Characters owned by the BBC, and Mr Moffat of course. Any resemblance to anyone either living or dead is purely accidental. The back story is mine, all mine...
Written because nobody has written much about John Riddell and I loved the character, he was such an Alan Quartermain type. I am not sure my story does him justice but I liked writing it. I can imagine one such as he wanting to see dragons. Such a pity he couldn't become a more permanent companion. He'd have been a good one. Rated for references to sexual practices, but no slash, smut or swearing.
Here Be Dragons
John Riddell gazed down at the blue marble that was his home planet and marvelled. No man from his time had seen what he was seeing. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes he would never have believed it either. It's like something from fiction, he found himself contemplating. A fantastical idea cooked up by that writer chappy, whatshisname, Wells, that was it. Good old Herbert. Such a mind that man would have if he didn't waste it writing drivel. After seeing this though, Riddell considered, I might look on the man's scribblings with different eyes. Maybe it wasn't all fanciful drivel. He was suddenly aware of the Doctor standing behind him. God's teeth but that man moves with the stealth of a hunter. They exchanged a glance and the Doctor offered him a hesitant smile.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The Doctor's voice was hushed, reverent. Even after the best part of a millennia traversing time itself, having seen all the myriad planets and novas and gas clouds, white dwarfs and red giants, black holes and event horizons that the Universe in its infinite complexity had to show him, the Earth was still one of the most beautiful things the Doctor had ever seen. For a moment, they both admired the view from the open doorway of the TARDIS, then Riddell stepped away and the Doctor closed the doors. "I hope you won't miss her too much," The Doctor said, surprisingly compassionate. Riddell realised he was talking about Nefertiti. They had just dropped the Egyptian queen back in her empire and had taken a detour so Riddell could admire his planet before they went home to 1902 London. Riddell smiled and shook his head. He leaned toward the Doctor conspiratorially.
"Truth to tell, she was getting to be a bit of a liability," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't get me wrong, Doctor. The Suffragettes pale into insignificance next to Neffy but she has no place in my world. She's too independant. She would never have been happy. In my world a man protects a woman, not the other way around. God's teeth, what would people think, eh? Take that Pond girl, for instance."
"I'd rather not," the Doctor quipped. "You can't take Amy anywhere she doesn't want to go."
"My point exactly. Far too liberated. As good as two men, eh? Well, I could admire her for her shooting but I've never seen a woman dress like that. God knows what her husband does about her. Nothing, so far as I could see. Can't be much of a personality, not if he can't handle his own wife and make her behave. A callow youth I thought, looking at him. Still, not a coward. I'll say that much for him. Must be besotted with the girl, though, to allow her such liberties."
The Doctor smiled a little awkwardly and busied himself with some tinkering. If only Riddell knew about the Ponds... He sighed and went back to trying to repair the sub-sonic dampeners but he couldn't seem to make the new piece he had fabricated fit properly.
"What are you doing, Doctor?" Riddell peered over his shoulder, looking at the mess of fine wires and glowing lights trailing from one hand. "Thought we were going home?" He had been feeling recurrent unwelcome shivers down his back for a few hours now and was mentally preparing himself for his own personal battle. He would rather be safe at home, where he could take to his bed and where there were people who could care from him and see him through it. Graves would have stocked enough quinine to dose an army and Mrs Williams would no doubt produce vast amounts of her chicken soup. I'll be fine, he reassured himself, if only we can get a move on.
"Trying to repair the variable field array in the sub-sonic dampeners," the Doctor supplied. "This Uratranium alloy isn't the best substitute though. It should be a good old-fashioned Titanium-Kritonium blend but you only get that on Carrofractus IV and they really don't like to sell it. Costs the earth... and possibly Venus too, but considering their market is only open once in a blue moon, quite literally, and they only have one of those every four years, bit like your Olympic games, it's going to be difficult to get...oh, sorry, bit after your time, that reference. Never mind, that's what you get for buying cheap, and you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
"Not in the slightest but it's polite to enquire, in case one can offer help..." Riddell huffed. "Although in this case, I have to say, it might have been better not to ask, rather than appear ignorant. Sounds like one of those new automobiles. I have to say I don't understand them either. I can strip down a Lee-Enfield Mk1 blindfold and have it back together again in a jiffy but automobile engines—" Riddell shrugged "—no clue."
