whoniverse1000 | Fic Post

Fic Post

This post is where everything happens. All stories/ficlets/drabbles go in the comments here. If your story's too long to fit in a single comment, please post it in your own journal and leave the link in a comment here along with your next pairing request(s). Make certain that you include the pairing you've written as the title of the comment, so that specific pairings can be found easily.

Please don't post any comments that aren't stories. That way, this post will show an accurate count of all the written stories. If you make a mistake or forget something, just edit your comment. If you write a story featuring a specific pairing but somebody posts their story before you post yours, please post it in the overflow post instead of the main one.

If you need help thinking of a pairing to request next or getting inspiration, don't forget The Doctor Who Random Pairing Generator. It includes all of the "main" characters from the various shows, audios, books, and spin-offs. People who aren't participating in the writing can list pairings here that authors can write and/or use as requests in this post.

The rules can be found on the community profile. The masterlist of all written pairings can be found here, while all requested pairings that are still open can be found here. If you want to leave feedback for one of the authors, please go to this post. Any other questions can be asked here.

Note: If you're writing a story for someone's request, please post it as a reply to their comment. Only create a new thread if you've written a pairing that nobody has requested yet.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"What? What?"

"I said 'don't get cross'," the Doctor said, scuttling backwards behind the console and, he hoped, out of reach of a potential slap. "I did say."

"In what way," Donna said, very slowly, "are we, you and me, married? Because I think I'd remember."

"Firat time we met. You in a white dress. Biodamp ring. Remember? Except - oh, you'll laugh at this - probably - possibly - I sort of made a tiny mistake with the type of biodamper and we're actually legally married in nine-tenths of this part of the galaxy." Donna was quiet, in much the same way that the eye of the hurricane was quiet just before the other side of the storm hit. "Not on Earth, though," he added. "Well, only on Earth between the years 2250 and 5 billion and you look magnificent when you're angry, have I said?"

"Well, I must look bloody gorgeous at the moment," she snapped. "And why've you suddenly come out with this 'married' nonsense?"

Ah. All things considered she was taking this quite well, but he didn't think she'd like this bit. "It sort of didn't legally count until... consummation."

Donna blinked. "Oh," she said. "In that case we're all right, aren't we? Because we haven't..."

"We did," he said. "Yesterday. When you kissed me to save me from the poison. Um. Thank you, by the way."

"On what planet does one kiss count as consummating a marriage? Planet Disney? Cinderella World?"

He could have explained the particular article and subclause of the Shadow Proclamation that covered these things, but sensed that it would only lead to him spending his first day of married life recovering from a regeneration. "Anyway," he said hopefully, "now that that's out of the way, where to next?"

Donna folded her arms. "So long as we're clear that you and me aren't married."

"Except in the technical, legal sense, absolutely not."

"And one snog, which was only to save your life and which I didn't enjoy at all, doesn't count as consummation."

"Yes. Agreed."

"And wherever we're going now, it's definitely not a honeymoon."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

"Good."

"Good."

He tried a tentative smile. His wife glared back. "But I suppose," she said, "if you really wanted to take us somewhere with a posh hotel and room service and a beach, just to make it up to me, that'd be all right."

Requests: Nine/Astrid, Ten/Ross, Ace/Martha

Title: Incognito

There were benefits to traveling in remote areas. Beautiful scenery, lush vegetation, exotic foods. Harriet found herself relaxing for the first time in years as she watched the waterfall from her vantage point.

Jo was there, chattering on about this species and that, her legs tanned and beautiful in khaki shorts and roughed-up trainers. She knew more about the Amazon region than anyone Harriet had ever met, and wasn't shy about sharing her experiences.

A bird swooped up from the lake far below them, its cry odd and alien to her ears as it flew straight over them towards some destination they could never fathom. Jo laughed at her expression of shock, and kissed away the frown that followed. "It's okay," she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against Harriet's. "They can be a bit rowdy."

"Undoubtedly," Harriet said, hiding her smile. She was just another British tourist here. Just a middle-aged lady in sensible shoes on an ecological tour of one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

Nobody recognized her. Nobody would have cared if they had.

She kissed Jo briefly, grateful that the woman had insisted on this vacation. The only thing nicer than traveling icognito was doing so with someone you loved.

Jo/Brig, Sarah Jane/Josh Townsend, Three/Jo

“I did what you asked me to,” he says, almost pleading for forgiveness for something he already knows no one can forgive. No one needs to. Except himself, of course.

She makes no immediate response to his plea and simply stares at him. He can see her mind working.

Feels it.

She’s counting, almost. Stripes on his suit? Freckles, maybe. “And this is what you have become?” she asks.

And now he knows the answer: battle scars.

“I see it cost you, too.” She is taller now. Her hair reminds him of someone on some American TV show that Rose used to watch. It suits her, though. She is still very ... her, he thinks.

“A new body and a few decades stuck in the Matrix, Doctor. Not too much. I think it cost you a lot more.”

And it did. So he tells her. Tells her about the Daleks and about Rose. He tells her about the woman who walked the Earth for him.

He doesn’t tell her about the Master because, well, he doesn’t have to.

