Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing the characters, which are, of course, the property of the BBC.
Note: This story is set immediately after "Enlightenment."
Chapter 1
"Hideous," he murmured.
The artificial lighting cast a strange glow on his face. His fair complexion seemed nearly translucent, and he almost thought that he could see the veins coursing beneath his skin. He felt exposed, splayed open to the world. Now they knew.
Turlough turned away from the mirror, fairly sickened by his reflection. He shut off the faucet and dried his hands carefully on a white towel. He had been hunched over the sink to splash his face, and as he straightened a dull ache seemed to pinch at the base of his skull. He rubbed his hand over the area, momentarily surprised by the small swelling he felt beneath his fingers. He had forgotten about hitting his head as he fell in the ship's hallway. His hand dropped to his side for an instant, then he reached for his tie to loosen it. He pulled back his collar to reveal four small bruises on the left side of his neck. Eyes darting quickly to the door, he secured the top button then pushed the tie back into place before realizing that he no longer needed to hide the marks the Black Guardian had left upon him. The Doctor and Tegan knew; they had witnessed his choice.
He emerged from the bathroom and walked slowly down the hall. He had escaped Tegan's questions and the Doctor's vaguely sympathetic looks by hurrying to the lavatory as soon as they returned to the TARDIS. However, at some point he would have to face them, to help the Doctor set the coordinates for Trion if nothing else. That thought—the memory of his home—led him to the console room with deliberate if somewhat dilatory steps.
He found the Doctor lying on his back, knees bent and head hidden beneath a tangle of wires that spilled from the control panels. Turlough permitted himself a moment of solace when he discovered that Tegan was not in the room. He drew a deep breath.
"Doctor."
"Hmm?" The Time Lord's reply was slightly muffled by the wires all around him.
"Was it badly damaged?"
The Doctor slid out from beneath the console and sat up to look at Turlough. "Badly? I suppose the TARDIS has had worse scrapes than this."
"But all those wires—"
The Doctor shoved a cluster of yellow and green wiring back beneath the console. "Oh, this? It's not really necessary for operating her. I was just having a look around." He hopped to his feet and bent over the instrumentation, tapping at his chin with his finger.
"How long until we can start the journey then?"
"Not long." He looked up. "I'll have you back home soon."
Again Turlough saw that odd expression. Perhaps it wasn't entirely one of sympathy. Was there anger beneath the surface? Turlough rubbed at the back of his neck; the dull ache had not diminished.
"—year that you left."
"Pardon?" Turlough had not realized that the Doctor was speaking to him.
"I'll need to know the year that you left."
Turlough nodded. "Of course—"
The distinct and purposeful click of heels in the hallway drew his attention away from the console. Turlough took a step back toward the wall and rubbed harder at his neck.
Tegan entered the room. She glanced quickly at the Doctor then fixed her gaze on Turlough. He saw her brow furrow and her mouth harden slightly as she opened it halfway. For an instant her eyes met his before he lowered his head. He heard her take another step.
"How long until we land?" she asked the Doctor.
"I have a few minor repairs to finish," he replied. "It may be an hour or so."
"Then you're taking him home?"
"Yes."
Turlough could not interpret the Doctor's tone. He almost sounded regretful.
Tegan turned to Turlough. "So you knew he was involved?" she asked with a frown.
Turlough's hand dropped to his side. "Yes."
"And it didn't occur to you to tell us about this Black Guardian? You must have known that he was dangerous—" she began.
"I didn't have any choice." Turlough nearly cringed at the pleading tone of his voice. His hand crept up to his neck again, fingers pressing hard at the rigid muscles. "He said he'd kill me if I didn't do as he wanted."
"And if you'd told us, we could have helped you." Tegan crossed her arms over her chest. "But instead you put us all in danger—"
"I just wanted to go home." He sounded pathetic, even to himself. Turlough's fingers dug into his flesh.
"Well, I guess you're getting your wish," she said tartly. "But I still don't understand why you didn't just ask the Doctor when we first met." She turned toward the Time Lord. "You would have taken him, right?"
The Doctor looked up with a slight frown. "Of course."
