Davison Era: Companions of the Fifth Doctor

The Black Scrolls of Rassilon: Doodles

2008-07-17T07:03:14Z

Series: The Black Scrolls of Rassilon
Pairings: Fifth Doctor, Borusa (No Slash)
Ratings: All Ages
Warnings: Humor
Summary: What was written on the Black Scrolls of Rassilon? Here's several possibilities brought to you by my deranged imagination.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

The Black Scrolls of Rassilon drabble-verse so far:

Recipe
Dark Times
Doodles
Rassilon's Crooked Teeth
This is a longer fic but it fits the premise.

Warriors of the Deep - Commentary

2008-07-13T01:40:02Z

Decided to watch the Warriors of the Deep with commentary this evening. (See what I originally thought about it here.)

It's really quite good with the commentary. They fully admit that there's a lot of this story that's genuine crap, but they also have great ideas for fixing the problems. Such as the Myrka. I think Matthew had it right in that if the creature wasn't focused on. If we only got fleeting glances of it, and had to rely on the actor's faces to tell us the horror of the monster. It would have also helped if the studio weren't so brightly lit, as they remarked in the commentary.

It was also suggested at one point that the episode would have been better had it been only 2 or 3 episodes instead of 4. Quite interesting when you also take into account that Johnny Byrne was notorious for turning in scripts for 23 minute episodes that were 35 minutes in length. Think of everything that had already been cut out!

And then there's the fact that Eric Saward does the commentary. I think his animosity toward JNT is well known, and he does spend a good bit of his time talking rubbish about him, but then so do Janet and Matthew as well. Granted, it's not a lot, but it's clear that there was some friction between these people.

And yet again, I'm struck with the feeling of just how incredibly shippy this story is. It's thick with Five/Tegan subtext.

Overall, the commentary is quite good, and I'd say it's definitely preferred to watching it sans comments.

davison_era @ 2008-07-12T14:00:00

2008-07-12T19:00:57Z

Title: One Miracle Too Late
Rating: PG, (Character Death)
Summary: Eloise Jovanka reflects on her mother's life and ponders the stranger who attended her mother's funeral.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Pairing: Five/Tegan very much implied, OC
Prompt: Dress in the community fivegan

"Brave Heart, Doctor."

The Key to Time mini-series (take two)

2008-07-02T18:19:36Z

Big Finish is releasing an audio sequel to the Doctor Who season 16 Key to Time stories with the Key 2 Time (sic) mini-series. It will be in three parts and will be released between January and March 2009.

This stars the Fifth Doctor (as voiced by Peter Davison) on a new hunt for the six segments of the Key, but supposedly his task won't be as easy as it was the first time around.

He is joined by a new companion, Amy, one of two sentient humanoid `Tracers', created to find the six segments of the Key. She is played by Ciara Janson and the role of her twin sister Zara is played by Laura Doddington.

http://www.bigfinish.com/news/The-Key-2-Time-Mini-series-January-2009

audio adventures advice

2008-07-02T00:37:37Z

Hi all!
I have a big road trip ahead of me this summer and am looking to take some of the Doctor Who audio adventures along. Assuming I have any choice in what I can find, do you have any suggestions for good 5th Doctor audios? Or good Doctor Who audios in general? I figured someone here might have some helpful input.
Thanks!

davison_era @ 2008-06-22T02:38:00

2008-06-22T00:46:02Z

Hi all,

I'm sorta new around and thought I'd say hello by bringing presents. Banners! Yay!

Five is just love. ♥

I've been playing

2008-06-18T18:06:48Z

Teasers:

39 Fifth Doctor Era icons, and 3 random other ones, over at my icon journal

x-posted to the_davison_den

Fanmix - Doctor/Tegan - This Is Everything

2008-06-18T15:02:23Z

I bring fanmix! Because Tegan and Five started talking my ear off again.

Click to go to my journal for track info and download link

Fan fic: Tanas

2008-06-06T23:19:15Z

Hi all,
For those who are interested I have now finished and begun posting my fan fic 'Tanas'. It is available on Teaspoon. I originally called it 'The Greater Malefic' but then changed it to the easier title of 'Tanas'. It features Five, Adric, Nyssa and Tegan, who arrive in Regency England and are rescued from a mysterious mist by the local landowner, Tanas. He had ulterior motives of course!
Here's chapter 1

TANAS
Usual disclaimers.
CHAPTER ONE

The air was warm, the sun mellow, and in the distance a church bell chimed. Tegan gazed out over the meadow, the profusion of wildflowers of e very species making her think of Monet’s poppy field. She shielded her eyes, looking beyond the gently waving grass with its splashes of scarlet to the dark smudge of a wood to the east. She turned back to the TARDIS to see Adric and the Doctor emerging, the latter unscrolling his hat; she went over to join them. Nyssa was kneeling a few feet away, picking bunches of cornflowers and poppies, and arranging them into a posy with much more artistic talent than Tegan could have done.

“When did you say this was?” the air hostess asked. “We’re in England, right?”

“Yes, we’re 17.2 miles from London,” Adric offered, lazily watching a bird of prey that could have been a red kite, a bird that was almost extinct in Tegan’s time, hover high above the wood. “It’s the 30th August 1823 AD.”

“Ah, the Regency period,” the Doctor enthused brightly.

Adric grinned back. “In fact in a few days’ time there’s going to be an astronomical event: Saturn and Mars will be in perfect alignment.”

“The Malefics, excellent news!”

“The who, Doctor?”

“Malefics, Tegan. Saturn is known as the Greater Malefic; Mars the Lesser,” the Time Lord explained. “Malefic meaning evil influence of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Tegan muttered.

The Doctor clapped Adric on the back. “Good choice of time and place, Adric!”

The youth tore his gaze away from the kite. “I didn’t set the co-ordinates, Doctor.”

The Doctor humphed. “Of course you did. I know I didn’t. Therefore it follows, does it not, that you did.”

“Doctor,” Adric explained patiently, “I don’t even know what a Regency period is.”

“Mmm?” The Doctor was clearly not paying the least attention – again. His eyes were scanning the distance. “You know I do believe there’s a village down there – I can see a church. What say you three to a bit of a stroll?” Without waiting for an answer, the Doctor was already striding off single-mindedly.

Tegan exchanged long-suffering glances with her two companions and the three of them hurried to catch him up, Nyssa slipping back to close the TARDIS doors first.

***

“So what is the Regency anyway?” Adric asked, as they waded through the knee-high grass of the meadow, Tegan pausing often to examine another species of wildflower that was extinct in her time due to intensive farming. She touched a light purple flower reminiscent of a bluebell.

“It’s a harebell,” the Doctor said, answering her unspoken question. “The local name is witch’s thimble or the old man’s bells – the old man being the devil, of course. Sorry, Adric; the Regency is a period in English history.” He turned with an impish grin to Tegan. “Why don’t you tell our friends all about it?”

Tegan raised an innocent eyebrow. “The Regency period denoted that period when the King, George III, was considered insane and therefore his son, George, Prince of Wales, acted as Regent.” She smiled triumphantly at the Doctor’s look of chagrin.

“What was wrong with the king?” Nyssa asked, her professional interest piqued.

“From the records available I would favour porphyria,” the Doctor replied. “Of course, his condition was exacerbated by the primitive level of Regency medicine. His doctors thought that blistering his skin would draw out the ill humours.”

“He used to talk to teapots and trees,” Tegan added helpfully.

Unnoticed at first, a thin mist had drifted rapidly over the sunny meadow in a swirling cloud until Tegan felt she was viewing the world through a sheet of tracing paper. The Doctor was looking faintly troubled.

“There’s something very wrong here,” he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Mist is formed when warm air near the ground hits cooler air. It hangs over lakes and rivers and the sea and is most common in late autumn and winter near nightfall. But it’s only one o’clock in the afternoon on a very warm and sunny late summer’s day. It’s anomalous.”