And it’s good, remembering. He has focussed on the distant past for so long; he forgets what he has become.

“It’s how they heal,” she says, almost absentmindedly as she sits down next to him. It’s as if she could hear his thoughts, he thinks. Then he chuckles because, of course, that is exactly what she was doing.

“What’s funny?” she asks.

And he kisses her because he’s pretty sure that will help him heal as well.

Requests: Martha/Master, Rose/Jo, Jack/Romana

Ace is the first person Martha meets who she already knew. Later there will be others, but Ace is the first. She's come looking for the Brigadier, she says, and she won't settle for seeing Colonel Mace.

"I could murder a drink. Is your shift over? Want to go to the pub?"

Martha finds she has a terrible, burning desire to say I saw you die.

She remembers a woman who grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the back of a motorbike on the outskirts of Edinburgh in the early days. They drove for twenty miles, thunder in their ears and the ground shaking under their feet, before Ace pulled over in a deserted field.

"Cloaking device on the bike," said Ace, by way of greeting, fast and practical. "I know you've got one too, but you could still get blown apart. Sarah Jane told me you'd come this way. You're hard to track down, Martha Jones."

She grinned, and it was beautifully unexpected. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Martha felt herself grin back.

He broadcast it live. He did that with all of the companions he caught. He wanted me to see.

It was Ace who got her across the North Sea and into Scandinavia. It was Ace who saved her life again in Copenhagen, and in Bruges, and in that village in Andalucia. It was Ace who kept her sane, while she learned how to cope with the devastation all around them.

It was Ace who hadn't made it into Egypt.

And here she is, leaning on Martha's desk in the bright new UNIT office, with her jacket slung over her shoulder. She looks younger than Martha remembers her.

He wanted you to scream, but you wouldn't.

Martha leans forward and kisses Ace on the lips, to both their surprise. "Yeah," she says, smiling. "Let's go."

Requests: Ace/Rose, Harry/Martha, Jo/Sarah Jane

"Tom. Doctor Milligan."

He turns around. There's a very pretty girl leaning against the wall across from his building, and she's looking right at him.

"I'm sorry, miss," he says with a grin. "I'm sure I should remember you, but I don't quite."

She laughs, and the sound is clear and comforting. "You're such a flirt," she says, sticking out her hand. "Doctor Martha Jones. We met once, before. It's okay if you don't remember."

"Don't know where my manners went," he replies, shaking her hand. "I can make it up to you, if you like. Busy tonight?"

Martha laughs again, and turns to walk away. "Meet you here at seven. You can buy me dinner."

* * *

Dinner turns into another dinner into a film into lunch on Sunday with Tish into telling her mum that she's seeing someone new, now, yes, he's a doctor, no, he's perfectly normal. More or less.

* * *

She did wonder when he would ask.

"How did you know me?" he says suddenly, pausing. Martha groans, tries to encourage him with her hands, but he continues. "That day, at work, you called out to me. I mean, how did we get here from there?"

"Once upon a time, I walked the earth," Martha says, moving her hips to set her own tempo. "And I met you."

"The whole earth?" he says, with a grin and a gasp as she squeezes him tight. "What was I like?"

She pushes him off, then, sits up and rummages around in her purse by the bed. She finally pulls out a key: it's got a faint glow, slightly iridescent even in the dark room.

"You were the best man I met," she says, pressing the key into his hand and settling down on top of him. She wraps her hand around his, and increases the tempo. The key cuts into his hand as he comes, and she laughs, sits up straight, and follows him over.

* * *

"Martha. Doctor Jones."

She turns around, leaving the car door open. He's leaning against her front door, smile on his face like the cat that ate the cream. She's just finished a really long day at work. He has a small box in his hand.

"I'm going to Africa," he says. "Please marry me when I get back."

"The whole earth," he says later, kissing his way across her skin. "The whole earth."

She smiles, and thanks her lucky stars.

* * *

Their wedding rings are plain, solid gold bands; nothing fancy, nothing gaudy. On the inside, each ring is engraved with a tiny, perfect key.

Requests (let's try all new ones this time!): Ace/Hex, Tegan/Nyssa, Ben/Polly

Edited 2008-05-20 22:29 (UTC)

Title: Snow and Rain

"I hate when they mix," she said, toppling a bit on her toes as she reached up to hang her coat. They were drenched, first from rain, then from snow, and she hated the chill in her bones. "Fancy a cuppa?"

Harry shivered in his wet clothes, eyeing the disaster that was Sarah Jane's flat. It wasn't that she was untidy, so much that her possessions far exceeded the capacity of space. He grinned to himself. Perhaps she thought this place in Croydon was a TARDIS as well. "It's late," he murmured. Ever the gentleman, Harry, Old Boy, he chided himself. "I should be going."

Sarah grinned at thim, and tugged at the lapels of his coat until she had it off him. "No, it's late and you should be staying."

Harry's eyes widened, then a grin brightened his face. She didn't, of course, mean what he'd thought she meant. Sarah was a friend, and while she was an attractive, desireable friend, he also knew she was an unattainable friend.

She kissed his lips softly, and Harry felt a sigh of desire.