"It doesn't matter now," Turlough said, eyes once again on the floor. "In a couple of hours this will all be behind me—that ridiculous, idiotic boys' school, Mawdryn, Striker—"
Tegan seemed to wince at the mention of the Edwardian ship's captain. "You could have gotten the Doctor killed." Her voice was dark.
Turlough's fingers could not dig deeply enough to reach the aching muscles. "I didn't mean—"
"That's enough." The Doctor's voice was firm. "This isn't going to be fixed any faster with you two standing here bickering."
Turlough turned quickly. "I'll be in my room when you're ready for the location and dates." He walked out into the hallway, willfully ignoring the complaints issuing from Tegan beyond the open door.
The Doctor looked up from the console when Tegan paused to take a breath.
"He did choose the White Guardian," he reminded her.
"I know, but until then what was he thinking? He knew about the Black Guardian and he didn't tell us!"
"I believe he knows that he made a mistake."
"But still—"
The Time Lord sighed and tapped his fingers on a panel. "Tegan, you've shared your feelings with me—at least half a dozen times in the last fifteen minutes. I'm well aware that you're angry with Turlough. I could remind you, however, that he tried to keep you safe on Terminus."
Tegan relented slightly. "I suppose. But the Black Guardian was involved in the whole race and the prize, wasn't he? And that means that Turlough was involved too, and if he hadn't been we wouldn't have been on that awful ship with that horrible Captain Striker and that creepy Marriner, and all that prying around inside my memories and mind—"
"Ah."
The Doctor's simple expression stopped Tegan for a moment. She waited for him to elaborate, but he merely returned his attention to the console. Finally, she spoke again.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He glanced up, clearly preferring to devote his energies to the repairs. "The Eternals upset you."
"Of course they did! The way they use people is terrible."
"I agree— No, that's supposed to be blue!" He punched at a flashing key with a frown.
"He said he was fascinated with my mind. That's the first time anyone's used that line on me. But he just wanted to see inside—to watch my thoughts and memories for his own entertainment."
The Doctor had bent again to peer beneath the console. She waited a few seconds for him to respond to her words, but he remained silent.
"Doctor?"
"What is it, Tegan?" he replied rather shortly.
"It's just—he was only interested in what he could see in my mind. He wasn't interested in me as a person at all." As she spoke, her voice grew quieter.
She stood for over a minute anticipating some comment from her companion, but the only sounds in the room were faint taps and clicks from underneath the console. Finally Tegan turned and walked toward the door, pausing once to see if the Doctor would notice her departure. His head remained hidden in the machinery at the base of the center rotor. She stalked out of the room.
Tegan had tried to nap, but her thoughts raced over the events on Striker's ship. Images of the other ships exploding with their hapless human crews chilled her, and finally she left her room to make some tea. Still preoccupied with her thoughts, she walked into the kitchen and reached for a mug before realizing that Turlough sat hunched in one of chairs at the small metal table in the center of the room. An untouched cup of tea rested in front of him.
"Oh," she said automatically.
He looked up, obviously immersed in his own musings. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck as he lifted his head. "I'll leave," he said, beginning to rise.
She shrugged. "I'm only going to be a minute." Quickly she filled the mug with water and set it in the microwave. She looked for a moment at the tins of loose tea but reached for a teabag instead.
Turlough lowered himself back onto the chair. In a few seconds the microwave beeped, and Tegan removed the mug. After dropping the small bag into the steaming water, she turned to walk back to the door. Turlough's head was bent, and his hand moved back and forth over the back of his neck. As she passed him, she saw that the skin below his hair was ruddy.
"What's the matter with you neck?" she asked rather sharply.
He lifted his head. "Nothing."
"It's all red."
"I just had an itch."
She shrugged again and left the room.
Turlough stared at the cup and its long-cooled contents for several minutes as his hand crept back up to rub again at his stiff and aching muscles.
Tegan nursed her tea for nearly half an hour, idly flipping through the sketchbook on the desk in her room. She had turned a few doodles into full-fledged drawings, and now she glanced at the clusters of flowers and faces that decorated the pages. For an instant she was surprised to see the image of Turlough on a back page. She had forgotten that she sketched him several weeks ago. She finished her tea and left the room.
