Disclaimer: It's all BBC, none of its mine. Really. I make no money from
it. Just have a ton of fun on the weekends, that's all.
Notes: This takes place during Mawdryn Undead, when the Doctor and Tegan
are in the console room with the unconscious Brigadier at the end of the
episode. I know I write these two a lot; it's my favorite Doctor and
companion. I'm open to other eps, Docs and companions. I just need the
suggestions, that's all.
**
"His pulse is strong."
The Doctor nodded firmly, but resolutely kept his hands flying across the coordinate panel. "I told you his 1983 self had come to no physical harm; his 1977 persona will be quite all right."
Tegan lowered the Brigadier's hand to the ground and debated grabbing a coat with which to cover him. She hoped it would be a short trip, however, and it wouldn't be needed. She frowned and rocked back on her heels, glancing at her friend as she did so. His face was set; he was concentrating hard on getting their destination right. His eyes were dull blue; she recognized the calm relief she saw there. She would be relieved too, she supposed. If she had been asked to diminish what she was, tossing aside her life like week old bread or old knickers, to save friends and was stopped from doing so, she would be relieved as well.
"It would have been murder, you know," she found herself saying. She winced at the twinge (of what she didn't know) in her voice.
The Doctor appeared startled and that stilled his hands on the console. "Hmm, you said that before on the ship, Tegan."
"But you don't want to think of it that way."
"I'd prefer not to think of it at all," he stated and glanced over at her and, beyond her, to the Brigadier. He sighed and appeared to weight his words carefully before speaking. She could tell he wanted to avoid the conversation. All the telltale signs were there: his eyes appeared overly interested in absolutely nothing at all, his hands were idly tapping on the rim of the console, and he was agitated. Also, his normal tone of voice, the calm, conversational tone that reminded her of her literature teacher in school, was gone. It had been replaced by a lower, deader, quieter and somehow deeper tone. It was akin to having a large sign erected between them that shouted: 'beware rushing in where angels fear to tread'. "We shall be materializing soon; we'll have to move the Brigadier quickly."
"Not a problem," she answered. She contemplated him as she slowly, hesitantly, rolled her sleeves down. She never had been good at reading signs, she thought wryly. "I meant what I said, Doc," she pushed.
He sighed. The force of it puffed his chest and caused his shoulders to rise and fall. "I know."
"You were prepared to give up everything for us-"
"Please, Tegan," he said and raised his eyes to spear her with a pain ridden gaze. "I- you're welcome," he opted, changing the course of his response at the last moment.
"It's a problem for you, isn't it?" Tegan immediately responded. She envisioned them on a log, like Robin Hood, parrying back and forth, their sticks waving dangerously near each other, but never quite landing that unbalancing jab. "That's why you leave whenever we accomplish something somewhere. You don't like all this 'thank you very much', 'you're welcome' stuff."
He glanced at her, surprised, but waved his hand in his dismissive way. His cleared throat before he began speaking gave her more time to drive her point home.
"But this time, Doctor, it wasn't you swinging in like the hero in some B- rated afternoon pirate movie and rescuing someone. This time you were standing next to us, hooked up to that overblown vacuum cleaner and were ready to let it suck the life out of you, or out of your future rather. It wasn't a planet, a cause, a political system or anything galactic or karmic. This time it was us, just us: Nyssa and I."
He sighed again, and lowered his head. "Tegan-"
"All I'm trying to say and to have you understand, Doc is-" she rested against the console. She adopted his stance: arms braced against the console, legs slightly spread. She stopped speaking. What was it that she really meant? What did she want him to say? She wasn't sure. It seemed that thank you wasn't enough and that it was too momentous to release without acknowledging it. The almost sad look in his eyes as he watched the rotor rise and fall made up her mind for her. There really wasn't a conversation to have; words just didn't have the right depth and seemed trite to her. "Never mind," she sighed, almost sourly and frowned at the tone of her voice.
A sudden tap at her shoulder surprised her. She hadn't been watching him for a second or two and his sudden appearance at her shoulder was unexpected. "I couldn't have left you and Nyssa on board that ship, Tegan," he stated quietly as he stepped beyond her to crouch next to the Brigadier. "It simply wasn't an option. You and she were exposed and infected because you thought you were helping me. "He hummed as he checked the Brigadier's vitals and then glanced up at her. "I should thank you as well. You were very astute in the decisions you made when in 1977. You were sure that Mawdryn wasn't me; you knew me that well. If you hadn't had the clear thought to get the Brigadier, to return to the TARDIS with him, to hesitate before taking the TARDIS to the ship-"
Tegan groaned and held up her hand. "Stop. Enough."