Okay, maybe she wasn't so unattainable after all? "Just a short one," he murmered, and kissed her back. After all, it was really beginning to snow out there.

Jackie Tyler/Chrissie Jackson, Andrea Yates/Sarah Jane Smith, Evelyn/Six

Martha Jones is not particularly interested in politics. Sorting out her family drama is politics enough for one lifetime. Studying takes up enough of her time, and she has dreams of one day having some semblance of a social life. In all of that, she doesn't have time to be particularly interested in politics.

She knows Harold Saxon is speaking, not far from the hospital, if only because the preparations for it meant she had to take a detour this morning and arrived at the hospital late. It's over by the time she leaves the hospital, the crowd gone, for which she's very grateful. She just wants to go home right now, have a cup of tea, watch stupid television and maybe take a nap before she absolutely has to study.

Instead, she bumps into someone, walking down the street, and stumbles back, the apology faltering on her tongue when she sees the man, realizes she recognizes him. He smiles in a way that makes her breath stop momentarily, and tells her it's quite alright, and asks her name.

Martha Jones tells Harold Saxon she's not particularly interested in politics, and that she's already voting for him. She's a little surprised, honestly, when that doesn't give him pause at all, when his smile doesn't change in the least as he mentions that she looks tired, and asks if she's alright, and God, she can't help but be charmed by it.

*

For some reason, Harold Saxon likes her. He thinks she's bright and interesting, or at least gives a very convincing impression of it. He listens when she talks. He takes her out to lunch, once, and asks question after question – innocent questions, not prying, and maybe because of that she somehow ends up telling him the story of her life, silly things like childhood games she and Tish used to play, important things like her parent's divorce...

She just wants to keep talking to him. She wants him to keep talking to her, she just wants to stay around him, because the world somehow comes into sharper focus when he's around, while at the same time sidling away so it's merely a background for him. Harold Saxon isn't in the world, he is the world, and everything else is merely an accessory to him.

Before he leaves, he passes Martha a card with his number on it, tells her to call him if she needs anything at all. Her fingertips brush his, and she draws a startled breath despite herself – his touch is like ice.

*

Harold Saxon has a wife. Martha Jones has no interest in being second best to anyone, and she's not going to be some politician's mistress. She has better things to do with her life than be someone's dirty secret, or the person he turns to when he's tired of pretty and sweet and blonde.

Somehow, she forgets all of that when he's in her flat, which always seemed a comfortable size before but with him here suddenly seems too small, too cramped, like now that he's here, there's not enough air to breathe. Or maybe it's just that he's always left her breathless.

Martha opens her mouth to tell him that maybe he should leave.

Harold Saxon steps forward and kisses her instead, before the words even reach her lips, and like some stupid cliche, she goes a little weak at the knees. Eyes closed, Martha rests a hand against his chest, just to steady herself, and tells herself she's imagining the steady, four-beat heartbeat she feels under her palm, on the wrong side of his chest.

*

The Doctor says he'll recognize the Master when he sees him. Martha has the sinking feeling she already knows, growing more and more certain with every second that ticks by.

She swallows hard, eyes flickering over the stark black and white Saxon posters on the wall of every building, the T-shirts, the...

Martha Jones knows the voice she heard at the end of the universe. She's heard it hundreds of times, on television, on the street, sitting across from her at lunch, murmuring in her ear while they're both lying in her bed...

"That was the voice of Harold Saxon."

It's a realization that comes several hundred billion years or just a few months too late, depending how you count.

Requests: Yvonne Hartman/Ianto Jones, Martha Jones/Grace Holloway, Liz Shaw/Toshiko Sato

“Jack told me what you did; who you are.”

“I told him not to,” Martha says as she busies herself in her office.

“I just came here to say – ”

“If you’ve come here to thank me, then please, don’t bother.”

“You didn’t do it for me, why should I thank you?”

“Then what?”

“Hello, I guess.”

“Hello? Is that it?”

“What else can I say?”

After a pause, Martha says,“You’re shorter than I expected.”

Rose smiles. “You’re everything I hoped he’d find: brave, wonderful... beautiful.”

“He said that, did he?”

“I can just tell,” Rose whispers against her cheek.

Requests: Barbara/Ian, Jo/Benton, Gwen/Rhys

"So you came here from an alien planet from another universe, another time with just a shuttle?"

"And of all people I could meet right after landing on a new world, I meet someone who has travelled with my dad."

Mickey smirked and shook his head in disbelief.

"Mind me saying, judging on your stories about your travels, it sounds like you missed out a bit. You could see so much more, do so much more."

Jenny held out her hand.

"I’ve got the whole universe and a shuttle that is apparently capable of a lot more than I expected."

Edited 2008-05-21 18:51 (UTC)

When he gets back to UNIT HQ from Llanfairfach, the first thing the Doctor does is take the TARDIS twenty years into the future – just to make sure.

Jo isn’t easy to locate, but he finds her eventually. Or rather, she finds him; he is checking Dinas Powys when she waves to him from the opposite side of the street. He barely has time to greet her before she dashes across the road and hugs him, saying “Doctor, it’s so good to see you again!”