"Doctor," she said, entering the console room.
He stood beside the console, leaning into the center rotor. He did not acknowledge her. She could see the dark, smoke-stained patches on the sturdy plastic casing.
"It's not fixed yet?" she asked.
He glanced at her. "No."
"How long 'til we can get him to his planet?"
"I don't know. There's more damage here than I thought. Some of the resistors from the comparator have been destroyed."
Tegan shook her head. "The console did blow up," she reminded him.
"I'm well aware of that!"
She lingered by the door for several seconds. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
He looked up at her briefly. "No, Tegan."
"I could bring you some tea."
He was squinting through a crack on the rotor. "Hmm?"
"Some tea, Doctor."
"Oh." He waved a hand in her general direction. "Perhaps later."
Tegan returned to her room and spent a few minutes straightening the items on the vanity then went to work on the desk. The empty mug was the final bit of clutter to deal with. She swept it up and headed for the kitchen.
Turlough still sat at the table. His left elbow rested on the metal top, his forehead against his palm. His right hand moved slowly and almost rhythmically over his neck. The untouched cup remained before him.
Tegan considered walking past the room. She could return the mug later. However, Turlough's posture drew her attention for a moment. He was slumped over, motionless save for the movement of the hand at the base of his neck. He looked utterly defeated.
She stepped into the kitchen. "I can warm that up for you," she said briskly.
He glanced up with pale, languid eyes. "Don't go to any trouble."
"I won't."
Nevertheless, she took the mug and slipped it into the microwave, tapping her fingers against the glass on the door during the few seconds required for heating. She removed the mug and set it in front of him.
"Thanks," he muttered. He did not touch the mug.
"The least you can do is drink it," she said rather impatiently.
He shrugged and lowered his hands to the table to grasp the cup. When he bent his head forward to take a sip, Tegan saw the chafed skin at the base of his neck.
"Your neck is still red," she reproved. "Are you still fussing at it?"
He nearly dropped the cup to the table and clapped his hand over the reddened skin.
She leaned in slightly. "Is it a rash? Did you touch something weird on Captain Wrack's ship?" she asked suspiciously.
"No! It's nothing."
She reached up quickly to pull aside his collar. The bruises on the side of his neck stood out lividly against his fair skin. She remembered that she had seen marks beneath his collar when she and the Doctor found him unconscious in the ship's hallway.
"Where did you get these?" she asked, resting her fingers against one of the bruises. She could feel the rigidity of his muscles even against her light touch.
He brushed her hand away roughly. "I told you I slipped and fell."
"No. Those aren't from falling—"
He stood abruptly, bumping the table and jarring the mug onto its side. "Fine. He gave them to me."
"Who? The Black Guardian?"
"Yes!" he snapped. "The Black Guardian did it. He wanted to kill me—he planned to kill me."
"He tried to strangle you?"
Turlough shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Pretty soon I'll be back home and none of this will matter."
He turned abruptly and stalked out into the hallway, leaving Tegan standing in the wake of the tea that dripped off of the table and onto her shoes.
"Rabbits," she murmured, grabbing a towel to sop up the liquid. When she had finished she hurried out into the hallway, but Turlough had disappeared.
Tegan walked past his room, but the door was open and he was not inside. She went to the console room, where the Doctor was up under the center panel again. She had half expected to find Turlough leaning against one of the walls, but he was absent.
"Doctor," she said, stepping toward the console.
His head was hidden beneath the wires. "Hmm?" was his phlegmatic response.
"The Black Guardian tried to kill Turlough. Those marks on his neck—the ones I saw when we found him lying in the hallway—were from the Black Guardian trying to strangle him."
The Doctor's head appeared momentarily. "Yes?" His tone indicated little interest in the topic.
"Why didn't he tell us? The Black Guardian was there on the ship. If we'd known we might have figured out sooner that something was going on."
The Time Lord ducked under the console again without responding.
"But Doctor!" Tegan protested. "Turlough put us in danger."
