Lynn | Settiai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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whoniverse10002008-05-19 03:22 pm
settiai) wrote in whoniverse10002008-05-19 03:22 pm
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.
Ten/Donna
"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
Ace/Martha
"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
Jo/Sarah Jane
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
Romana II/Leela
Honestly. She’d probably done it simply to annoy Narvin. She was over-thinking the whole thing. Which wasn’t like her at all. The only thing she was sure of was that it hadn’t been because she really needed a bodyguard. Though if that were true she could probably, no, definitely trust Leela more than any member of the Chancellery Guard Braxiatel might appoint to the task.
*
She finds, after a frighteningly short while, that Gallifrey is changing her. She feels as if Gallifrey were a priceless piece of amber that is cooling around her, freezing her with it as it does. As though the more she tries to shape it, the more it shapes her. She had hoped that she could change things, do some good with all she had learnt. But Gallifrey is so old now, stiff and brittle, unbending, like old wood that could be snapped by the wind of too much change, too fast. She finds herself hardening as she freezes and as she hardens it feels as though parts of her are cracking. Her novel lies abandoned somewhere in K9's memory banks. She cannot seem to find time for such things any more. And it is when she finds these things that she is glad to have asked (begged?) Leela to stay because only with Leela does she find that she is able to soften, even a little. It is Leela's arms she finds herself in at the end of most days, Leela's kisses that smooth over the cracks a little.
And even though not such a long time ago she found the idea so ridiculous she realises that just by her presence alone (never mind how important she has become to her), Leela does help her to remember why she has chosen to do this and who she truly is. She is not sure what she would do without that.
*
If she were to choose one moment when it all began to change (never mind how, as a Time Lord, she knows exactly how silly and counter-productive such an exercise is) it would be after the incident at the decoy summit. She found herself at Leela’s door. Even though, like everything else about this, it made no sense that she, the Lady President of Gallifrey (…and all her dominions…) should be paying a visit to her own bodyguard on as weak a pretext as that of checking on her K9 unit. Still. K9 is a girl’s best friend. She recalls the instant the door shut behind her, she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As though the Lady President was a part she must play, as if all her time was a long series of automated holograms recorded for a long series of staged summits. It’s very very silly but when there’s only Leela she feels as if all that falls away, along with the weight.
Requests: Romana/Braxiatel, Romana/Mickey, Romana/Nyssa (whichever regeneration strikes your fancy in each case but slight preference for II!
Charley/Romana II
From Caerdroia – Eyeore!Eight/Charley, Tigger!Eight/C’rizz, Eyeore!Eight/Logic!Eight/Tigger!Eight
C'rizz/Tigger!Eighth Doctor
Hex/Peri 284 words
Braxiatel/Romana II
'A fine day, I trust, Madam-
'Braxiatel. Are you too going to tell me that I'm the best President Gallifrey has ever had within her Citadel, and that you're sure I'll restore her to her former glory? If so, you'll be the... ninth this morning, I think. I might be wrong, though, I lost count at some point. Listen, I've told you many times, and I'll tell you again, I care little for flattery. It will get you nowhere.'
Hearing her own voice, she's awed at how old and weary she sounds, when she has been President for little more than a week.
'I know that, Madam President. I myself have a distaste for both flattery and former glory.'
She allows herself to sneer at both of his `distastes'.
'What? A Time Lord who doesn't go on and on about how things were better in the old days? However is that possible?'
He says nothing, but he frowns, as if collecting his thoughts before he speaks.
Then, without a word of warning, he gently kisses her, and she's surprised to discover she does not fight against it, although whether out of amazement, affection or sheer terror, she cannot tell.
And he whispers in her ear,
'There was never a day so glorious on Gallifrey as the day you were elected as President, Romana.'
And looking at him in the eye, she realizes, frightened as she has rarely been before, that he means every word of it.
Requests: Emily Chaudhry/Robert Dalton, Braxiatel/Narvin, Tenth Doctor/Nyssa (edited because I requested an already-requested pairing)
Ten/Nyssa
Braxiatel/Narvin
Adric/Nyssa
Unexpected Discovery :: (~900 words)
Requests: Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart/Jack Harkness, Fitz Kreiner/Jenny, Jack Harkness/John Ellis
Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart/Jack Harkness
"Sir," Benton muttered warningly, "someone would notice if you shot him, even if he is with Torchwood."