They go back to her house, on the edges of town; she makes tea and biscuits “for old times’ sake”. He notices that there’s no one else at home.

As their tea cools on the kitchen table she tells him about everything that’s happened to her in twenty years: the expeditions to the Amazon (wonderful, just wonderful, they were just so full of life, and Doctor, you wouldn’t believe what happened that time their canoe got stuck in the middle of the river), the degree in botany (even without those A-levels), the activist life (rewarding, for the most part, and the mines did close eventually), the divorce (amicable; she still worked with Cliff sometimes), the start of her own career. She smiles and chatters just like she used to, like it really has been just a few hours since he bid her goodbye.

The Doctor is used to nonlinear time; he is used to events happening before their causes, and to watching the birth and death of worlds all in a single relative minute. But she has spent so much time living with him in his shifting chronology that to suddenly skip ahead of her feels somehow like abandoning her.

She asks him how things have been for him since he left; she seems puzzled when he says it’s been only hours. “You could have just come back the next day,” she says. “Why wait all this time?”

“I had to make sure you’d be all right, Jo.” He places one hand on her cheek, and smiles to lighten the mood. “I can’t trust just anyone with you, you know.”

She laughs, but her face falls, just a little, as she rests her hand on his. “I didn’t leave you just for him, Doctor. If that’s what you’re so worried about.”

“Oh?”

Jo looks down at the table, and her smile is a bit fainter now. “All those adventures, and all those places we went – and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, Doctor, believe me. It’s just that…we never went back.”

“What do you mean? Was there somewhere you wanted to go back to, something else you wanted to see? We could still do it.”

“No, no, that’s not it. I mean, we never went back anywhere. We never stayed. We never made sure that everything really would be all right. And, well, that’s what I’ve been doing here. The past twenty years, I’ve been staying.” She looks back up at him, and he’s suddenly and sharply aware of all those unseen years between them. “You said you couldn’t trust anyone with me. D’you trust me with me?”

Staying. Not abandoned. Not left behind. “Yes. Yes, I rather think I do.”

They spend the rest of the day reminiscing about the Axons and Daleks and Sea Devils and Draconia and Peladon (he really should go back and check that one, he thinks); it’s near midnight before she checks the time and mentions all the work she’s got to do in the morning. They both step outside to say their goodbyes and she kisses him, just once, as they stand in the night air.

“Do come back and visit anytime,” she says. “And I do mean anytime, Doctor; I’d like to remember you being here at least once before I shut this door.”

“I’ll make it my first stop, Jo.”

“Goodbye, then! ‘Till the next time – or the last time – or something!”

And the Doctor walks off, back to his TARDIS, to let the present take its course.

Requests: Two/Jamie, Four/Harry, Zoe/Isobel Watkins

He's completely normal, a human in the traditional sense of the word, thrown headlong into extraordinary events just like her. He's 100% normal, but he deals with everything that happens to him extremely well. He's brave, intelligent and cute (although she pretends she hasn't noticed that fact, even though everyone knows she has).

He notices that she exists in a way she knows the Doctor never will. He offers her protection even though he has no idea what he's offering it against. All she wants to do is protect him because she does.

He's young and innocent but speaks up for what he believes in. The Doctor is so old and worldly (or more accurately universally) wise, she can see the 900 years of his life in his eyes. In Frank's she sees wonder, amazement, fear and hope.

She has to admit as human males go he's certainly one of the more impressive she's ever met. He isn't the Doctor, but then so few people throughout space and time are. He is special though, in his own completely normal, human way; much like Martha herself is. He may not be the Doctor but he offers her something the Doctor never will- himself and so he'll do because otherwise Martha might drive herself slowly crazy, waiting.

Requests Toaster/Barbara (from Sick Building), Martha Jones/Ross Jenkins, The Rani/The Doctor (Ten)

Martha gets called in because she's the resident expert on Time Lords in general and the Doctor in particular.

She's able to confirm to UNIT that the alien they've got in the sickbay isn't the Doctor. For one thing she's a woman, and for another she wakes up and introduces herself.

"My name is Romanavoratrelundar," she says, "and you wouldn't happen to know what happened to my planet, because it doesn't seem to be where I left it?"

Martha swallows and tells her the truth. She'd give quite a lot of money to never again have to tell someone that their entire species except the Doctor has been wiped out.

Later, she helps Romana escape using her UNIT ID, a borrowed lab coat and a spaceship that UNIT has been forced to confiscate from Torchwood.

"Come with me," Romana says.

"I can't," Martha can't deny she's tempted, really, really can't deny it. "I've got work, my family's here."

"You did just tell me that my entire species has been wiped out."

"That's emotional blackmail."

"Yes," says Romana, holding her hand out to Martha.

"One trip," says Martha, taking Romana's hand. "Just one trip."

And she really means it. Almost as much as the Doctor had meant it when he'd said the same thing to her.

But there's going to be no sexual tension this time. Almost, probably, definitely not.

Requests: Nine/Donna, Six/Peri, Ace/Mel

Karl Sadeghi came to his senses slowly and painfully.