"Something that you have done on occasion, too," he reminded her.
"I got scared—but I never wanted anyone to get hurt."
The Doctor's head appeared again. "We don't know that Turlough intended to hurt us. He did, after all, make the choice that destroyed the Black Guardian."
"But if he'd told us before—"
"Tegan, I don't have time to discuss this right now. I have a great deal to do to ensure that the TARDIS continues to operate."
"So that means it's going to be a while before you can get him to his planet?"
"Yes."
"I told you when we met him that we shouldn't trust him."
The Doctor's head vanished again. "Please, Tegan, not now."
"Fine. But I hope you can get it fixed soon. The sooner we drop him off, the better."
Tegan had tried to help the Doctor, but she was unfamiliar with most of the tools he requested, and she could not comply with his request to complete even simple wiring tasks. When he asked for a wrench only to have it clatter to the ground in Tegan's uncooperative hands, he stood to flex his fingers with a sigh.
Tegan retrieved the wrench and set it on the console with a muttered apology.
"If you'd really like to help, you can find Turlough."
"What for?"
"He's rather knowledgeable about electronics and more familiar with these tools than you are."
"You're going to trust him with the TARDIS?"
"With helping to repair her, yes I am."
Tegan shook her head. "I don't think that's a very good idea—"
"He simply wants to go home. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize that. Now the sooner you get him, the sooner I can deliver him to his planet."
Tegan searched for Turlough for some time. Finally she found him in the library, lounging in one of the large leather wing chairs. His eyes were closed, but she noticed that his hands were clenched on his lap.
"Turlough," she said, taking a few steps toward him.
He opened his eyes immediately. "What?"
"The Doctor needs you in the console room."
"Is he ready to set the coordinates?"
"No. He's still repairing the machinery. He thinks you can help."
Turlough stood, his right hand snaking up toward his neck as he moved toward the door. He brushed past Tegan without a word.
"Wait a minute," she said, reaching for his arm.
He stopped and rotated his head to look at her. "Let go of me."
She dropped her hand. "I'm going to be watching you," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
He stared at her for a moment, a frown deepening into his forehead. "Suit yourself."
He turned and walked out the door. Tegan hurried after him.
The Doctor welcomed Turlough with a cursory nod and pointed toward a bundle of wires. "Can you separate those?" he asked.
Turlough moved to the console and touched the tangled mess. "Yes, I think so."
"Good." The Doctor disappeared again beneath the console.
Turlough bent over the wires as Tegan stood uncertainly nearby, feeling that she should be helping in some way but unsure what exactly she could do. Well, she could keep an eye on Turlough at the very least and be certain that he did not try to interfere with the Doctor's efforts.
She watched him for several minutes as his fingers moved skillfully along the wires. He deftly separated the strands, working quietly and quickly. But she continued to observe him warily. After another minute his right hand left the wires and moved up to the base of his neck. He began rubbing the area again.
Tegan took a few steps toward him.
"Cripes, Turlough, you've nearly rubbed it raw!" she remonstrated when she saw the redness of his skin.
He jerked his head up to glower at her, pressing his hand over the chafing. "It's nothing."
"Doctor," she continued, undeterred by the young man's steely glare, "look what Turlough's done."
The Doctor emerged from beneath the console, immediately focusing upon the wires. "You've made a good start, but there's still quite a bit more to do," he began.
"I'm not talking about those!" Tegan said. She pointed at the back of Turlough's head. "Look at that."
Turlough's acrimonious stare might have withered another person, but Tegan merely glared back.
"It's none of your concern," he hissed at her.
The Doctor's expression grew dark for an instant, and he lifted his hand to point at each of his companions. "Look, you two, this sniping is not helping. If you can't cooperate in here and provide real assistance, then just leave."
"I'm not sniping," Tegan huffed. "I just want you to see what he's done to himself."
The Doctor's eyes moved to the hand Turlough still had pressed over his neck.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"It's nothing," Turlough replied shortly.
"Show him," Tegan said, reaching for Turlough's wrist.
The Trion stepped back. "Just leave me alone!" His hand moved roughly over his neck, back and forth as if of its own volition.