And indeed the strange vapour seemed to act in a way very unlike most mists; it swirled oddly despite the lack of a breeze and clung to the body, caressing it in a distasteful way that felt strangely, uncomfortably, like thousands of ghostly hands.

“We should go back,” Adric stated and even in the poor visibility Tegan could see the way his eyes darted nervously.

Dispelling her own growing sense of dread, she said, “Relax, Adric, it’s only mist. Funny mist – but still mist. It can’t hurt you.”

“You’re forgetting about Mistfall,” Nyssa reminded her, giving Adric a reassuring smile.
“It’ll probably clear as we leave this hollow. Come along,” the Doctor said, seemingly oblivious to Adric’s discomfort.

It was soon evident, however, that the mist was not clearing – it was growing thicker until they could see each other only as ghostlike silhouettes against its swirling mass. Adric was now close to panic.

“I want to go back. Now! You don’t understand.” He had backed himself hard up against a tree and was shivering miserably. “It’s evil. We have to go back before it’s too late.”

“Was Mistfall so bad?” Tegan asked, surprised and disturbed at the depths of Adric’s fear – the boy hadn’t turned a hair at the Mara or the Tereleptils.

The Time Lord had been squinting ahead, trying to discern their path, but now he turned back to his companions, Adric’s fear at last breaking through his preoccupation. He rested his hands lightly on the youth’s shoulders, feeling the pounding of his heart through the contact. “Mistfall to an Alzarian is analogous to a haunted mansion in a thunder storm to a human.” He squeezed Adric’s shoulders. “Adric, we can’t find the TARDIS in the mist. Our only hope is to continue to the village.”

“Varsh – the Marshmen came out of the mist. They killed Varsh.”

Tegan glanced up from her two companions at the sound of a twig snapping sharply. The mist seemed to lift slightly as it swirled and eddied and just for an instant she thought she saw the shape of a huge wolf-like hound. Another waft of thicker fog obscured her vision and when she looked again the creature – if it ever existed – was gone. She turned her attention back to her friends.

“I know,” the Doctor was saying, his voice calm and even, “but you still defeated the Marshmen. You confronted your fear and overcame it. This mist can hold no fear for you.”

“Doctor, it’s getting thicker,” Tegan broke through, trying – and failing – to keep her voice steady. The Doctor was already moving, galvanised into action by the thickly swirling fog. He grabbed hold of Adric’s hand and ordered the two women to join the chain, Nyssa holding Adric’s other hand, Tegan bringing up the rear.

“Stay close,” he commanded. The four set off, their pace much slower now as they edged forward into a white limbo world where only the solidity of the ground and the feeble light of the Doctor’s torch offered any link with reality. The three younger companions fell and stumbled often, twisting their ankles on the uneven ground and tripping over tree roots and hummocks of soil; only the Doctor kept his footing.

To Adric, he was walking through a nightmare world. Every glimpsed shape, be it a tree or the Doctor leading the way, seemed to be a Marshman rising from the swamps. The mist was icy cold too, and it seemed to wrap itself around him, sucking out his energy, its touch repulsive. He clung to the Doctor’s hand as if it were a lifeline. Nyssa’s smaller hand trembled and felt as clammy as his own but the Doctor’s was warm, reassuring.

A layer of filmy fog lifted and for just a second Adric glimpsed the tall figure of a man. He craned his neck to see more clearly, missed his footing and in an effort to save himself, let go of his friends’ hands. He fell heavily.

***

“Adric!” The moment his friend had dropped his hand, the Doctor was alerted to his plight. He waved his hands in the air like a blind man, trying to make contact with him. The tips of his fingers brushed against warm skin and he caught hold of Nyssa’s arm rather roughly. “Hold on to me,” he yelled, his voice sounding flat in the deadening air. “Is Tegan with you?”

“I’m here,” the Australian affirmed.

“Don’t let go.” So saying, the Doctor transferred Nyssa’s clutching hands to his coat tails and walked forward five tiny paces, then back, then one pace to the left, the same five paces back and forward, covering the immediate vicinity inch by inch, all the time waving his arms. The fog eddied and swirled…

He saw Adric.

The boy was standing a few feet away with the figure of a tall man looming behind him. Before the Doctor could call out, the eerie fog roiled and the Time Lord could see that what he had taken for a man was nothing but a gnarled tree behind his friend.

“Adric!" he shouted in relief and then rushed forward as the boy’s knees abruptly gave way. The Doctor grasped his wrist and pulled him up, hissing in surprise and concern at how icy his skin felt. The boy was staring, blinking owlishly, and the Doctor snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“No!” For a second stark terror flashed in Adric’s eyes, then reality reasserted itself and he found himself staring, not at a nameless horror, but at his three companions. He began to shiver in earnest and Nyssa urged him to sit down on a fallen tree trunk, chafing his hands between her own. As she did so, she noticed the scarlet pocket on his tunic was torn – and then she noticed the blood. Her face paled.

“Adric, you’re bleeding!”

The boy took a moment to register the comment and then he glanced down, touching the gash on his chest through the ragged tear. Memory danced on the edge of recall and then it was gone. “I must have caught myself on my badge. It’ll heal,” he said, blinking again as if to clear his mind. The Doctor, noticing his slight disorientation, titled his chin up in order to shine his torch into his eyes.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?”

“Never mind. Any nausea? Headache?”

Adric shrugged, finally succeeding in shoving the Doctor’s hands away. “I don’t think so. I’ve never had either of those things so I wouldn’t know.”

Tegan snorted. “You must have had a headache. Everyone in the universe has had a headache.”

“I told you before, Alzarians don’t get ill.”

“No, you just fall over a lot and get injured,” Tegan retorted, her concern for her friend coming out as anger. “Is it something about Earth that makes you fall over – you’ve fallen in both the seventeenth and the nineteenth centuries.”

Firing at Tegan’s words, Adric immediately fought back. “At least I don’t get a cold or flu or hay fever every other day like you. Nor do I put my friends in danger by allowing my mind to be invaded or controlled.”

“That’s enough from both of you,” the Doctor interposed sharply before Tegan could give a blistering retort. “We have company.” He pointed down the meadow to where a tall, lithe man could be seen walking towards them through the now lightish mist. The man, Tegan noticed with some appreciation as he drew near, was dressed in the costume of the period, form-hugging breeches, riding boots, a jacket and a top hat. He was tall with jet black hair which framed his face like a mane, an aquiline nose and rather haughty, brooding, blue eyes beneath a heavy forehead. In short, Tegan thought with a broad grin, he looked like a feral Mr Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen,” he declared with a courtly bow to the two women. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Sir Tanas of Wolf’s Dene. I happened to see your light in the fog some few minutes ago and, perceiving you in peril, came to offer my services.”

With a boyish grin, the Doctor doffed his hat and bowed in return. “That is most obliging of you, Sir Tanas,” he said, slipping into the formal phrases of the period with ease. “The mist caught us unawares.”

“My humble residence is but a few miles away. I would be honoured if you would do me the favour of dining with me this evening. My housekeeper will provide fresh clothing for you as I see that your own habiliments have become soiled. Madam, if I may…” With another bow, he offered Tegan his arm and the air hostess, looking as if Christmas had arrived early, willingly accepted it.

***

Hopping down from the carriage, partly to avoid having to be assisted by the footman and partly to show the Doctor that he was quite well now, thank you, Adric turned to offer Tegan his arm before following Tanas up the flight of stone steps which looked as if they had been freshly scrubbed that morning. Under ordinary circumstances he would never have dreamed of offering his arm to a girl but Tanas’ stilted formality amused rather than irritated him – and anyway it was fun seeing Tegan’s startled reaction.