"They would have to find the body first," the Brigadier shot back, his voice not nearly as quiet as the sergeant's.
The Torchwood agent in question looked up from the file he had been studying - or so he claimed. It looked as if he was busier studying Miss Grant than the paperwork, in Alistair's opinion. "Talking about me," the man asked, grinning broadly at them. "I'm touched."
Jo giggled.
The Brigadier shot her a disapproving look, and she quickly stifled her laughter. Then he turned his gaze toward the American. "Mr. Harkness," he said dryly, "that much is quite certain."
Benton started to cough, a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter, while Jo went off on another giggled spell. Harkness simply snorted and shook his head, a rather impressed look on his face. "It's Captain Harkness, actually," he replied. Then he paused and eyed the Brigadier speculatively. "Of course, you could always just call me Jack."
It wasn't until Benton said "sir" rather sharply that Alistair realized his hand had drifted back down to his gun.
Chuckling, Harkness pushed his chair out from the desk he'd been sitting at. "Don't worry, Brigadier. I've found all the information I needed on the Axons."
"You're leaving already?" Jo asked, her face falling. "I was hoping you'd stay long enough to meet the Doctor. He's due back soon."
An odd expression flashed across Harkness's face for just a second. It was there and gone so quickly that the Brigadier almost thought he'd imagined it. Only the startled expression on Benton's face, proof that the other man had noticed Harkness's reaction to the Doctor's name as well, kept him from doubting what he'd seen.
Harkness grinned, the last vestige of the strange look disappearing. "I wish that I could stay in your lovely headquarters longer," he said, grabbing Jo's hand and kissing it. "Unfortunately, my ride back to Cardiff is probably getting impatient."
"Then perhaps you should be leaving," the Brigadier said. He suspected that it sounded a little to eager, but he couldn't quite be bothered enough to worry about it. Harkness had turned the entire building upside down the moment he had walked through the door, and things had yet to return to normal during the four hours he'd been inside UNIT headquarters.
"Can't wait to get rid of me, huh?" Harkness asked, shaking his head. His smile didn't waver. "Well then, I guess that I better get going. I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
Harkness brushed past him, and Alistair jumped slightly when he felt the American pinch his ass as he walked by. His hand immediately dropped toward his gun again, but by the time he'd spun around Harkness was already halfway out the door. The man didn't even have the decency to hide his laughter.
The Brigadier reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Sergeant Benton?"
"Yes, sir?" Benton asked. His face was unusually blank, though his eyes were sparkling with barely restrained mirth.
"If you see Captain Harkness coming through the doors again," the Brigadier said tiredly, "shoot him."
Benton coughed. Pointedly.
The Brigadier sighed. "Point taken," he agreed reluctantly. "Next time, simply shoot me."
Requests: Astrid Peth/Donna Noble, Jenny (from "The Doctor's Daughter")/The Master (Simm), Ace McShane/Erimem/Hex Schofield/Peri Brown
Jenny/The Master (Simm)
Astrid Peth/Donna Noble - Guiding Star
Harry/Martha
What she is, is extremely good at her job. She's highly intelligent, a lot more so than most of his contemporaries, not to mention confident and professional far beyond her years. Of course, he understands why. UNIT knew her story before she came to work with them, and he's since heard hints of it from Martha herself, although she's naturally taciturn about the details.
They've gone from the awkwardness of his being her superior officer, to colleagues, to good friends in a terribly short time. It started, as it would, with comparing their experiences regarding the Doctor, as they had the common ground of having chosen to leave him, and rapidly progressed to the fact that her ex-fiancé and his ex-wife, marvelous people though they were, never fully understood the lives they'd led.
He tries not to call women "old girl" these days, except Sarah, of course, but that's a very old joke between them now. However, he slipped once with Martha and she seemed to find it funny. Perhaps even endearing, although he's quite sure he shouldn't be thinking that.
She's a very modern young woman, and he's used to the slightly forward jokes she makes now. He even rather likes them, despite feeling like a bit of a dinosaur around her sometimes. She still hasn't stopped teasing him about his blushing when they bumped into each other coming around a corner and she fell on top of him. He doesn't mind really. He likes it when he can make her smile.