"Ah," he rose and joined her at the console, his hands slipping easily into his pockets. "You see, neither you nor I are at ease with words. You did what you felt you had to do and did because of our friendship. I did what I thought I had to do and did because of our friendship. And thank you seems-"
"Like it isn't enough," Tegan agreed with a grunt. "Trust you to turn this into a lecture," she said, smiling. "But you are right, as usual. To say thank you seems too easy, but there's nothing else to say."
He nodded with a gentle smile that matched her own. "So let's just say nothing and be content with it. Just another shared experience that adds color to our lives."
"That's an understatement," she commented with a measured level of sarcasm.
He bounced to his feet and his sneakers squeaked as he trod across to the console. He turned two controls and smiled. "Materialization in thirty seconds. We'll have to be quick, Tegan."
"I'm ready," she agreed.
"It'll be 1977, Tegan," he commented suddenly. "And I should be able to redirect the TARDIS to 1983 with little problem now that the transmat circuit has been dealt with." He rubbed at the back of his neck as his hand, forever fidgeting, slid back into his pocket. "I could return you-"
"No," she said quickly. The reply was so quick that she surprised herself with it. "No thanks, Doc. All this has taught me, more now than ever, is that you're my responsibility. I think I'll stick with you for a while. You need the help."
"Do I?" he stated, somewhat haughtily. "Yes, ah, I suppose I do," he relented after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically humble.
Tegan gave him a frown and joined him at the console as they materialized. Before he opened the door, she touched his arm. "And it taught me that I've got a great friend," she added, herself uncharacteristically naked in the admission.
He patted her on the shoulder, seemed ready to say more, but hesitated. As he bent to lift the Brigadier with Tegan slipping under the unconscious man's arm to hold him upright, he continued, bestowing on her his 100-walt smile. "It taught me the same, Tegan, it taught me the same. Come along now," he said gruffly, finally, turning his eyes from her.
For the first time in a very long time, his tone didn't rub her wrong and she felt strangely at ease with it. She looped her arm around the Brigadier as the Doctor did the same and between the two of them, they levered the man out the door.
**
"His pulse is strong."
The Doctor nodded firmly, but resolutely kept his hands flying across the coordinate panel. "I told you his 1983 self had come to no physical harm; his 1977 persona will be quite all right."
Tegan lowered the Brigadier's hand to the ground and debated grabbing a coat with which to cover him. She hoped it would be a short trip, however, and it wouldn't be needed. She frowned and rocked back on her heels, glancing at her friend as she did so. His face was set; he was concentrating hard on getting their destination right. His eyes were dull blue; she recognized the calm relief she saw there. She would be relieved too, she supposed. If she had been asked to diminish what she was, tossing aside her life like week old bread or old knickers, to save friends and was stopped from doing so, she would be relieved as well.
"It would have been murder, you know," she found herself saying. She winced at the twinge (of what she didn't know) in her voice.
The Doctor appeared startled and that stilled his hands on the console. "Hmm, you said that before on the ship, Tegan."
"But you don't want to think of it that way."
"I'd prefer not to think of it at all," he stated and glanced over at her and, beyond her, to the Brigadier. He sighed and appeared to weight his words carefully before speaking. She could tell he wanted to avoid the conversation. All the telltale signs were there: his eyes appeared overly interested in absolutely nothing at all, his hands were idly tapping on the rim of the console, and he was agitated. Also, his normal tone of voice, the calm, conversational tone that reminded her of her literature teacher in school, was gone. It had been replaced by a lower, deader, quieter and somehow deeper tone. It was akin to having a large sign erected between them that shouted: 'beware rushing in where angels fear to tread'. "We shall be materializing soon; we'll have to move the Brigadier quickly."
"Not a problem," she answered. She contemplated him as she slowly, hesitantly, rolled her sleeves down. She never had been good at reading signs, she thought wryly. "I meant what I said, Doc," she pushed.
He sighed. The force of it puffed his chest and caused his shoulders to rise and fall. "I know."