It wasn't the first time John Riddell come across the Doctor's unintelligible 'technobabble' as the Doctor himself called it. Riddell had travelled with the Doctor before. The first time he had been younger, more energetic and far healthier. It had been a long time prior to his marriage and India and long before the Boer War and the malaria that was slowly ruining his health. The Doctor had introduced him to a frankly incredible planet that seemed to be all rainforest, but the foliage had been predominantly blue not green. He had reveled in the hot moist air, savored the taste of it, heady with the scents of exotic flowers and animal spoor and rich vegetation. They had prowled the place for hours, Riddell clasping his hunting rifle—his good old reliable Lee-Enfield—to his chest, his heart swelling with the freedom, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He truly believed he had been born for such as this. Of course the Doctor had objected to his hunting wild creatures. In fact he had just about dug his heels in and refused to let Riddell even carry the weapon, but the Hunter had promised to carry it for defence only and the Doctor had relented. Besides, the hunt was the thing, not necessarily the killing. Hunting new creatures, never before seen by man, now that had been the best thing about it.
The wildlife there seemed to come in only one size - large. Even the birds were huge. Big cats prowled the undergrowth letting him see a flash of pelt that was actually purple with black splodges, like ocelots. They had proved to be a bit like leopards but not as heavy set. God's legs, the teeth on those things! He had a single fang on a thong around his neck to remind him, almost matching the dinosaur tooth he had got from the spaceship on their last jaunt. It was as long as his hand and curved like a Khukri. The fang had come from a man-eater, the one that the natives—small but swarthy humanoids with copper-hued flesh, limpid blue eyes and predominantly black hair—had begged them to help take down. It was menacing the villages in the area and snatching children. Well, he had done that before, albeit in a rather less exotic environment. Riddell had risen to that challenge with a relish that the Doctor, bless the man, had seemed to think positively indecent.
The natives had been embarrassingly grateful and the chief had been beside himself when Riddell had presented him with the dead cat. So much so that Riddell felt sure he had been married off to the Chief's daughter at some point. They had passed a very pleasant night together anyway; she had been quite adventurous, and more than eager to find out what a red-blooded human male was made of. Several times he had seen the Doctor fend women off and finally retreat to the TARDIS, his face beet red and looking like a rabbit caught in a torch beam. After wondering briefly whether the Doctor was one of those men who favoured their own sex, he had put it out of his mind. What if he was? It was none of Riddell's concern. Maybe he was simply shy. The adventurer had been more than happy to uphold the honour of his fellow man on his own and had...risen to the occasion, quite literally that time, but he hadn't been unhappy about leaving. He had no wish right then to acquire a bride much less one from another planet.
The second time he had 'flown' (was that the word?) with the Doctor he been introduced to the amazing woman whose subjects called her Queen Nefertiti. She had allowed him to call her Neffy. What a privilege. She was an icon of history, even if she rivalled the Suffragettes' in independence. She had been feisty and fiery and everything Riddell liked in a woman, apart from constantly threatening to do some part of his anatomy harm if he misbehaved. After their dinosaur adventure, they had spent some time in the Africa of his own time but the Doctor had eventually turned up to take her home and honestly not before time. Riddell had liked her, of course; she was a very nice dalliance but she had a kingdom to run, and he...well, he had the rest of his life, which didn't look as if it was going to last a great deal longer, and he wanted to make the most of what he had. His malaria wasn't getting any better so he had been considering returning to England anyway; He was not getting any younger and he needed a proper bed. Besides, even if he went back to adventuring it was best done alone.