In the reception hall which was dominated by a sweeping staircase and a gigantic crystal chandelier, their host politely excused himself, leaving them in the capable hands of his housekeeper, Mrs Smith, a spindly, desiccated old woman who reminded Adric of a Marshspider.

“This is the guest suite,” she commented ushering them into an elegantly furnished parlour. “I hope you will be comfortable.”

“I’m sure we will,” the Doctor said warmly. He had expected to see frantic housemaids pulling off dust sheets and lighting fires but all was in perfect readiness down to the mulled wine on the table. “You run a very efficient household, Mrs Smith, my compliments.”

The old woman gave a dusty smile. “The master often entertains at short notice. Ladies, if you will follow me to your bedchamber?”

Once the ladies had departed, the two men went through to their own room. The two four poster beds were hung with rich, hand embroidered canopies, there was a tiny fire in the grate and two sets of clothing had been laid out. The jug on the washstand had been filled with hot water.

Adric bounced experimentally on the bed before going to the mantelpiece to examine a fine, cream-coloured clock, made of china. It was a lot heavier than it looked and it slipped an inch or two in his fingers; the Doctor coughed in gentle warning and the boy guiltily replaced it.

“That’s Royal Creamware. In Tegan’s time, a clock like that would be worth £300,” the Doctor observed, beginning to peel off his frock coat; Adric watched him in clear astonishment.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s been centuries since I last stopped by in Regency England. I’ve always had a fondness for its costumes. Hurry up!”

Without enthusiasm Adric poked at the olive green jacket that had been laid out for him; he supposed it was just about wearable. He turned to the fawn pantaloons, noting with horror the drop-down front which fastened with two enormous brass buttons. There was absolutely no way that he was wearing them – just the idea of the figure-hugging pants made him blush. He dropped them as if they scalded him.

“I think I’ll stay in my own clothes,” he said, trying to sound casual.

The Doctor was roving about the room again, clucking admiringly over several ornaments and artefacts. Adric swept his eyes up and down the Doctor’s slender frame, and had to admit his friend looked particularly dashing in the navy blue double breasted waistcoat with the long frilly shirt underneath; the tight pantaloons however left nothing to the imagination. “Mmmm?” the Time Lord said, finally fetching up in front of the oval mirror and fiddling with his cravat. “Woops – no, that’s not right. Now, my third self would have had no trouble with this – he was always rather fond of dandified clothes. Wore a lot of capes.”

“I just bet he did. And I said I think I’ll keep my own clothes on.”

“Nonsense,” the Time Lord responded absently. “It would be discourteous to refuse our host’s hospitality.”

Adric’s gaze drifted back to the hated pantaloons. “They’re far too tight,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up.

The Doctor regarded him for a moment. “We’re all in the same boat - that’s an expression, Adric - I’m sure you’ll look splendid. Let’s have a look at that cut.” He had apparently managed to fasten the cravat which now hung rather like a large frilly cabbage under his chin; it looked incredibly silly.

Adric shook his head stubbornly. “It’s probably already healed. It wasn’t very deep.”

“I want to check,” the Doctor replied just as stubbornly. Adric lost patience.

“I am not a child needing nursemaiding! I’ll be fine.”

Rolling his eyes heavenward, the Doctor conceded defeat. “I see from your returning obstinacy that you are back to normal,” he commented dryly, dumping the contents of his frock coat pockets on the bed; Adric hid a grin at all the rubbish his friend had accumulated, including a chocolate bar, a notebook, a Kinda necklace and, bizarrely, a rubber duck. The Time Lord passed him an adhesive dressing from a small first aid kit. “Make sure you wash the cut thoroughly.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Adric said meekly, grinning cheekily a moment later at the suspicious glare his friend directed at him: the Doctor knew from long experience that meekness was not in Adric’s make-up.

Seizing up the chocolate bar, the Doctor left the room, leaving Adric alone with the tricky problem of his clothes. Peeling out of his outer tunic, he soon realised that the material was severely shredded, almost slashed in fact. He fiddled dubiously with his badge, wondering how on Earth the blunt prongs could have caused such damage. One thing was for certain: he could not wear the tunic even if he managed to scrub away the soaked in blood. He sighed and turned his gaze reluctantly back to the Regency clothes; he had no choice.

Once he had made his decision, he removed his olive under-tunic, wincing as the movement hurt his chest. He prodded the injury site gently, surprised to discover that the wound had not even begun to heal. There were two deep puncture marks from the badge’s prongs which were still weeping blood, and the whole area was tender and swollen. He considered calling the Doctor back but abandoned the notion immediately as being alarmist. After all the cut would not heal if it was dirty. In addition, he had been chilled and in shock, both of which slowed down one’s natural healing capabilities.

Pleased with his logic, he cleaned the wound thoroughly, before deciding he might as well have a proper wash while the water was still hot. He wrapped another towel round his middle and sluiced his whole body down, using the coarse soap vigorously until the skin on his torso and arms was red. He applied the dressing, and then, with the kind of sigh a soldier gives upon going into battle, began to struggle into the uncomfortable and downright impractical costume.

***

Tegan held the simple ivory and gold Empire-style dress up against herself and admired the effect in the mirror. The dress required no corset but it fit tightly under the bust, and the neckline was plunging to say the least.

“I always adored dressing up,” she said to Nyssa who was unbuttoning her velvet tunic. She slid out of her air hostess jacket and was just starting on the blouse when there was a timid knock at the door and a very young girl in the livery of a maid slipped in, blushing and curtsying. Tegan grinned.

“Hello there! What’s your name? I’m Tegan, this is Nyssa.” Nyssa gave the merest of nods but the girl appeared overcome with nerves.

“Oh!” she squeaked. “It’s Abigail, Miss Tegan, miss. I’ve brought hot water for you if you please, miss.”

“Thank you,” Nyssa said, her tone so curt that Tegan could not help but look over at her in surprise. The mousy maid, with another untidy curtsy, poured the jug full of searing water into the bowl and was about to leave when Tegan called her over.

“You couldn’t give us a hand with this dress, could you?”

“Tegan,” Nyssa said warningly and the maid gave her such a dumbstruck look that Tegan thought she must have said something offensive in Regency terminology.

“Me, miss? But I’m just the below-stairs maid, miss. I’ll call the mistress’s maid with pleasure.”

Tegan caught her arm, determined to make the girl feel good about herself. “I’m sure you’ll do splendidly, Abigail,” she said warmly and slipped off her blouse. Abigail’s mouth dropped open at her first sight of Tegan’s bra. The air hostess realised to an eighteenth century contemporary, the lingerie looked completely alien - not to mention racy. She might as well have been wearing a black basque and fishnet stockings. She thought quickly.

“Relax, Abigail,” she said, summoning up her brightest smile, “this er corset is all the rage in Paris.”

Abigail looked tremendously, almost comically, relieved. By the time they had wrestled the Australian into the dress and Abigail was lacing it up at the back, the maid had grown more talkative, thanks to Tegan’s encouragement; Nyssa barely spoke, sitting aloof at the dressing table while she pinned up her hair. “I’ve been in service to the master for almost three months if you please, miss.”

“Just Tegan and it does please me,” Tegan said. “Where were you erm in service before?”

“Oh! I was at the orphanage, miss. So was Rebecca and Jane, the cook hands.”

“There! All done!” Tegan exclaimed, twirling round. “How do I look? I bet poor Adric’s eyes pop out of his head.”

Abigail smiled shyly, almost meeting Tegan’s eyes. “You look beautiful, miss. You too, Miss Nyssa.”

“Ready, Nyssa?”

“Yes,” Nyssa said shortly and swept out. Even the supremely gentle and mild Traken could be bad tempered it would seem, Tegan thought as she followed her friend.

