel/Narvin/Leela, Romana II/Narvin, Braxiatel/Alt!Romana I (from Gallifrey:Reborn)

Romana isn't the sort of woman who forgets, even when half-awake. She knows from the moment her eyelids flutter that nothing untoward is going on. Yes, Brax's stubble is tickling the right side of her neck; yes, Leela's face is pressed against her left shoulder; yes, Narvin's hand has snaked over Leela's hip to rest on Romana's stomach; but that's what Romana expected, really. Stretching a one-person CIA-issue tent to fit four is bound to cause a little crowding. There's no surprise in that.

The surprising bit is how much she wishes they hadn't all got so many clothes on.

---
Requests: Pandora/Braxiatel, Pandora/Leela, Pandora/Narvin

He knows he can't go to her. It's a relief, in one sense, knowing that Gallifrey and everyone on it is forbidden to him. He let the first Romana slip through his fingers once, and even if it isn't really her, even if it's something else inside her skin, he's not at all certain he could resist the opportunity to undo past mistakes.

He isn't counting on her coming to him.

The Politics of Compromise, 1,400 words, NC-17 (http://janeturenne.livejournal.com/105149.html?#cutid1)

---
Requests: Jack Harkness/Leela, River Song/Indiana Jones, Romana I/Narvin

One microspan, they're fighting about the mindprobe. Predictable, that—it's Thursday, and Thursday is always the day for fighting about the mindprobe with Narvin. On previous Thursdays, however, they've been fighting about the mindprobe one microspan, and still fighting about the mindprobe the next microspan, until the moment when Romana plays the 'I am your President' card, and Narvin storms back to the CIA in a huff. Whereas today they're fighting about the mindprobe one microspan, and the next she's pressed up against the edge of her desk with her legs around his waist, and her hands in his hair, and his on her thighs, and his tongue in her mouth, and hers in his, and, somehow, Romana doesn't mind in the slightest. Somehow, it feels like this is exactly what they've been doing all along.

She has a feeling Thursdays are going to be much more interesting from now on.

---

Requests: Jack Harkness/Amy Pond/Rory Pond, Two/The War Chief, Romana II/Zoe Herriot

Fic Post

Leela/Master

Leela/Torvald

Romana II/Braxiatel/Narvin/Leela

Braxiatel/Pandora

Narvin/Romana II