The sun was already high in the Hitchemian sky, slanting directly into the apartment. The stuffy heat from the solar gain was only relieved by an open window through which could be heard someone in the street below belting out Va, pensiero in ragtime.

As for Karl, the sensory assault of these combined with the night before had left him not merely headachey but entirely exhausted. He felt as though he’d grappled with a tornado, and the state of his bedclothes seemed to agree. It had been a good party, even if he couldn’t recall some of it.

Almost before he was conscious enough to get up and walk, he’d taken the vague decision to shower, and staggered on still not-quite-cooperative legs across the few steps required.

He had been convinced that the sound of falling water was a trick of his ears. But the shower was already taken. A stranger – no, the violinist from last night – stood under the feeble spray, half-turned away from Karl. He stared, dumbly, his wayward brain thinking of Bach. There was a mathematical rightness to the lean musculature in those shoulders as they worked. Long, sinewy fingers were teasing their way through still-longer hair the colour of cherry-wood, steering it away from a statuary jaw -

The violinist was staring back at him, his gaze unblinking. After a few moments, his expression composed itself into one of wry amusement.

“Karl,” said the violinist, “I thought you made concerti, not overtures.”

Pairings: Two/Jamie/Zoe/Martha, Benton/Yates, Kamelion/The Master (Ainley)

"Sarah Jane! Sarah Jane Smith!"

Sarah was quite certain she'd never seen this young woman before in her life; not in the flesh, at least. Of course, everyone had heard of Pete Tyler's long lost daughter, who apparently turned up out of nowhere with his presumed-dead wife. It was all over the papers. Might have been worth investigating, if Sarah hadn't been tied up with following that report that there was a colony of Wirrn trying to breed just outside Aberdeen.

Except that the girl seemed not only to know her, but actually to be quite thrilled to see her. She was standing in front of Sarah, blocking the corridor, with an enormous grin on her face and looking much too young to be wearing that suit.

"You're Miss Tyler? I'm sorry, but, have we met?" Sarah held out her hand warily and the girl grabbed it, her smile widening even further.

"Rose. Call me Rose. I sort of, knew you. Once. A long way from here." She looked a bit lop-sided suddenly, twisting her fingers together nervously. "You won't remember me."

If nothing else, her life had taught her to think on her feet. Sarah came to a decision. "That would sound so much stranger if I didn't work for Torchwood. Look, you're the new girl Captain Benton said he'd hired, aren't you? I think you'd better come to my office for a cup of tea and you can explain what the hell is going on, ok?"

***

Sarah lay with Rose's head resting in the crook of her arm, and their legs tangled together.

"I always knew there was more out there," she found herself saying. "Way back, when I was just a journalist for the local rag, I knew there was meant to be more than that. More adventures. More life. I fell on the leads about Torchwood by accident, except it wasn't an accident, really, because I suppose I'd been looking for it, all along. And then, of course, I started working for them." She stopped and smiled wryly. "Listen to me, reminiscing. I sound about a hundred years old."

"Yeah," said Rose with a hint of laughter behind her words. "You're just a big cradle-snatcher, you are." Her fingers drifted down Sarah's side in a way that made her shiver.

"Don't mock an old woman," Sarah threw back, kissing the mess of blonde hair. She was quiet for a moment, feeling Rose breathe against her.

"Rose?"

"Mmm?"

"The other me. From your world. She got to see the stars, didn't she?"

A long minute of silence passed. "Yeah," said Rose, quietly. "She did. Stars and planets and aliens and all sorts."

"Well I've got the aliens covered, but I'd have loved to see the stars." Sarah knew she sounded a bit wistful. "Whole other worlds..." She tightened her arms around Rose, this girl who had even been born in one of those unimagined places.

"You will, Sarah Jane." There was a strength in Rose's voice that Sarah hadn't heard before. "We're both still gonna have lots of adventures. You'll see."

Requests: Ten/Martha/Donna, Five/Nyssa/Tegan, Sarah Jane/Romana II

Two Suns

He watches her –

there are two suns rising in her eyes, orange skies and silver leaves

– he can't find the words, not yet.

"Where to next?" He's open and light, and she's looking at him and he knows he must be off.

(off – on – still constructing)

"Your choice," she says. Her eyes say: "what else?"

He holds her –

not yet, not yet, not yet.

"What now?" she asks. "Where we going from here?"

(forward – backwards – repeat – repeat)

"Your heart's desire," he replies, and her smile rebuilds another fraction, another moment in time.

Her eyes are full of questions but he sees the suns and whispers "stay, stay, say you'll stay with me."

She nods. The suns take a breath to wait for the dawn of the new day.

They blow a lot of shit up. It feels good.

He watches her –

maybe the next life, the next grab at the ring, but this one, this one

– he watches her shine and he basks in her glow, refracted.

(right – left – up – up – up)

He still has a soul, he realizes. There are two suns in her eyes –

all the civilizations he has met and loved and destroyed

– and she watches him carefully, and her touch is light and sweet and free.

This is good.

Requests: Turlough/Nyssa, Two/Polly, Tegan/Donna

“I thought you’d forgot.”