***

Tugging at the figure-hugging pantaloons which clung so disconcertingly to his lower half, Adric sidled out of their suite and down the hall; he spotted the Doctor’s dashing figure on the upper landing admiring some oil paintings and went over to join him, thinking that there was at least safety in numbers.

“Ah, Adric, there you are. The girls haven’t finished their toilette yet,” the Doctor remarked somewhat dryly. “If the Cranleigh ball is anything to go by, they will probably be some time. Do you want half a Marathon?” He waved the chocolate bar under Adric’s nose, adding admonishingly, “Stop fidgeting.”

His stomach growled, taking his mind off the ridiculous costume and Adric eagerly took the chocolate bar, only to give it back with a disgruntled humph a moment later. “No thanks, it’s got nuts in.”

“Sorry. You know I told myself I wouldn’t buy any of these after they changed the name.” Off Adric’s questioning look he explained, “The manufacturers in Britain changed the name from Marathon to Snickers. Something to do with falling in line with the Americans – absolute sacrilege if you ask me. I mean, really; ‘snicker’ is something a horse does.”

“I see you are admiring my ancestors’ portraits,” Tanas interposed, appearing so soundlessly by their side that Adric jumped. The portraits in question appeared to go back at least four hundred years, judging by the style of clothes, including an impressive portrait of an ancestor dressed in Stuart costume; possibly Tanas’ great-grandfather.

The Doctor was studying the biggest portrait, that of Tanas himself. “Very strong brushwork,” he commented with his usual enthusiasm for all things historical.

Giving a grunt of assent, Adric studied their host’s portrait. Dressed in formal attire of breeches and tailcoat, Tanas was standing next to a small table, his finger pointing portentously to a closed leather-bound copy of the Bible. Squinting in the poor light, Adric thought he could detect the shape of a hound in the background. He flicked his gaze back to the Stuart ancestor and back again. “Your family seems fond of dogs, Sir Tanas,” he observed.

The Doctor looked more closely. “I do believe it’s a wolf. Interesting!” he exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a small child. “That’s very unusual – “

“It is a family motif, my friend,” Tanas interrupted smoothly. “My ah ultimate grandfather slew a ravenous wolf which had been preying on the village – or so the legend goes. Ever since, we have incorporated the motif into our coat of arms and portraiture. Ah, the ladies approach.” Crossing with feline grace to the two women, Tanas bowed low and offered his arm to each.

***

The four companions were led in stately procession into the drawing room where Tanas apparently thought formal introductions were necessary. “My friends, may I have the honour of introducing you to my wife, Lady Wilhelmina.” A tall, very pale lady in a monstrous hat with an ostrich feather in it rose with stately grace and a frozen smile to greet them. She curtsied.

“How do you do?” the Doctor said, bowing in return and nudging his friends to follow his example. Nyssa curtsied perfectly, taking her cue from their hostess, Tegan barely managed to keep her balance. “I am known as the Doctor. May I present the Lady Nyssa, daughter of the Consul of Traken? Miss Tegan Jovanka and Mr Adric?”

Tanas gestured for the companions to sit down. The room was chilly despite its being only the end of August. His wife rang a bell pull and when the servant appeared ordered tea. She regarded her guests with barely concealed contempt. “Miss Jovanka. What an unusual name. Pray, who is your father and where is his residence?”

Tegan beamed. “I’m from Aus – “

“Ostend,” the Doctor quickly interrupted: to their hosts Australia was infamous as the country to which convicts were sent. “My compliments on your house, Sir Tanas. The western aspect is early Tudor, is not it?”

“Precisely so, Doctor. The cellars and foundations date to the thirteenth century. Over the centuries my ancestors have added to the whole. My father created the parklands and south-facing aspect.”

The doors opened and two liveried servants entered and, with soft-footed efficiency, placed a tea tray at their mistress’s elbow along with a silver cake salver. Tegan smiled her thanks to the two servants but they resolutely refused to catch her eye; her hosts completely ignored them as if they did not exist.

Later, after some stiltedly formal small talk regarding the travellers’ origins and purpose in the locality which the Doctor dodged smoothly, Sir Tanas invited his guests to a rubber of cards. Nyssa demurred, and seeing a grand piano in the corner volunteered to play instead. Lady Wilhelmina drifted over to join her and the two were soon playing a charming duet. Playing the piano had been one of the many accomplishments expected of her as the daughter of a consul and Nyssa knew she could play tolerably well; she discovered, however that she was in the presence of a master. Wilhelmina’s fingers seemed almost to blur as they trickled effortlessly over the keys. After a virtuoso performance, and the Doctor’s appreciative applause, Wilhelmina bowed her head regally and asked Tegan whether she played ‘The Instrument.’

The air hostess, who had been sitting bolt upright in her chair in an effort to appear lady-like, thought back to one particular Christmas when she had played White Christmas with her grandfather. “My grandfather taught me the basics but I haven’t practised for years.”

Lady Wilhelmina gave one of her superior smiles. “Application, my dear, if you will permit the intimacy, is the key.”

By now the late afternoon sun was shining in through the window; a shaft of light hit the polished surface of the piano. Wilhelmina rose grandly and, with a gesture to the footman waiting unobtrusively by the door, had him draw across the heavy velvet curtains, commenting, “The sun is uncommonly warm, is not it?”

She glided over to the card table. “Who wins, my dear husband?” she asked.

“Regretfully, I must confess that it is not I. Adric is a flawless player.” He clapped Adric on the shoulder and the Alzarian jumped slightly as the man’s cold fingers brushed his neck. “Have you some secret to your game, my friend?”

Adric shook his head, clearly perplexed by the assumption but pleased nonetheless. “Oh no,” he replied, “it’s a very simple mathematical equation.”

“Ah, a student of the new discipline! Excellent. Which university do you attend?”

“Trinity College, Oxford,” the Doctor replied smoothly. “I do believe you’ve beaten me again, Adric.”

“Some wine, Miss Jovanka?” Lady Wilhelmina asked courteously, seeing Tegan stifle a yawn. “May I venture to suggest that your fondness for the gaming table is as limited as my own? Perhaps dancing is more your hobby?”

Amusing herself with the notion of replying that yes, she thoroughly enjoyed disco dancing, Tegan nodded.

“I am delighted to hear it, Miss Jovanka,” Tanas exclaimed. “It is my intention to hold a ball in six days’ time. I insist that you all do me the honour of attending.”

Adric, who did not share his friend’s enthusiasm for dancing, saw Tanas exchange a look with his wife, his eyes seeming to flash red in the candlelight.

***

There was a superior knock on the door; how a knock could be superior the Doctor didn’t know but it was. Before he could call come in, Abraham, the butler entered the bed chamber, followed by two footmen carrying large buckets of steaming water. Under their superior’s watchful eye they filled the bath already stationed by the fire and erected the hand-embroidered screen round it. One of the footmen made to exit but Abraham pointed imperiously to a small splash of water and the hapless underling quickly mopped it up, earning himself a clip round the ear for his trouble. Once he had dismissed his minions, Abraham stepped forward impassively.

“Your bath is ready, Mr Adric,” he declared sonorously. His expression was that of the dutiful servant, blank, respectful, but Adric still felt like the man was regarding him with thinly concealed contempt.

“Erm,” he said uncertainly, casting a desperate look at the Doctor who was absorbed in a book. “Thank you.”

“Very good, sir,” Abraham responded and waited.

“Erm,” said Adric again. He looked from Abraham to the bath and back again, wondering why the butler was just standing there. Was he waiting for some word of dismissal from his erstwhile better? While he was still puzzling over the matter, Abraham closed the space between them and began to undo the buttons on Adric’s jacket. His touch was so efficient and somehow detached that he had managed to remove the jacket and was starting on his shirt before Adric’s brain caught up and he realised what the impassive servant was doing. He half climbed the nearest wall.

“Wait a minute,” he exclaimed, his voice breaking embarrassingly. “You want to give me a bath?”