He's surprised when she asks him out for dinner, but he agrees readily, because it's nice to have a meal with a friend once in a while.
Later, she kisses him goodnight on her doorstep, but then pulls him into the house after her, laughing. As he stumbles over the threshold and catches her around the waist, Harry knows he's in love.
Requests: Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart/Donna Noble, River Song/Rose Tyler, Martha Jones/River Song
Re: Martha/River
She grabbed the younger woman's hand and tugged her over to the bed, pulling her down with her. Martha whimpered a little as River began to kiss her neck and throat. She'd come to check that River was okay after their latest misadventure, and hadn't expected to be snogged until she was breathless.
"You taste so good," River said huskily, between kisses and nips at Martha's dark skin.
"You – you – " Somehow Martha couldn't finish the rest of her sentence as River pushed her t-shirt up off her flat stomach and began swirling her tongue around Martha's belly button. She gasped when River began tracing her tongue over the tattoo on her stomach, then gasped again when she felt her jeans being removed.
Her knickers swiftly followed her jeans onto the floor of River's room, then the older woman was kissing and nipping at her sensitive inner thighs.
"I thought you and the Doctor – " Once again Martha couldn't finish her sentence as River drew her tongue up the length of Martha's entrance, before teasing her clit.
"We're not exclusive," River said, answering Martha's incomplete question as she took a moment to catch her breath before dipping back down to slide her tongue into Martha's increasingly wet pussy.
"Oh. Oh god!"
A finger joined the tongue inside her, and then a second one slid into her, and then Martha's hips were bucking up off the bed and she was crying River's name.
River continued to finger her as she kissed a path back up Martha's body. "Besides, once the TARDIS lets him know what we're doing, he'll want to join in. Would you like that?"
"Oh yes!" cried Martha as she came hard, muscles clamping tightly around River's fingers.
Requests: Martha/Evelyn Smythe, Martha/Six, Martha/Brig - smut/prons not a necessity !
River/Rose
But the days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and suddenly it's springtime and they're still in London and Rose can't deny that things just aren't the same.
She often goes down to the waterfront; finds herself at Canary Wharf, not to shop, but to sit and look at the water. She goes alone, wrapped up in her thoughts and her worries and her doubts.
"Hard to believe this will all be destroyed in just a few years," a voice says one day, from behind her, as she's sitting quietly by the water. She turns around; the voice belongs to a pretty woman with incredible curls. The woman looks a little wistful, but then she shakes her head.
"No point dwelling on what's yet to come," she says. "That way lies madness. I'm River, you're Rose, and I'm here to help you out." She sticks out her hand in a very matter-of-fact way, as if strange women approach Rose and talk to her of the future every day.
After a moment's hesitation, Rose takes River's hand and shakes it. After all, time travel's her line of work, these days.
River sits down next to Rose. She has a certain energy that makes Rose shiver; the air crackles around River, in an exciting and yet somewhat frightening way.
"He changes, Rose," River says, without preamble. "That what he does. I've seen it enough times to know. But he's still the same man. And he still wants you to be with him."
"The Doctor?" Rose says, caught off guard. "I mean, if you know the future, but - he's done this before?"
River smiles. "So many times, sweetie. And so many times to come. And it hurts, I know. I was particularly attached to one face in particular, myself. My first. You always love your first just that little bit more. You always carry them around in a special place in your heart."
Rose finds herself nodding along. She can't stop looking at River as she talks; the other woman is electric now, animated when talking about the Doctor.
River pulls out a small diary; it's blue, looks like the TARDIS, a little bit. She flips through the pages slowly. "Canary Wharf. It's in your future. That's a long way off, though. You have so many adventures to go."
"How do you know all this?" Rose asks. "Are you a friend, or...?"
River taps her closed lips, and curves them into a smile. "Spoilers," she says. "The Doctor doesn't know that I know all this yet. He doesn't know I'm mucking about in his past. But he leaves such messy business behind: lost souls, broken hearts, and beautiful women that he never even kisses."
Rose startles at the last bit, but River is leaning over already, and the kiss is good, warm and full of crackling energy, like a live wire. Artron energy, Rose thinks, for a second, bad wolf, all that ever could be. Then the kiss is over, and Rose shakes her head.