“Oh, so that was why you had such a face on this morning. Not likely to forget our wedding, am I? It was weeks before I could look my mam in the face again. I haven’t been near a chainsaw since.”

“And you obviously wrapped it yourself,” she said, weighing the present in her hands. “Well done you. Did you just use the one roll of sellotape or did you have to go to the shops?”

“Go on and open it, then.”

It’d be a book, she thought. It was about that size, and it was paper for a first anniversary; she’d got him tickets for the rugby semi-final. She smiled at him, at her big, daft husband, and ripped off the paper.

After a moment, when she hadn’t spoken, Rhys moved quietly to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. “I found them on the computer the other day,” he said. “Just silly snaps I took at the reception, but I thought… maybe you’d want that one framed to keep.”

Herself in her wedding dress, creased up in laughter at something Jack was saying into her ear, Ianto smiling at them both with Jack’s arm slung casually across the back of his chair; Owen frozen in the middle of reaching across the table for the last bottle of champagne. And Tosh, the only one of them who’d noticed the camera, smiling shyly out of the picture, looking happier than Gwen could remember.

“It’s perfect,” she said.

Requests: Gwen/Rhys/Jack, The Master (Simm)/John Hart, Clyde Langer/Luke Smith

Apparently I fail at keeping to comment length so:

here they are (http://glinda-penguin.livejournal.com/132250.html)

Prompts: Zoe/Adric, Donna/Sarah-Jane, Ace/Eight

Liz Shaw is weary. She leans her head against the cool window and her thoughts stray to Earth: of the green hills of England, the sprawling cities, of human music and Margaret Thatcher.

“Doctor Shaw,” he says softly. “May I have a word?”

She gestures for Professor Yana to sit beside her. “Please. And for the last time, call me Liz.”

“We’ve received the confirmation from the government. We’re going to implement your terraforming program on Malcassairo. I wanted to be the first to congratulate you.”

“The Malmooth have agreed?” Her face grows hopeful, then falls. Yana avoids her eyes, unsmiling.

“There’s still no word from the capital city.” A pause. Side by side, they observe the hazy blue-grey planet from orbit. “Doctor—” She raises an eyebrow. “Liz—” He is unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes?” Liz softly puts her hand on top of his.

“I- I’ve been appointed downside. You’re returning to headquarters next morning-cycle.” Yana holds his head with a grimace. “So this is goodbye.”

“Oh…”

Liz places a cool hand on his weathered cheek, a tentative kiss on his lips. “You will serve the humans and Malmooth well, Yana. That’s an order.”

Professor Yana’s eyes are glassy, vacant for a moment. “Yes, Doctor Shaw,” he answers, with a bemused smile. “I will obey.”

On the other side of the window, the stars pass judgment on the travelers, unblinking.

Requests: Section Leader Elizabeth Shaw/Scientist!Petra [Inferno], Harry Sullivan/Toshiko Sato, Leela/Mickey

Title: By the Light of Two Moons

"So beautiful," Ian murmured as he sroked the errant bang from his friend's face. "You really are, you know."

"You've had too much wine." Barbara Wright was nothing if not practical, even though her wine consumption had been no less...enthusiastic than Ian's. She caught his fingers, laughing as he struggled slightly against her grip. "You're drunk, my friend."

"And you're beautiful. One fact does not negate the other one, Miss Wright."

The moons of this planet were rising, casting conflicting glimmers of light across the couple as they sat together on the veranda outside the chateau. The music wafted on the warm summer air, an intriguing waltz, complex and unexpected. They'd danced, too. Just the two of them, out here, away from the crowds.

"History often proves that where facts conflict, neither tends to prove completely true."

"So, I've not had too much wine?"

"And I'm not beautiful."

He leaned over, brushing his lips across her chin, barely touching her skin. "You're not beautiful," he agreed. "It was a foolish understatement. You're glorious."

Barbara smiled at her friend, knowing that sooner or later the wine and the moonlight and the music would be a memory, and still enjoying the moment as it unfolded. "You're an idiot, Mr. Chesterton," she whispered, and kissed him gently.

Chrissie/Alan, Sarah Jane/Mr. Grantham, Jo/Jeremy Fitzoliver

He hadn’t heard from her – nor of her – since the Time War. And now, here at Near Enough, the Doctor sees why that is so.

The space station was aptly named: in safe orbit the first stars in all the universe, stars that were only three years old right now. Well, three years after they started burning. Not the neighborhood of the Big Bang – no way to see anything, not that early.

The Rani had manned this station alone during the Time War – defending the dawn of the universe from the Daleks. One woman - one o so glorious woman! against uncounted armadas.

She’d won - we all did, insofar as much as was possible, considering the stakes and the combatants - but the dying Dalek fleet on the edge of this solar system (empty, this early on, without anything local heavier than – not now) had lashed out in its last moment of conciousness… rupturing the station.

The Rani was mummified. The Doctor looked at her, ran one spacesuited hand along the contours of her face, never touching, always a centimeter from her toughened skin. Skin that, in life, was so alive. Not since the ages before the Gallifreyans became the Time Lords has there been a mummy of their species.