Abraham deigned to raise an eyebrow. “It was my understanding that you wished to bathe, sir,” he responded, managing to make the word sir sound like an insult.

Adric could feel his cheeks flaming and unconsciously he wrapped his arm round his chest. There was absolutely no way … Thankfully, before he could self-destruct from embarrassment or Abraham could lose what little respect he still had for them, the Doctor intervened.

“Thank you, Abraham. Mr Adric will take his bath alone. That will be all.”

The scandalised butler’s eyebrows shot up. “Alone??” Gathering together his shattered dignity, he took refuge in his favourite stock phrase which he used whenever his betters dared to forget their station. “Very good, sir.”

With a cold bow, he withdrew, leaving Adric still standing there open-mouthed. “He really meant to give me a bath? I mean actually … bathe me? No-one’s given me a bath since I was five years old.”

“Mmm,” the Doctor responded, already returning to his book. “It’s customary for a valet to bathe and dress his master.” He spared the Alzarian a look. “I’d hurry up if I were you, that bath is made of tin which is a good conductor of heat.”

Still struggling with the notion and wondering too how long a bath was supposed to take a member of the gentry before his valet came trotting back in, Adric shucked out of his shirt and pantaloons. The screen shielded him from the Doctor, he noted with relief, so he pulled off the long johns which were the most uncomfortable underwear he had ever worn, and slipped into the water. The bath was not very long and he discovered he either had to draw his knees up concertina-fashion or dangle his feet over the edge. He picked up the pebble-like soap which however hard you tried never produced a lather, and began to scrub his shoulders and arms. The wound on his chest throbbed and he noticed that the edges had pulled apart again: it still had not healed. More than alarmed, he was just about to inform the Doctor when he suddenly decided not to: he was naked after all. He’d seek the Doctor’s reassurance after his bath. Seizing up the soap again, he scrubbed harder at his arm until the skin was lobster red, a strange peacefulness overtaking him.

It was the Doctor scraping back his chair and stretching that broke into his reverie. He blinked.

“I’m going to go downstairs, see if our hosts are still awake,” the Doctor said, coming over and tapping his fingers on the screen. Adric was suddenly glad of the bath’s short dimensions since it meant his knees were already drawn up. He gave a too-bright smile.

“Alright.”

“Don’t forget to snuff out your candle when you retire,” the Time Lord cautioned. “A high percentage of Regency fires were caused by carelessness with candles. Sleep well, Adric.”

Pulling the door shut behind him, the Doctor departed. The room seemed suddenly chill and full of shadows. Adric stared round nervously as a floorboard creaked. His gaze fell again on the nasty-looking puncture wounds. Surely the injury should have healed by now? He recalled Tegan’s earlier mockery of his race’s healing abilities and bit his lip in anger and shame: Varsh had taunted him for weeks when it transpired that he required laser treatment to correct his short-sightedness. Varsh had never been ill – he would never have allowed himself to be so weak. Fishing out the soap, he attacked his arms again until they were raw.

***

“Excellent vintage! You must keep an extensive wine cellar,” the Doctor declared, draining his glass and politely declining a refill. To the Time Lord’s delight Sir Tanas and his wife were still up and had courteously prevailed upon him to join them. The couple were witty and charming and he had greatly enjoyed the opportunity to glean the latest snippets of court gossip and to discuss the merits of the new craze for coffee shops which Lady Wilhelmina apparently deplored as an evil influence on the young.

Tanas seemed to take a moment to heed the question; he was staring out of the open door, his eyes intense. “I flatter myself that I do, sir.” He swirled the crimson wine round his glass and drank deeply, draining the glass. Licking his lips he rose abruptly to his feet. “You must excuse me, Doctor. I have ...some business to attend to.”

“Oh I quite understand,” the Doctor replied, scrambling up himself. “I didn’t mean to intrude – “

“Nay, good sir, the fault is mine alone. Your company is much more stimulating than the accounts I must examine. Lady Wilhelmina will entertain you. I bid you good night.”

The Doctor watched Tanas drift catlike from the room and sweep up the grand staircase, a trick of the candlelight elongating his fingers and casting a crooked shadow behind him. A slight niggle assailed the Doctor and he made to follow the man; he had got no more than a few strides when Wilhelmina appeared seemingly from nowhere, blocking the door.

“Come, Doctor, one more rubber of cards, I insist,” she said to him, smiling engagingly.
His fears melted away. “Thank you. Perhaps one more game.”

***

Night drew on. In the upper gallery the grandfather clock chimed two, and in the guest quarters a strange mist, as cold as the grave, descended: evil was manifesting itself. An upright figure stepped out of the mist and flowed rather than walked down the corridor and into the parlour. It paused at the girls’ door, seeming almost to taste the air, and then it dissolved itself through the solid wall as easily as a knife passing through butter. It loomed over Tegan, a cruel smile twisting its mouth and lighting up its red-tinged eyes, and then, abruptly, it was gone, melting through the adjoining wall into Adric’s room.

Adric was curled up untidily half way down the bed. The figure approached, its movements sinuous and graceful, its eyes blazing as it regarded its prey. Adric stirred, his breathing accelerating from peaceful, slow breaths to ragged pants, and the hunter chuckled, the sound reverberating and fluttering round the room like bats’ wings.

Adric’s tossing and turning became frantic, and he mumbled desperately in his sleep, “No, never!”

Undeterred, the presence drifted closer, and oh so delicately reached out a skeletal hand to caress Adric’s sleeping form. Wraithlike hands caressed his face, tracing the curve of his mouth and stealing his warmth where they touched. Adric seemed to tremble to the very essence of his being as ice cold lips played on his naked throat.

“You cannot escape, my prince,” a merciless voice whispered, “You are mine.”

The other chapters will be posted here later (if people are interested) if not the are available on Teaspoon. http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=21711

Fic: Reflections

2008-06-06T00:55:11Z

Title: Reflections
Author: cptnsuz
Rating: G
Word Count: 623
Content: Cricket, introspection, family.
Summary: A reflection in a pond stirs up an old family memory for the Fifth Doctor.
Disclaimer: I make no claims of ownership or profit on Doctor Who or its characters. No infringements intended.
Notes: Eeek! I'm sort of nervous to post my first Doctor Who fanfic, but here it is. I love all the stuff everyone posts here - you helped Five usurp my 'fav Doc' title from Ten :-D And of course, I'd appreciate any comments on my story too, before I go off diving blindly into the deep end of another fandom's fic pool.

'Reflections' on Teaspoon

'Reflections' on FF.net

FIC: Came Down Berserk 1/1

2008-05-26T02:55:00Z

Title: Came Down Berserk 1/1
Author: st_raoul
Rating: PG-13
Content: Angst, mostly. Vague suicidal themes. Doctor Who/Torchwood crossover.
Summary: Working undercover at a sideshow, Jack meets the Fifth Doctor and Tegan.
Disclaimer: The Beeb owns Doctor Who and Torchwood, I do not and I'm not making dime one from this.
Notes: Takes place sometime after Black Orchid and around(ish) the flashbacks in From Out of the Rain (Torchwood), so we're talking 1920. The title and cutline are from a Tragically Hip song, My Music at Work.

I call it, 'Olga Waits;
The Cloud That Entertains
The Dim Possibility of
Showing Some Restraint.'

Jack clenched his jaw, arching an eyebrow in the mirror and then glancing back out to the makeshift stage. There was a crowd of course, there was always a crowd for the World Famous, One and Only, See Her Before the Seas Drag Her Away...Tattooed Lady! Jack could hear the patter in his head and couldn't help cracking a smile. It had only taken him a week to win that bet, and she was indeed tattooed everywhere.