He worked better alone. He had agreed to be a guide only twice in his life and both times he had regretted it. The first time the menfolk insisted on bringing their women and none of them had been even remotely able to cope with the privations of living rough in a tent village for a week, let alone the full month that the men had decided they were spending out there. Eventually he had wasted time taking the women back to the hotel in the nearest city.
The second time... well, he had taken one look at the group of young men he was supposed to lead into the wilderness, just so they could hunt and show what big men they were, and decided he was on a hiding to nothing. They were all arrogant prigs and were not worth either his time or the scant fee they were proposing to pay him. He had abandoned them before they had even left the hotel. No, he worked alone now. It was better that way.
He and the Doctor were pretty much alike in that regard, although Riddell suspected the Doctor was far more lonely. Riddell had been a loner since his wife had died. He could have remarried—his cousin had recommended a friend who was looking for a match and she was quite agreeable to look at—but quite honestly he hadn't had it in him to settle down again. Riddell was fairly certain that the Doctor had loved someone too. He displayed all the signs of having had his heart well and truly stolen although there was no woman in evidence. The signs were all there if you looked and Riddell was more than used to observing his surroundings not to mention the fact that he was a fair judge of people. It had saved his skin on more than one occasion. A gentleman didn't speak to his fellows about such things though. A man's privacy was paramount and John Riddell was a gentleman at heart.
They landed in the back garden of a rambling terrace house in a fashionable part of London. The sky was grey with the first light of dawn breaking through the clouds as the TARDIS door swung open. The Doctor and Riddell shook hands.
"Home, like I promised," the Doctor said. "London, October, 1902. Look, Riddell...John..."
"I know," John said gently. "There'll be a war soon, according to your archives...Might not see you again."
"How did you...? You weren't supposed to look at that. Spoilers!" the Doctor complained.
Riddell frowned. "You wouldn't warn me about the future, would you? You wouldn't tell a chap about the tiger about to strike before it was too late?"
"John... I can't," he said softly, almost apologetically. "It's to do with timelines. I can't change history. If you're destined to die, then die you must. If I change things, alter a fixed point, then drastic things begin to happen. Believe me, I do know what can happen. I can do small things, but nothing beyond the odd word here or there. It's my gift and my curse, John. Please say you can understand?"
Riddell nodded and just to show he had no hard feelings, he extended a hand toward the house in invitation. "No hard feelings, Doctor. Have you time to take a brandy and a cigar with me? I'd love to show you my collection."
"Master, you're back, but...we received no word..." Nobody noticed the Doctor wince at the title bestowed on Riddell by the man in the immaculate butler's attire who greeted them as they came in by the back door. He looked flustered and scandalised. "Oh, the disgrace, sir! The disgrace that the Major had to come home via the servants' entrance."
Riddell waved it away. "Don't fret, Graves, it's no fault of yours. I've been called back home unexpectedly," Riddell lied easily. "I received a wire from my office requesting my return to deal with some urgent papers and I couldn't send word easily so I decided not to. Don't let it concern you." This seemed to placate the butler who smoothed his ruffled feathers and bowed his head in acknowledgement.
"Very well, sir. If you and your guest would care to go up to your study I will fetch refreshments. The usual, sir?" Riddell nodded, flashed a grin at the young maid and ignored the scandalised look on the face of the cook. The maid looked besotted and the cook was frowning because this was her domain and nobody invaded it, not even the master, never mind a stranger. She held her peace but they could hear her grumbling once she thought they were out of earshot.
"Major?" the Doctor asked as they walked upstairs.
"I served in the Boer War. Bad business that. Bought a commission, served until I could no longer stomach what was going on. That bloody Kitchener," he growled. "We British had a 'scorched earth' policy; we destroyed everything, killed the cattle, poisoned the wells, salted the ground. We murdered them, Doctor. That wasn't war, it was genocide. Since the turn of the century I worked in the camps."