"It's called a sense memory," River says. "You saved the world, Rose, even if you don't remember. He was your first, too, even if you don't remember that either."
"You're my first now too," Rose blurts out, then blushes. "I mean..."
River smiles like the cat that got the cream. "I know," she says. "I'm keeping score."
Rose laughs. She's pretty sure she's still dreaming; this is one of the most absurd conversations she's ever had. "You're crazy," she says, smiling.
"All the best people are," River replies, standing up. "Go with him, and be amazing. Maybe I'll see you again sometime. I'd tell you, but..." She taps her lips again, and smiles widely.
Rose sits and watches as River walks away, watches her hair, her hips, her confident stride. Some time later, she stands up too, and walks home. The Doctor is waiting; he's ready to get going. She packs her bag. It's time to adventure.
Prompts!: Anji Kapoor/River Song, Amy Pond/Rose Tyler, Katarina/Vicki
Nine/Jabe
So too they know each planet’s end, whether cold and lonely in ice or loud and fast in flames. They remember all that isn’t, all that wasn’t, all that never will be. All those that have been lost to common memory are as old friends to them.
Many species are uncomfortable with them if they know about their memories, still more are comforted by it. They know all your sins, whether petty or huge, and they forgive each one, for its is all part of a greater pattern, one that binds the universe together. Picking their way steadily through the universe careful not to interfere in its warp and weft, knowing, grieving, rejoicing.
They miss the Time Lords, with their memories so much like their own. Yet so much colder, far less forgiving.
She stands on the spinning space platform, as the planet known as Earth dies below them, feeling the forest reaching out through her to give comfort to the world that birthed its ancestors. She holds the hand of the last of a terribly rare and much missed species and reaches out her own mind to his. For a brief moment his eyes close and his mind reaches out to her own, releasing the burden he bears, just for a moment.
In that moment she knows her own end, and in this moment remembering his world with him, her only regret is that her time on the same path as he has been so very short.
Rose/Jabe, Ten/Shakespeare, Ace/Rani
Ace/Rani
The Doctor had left Ace here, as Rani's ward; had warned the Rani that if anything happened to his Companion, the Daleks' fate would be mild compared to Rani's.
So Ace stayed in the labs, as did the Rani, working at all hours of - well, there was no day or night, not here, on a world tidally-locked to its red dwarf sun.
But on those rare moments when both women sleep - usually on opposite ends of the facility so they don't kill one another, regardless of the Doctor's orders - their minds touch.
It's why the Rani permits Ace to try her hand at refining the chemicals that will end up in the next walking weapon that her lab will supply for the Time War...based on chemical-squirting beetles of Earth, fittingly. The Daleks shall puzzle over this, no doubt, which amused Rani, and was why she permitted Ace these liberties.
Ace has other thoughts in her sleep, other reasons why the Rani tolerates her. Doctor! which runs through the Rani's own thoughts; they both know the Doctor, both feel for him, both have measures of feelings for him.
Shared feelings, both before and after their minds touch at a physical distance.
Ten/Shakespeare
„Uhm... to be honest, not quite. I mean I always did suspect, but then again... different places, different customs, you know.“ The Doctor smiled back at Shakespeare.
„Yeah, about that... where are you from, exactly?“ Shakespeare's tone was still light and playful, but there was a seriousness underlying the question that made the Doctor squirm a little.
„Ah, well... we don't have to talk about this now, do we?“ The Doctor pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at Shakespeare. „I can think of a lot of other things we could do instead. And they would be much more fun,“ he grinned.
„Oh really? And what did you have in mind, Doctor?“ Shakespeare grinned back at him.
„Well... you could read me a sonnet.“
„Seriously?“
„Yes. Come on. I've always wanted someone to read me a sonnet. Well, not just any someone. I want you to read me one. Please?“
Shakespeare sighed. „Alright. You are a very strange man, Doctor.“
„So I've been told.“
Shakespeare sat up and rested himself against the headboard. Then he furrowed his brow for a while. Finally he took a deep breath and began in a recital tone. „O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st-“
„Stop,“ the Doctor interrupted.
„What, don't you like it? I wrote it about two months ago. It fits you.“
„I know. I've changed my mind, though.“
„What would you prefer that I do instead?“ Shakespeare looked a mixture between confused and put off. The Doctor gave him a consiliatory smile.