“We disagreed from time to time,” he says, not sure why, but it feels right that he do so, “but show me somebody I’ve never disagreed with, and I’ll wager I’ve never met him.” It tugs at his hearts, being so close, and yet so distant. The Rani is borderline dead: finish the job, and she’d regenerate, coming fully to life.

He can’t feel her, can’t sense her presence…but doesn’t dare wake her, can’t bring himself to unleash her upon the universe. If not for recent memories of the Master with the Toclafane, he would. He’d bring her back.

So, not feeling her, he aches.

-
Request: Donna/Seven, Ace/Ten, Ace/Four

It's half-hidden glances and meaningless conversation across the console while he nearly kills them. It's laughing about how hopeless he is, and hugging when they both turn out to still be alive at the end of it all. It's tears and fear and relief and surprise, in quick succession. It's an adventure they weren't expecting to have, but neither one of them is complaining.

It's a fond goodbye, and a promise to stay in touch even if he doesn't. It's feeling like the TARDIS is just a bit too empty when it's just two again. It's putting her engagement ring on the nightstand and closing her eyes to fantasize about someone she's not getting married to. It's confusion and acceptance and all sorts of things that neither one of them can pinpoint.

It's not even the shadow of a relationship, it's not even a flirtation, it's just two women more alone in the world than they'd like to admit, knowing that the other is just as alone. It's imagining that someone who understands more could fill that space, and resigning themselves to nothing more than smiles and camaraderie at the end of the world.

It's everything and it's nothing, and neither one of them can make it anything else.

Requests: Sally Sparrow/Larry Nightingale, Toshiko Sato/Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Larry Nightingale/Mickey Smith

"Tegan. There's very little other choice here. Either you do this, or Turlough gets thrown in the pit."

"Wouldn't be so bad. Oh, okay, okay, if you'll stop pouting. Honestly, you're like a little kicked puppy. But I promise I'm going to kill you both afterwards."

"Wouldn't expect anything less." The Doctor held out a hanger to her. "Here."

Tegan opened and closed her mouth a few times before she grabbed the garment. "Painful, excruciating, drawn-out deaths," she muttered, stalking off.

***

"Psst. Turlough. Turlough. You idiot, over here."

"I'm sorry, miss, I'll be whipped if I'm caught talking to one of the – what the hell."

"It was the only way to infiltrate the king's court," Tegan said, pulling on the fabric self-consciously. "The only ones he lets close to the slaves are the harem girls. And you'll keep your mouth shut if you want to get rescued."

"Wait, hang on, let me get this straight. You're wearing a – "

"Shut. Up."

"You're wearing a bikini so you could rescue me. Wait. Did the Doctor put you up to this? I must remember to thank him."

"I'm thinking the Iron Maiden for you two. Together. Honestly, this is the daftest situation you've got yourself into yet, and for how often you get captured and put into bondage, that's saying a lot."

"Hey, that blobby guy is pretty fierce. I saw him eat someone. Well, think about eating someone. Well, look at someone funny. What I mean is, I'm chafing under these restraints. Any chance you've got a knife hidden somewhere on you? Oh my god."

"Brutal, messy, vicious deaths with no funeral," Tegan swore, as she pulled the sonic screwdriver out of her top. "And then I'll salt the earth underneath you just to make sure. Come on, you're free, let's get out of here. And stop staring!"

"It's just that – " Turlough motioned over her shoulder with a flick of his eyes. Tegan turned around.

"Oh, rabbits."

There were three guards aiming very pointy sticks at them.

"Well, come on, you're supposed to do something fancy and brave to save us now!" Tegan said. "I already rescued you once, the Doctor didn't say anything about a second time in the same mission."

"Fancy and brave," Turlough said, stepping behind Tegan. "Yeah, I'm kind of out of ideas at the moment."

"Oh for – " Tegan stepped forward, and aimed the sonic screwdriver at a pile of ropes hanging from the ceiling. They fell heavily onto the guards, along with a couple of sandbags, knocking them out. One of the ropes swung to a halt in front of them.

"Handy," Tegan said, grabbing onto the rope. "You coming with me? The Doctor's on the other side of the pit." She grinned, and Turlough grabbed on.

"That's not the rope," Tegan said, and Turlough blushed. "You idiot," she continued, but with a wink, as she waved the sonic screwdriver and then pushed it between her breasts.

She let loose a yell, then kicked off hard, and they went swinging out across the pit.

Halfway across, Turlough kissed her.

On the other side, she slapped him, and stomped off into the TARDIS.

"Good to have you back, Turlough," the Doctor said, grinning.

Turlough rubbed his cheek. "Just like old times. I'd better make sure Tegan's okay, though. Not sure she can undo that outfit without a little help. She did save my life, after all."

From inside the ship came a loud, frustrated roar. Turlough grinned, and set off after it.

Requests: Benton/Harry, Four/Romana I, Susan/David

Edited 2008-05-23 07:12 (UTC)

This is an AU of _Keeper of Traken_...no Ainley!Master:

Nyssa was done her tending for the day, and was about to walk away from the statue, when –

“Clever girl.”

“Who said that?” she asked, looking all around, seeing nobody.

