Author's Note:

Just hoping you like Fergus as much as I do...


ONE

The noise was unbearable. The pulsing, booming cacophony echoed and reverberated off every surface, beating the air mercilessly with such a strident wall of sound that small items rattled in their places, dust jumped off the shiny surfaces, and even the TARDIS grating quivered beneath its wrath.

The sheets on the bed moved and then a monumental irritated sigh emerged from somewhere underneath. The round protrusion near the top end of the bed, under several rather warm sheets, pushed its way up quickly. A mass of brown hair, not unlike an explosion in a pipe-cleaner factory, popped out into fresh air.

The Doctor pulled a face that had made the knees and extremities of several species of aliens tremble in the past, and then opened his eyes. He rubbed a hand in one of them before snatching the sheets from his head irritably and slumping fully onto his front, gathering his elbows under him to look up at the clock above his headboard.

He sighed as if it were all universally unjust. Then he lifted his head, took a deep breath, and in a voice that shook the rafters free of all remaining dust, bellowed,

"Mister Campbell!"

The result was an immediate and resounding ignorance of the Time Lord's anger at having been woken after only four hours' sleep.

He hissed something unkind under his breath, wrenched back the bed covers, and pushed himself to sit up on the edge of the bed. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then turned back, crawling over to reach for his glasses and screwdriver from the left, untouched side.

He rammed the glasses on his nose and palmed the screwdriver meaningfully, walking round the bed with dangerous determine. He marched out, the grating cool but not unpleasantly so under his bare feet, his blue pyjama bottoms neatly relieving the grating of dust as they swept baggily along behind him.

He rounded the corner of the corridor and didn't even pause as he put his hand to the doorknob, fairly shouldering it open and standing in the doorframe with his hands low on his hips.

He looked around the room, taking in the mess of clothes tipped on the bed, the chest of drawers with several unwashed and very much unloved tea mugs on it, the boxes of various kinds of electronic junk with Snap-On and Radio Shack tools lying over them.

The noise was louder in here, and the Doctor was suddenly worried his ears were contemplating bleeding in protest.

"Mister Campbell!" he bellowed.

A head popped up from behind the box in the far right corner.

Fergus Campbell looked at the Time Lord with a friendly grin. His mouth moved but only a lip-reader would have had any chance at cracking the message.

The Doctor simply stared at him with a look that could have set off a veritable armada of Isolus vessels. Fergus' smile fell quickly. He got to his feet and crossed to the 1982 JVC R-S33L stereo receiver with built-in amplifier in the opposite corner quickly.

He reached out and turned it right down, turning to face the vengeful Gallifreyan.

"Morning, Skipper," he offered, wiping his hands on his jeans guiltily.

"Mister Campbell, do you remember a conversation about volume levels?" he demanded.

Fergus cleared his throat quietly and found he couldn't meet the much older man's eyes. He let his gaze wander to the words 'Trust me, I'm a Doctor', written on the front of the Time Lord's faded blue t-shirt instead.

"Aye, Skipper," he admitted.

"And?"

"And Ah'm sorry, Skipper. Ah didnae think you'd still be sleeping, likesay."

"How in all the worlds you can work with that racket anyway?" he demanded testily, then his gaze was drawn to one side. Fergus stepped to his left quickly in an attempt to block his view. "Hold on – are those my macro-binoculars?" he cried indignantly, walking round him and over to the work area.

It was a desk much like an architect's work station, except this one was covered in small electronic parts and USB cables.

The Doctor reached out and picked up his piece of equipment, about to start on the young man for borrowing them without asking. But his eyes, sleepy and muggy behind his chunky glasses, caught sight of the other items scattered round the work area.

"Just what are you attempting to achieve here?" he asked, but it came out more curious than angry.

"Oh, well, nothing really," he said quickly, crossing to the desk and reaching out to start gathering up parts. But the Doctor shifted his weight onto his left leg, turning his back to the younger man and effectively blocking him from the desk. He bent down slightly, 'hmm'ing to himself as he took in the mess more closely.

"Ah, I see," he said, amused. "You're trying to reverse-engineer a Siffaynian USB hub?" He straightened and turned to him, raising his eyebrows. "Well it's not going to be easy," he said with some satisfaction, walking off toward the far side of the room again, and the door.

"Why's that then?" Fergus asked quickly.

"It's near-impossible without one of these," the Doctor smiled, waving his screwdriver over his shoulder at him. "Carry on. Without the murder of eardrums, please."

"Wait just now!" Fergus said quickly, dodging round the items to follow him. "Yi cannae leave me here wasting ma time! Yi huv tae help me!"

"I have to get more sleep, Mister Campbell," he said pleasantly. "You do not want a ratty, sleep-deprived Time Lord on your hands."