„You could kiss me.“
„Now, that sounds like a good idea,“ Shakespeare answered, his smile coming back, and followed it through with a bone-melting kiss.
„You kiss just as well as you write, Bill,“ the Doctor said when they broke apart.
„Wait till you see what else I can do.“
“I can imagine-“ the Doctor started, but was cut off by Shakespeare.
„Enough talking for tonight.“
„Brilliant idea,“ the Doctor agreed and pulled Shakespeare in for another kiss.
Jack Harkness/Jack Harkness(41), Jack/Ten/Master(Simm), DonnaNoble/River Song
Jack Harkness/C. Jack Harkness (41)
James Harper looks out over the ruined and mostly barren land from their place along the tench. He searched his brain for a picture from his past, of water and trees and tall buildings rising against the skyline, happy people dashing from awning to awning to keep from being drenched by the rain.
"No." he answered simply.
"And it's all because of me." it wasn't a question.
James turned his eyes toward the other man who's hazel eyes suddenly seemed to lose the sparkle they had once held. He never wanted to see him look so sad, he began to regret telling the other man the truth. He shook his head and raised his hand to cup his companion's shoulder with a soft squeeze that cause their eyes to meet.
"No, it's because of me, never think anything else."
"But I'm the one who's not suppose to be here. It's me who..."
"Jack," a firm hand on Jack's cheek stopped him from continuing, "it doesn't matter. Your fault, my fault. None of it matters. I would have paid any price. I have you, the rest is just-- something I'll have to fix later."
"Later?" Jack's lips twitched at the corners with the ghost of a smile.
"Later, but not now. Now, now is for this."
James leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over Jack's once, twice, a third time before Jack's hand cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down into the fiery pleasure that lived in his mouth. As their tongues played at dancing between them all that Captain James Harper could think was that this was definitely worth having to fight the Nazi's for an extra decade or so.
Donna Noble/Ianto Jones, Ian Chesterton/Jack Harkness, Ian Chesterton/Ten
Ace/Karra
In the end, when all is said and done, she chooses the world of this girl, who tastes of other worlds, over her own. It brings her own end, but there’s a kind of freedom in that too. The girl she used to be remembers things the cat had forgotten, tenderness and compassion, things more and less complicated than pure possession. But the other girl takes her back to the stars with her, safe in her heart and this, she is sure, is good.
Nine/Martha, Ten/Jamie/Zoe, Jack/Jamie/Zoe
Nine/Martha
Eight/Professor Chronotis
Sighs, No Bridges (http://brewsternorth.livejournal.com/6120.html#cutid1) (Eight/Prof. Chronotis, PG)
Prompts: Frobisher/Iris Wildthyme, Nine (R.E.Grant)/Master (android!Jacobi), Compassion/TARDIS
Compassion/TARDIS
In the TARDIS, all there is is the TARDIS. Muted somewhat, due to the Doctor’s tampering with her implant, but ceaseless. Whispering continuously at the edge of her consciousness, telling her to trust this man who has maybe rescued her, maybe kidnapped her; certainly he’s imprisoned her in his ship that can go anywhere, any when. Just until she’s used to being cut off from the Remote, of course, he says with a smile. She wonders, sometimes, if he only trusts her because he trusts his beloved timeship so completely. Fitz certainly doesn’t trust her, and he doesn’t like her and she reciprocates entirely. He reminds her with every scowl and every puff of his cigarette, every strum of his guitar that the Doctor ‘fixed’ Kode to make him. So she wonders, at other times, if he’s trying to use his ship to fix her too.
In the TARDIS, she explores. There are passages trailing miles into the depths of the ship, and although no dust has settled there is always the sense, whenever she gets bored and ventures very far away from the console room, that no living creature has been along here in years. She asks Fitz how much of the TARDIS he’s explored and he shrugs and tells her not to go wandering off and getting lost, because he isn’t going to come and find her. She doesn’t understand him because she can hear the TARDIS guiding her, directing her, lighting her way; urging her to explore, to familiarise herself with the possibilities. How could anyone fail to hear that, when there is nothing else to hear?