Answered the statue, “Walk around me,” she was instructed.

“Okay,” Nyssa said, and walked a circle around the statue. Found nobody there. “Now where are you?” standing before the object.

And before her very eyes, a man emerged from the statue. Or ‘emerge’ was a pale shadow of what he did – step through the solid-looking object, his edges shimmering until he was fully departed from it.

“You’re hurt!” Nyssa exclaimed, and wrapped her arms gingerly around him, walking him to a bed where he could be properly tended to.

He permitted the manhandling, but once they were got to a bed, he gripped her arms by the wrists. “And what of you?” the Master asked.

“What of me?” she asked, puzzled.

“What do you want?”

“I want for nothing.”

“Good. But I did not ask what you want for – I asked what you want.” A deliberate pause to ensure she understood, “I can read your mind, if need be. So can the Doctor.”

She gaped.

Not my intended reaction. Still… “Envy, in a small measure. And of the one who had tended me before your appointment.” Finding what he was looking for, the Master used it to guide him as he kissed Nyssa on a very sensitive spot of the Traken lady’s face – more hormonally-charged than the lips of a human.

Soon enough they had collapsed onto the bed, Nyssa never stopping her tending to him, though, not wanting him to be harmed.

“But what about -?” Nyssa started to ask, only to be shushed. “She’s tended your – to your -” ship? base? refugia?

“She is a tool,” the Master soothed her, whispering to her. “You are more.”

“Thank you,” she said.

-
{and my Morden muse finally shows up} :)
Requests: Sarah Jane Smith/Maria's dad, Group Captain Gilroy/Liz Shaw.

Bah, I was in the middle of writing it anyway! ;P

It wasn’t a case of “waiting for the wedding night” because of tradition, or because of moral objections that had fallen out of fashion a very long time ago. No, it was a matter of practicality more than anything else.

London was in ruins, food was scarce, and even with the Daleks gone it wasn’t particularly safe. It was better for everyone to stay together as a group until arrangements could be made for them to get to the countryside. For what seemed like an eternity, Susan and David had to make do with stolen kisses whenever they had a few moments to themselves.

But things progressed, and within a few days someone who had once been a judge was found. They held hands while he said a few words over them and pronounced them husband and wife, to have and to hold from this day forwards. With that ceremony, as legally binding as anything could be said to be these days, Susan traded the name Foreman, which was never really hers anyway, for the name Campbell, which absolutely was. She was sixteen years old, and most likely the youngest Gallifreyan bride in history.

Their friends took pity on the newlyweds and gave them as much privacy as possible, but still the marriage remained in name only. They were young and in love, and romantic enough to want everything to be perfect.

They’d been married nearly a week by the time they made it to Scotland. The farmhouse was grey and dilapidated, and the land surrounding it was full of rocks and debris and some absolutely unspeakable things. But to David, the land symbolised a new beginning, the start of his quest to give back to the shattered Earth. And to Susan, the house symbolised the home she’d been searching for for years.

Only one of the bedrooms had a bed left in it, and even that was uncomfortable and not really big enough for two people. There wasn’t one thing about that marriage bed or what they considered their “real” wedding night that could possibly be considered perfect.

But Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, snuggling together in that lumpy bed, would always believe it was.

Requests: Jack/Mike Yates, Five/Tegan, Six/Peri

Sarah Jane has a girlfriend. Sarah Jane. Has. A girlfriend. The world's falling down around their ears, evil alien balls with knives are raining down from the sky and *you're* worrying about Sarah Jane having a girlfriend. Typical.

She turned up not two hours ago, just AFTER the world went mad (and you've seen Slitheen and warriors from outer space and evil fizzy drinks, you know all about mad), looking a complete mess. A tiny, blonde, complete mess that came charging up to the attic, completely ignoring Mr. Smith and all the weird alien stuff as if they were the kind of thing she saw all the time, flung her arms around Sarah Jane and kissed her, right on the lips.

"I thought you might've died too!"

And Sarah Jane didn't even look embarrassed, she just hugged her and rubbed her back a bit and said "It's going to be alright, Jo. I'm not quite sure how yet, but we'll see what we can do to make it alright. Shall I make us a cup of tea?"

And then she took Jo the tiny blonde mess's hand and led her back downstairs, as if Luke and Clyde and me weren't even there. Just like that.

Requests: Romana II/Leela, Nyssa/Adric, Six/Romana II

Edited 2008-05-23 14:03 (UTC)

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Page 1 of 11

Fic Post

Ten/Donna

Jo Grant/Harriet Jones

Ten/Romana

Ace/Martha

Martha/Tom Milligan

Harry/Sarah Jane

Martha/Master

Rose/Martha - a drabble

Mickey/Jenny, drabble (100 words)

Three/Jo

Martha/Frank

Martha/Romana II

Eight/Karl

Rose/Sarah Jane

Nine/Rose

Gwen/Rhys

Zoe/Isobel Watkins

Liz Shaw/Professor Yana

Barbara/Ian

Rani/10

Martha Jones/Donna Noble

Tegan/Turlough

Nyssa/Master (not Ainley)

Susan/David

Jo/Sarah Jane