"You were prepared to give up everything for us-"
"Please, Tegan," he said and raised his eyes to spear her with a pain ridden gaze. "I- you're welcome," he opted, changing the course of his response at the last moment.
"It's a problem for you, isn't it?" Tegan immediately responded. She envisioned them on a log, like Robin Hood, parrying back and forth, their sticks waving dangerously near each other, but never quite landing that unbalancing jab. "That's why you leave whenever we accomplish something somewhere. You don't like all this 'thank you very much', 'you're welcome' stuff."
He glanced at her, surprised, but waved his hand in his dismissive way. His cleared throat before he began speaking gave her more time to drive her point home.
"But this time, Doctor, it wasn't you swinging in like the hero in some B- rated afternoon pirate movie and rescuing someone. This time you were standing next to us, hooked up to that overblown vacuum cleaner and were ready to let it suck the life out of you, or out of your future rather. It wasn't a planet, a cause, a political system or anything galactic or karmic. This time it was us, just us: Nyssa and I."
He sighed again, and lowered his head. "Tegan-"
"All I'm trying to say and to have you understand, Doc is-" she rested against the console. She adopted his stance: arms braced against the console, legs slightly spread. She stopped speaking. What was it that she really meant? What did she want him to say? She wasn't sure. It seemed that thank you wasn't enough and that it was too momentous to release without acknowledging it. The almost sad look in his eyes as he watched the rotor rise and fall made up her mind for her. There really wasn't a conversation to have; words just didn't have the right depth and seemed trite to her. "Never mind," she sighed, almost sourly and frowned at the tone of her voice.
A sudden tap at her shoulder surprised her. She hadn't been watching him for a second or two and his sudden appearance at her shoulder was unexpected. "I couldn't have left you and Nyssa on board that ship, Tegan," he stated quietly as he stepped beyond her to crouch next to the Brigadier. "It simply wasn't an option. You and she were exposed and infected because you thought you were helping me. "He hummed as he checked the Brigadier's vitals and then glanced up at her. "I should thank you as well. You were very astute in the decisions you made when in 1977. You were sure that Mawdryn wasn't me; you knew me that well. If you hadn't had the clear thought to get the Brigadier, to return to the TARDIS with him, to hesitate before taking the TARDIS to the ship-"
Tegan groaned and held up her hand. "Stop. Enough."
"Ah," he rose and joined her at the console, his hands slipping easily into his pockets. "You see, neither you nor I are at ease with words. You did what you felt you had to do and did because of our friendship. I did what I thought I had to do and did because of our friendship. And thank you seems-"
"Like it isn't enough," Tegan agreed with a grunt. "Trust you to turn this into a lecture," she said, smiling. "But you are right, as usual. To say thank you seems too easy, but there's nothing else to say."
He nodded with a gentle smile that matched her own. "So let's just say nothing and be content with it. Just another shared experience that adds color to our lives."
"That's an understatement," she commented with a measured level of sarcasm.
He bounced to his feet and his sneakers squeaked as he trod across to the console. He turned two controls and smiled. "Materialization in thirty seconds. We'll have to be quick, Tegan."
"I'm ready," she agreed.
"It'll be 1977, Tegan," he commented suddenly. "And I should be able to redirect the TARDIS to 1983 with little problem now that the transmat circuit has been dealt with." He rubbed at the back of his neck as his hand, forever fidgeting, slid back into his pocket. "I could return you-"
"No," she said quickly. The reply was so quick that she surprised herself with it. "No thanks, Doc. All this has taught me, more now than ever, is that you're my responsibility. I think I'll stick with you for a while. You need the help."
"Do I?" he stated, somewhat haughtily. "Yes, ah, I suppose I do," he relented after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically humble.
Tegan gave him a frown and joined him at the console as they materialized. Before he opened the door, she touched his arm. "And it taught me that I've got a great friend," she added, herself uncharacteristically naked in the admission.
He patted her on the shoulder, seemed ready to say more, but hesitated. As he bent to lift the Brigadier with Tegan slipping under the unconscious man's arm to hold him upright, he continued, bestowing on her his 100-walt smile. "It taught me the same, Tegan, it taught me the same. Come along now," he said gruffly, finally, turning his eyes from her.
For the first time in a very long time, his tone didn't rub her wrong and she felt strangely at ease with it. She looped her arm around the Brigadier as the Doctor did the same and between the two of them, they levered the man out the door.