In the TARDIS there are fields and museums, ballrooms and store cupboards, bathrooms and bedrooms and merry-go-rounds. Clothes and books and knick-knacks from every era of every planet. She takes food and drink from the kitchen and when she runs out the TARDIS shows her to funny little dispensers that produce edible cubes. The Doctor doesn’t seem to worry when she disappears for days, and Fitz has stopped asking what she’s getting up to.
In the TARDIS, wandering along alone and without outside influences, she knows she should feel more concerned. It’s oddly comforting though, the soft, constant pressure of the TARDIS’s thoughts in her mind. She doesn’t understand all that she’s being told; there’s complex mathematics and Gallifreyan lore all tied together with the looping, swirling threads of the web of time. She tries to make sense of it; then she tries to ask what it all means. Then she stands in a room cluttered with bits of motorcycle and packing cases and the enormous silk envelope of a hot air balloon and stamps her feet demanding an explanation, clarification, more information. Much, much more information.
In the TARDIS she feels frustrated and lost and safe and sees things clearer than ever and yet finds it far more confusing. The TARDIS refuses to intimidated by her threats or flattered by her entreaties. But the TARDIS never leaves her alone, never stops feeding her what information she needs or, perhaps, will need yet.
In the TARDIS, Compassion wonders, late at night, if she’s really is being fixed or actually being prepared. She wonders, more and more, if the Doctor is shaping her future or if the TARDIS has plans too. She wonders, when she feels brave enough, what’s in store for her.
In the TARDIS her past is irrelevant and her future is being written line by line in a language she is learning only letter by letter. So she puts up with the Doctor’s odd ways, and with Fitz’s resentment of her presence, just so that she can stay with the TARDIS.
And this is, obviously, what the TARDIS wants too.
Requests: Harriet Jones/Harry Saxon, Donna Noble/Peri Brown, Fitz Kreiner/Ninth Doctor
Harry Saxon/Harriet Jones
He's part of the Ministry of Defense. She's...well, she's Harriet Jones, Prime Minister.
This is wrong, very wrong. This is the sort of thing that topples otherwise unassaultable pillars of government.
But no matter how many times she tells herself that, Harriet Jones can't bring herself to break it off with him, can't stop from seeing Harry Saxon - and far more of him than any of the papers would think the man with a well-coiffed wife would expose.
He'd shown her Torchwood - walked her through all the sights of Canary Warf and the other three stations - and given her the keys to it all. And in return...
Oh God.
She mentioned it to him once, this not being seen as it had been put in her childhood: "It's like they don't see us," intending it as a joke.
...And found she was uneasy with the pleased grin he bore. "Oh exactly," Harry Saxon had replied. Too cryptic for her taste.
--
Request: Sarah Jane Smith/Master (any), Sarah Jane Smith/Silurian
Fitz Kreiner/Ninth Doctor
A Face in the Crowd :: (~1600 words)
Requests: Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart/Third Doctor, Hex Schofield/Martha Jones, Jackie Tyler/Pete Tyler
Jackie Tyler/Pete Tyler
Rosita/Mercy Hartigan
Nine/Astrid
It feels cold in the TARDIS. It has for a while. He doesn't set the destination, just kicks the handbrake off and lets her drift in local temporal orbit. Up or down a few years, a few thousand miles. Sooner or later, there will be an alarm or the cloister bell will ring or something. He goes to bed, just stretches out on the covers with his clothes still on, shoes and leather jacket and stares up at the ceiling in the almost dark.
The TARDIS breathes around him. Slow in. Slow out. Slow in. He closes his eyes. Slow out. Something whispers in the air-vents. He is not alone in the room. He opens his eyes again. Lights drift like dustmotes, shimmer and dance. For a moment he think it's just an optical illusion, the way they seem to shape a face, that narcissistic tendency to anthropomorphize. Then she comes together and he knows it's real enough. Blonde hair. A smile. A... maid's outfit, apparently. Nice.
"Hello," he says, sitting up. "I'm the Doctor."
She smiles wider, comes apart in light and swirls back together, closer now. Almost sitting in his lap. She has no weight at all. A ghost. An echo. The shape of his name an affectionate curl of her lips. Her fingers feel like a summer breeze against his cheek.
"What are you doing, then?" he asks.
Travel forever, she says. No sound. He reads the words from her lips. We're ghosts, she says, and stardust. Travel forever.