He started scanning the crowd around her for faces; the women all raised their dainty gloved hands to their mouths while the men cast aroused and disapproving faces her way. It was a sea of fedoras and perms, everyone up to their middle-class standards. Jack drifted back to Louise again, the Tattooed Lady in her knit bathing costume, flesh-toned and tighter than these folks were used to. She had other costumes hanging up behind Jack, all brought out depending on the crowd and the temperature of the town.

The barker's words drifted to Jack as well, snippits about the daring girl and her adventures on the high seas, concocted stories about Louise and her tattoos to make her seem less uncouth, to explain away her circumstances. Then the ladies would all nod their heads, imagining themselves there; what else could you do but try to blend in, if you were somewhere you didn't belong? You'd have to prove yourself on a ship full of men, in a world that wasn't yours. Why, it's what anyone would do, after all.

It was at that stage now, with the ladies bobbing their heads in agreement and sympathy. They never did that for Jack, never for the Captain of Death, the Man with No End. He shrugged his suspenders back on his shoulders and turned back to the mirror to comb his hair one last time, one straight swipe across.

“Were there really lady sailors back then?” He heard a voice ask on the other side of the canvas, standing just at the fringes of the stage.

“You mustn't say back then,” A stern voice answered, frown evident in his words. “Back then is right now, you don't want to unnerve anyone.”

“No one's listening to me,” The woman continued mirthfully, and Jack crossed the tent floor, peeking out one corner. He could see the woman now, and at once understood why she said back then. Her hair was short, short enough that every now and then a woman would glance at her and shake their head. She had the mark of being fresh from jail or an asylum, especially suspect given her Australian accent, but Jack could tell neither were true.

“Someone is always listening, Tegan.” The male voice reprimanded her, and Jack tried to shift around to get a look. The woman looked up and shook her head.

“I could start talking about your space ship and no one would pay me any mind, Doctor. We're at a show, for once we get to do the gawking.”

Jack felt himself frozen in place when he heard the words all together, and they echoed in his head for a few moments; space ship, Doctor. Before he could get his thoughts together, he found himself dragging apart the flap and clumsily slipping through to the other side, directly in front of the tall blonde man. He was looking disapprovingly at Jack, eyebrows drawn together and hands shoved in his pockets.

“Alright there?” He asked Jack, Jack who was standing on the other side of his makeshift dressing room now, comb still in his hand and only half-suited up when he was going on in about five minutes.

“Sorry, fine,” Jack stammered, tucking the comb in his front pocket. The tall blonde man gave him a polite smile and nod, turning back to the stage. And then the woman looked over at him and smiled, big and amiable.

“Are you in the show?” She asked, and Jack found himself smiling at Tegan, nodding.

“I am, in fact. I'm on next.”

“What's your act?” She shot back quickly and Jack pointed to the sign, to the painted poster on the canvas tent behind him. “The Man With No End,” She read out loud and then nodded approvingly. “Sounds like a laugh. Anyone can claim that though, you must be a real proper actor.”

“Something like that,” Jack grinned at her, one hand idly playing with the pistol at his side and the other on a hip. “Enjoying the show?”

“Ah, it's alright,” She shrugged, looking at Louise on the stage, now being prompted by the barker to tell parts of her story with a heavy accent, the kind even sailors didn't use any more. “Things are looking up now though, I'll admit.”

“Tegan,” The man beside her cautioned, and she shrugged a shoulder at Jack apologetically, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, he gets a little...you know,” She didn't finish her thought, but certainly didn't turn away from Jack either. “So, I'm Tegan,” She stuck out her hand, and Jack leaned past the tall man to accept it, shaking it firmly.

“Captain Jack Harkness,” He introduced himself, glancing at the man when he said his name, hoping for a reaction. There wasn't one, and he felt a pang of disappointment.

“Captain of what?” The man asked him, eyes still on the stage.

“It's just a title,” Jack said non-committally, “Like sir, lord, doctor.”

At that, the man's eyes swooped from the stage to Jack.

“You see, Tegan, I told you. Someone is always listening.”

“Which one did I get right? Doctor?” Jack asked brazenly, and the man frowned again.

“Yep, that's him,” Tegan said, even though neither man was looking at her. “Just the Doctor.”

Jack felt himself starting to grin again, but he didn't let it show. It was already strange enough, this version of the Doctor, of his Doctor just turning up right outside his tent and he didn't want to do anything to compound the situation.

But, then again, the more he looked at this version of the Doctor, the absolute opposite of his, the more he started to like him.

“Sporting man, Doctor?” Jack asked, eyes travelling up and down the Doctor's outfit, settling on the striped pants and the nearly devastating snugness of them.

“Now and then,” He answered Jack vaguely, but Tegan shook her head, looping a hand around the Doctor's arm.

“You should have seem him at cricket, Captain, he was killing!” She said loudly and rapidly, clearly excited. “I never much cared for it before, but it was a treat watching him bat that thing around.”

“It must have been,” Jack agreed, trying to picture this aloof man tearing around a pitch, mixing it with the image of his own Doctor doing it. “It must be nice to have a sport to fall back on in case the medical thing doesn't work out.” He dared, and the Doctor just smiled politely back at him again, tight-lipped.

“Yes, quite.” The Doctor turned his head away from Jack again as there were shouts from just beyond the clearing, and a violent gust of wind set everything flapping like sails. The three of them looked around and Tegan shivered when the cold rain started beating down, nearly unbidden if it weren't for the wind. It was almost like a stampede of people running from the grounds back to their cars, back to the village. Jack grabbed Tegan's arm and then the Doctor's too, and pulled them both into his tent.

“Dryer in here,” He explained quickly, watching Louise and Pete, the barker, slip into his tent as well. They glanced warily at the newcomers, and Jack decided to make introductions. Tegan was staring at Louise anyway, while she fished a silver cigarette case from her bag on the table, and lit a match with one hand. “This is Tegan and the Doctor,” He started, and Louise just shrugged. “Tegan and the Doctor, this is Pete and Louise.”

“Pleasure,” The Doctor said quickly, glancing through the crack in the canvas flaps at the hard rain outside. “Is the weather always this...unpredictable?” He asked, still looking outside.

“It can be,” Jack started, knowing where it was going. “It's your typical temperamental English weather.”

“Figures, you pay for a few minutes of sun with a few hours of rain,” Tegan said beside him, and sighed, then looked to Louise and forgot her disappointment completely. “Were you really a sailor?”

“Me? Nah,” Louise shook her head, and Pete the barker gave a little sigh, feeling the whole act slipping away. “Good story though, y'know, mostly for the ladies.”

“Oi, Pete!” Someone yelled, just outside the tent, and the barker glanced out.

“I better go 'elp get the fat lady to safety,” He said a little sadly, brushing his hands on his red trousers and glancing at Jack before disappearing out into the rain.

“How'd you do that thing with the match?” Tegan asked Louise, leaning in a little nearer to her.

“You're a dear girl, ain't you? C'mere, lemme show you.” Tegan glanced back at the Doctor excitedly before moving closer to Louise, staring at the girls fingers dancing quickly over the match book. Jack watched them for a second and then turned his attention back the Doctor, still staring outside.

“Sometimes rain is just rain, Doctor.” He said lowly, sneaking up beside the other man. He frowned, again, and then turned to Jack.

“I suppose you're right. Still, it did come on us rather swiftly, don't you think?”

“Like I said,” Jack started, crossing his arms over his chest, “English weather. You should know all about that, if you're a sporting man.”

“Let's be honest,” The Doctor said, taking his hat off and folding it up discreetly without ever looking down, without breaking eye contact with Jack, “I'm as much a sporting man as you are a captain.”

“Perceptive,” Jack noted smoothly, already seeing similarities between this Doctor and his Doctor.

“Just a guess, really,” The Doctor shrugged at him, shoving his hands back into his pockets, clearly resisting the urge to turn away from Jack and watch the rain again. “Generally when someone is working at a sideshow with the title of captain, it's false. And besides that, you told me so.”