"Ah, the camps. Was that where you contracted malaria?"
"How did you...oh never mind, you seem to know things by magic anyway..."
"Oh, don't overestimate my skills. I can see you're not well. Malaria, and if I'm not mistaken, a potentially virulent kind."
"Its going to kill me one day, all the doctors have told me. When it attacks it leaves me weak, fevered and a little less than I was. That's why I go exploring. I don't want to stay at home and I don't want another wife. I couldn't do that to a woman, marry her and then die on her. Wouldn't be fair. I much prefer to forge ahead into the wilderness, find my own destiny. Alone."
"I could take you to get treatment, you know."
"You said yourself, you cannot change fixed points. When I die, I die." Riddell smiled. "No, Doctor, I'll take my chances, thank you. So, you know about the camps, then?" The Doctor nodded. "I resigned my commission and joined the doctors in the camp hospitals, or what passed for hospitals. Did you know we lost more troops to Typhoid than we did in the fighting? Bloody waste."
"You were a doctor too? You're full of surprises, John." Riddell was silent for a time. He paused to look at the portrait of a beautiful woman in her twenties, dark hair taken up in a formal bun, soft ringlets gracefully framing her face, a pair of blue eyes gazing out serenely on the world. "My wife, Eleanor," Riddell said, changing tack. His fingers gently caressed the brush strokes along her cheek. "I pretend she can feel it, sometimes. It gives me some comfort." He abruptly snapped back to the present. "Onward and upward," he said, leading the way up to his study. He resolved to add tonic water to his whisky and to break out the fresh supply of quinine from his bathroom cabinet that evening.
The house was modest by modern standards—well, modern Edwardian London, anyway—but there were at least four bedrooms, plus servants' quarters in the attic, a kitchen in the basement and a magnificent library. The parlour and the dining room were also finely decorated. "My late wife had elegance and a particularly fine eye," Riddell said, eyes sweeping appreciatively over the Adam fireplace and the choice pieces of antique furniture. "I never saw fit to change anything."
His study resembled a gentlemen's club, with its leather upholstery and dark wood panelling. The walls above the panelling were adorned with animal heads of varying sizes and species. Waving the Doctor to a seat, Riddell offered him a cigar—which he declined—and poured them both a brandy from a crystal decanter—which he also declined. "A bit early for me," he said in answer to Riddell's frown. "Did you...bag all of these?" the Doctor asked, his use of the term sitting a little awkwardly on his tongue.
"Most of them," Riddell nodded. "That one I bagged in India in '86," he said, proudly pointing out a large tiger above his desk, its facial features permanently fixed into a snarling rictus. "The Memsahib and I were visiting her parents. This fellow was a man eater; it was preying on the local village and took a child, much like that 'pard on Elshar the first time we travelled together. Someone had to put a stop to it. That person was me." He sounded proud.
"What happened to your wife, John?" the Doctor asked gently.
"Died over 17 years ago, fever took her. We were en route back home when she collapsed." He sighed, draining his glass. "I miss the old girl sometimes, but this life wouldn't have suited her, no, not at all. Best to stay single and take my pleasure where I can, eh, Doctor?" Riddell's smile was forced. The Doctor nodded but didn't smile.
"You blame yourself." It was a statement, not a question. Riddell grimaced and nodded.
"There was nothing I could do. I was trained and yet... I couldn't save her. So I gave it up, until the conditions in those camps brought me back to it again. I couldn't abandon such suffering. To see my beloved country ruined and its people subdued, subjugated, left to suffer like that..." he took a deep breath. "Which is where you found me, Doctor. In the desert, trying to forget."
"Doesn't work like that though, does it?" the Doctor said kindly. "I knew you'd changed when we met again but not why. Thank you for telling me." Riddell sighed and stared out the window into the dawn.