"Yeah?" He nods. "I travel a bit, me. All the time." It's an old joke. Most jokes are. He thinks he might be an old joke himself now. He thinks about how long his hair was after he regenerated, how he cut it himself without a mirror, how big his ears are now he's finally gotten a good look at them. Her fingers are brushing against them. Tingling.
"That's a teleport suspension field," he says and then, realizing, "Ah." It's like that, is it?
She seems happy enough, though. Happy and close, leaning in. He reads the words from her lips - dreams of another sky. A whole universe teeming with life.
"And you get to see it all," he tells her.
An old tradition, she says, and he leans up to meet her. It's like kissing sunshine. Warm. Liquid. Gold.
"Fantastic," he breathes.
Show them how to fly, she tells him, smile bright and wide. Fly! And she's gone again into light, into the vents, swirling away through the TARDIS, one kiss and goodbye, goodbye; one kiss and she's breathed out into the universe. Stardust, forever.
Some time later, he goes back into the control room, flicks the fast return switch.
"By the way," he says, leaning out of the door and beaming at the other blonde. "Did I mention, it also travels in time?"
---
Requests: Mickey/K-9, Mickey/Reinette, Mickey/Ten
Mickey Smith/Tenth Doctor
"It's the only way to find out where they've taken Rose." The Doctor glanced at the group of aliens standing nearby. They had moved away to give the two of them some privacy, but they looked somewhat interested in what was going on between the two travelers. "And could you keep your voice down?
"That doesn't answer my question!" Mickey hissed back.
The Doctor shot him a familiar look, one that was a mixture of slight exasperation and . . . well, not-so-slight exasperation. "Offworlders aren't allowed here unless they have a partner."
Mickey stared at him. "Then why the hell are we here?"
"You really should keep your voice down," the Doctor repeated. "And we're here because there's nowhere else to easily find certain parts that I need to fix the TARDIS."
"Why did you let Rose go off by herself then?"
A sheepish look appeared on the Doctor's face at his question.
"Oh, I see," Mickey said, gesturing toward the nearby aliens. He didn't try to hide his sarcasm. "You didn't have a clue where we were until you saw the Goat People, did you?"
The Doctor ignored him. "The ceremony's only binding in 0.01% of the universe," he said reassuringly. "And that's only until the sixty-third century or so."
Mickey closed his eyes for a moment and counted to ten. "Earth's not one of the places where it's binding, right?" he asked as he reopened them.
The Doctor didn't quite meet his gaze.
"Right?" Mickey repeated.
"It depends," the Doctor said reluctantly. He glanced over at the aliens and quickly planted a big smile on his face. "Do you think you'll still be alive in 2075?"
Mickey glared at him. "I hate you."
"I said to keep your voice down," the Doctor said out of the corner of his mouth, his smile never fading. "And try to smile, will you? The Tecytans don't like it when things don't run smoothly."
Quickly lowering his voice, Mickey forced a weak smile. "And how exactly do you know that?"
The Doctor had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "Like I said earlier, this is one of the best places in the galaxy to get certain parts for the TARDIS."
Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Just how many people are you married to?"
"Oh, dozens," the Doctor replied with a shrug. "If it makes you feel any better, most of them weren't any happier about it than you."
Then suddenly he grabbed Mickey by the arm and pulled him over to where the aliens were standing.
"Hey!" Mickey protested. "What are you doing?"
The Doctor ignored him, instead focusing on the tallest of the aliens. "Are you the matron?"
The alien nodded.
Without saying a word, the Doctor grabbed Mickey and planted a firm kiss straight on his lips. Mickey let out a quiet "oomph" of surprise, but he didn't fight back.
He was almost disappointed when the Doctor pulled away a second or two later.
The matron, whoever she was, nodded at them and turned away. The others followed, none of them speaking as they walked back toward the city that rested in the distance.
Mickey raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" he asked incredulously. "All it takes to get married is a kiss?"
The Doctor shrugged, grinning a little.
"What's it take to get a divorce then?" Mickey prompted.
"Ah," the Doctor said, his grin fading. "I don't think you want to know."
Requests: Evelyn Smythe/Sarah Jane Smith, Fifth Doctor/Nyssa, Jake Simmonds/Mickey Smith/Rose Tyler