“I guess I did.”

“Why, I wonder, would you tell me such a thing?” The Doctor looked at Jack, and Jack recognised the expression. Even on a completely different face, he recognised it. It was the beginnings of curiosity, still in the lazy sort of stage that happened first, before everything clicked in and he knew it all.

“You remind me of someone, that's all,” Jack said and regretted it immediately. If there ever was a line, he thought, that's one. The Doctor didn't smile, but didn't frown either. He stared at Jack, gaze travelling up and down then settling back on unflinching eye contact.

“I see,” The Doctor said, glancing over his shoulder for a second at Tegan and then apparently satisfied she could be left alone, he turned back to Jack. “So, the Man with No End, is it? The Captain of Death?”

“That's what they call me,” Jack grinned at him, finally, sensing a more casual turn in the conversation.

“How did you arrive on such an act? The tattooed lady has tattoos, the strongman has his muscles, but you...” The Doctor shook his head, squinting a little at Jack, trying to figure it out, to find out what was different. “You're human, you can die. What a strange act.”

“Don't be so sure,” Jack said, in a half-joking tone, leaving him room to play it off if it came to that. The Doctor was staring again, and Jack couldn't think of what else to do but stare right back. Blue eyes this time he noticed, young and old, very much like himself.

“Are you trying to tell me you can't die, Captain?”

“Would you believe me if I said that?”

“No,” The Doctor said warily, tilting his head upwards a little, “No, I don't think I would.”

“Then there's your answer, Doctor.”

“But I am a man with flexible beliefs, Captain. If you can prove me wrong, I may well change my tune.” The Doctor told him lowly and Jack felt a game starting.

“How could I prove that?” He smirked, his hands diving for his pockets, mimicking the Doctor without realising it.

“You really can't, can you? Not without physical harm, or at least mental.”

Jack's hand went right to the revolver on his waist, considering it. He couldn't do it himself, that was out of the question. Especially not with Louise and Tegan nearby. Still staring at the Doctor, he drew out of the revolver, gripping the long end and pointing the handle at the Doctor.

“Take it,” He told the Doctor evenly, unblinking.

“I won't,” The Doctor said, not even looking down at it. He didn't need to, and he wouldn't.

“Take it, Doctor, I'm trying to prove myself.” Jack said again, forcefully.

“No.”

More staring then, and Jack regripped the gun with a shaky hand.

“How can I...I want to prove to you I'm being honest, Doctor. This is important, for both of us,” He said in a rush, with no forethought. They were just words, just tripping out of his mouth desperately. The Doctor barely changed his gaze, though his eyes looked a little sad, definite emotions bouncing around somewhere in his mind.

“You don't need to prove yourself to me, put the gun away.”

Jack held the handle out to him for another few seconds, then tossed it in the air, catching it by the handle and curling his hand around it.

“I could do it,” Jack said without even meaning to, turning the gun around on himself. It felt just like the act, he thought vaguely, the same act for everyone else, but just for the Doctor.

“You don't have to, I believe you, alright?” The Doctor finally pulls his hands from his pockets, stretching one out to Jack.

“But I know I can, that's the problem. I could do it, and it wouldn't mean anything.”

“That's not true - “

“It is true,” Jack said harshly, hissing the words out. “I shoot myself, and nothing changes.”

“You'd die,” The Doctor said calmly, pushing his hand out further towards Jack, but otherwise making no movements.

“No I wouldn't.” Jack hissed out again, voice low and shaking. There was a peel of laugher from behind them, from Tegan, but otherwise a dull quiet settled over them. The rain hit the flimsy canvas roof and Jack's breath sped up to match the seconds ticking by. “Why?” He finally asked, eyes shining at the Doctor, hand coming loose around the revolver. The Doctor grabbed it immediately, tossing it behind him onto a sack of sawdust where it landed noiselessly.

Jack reached for his hand, grabbing it with a crushing urgency. The Doctor frowned again, but it was more pained this time, less an expression of impatience.

“Why can't I die?” Jack asked him again, and the Doctor blinked at him, gripping back at Jack's hand.

“I'm sorry, I don't know.”

Jack stared at the Doctor, half-hopeful for a few moments more, a few seconds while the quiet apology sank in. His mind whirled back, back to the girl with the cards, back to the century turning twice. It had been once, it wasn't time yet. This wasn't the Doctor he needed. It was risky, suddenly, but he couldn't let go of the Doctor's hand. He thought of time and space stuttering to a halt, of the future that was really the past, but this Doctor, this Doctor was flesh and blood before him and none of it mattered. Jack took a deep breath then, and nodded just once.

“Doctor...” He started, but then forgot. There was nothing else to say, anyway.

“I'm sorry,” The Doctor repeated, and Jack managed a tight-lipped smile at him.

“I know,” Jack said firmly, trying to set his face to bravery, to show the Doctor he was okay now, that it was just a momentary lapse.

The flap charged open suddenly and Pete barrelled in, clutching a large rock in his hand.

“It's bleedin' rainin' rocks out there, Jack! Come an' see!” He said excitedly, and Jack looked from Pete to the Doctor, raising his eyebrows.

“Rocks?” The Doctor said, turning around quickly and dropping Jack's hand. He grabbed the rock from Pete, turning it over and slipping on his glasses. “Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Jack asked, leaning over to try and inspect the rock. The Doctor put it in his pocket though, before Jack could see, and he knew that was it.

“I'm sorry, I think we had better be going,” The Doctor said quickly, taking his glasses off and tucking them away. “It was nice to have met you though, all of you. Tegan!”

“I know, I know,” Tegan said grudgingly as she turned away from Louise, but brightened up when she looked outside. There were indeed falling rocks, and they could hear them slapping against the top of the tent now. “It was nice meeting you, Captain,” She paused in front of Jack, sticking out her hand again, but he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek instead.

“Take care of him,” He whispered close, and she laughed again.

“Well, someone has to!” She followed the Doctor out of the tent, and Jack watched them. The Doctor was dashing around the clearing, looking for a better view up at the sky. He found it, and dashed away again with Tegan close behind. A few moments later, Jack heard the familiar whirring and chugging of the TARDIS, and wondered how he had missed it in the first place. He went back into the tent after that, confident the falling rocks would cease.

And they did; Jack was sitting a chair with the revolver back in his holster, with Pete on his knees in between his legs when he heard the faint explosion above them. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes.

Eighty more years. That was all.

Doctor Who Pixel-Art-Dolls

2008-05-20T20:06:27Z

Because I am bored and procrastinating, I decided to post these.

Nyssa and Tegan. I really don't like them, but they're here for complete-ness.
I have since realised that, while Nyssa and Tegan are dressed as they are circa Earthshock, the console behind them appears to be the new one from The Five Doctors. But it was the best picture I could find.

An attempt at Tegan's period dress in Enlightenment.

Nyssa, from Terminus... with the skirt. Though for a while I was going to re-do it so she's not wearing it. I just can't get it to look right. I like the shoes, though.

Very. very tiny Adric.

Less tiny, but more cute. ^_^

And finally - this one's not Fifth Doctor-era exactly, to be honest.

Time Lady. But... Arc of Infinity is set on Gallifrey, so there were Time Lords, so this is kind of relevant.

EDIT: Just realised I forgot to credit for the bases. They're all from Xandorra , except the Adric dolls - the smaller one is from here, and I've lost the link from the larger one. I shall just say this - twas a really awesome site. That base is adorable.

Fic: Hearts Behind (1/?); Five/Rose; PG-13

2008-05-19T17:26:56Z

Author: riot__libertine
Characters: Rose Tyler, the Tenth/Fifth Doctors, Peri Brown
Genre: General, action/adventure, etc.
Summary: An inebriated mishap on Cup night leads to Rose waking up in the TARDIS -- only trouble is, it’s the wrong one. And with her Doctor suddenly absent from the whole of creation, she and a somewhat familiar, fair-haired stranger are left to mend the ruptured patch in time; all whilst combating a mysterious entity threatening to swallow planet Earth.