"Aye, sorry," he said despondently. "Can Ah borrow yir-"

"Nope," he said with satisfaction, popping the 'p'. He smiled to himself and walked out. Fergus watched him go, then looked back at the other side of the large bedroom.

"Bastard," he hissed under his breath.

"And there go your tea rights!" the Doctor judged from the corridor, and Fergus tutted at himself, slapping his forehead.

It was going to be a looooooooong day.

-------------------------------------------------

Fergus walked into the main control room slowly, carrying two large mugs of tea and looking around cautiously.

"Skipper?" he called cheerfully.

"Down here," came a voice from somewhere above him.

He looked up and to his right to see the Doctor balancing precariously half on and half off a ladder. His brown suit almost made him blend in with the wall. His left foot was on the rickety wooden contraption, his right foot hooked into some kind of wiring mess hanging from the wall. He had his left hand round a thick power cable, also secured to the wall. The screwdriver was busying away under his expert tutelage over and above some smaller, lurid green wires.

"What are yi doing up there then?" Fergus called.

"You mean what am I doing down here?" the Doctor called back, pre-occupied.

"Er… aye, alright, if yi like," he offered, confused.

"Checking power. Something's upsetting it." The Doctor snapped off the screwdriver and transferred his weight to the knackered set of ladders.

Fergus closed his eyes, unable to watch the inevitable crash that would result as Time Lord and wood hit the grating.

But he heard nothing, and opened his eyes quickly to find the Time Lord advancing on him. He put a hand out cheerfully and took the mug of tea, not looking at the young Scot as he pretty much sank it in seconds.

He nodded to himself, then turned and handed him the empty mug, taking the other one instead. Fergus opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He watched him sip it more slowly, turning to look back at the wall of wires he'd been playing with.

"What dae yi think it is?" he ventured.

"I don't know, it's just… bleeding power," the Time Lord muttered to himself.

"Well it's no me," Fergus said defensively.

The Doctor turned and looked at him steadily.

"No?" he asked innocently. "And what would you be doing that would make me think it was, Mister Campbell?" he asked airily.

"Ah'm trying to… Oh look, you said Ah couldnae work on that USB thing withoot a screwdriver, so Ah'm just looking intae making one fae masself," he said awkwardly.

The Doctor looked at him for a full second, his face frozen. Then his eyes went wide and he dragged in a deep breath, beginning to laugh.

"I know, I know," Fergus said sadly, as he watched the Doctor make absolutely no attempt whatsoever to control himself. He laughed loud and long, and Fergus reached out and took the mug of tea back off him, lest he spill it.

The Doctor managed to stop laughing and instead moaned in amusement, shaking his head and sniffing.

"Oh dear me," he wailed, his voice soaring the highest pitch, "you humans, eh?"

"Ah'm only trying," he said, trying not to get angry. The Doctor looked at him, swallowing and nodding, trying to appear more serious.

"Oh I know, I know," he said professionally, "don't get me wrong, Mister Campbell, I think it's a great idea," he added, taking the tea back off him and taking a sip. "Cracking tea, by the way," he said suddenly, then took another few mouthfuls. "What I mean is, you're probably never going to be able to make a sonic screwdriver. Well," he added quickly, "not in the life span that a human has."

"So let me borrow yurs," he pleaded. "Yi know Ah won't lose it."

"Sorry mate, this little thing is staying with me," he said seriously. "Tell you what – you work out what you actually need to crack that thing, and I'll see what I can do in the way of chucking more suitable tools your way." He handed him the mug back.

"Excellent!" Fergus grinned.

The TARDIS suddenly jolted violently, throwing them both off their feet. Fergus held onto the cups for dear life, and they survived his fall to the grating.

He looked over at the Doctor but he was already finding his feet, staggering to the console holding the Time Rotor.

"Ah thought yi said we were anchored in thi vortex!" he accused, feeling the craft buck and heave under their feet. He did his best to stop from rolling around as the vessel lurched and pitched unevenly.

The Doctor was clinging to a small handle at the base of the Time Rotor to stay near the controls.

"We are," he shot back angrily, leaning over and yanking various handles and buttons. "But if the power's below compensation levels –"

There was an almighty crash and he was thrown to the floor. Fergus closed his eyes as he felt a tremendous pounding rip through him.

The grating appeared to jump and bang down suddenly. He heard glass crashing and tools spilling all over the ship. He looked over to find the Doctor still fighting to keep his feet during the bumpy ride.

"What the bloody hell is it?" he shouted at the Time Lord.

"Not good!" he shouted.

There was one final, almighty heave. The TARDIS slammed them into the grating with what felt like several G of inertia.

And then it all went silent and dark.