The Doctor gave Tegan a reprimanding look then said, "What is she talking about, Turlough?"
"It's nothing—" His hand did not cease its movement.
The Time Lord took Turlough's wrist and lowered the hand. His eyes moved rapidly over the raw skin. He now noticed that the young man's head was slightly lowered, and his neck bent forward at an odd angle.
"How long has it ached?" he asked, meeting Turlough's eyes.
He shrugged. "I don't know—"
"He's been rubbing it since we got back," Tegan interjected.
"I see," the Time Lord said. "I think some time under a hot shower would help."
"No," Turlough replied, "it's all right. I'll be fine once I get home—"
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to take you there for some time. There is much more damage here than I thought initially. The TARDIS can't sustain a long journey in the condition she's in now."
"How long will the repairs take?" Tegan asked. "A couple of hours?"
"No," said the Doctor. "This will require several weeks, unless I can get new parts to replace the damaged ones—"
"Several weeks?" Tegan repeated. "Doctor! He can't stay here for several weeks—"
"Believe me," Turlough interjected, "that's the last thing I want."
"It's the last thing any of us want," Tegan said hotly.
"Stop it!" The Doctor's voice was uncharacteristically loud. "I told you before that I can't work with you two acting like this. Turlough, go get in the shower."
"But the wiring—"
"Can wait a little longer. I'm nowhere near the point at which I'll need it."
Turlough left without further comment. After a moment the Doctor turned toward Tegan. "You're not helping him, you know."
"What?"
"This constant mistrust—and your attitude toward him. It's only increasing his stress."
"Look, Doctor, he's the one who kept the Black Guardian a secret from us—"
"Yes, I'm well aware of that, but I'm sure he had his reasons."
"You're defending him? After he almost got you killed on Captain Wrack's ship?"
"You weren't there, Tegan. Don't assume you know what happened."
"So you're saying that you trust him now? That I should just forgive and forget too?" She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
"No, that is not what I'm suggesting. But I would appreciate it if you could have some compassion for him."
"Compassion? Why?"
"He is under so much stress that he has literally rubbed his neck raw, as you put it. This whole experience—keeping his secret and now your constant criticism and suspicions—has been extremely difficult for him. I don't think that you've stopped to consider that he might feel a rather deep regret for what he did."
"And that's why he's so tense?" She recalled how tight his muscles had felt beneath her fingertips when she'd seen him in the kitchen.
"Yes."
The memory of the two bodies falling from Captain Wrack's ship, and the wrenching pain she had felt when she believed that the Doctor was dead, flooded through her, edging out her gentler nature for a moment. "He brought it on himself."
The Doctor took a breath; she could see that he was struggling to remain patient. "Tegan, please, just try—"
His eyes left her face and wandered to the view screen, then he bent over one of the monitors on the console. He tapped at the keys. After a few seconds he looked up at her.
"I think that the best thing for you and Turlough is to remain apart for a time—at least until I've repaired the TARDIS."
"So what should we do? Hang a tie on the door when one of us is in here with you?"
"Hang a tie?" The Doctor blinked in confusion. "No. I was actually thinking of taking you someplace where you can both relax and will not need to see each other for a few days."
"But I thought the TARDIS couldn't go anywhere."
"I never said that, Tegan. I wish you'd listen to me once in awhile."
She rolled her eyes, but before she had a chance to speak, he continued, "We can travel relatively short distances. There is a planet in this sector called Sanadia-3—or is it 4?—that I think you'll rather enjoy."
He was already punching at the keys.
"Does it have any giant mind-invading snakes or telepathic creeps on it?" Tegan asked wryly.
"Not a one—just a large resort complex complete with several first-rate spas. Just the thing to relieve some of the tension around here. And, if I am not mistaken, there is even a decent repair facility where I may be able to find a few resistors."
"I suppose I could spend a day or two at a resort," Tegan relented.
"Good. Now go and get Turlough and tell him we'll be arriving soon."
"But he's—" She lifted her hands in protest. "Look, Doctor, you can ask me to have a little compassion for Turlough, but don't ask me to get him out of the shower."