( There’s a corridor, its surface covered in pale fluorescent discs. A low humming sound, like a perpetual pigeon purr rings through the air and along the walls. She can feel it beneath her feet. There’s an energy here, a life-beat... )

Gliese 581

2008-05-15T08:23:18Z

Title: Gliese 581

Rating: PG-13 for some disturbing scenes

Character(s): Five, Tegan, Nyssa, Reese Chandler, Galina Chandler, Mabius T. Johansson and Jonathan Beaumont

Genre: Drama, romance, angst

Summary: Sequel to “Insomnia” Will Tegan tell the Doctor about her secret? And what about Gliese 581 d? The place where there is peace and harmony…or is it?

Disclaimer: Don’t own Doctor Who. Only the OCs are mine.

Author’s note: Okay, this is my first attempt at writing a longer story. I would really like to know what you think and again, constructive criticism is always welcome. Gliese 581 is a real star system—a red dwarf. Gliese 581 d is a planet orbiting the star and because of my fascination with red dwarf stars, I thought of incorporating it into a Doctor Who story.

http://bondi-blue.livejournal.com/

Middle Ground

2008-05-10T19:28:23Z

Title: Middle Ground
Pairing: Five/Tegan
Summary: The Doctor and Tegan find some middle ground.
Rating: All Ages
Prompt: Middle
Disclaimer: i own nothing

"And you'll be tapping it out right along side them."

davison_era @ 2008-05-05T03:31:00

2008-05-05T07:34:14Z

Title: Insomnia

Rating: PG-13 for sexual situations

Pairing: Five/Tegan

Genre: Romance

Summary: Tegan isn’t the only one who can’t sleep. AU

Disclaimer: Don’t own Doctor Who

Author’s note: Feedback is always appreciated! Cersia5, thank you for helping me change some things in the story.

http://bondi-blue.livejournal.com/

Beacon

2008-05-02T18:20:19Z

Title: Beacon
Summary: A man can not be an island unto himself. Nor can a Time Lord
Rating: All Ages
Pairing: Five/Tegan
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Lighthouse in fivegan

Something Dangerous

His

2008-04-30T20:26:24Z

Title: His
Pairing: Fivegan, but only very slightly.
Summary: It was something about this regeneration. He was seeing people differently.
Rating: Meh, whatever.
Disclaimer: *doesn't own Doctor Who*
Wordcount: 219
Author's Note: Written in about ten minutes. Because I have several ideas for fics at the moment, and this is this only one I could post on here.
EDIT: Someone said it should be TARDIS instead of Tardis. I don't think it matters, personally, but I changed it anyway. TARDIS probably is more technically correct.

That's the trouble with regeneration. You never know what you're going to get.

But once he got over the shock of the changed appearance, and the post-regenerative trauma, of course, it was quite interesting to see how he’d react to things.

His whole outlook on life would change. He’d see everything differently.

Especially people, he’d noticed. Take Tegan, for example. He couldn’t help but think that his previous regeneration would have had rather less trouble getting her back to Heathrow at the right time. To him, she’d just been a noisy Australian air hostess who’d happened to wander into the TARDIS at a very bad time.

But now… well, she was still a noisy Australian air hostess who’d happened to wander into the TARDIS at a very bad time, but she was his noisy Australian air hostess who’d happened to wander into the TARDIS at the wrong time (he’d introduce her as such, but he thought she might get angry).

It seemed a little strange to be thinking of her as his. Because after all, he’d seem Romana as his, in some way, and others before her.

It was something about this regeneration. He was seeing people differently, and there was something different about the way he saw Tegan.

He was sure he’d work out what it was soon.

Mutiny

2008-04-25T04:47:22Z

Title: Mutiny
Summary: There's a mutiny on the TARDIS but who are the mutineers?
Pairing: None specfic The Doctor, Tegan, Turlough, K-9
Rating: G, Just my twisted imagination :P
Disclaimer: I own nothing

"Avast!"

Five/Tegan fic

2008-04-19T13:49:31Z

Title: Honeysuckle Kiss
Pairing: Five/Tegan Adric/Nyssa
Summary: Tegan has been hiding something from the Doctor.
Rating: Teen
Warning: May lead to laughter, and warm fuzzy feeling.
Prompt: Honey for fiveganlj challenge

"The Doctor is not a murderer."

Fivey Action Figure

2008-04-19T01:39:02Z

Hoorah!!!!

http://www.doctorwhotoys.net/peterdavison.jpg

Could also be titled, The Master WINS!

Yes I'm overly excited, but I happend to find out about this on the very day that my own sonic screwdriver arrived in the mail. Wheeeee!!!!

it's that time again...

2008-04-18T09:21:23Z

Blame the commentary on the DVD. Blame a bored day off. Blame chocolate ice cream withdrawal. Blame anyone. ~~Just don't blame me!~~

Yes it's...

I felt the need to make a few more icons from those lovely caps

2008-04-17T21:15:22Z

Teasers:

1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

16.

x-posted to the_davison_den

Produce of Black Orchid Caps

2008-04-16T21:47:13Z

I went on another capping spree this evening, and then I went on an iconing spree as well. Anyway, here are the results. Teasers:

Rest available here.

Including:

9 x Black Orchid icons
of which:
6 x Tegan and
3 x the Doctor
4 x Enlightenment icons
1 x Frontios (Turlough & the Doctor)
1 x Warriors of the Deep

1 x non-Doctor Who (Enchanted)

cross-posted to the_davison_den

Hi Res screencaps from the new Black Orchid DVD

2008-04-16T00:13:47Z

I love CodenameAwesome. CodenameAwesome lets me borrow the coolest things when he gets sent them for review. And he's given me express permission (if not active encouragement) to propogate the following screencaps from the soon-to-be-released Black Orchid DVD (i.e. the story arc with Peter in That Dressing Gown):

Now, it's not like there's crystal clear modern equivalent caps to be had, but still, knowing how much I had sought for decent caps in vain, I thought it would be worth sharing these, as I guess these are the best we're going to get.

Getting to the chase, caps from Black Orchid that included none of Peter's brilliant cricketing would be missing something vital:

I also, heh, admired how flattering those trousers were towards certain of his attributes whilst in action:

Mind you, does he look just a little bit camp in this shot:

Yeah, definitely a little bit, I'd say:

And here they just really look like they all just smelled something really bad:

OK, alright, I'll get to the good stuff. Did somebody say 'dressing gown'?

Silly expressions, FTW!

Irresistable Neck Pr0n (I am weak):

Oh so casually discovering a secret passage:

The Doctor welcomes you to his humble abode:

And now he's so just discovered some epic fanfiction - I liek to think it was from Timeslipping... but you know how my mind works...

Some more of my favourite Dressing gown moments:

But let's not forget the companions.

This time round we have a full crew, Tegan, Nyssa, and Adric:

These are publicity shows from the DVD's gallery (awesome extras on this one!). This has to be one of my faves, I think Tegan raises Doctor Who's rating a notch with this flash of leg:

Although there's an equally charming one without the hint of undergarments:

And of course there's some extra Nyssa love going on here for the femslashers:

Not to mention Charleston!Tegan:

Actually wearing an outfit that's flattering to her slender figure and ample bossom, for once:

Plus, deleted scenes! Including slightly-more-undressy Peter:

In the commentary they're sadly generally dissing of the episodes, and seem to agree that the dressing gown is just not suitable for the Doctor (although Janet Fielding does comment that it's actually a rather nice dressing gown, at one point) - personally, I think that they're missing something key about this story arc here...