"Here," he said suddenly. "Come take a look at this." He went over to a large cupboard in one corner of the room. It was a fine piece of furniture, as tall as Riddell himself and half as wide, the wood a warm honey gold. He threw open the doors to this cabinet of curiosities with a flourish. Inside the wood glowed a rich warm amber. It was decorated with marquetry inlay, fine lines of darker wood outlining each drawer and door, surrounding panels of silky walnut veneer. One side of the cabinet contained layers and layers of thin drawers. Riddell pulled a couple out, revealing them to be crammed with all manner of entomological specimens, glossy iridescent beetles and jewel-bright butterflies, huge centipedes and tiny termites. Everything perfectly preserved, catalogued and displayed. On the other side of the cabinet there was an abundance of small drawers crammed with geological specimens; clear crystals, glittering minerals, ancient fossils. There were some larger drawers full of botanical samples; curiously shaped seedpods, exotic dried flower heads, twisted roots. It was a fine collection and the Doctor said as much to Riddell's obvious pleasure.
"We're finding out so much about the world. That cabinet was begun by my grandfather. My father added to it and now it's up to me. The last fifty years has taught us all so much, and yet, we seem to have learned nothing at all. According to your archival thingy, there'll be two major wars in this century and numerous other smaller ones. I mean, what sense is there? Then in the 21st century everything changes, but that's more down to us being invaded than fighting against ourselves. There's going to be a Dalek invasion, whatever they are, although they look suspiciously like tin boxes on wheels. Is that one of your fixed points?"
"Yes, unfortunately. There are some things I can't change. You shouldn't even know about what's ahead. It might have terrible consequences..."
"Well, by then I'll be dead and gone, unless we invent immortality. What?" For the Doctor had winced at those words. They brought to mind someone who suffered immortality every day of his existence and it wasn't a state the Doctor would have wished on anyone, not even his worst enemy, never mind a man who he counted as a friend—though he would need to check on that fact—not to mention a former companion. What Jack was up to right now was anybody's guess.
"You humans need to learn, to grow," the Doctor said, avoiding the question. "The Boer War should have taught you that. Some of you maybe but not all by any means. That's why there'll be more. One day you'll reach those stars you've seen, and you'll leave earth, you humans, but not just yet. People like you are needed, Riddell, people with the pioneering spirit. The earth needs adventurers like you." The Doctor suddenly grew animated. "Oh, you human beings, you're brilliant, you are. Once you get past the stupidity, once you start to really learn...Listen, why don't you become a teacher? Apply to a public school...I know a good one. I can give you a reference, even. Well, Dr John Smith can, as long as you don't apply before 1913, that might get a little difficult...Just think about it, Major John Riddell, Doctor of Medicine, adventurer, soldier, you'd be perfect to instill some moral fibre into the next generation. Just make sure when the second war comes along, that your family is not living in any of the big cities. Most of them get a pounding, the cities, not your family..." he grinned a little manically. "You can be passing along your wonderful experiences to lots of boys who need that adventuring spirit to guide them and guard them. Think about it. Not before the eleventh of November, 1913 though... There'll be a vacancy then... You could get a job in another school, in the meantime. Nothing to stop you."
Riddell shook his head. Sometimes the Doctor could be confusing as all hell but then, a man like him would be. If Riddell hadn't seen things with his own eyes he would have assumed the man to be raving mad. There was something about him that made you like him though, something charismatic, if a little dotty. He was like a younger brother, a bit childlike with a child's enthusiasm, eccentric and charming. Riddell smiled and clapped the man in the back. "You might have an idea there." Always supposing I'm still alive by then, he thought sadly.
A knock on the door heralded Graves' entry with a tray of coffee and sandwiches which he deposited on a table. "Shall I serve this for you and the gentleman, sir?"
"Please do," Riddell answered, his eyes on the Doctor as he explored the cabinet. The butler poured the coffee and retired, leaving them alone.
"Hello, what's this?" The Doctor brought out a black stone, egg-shaped, big enough that he had to cradle it in both hands.
"It's a stone. Thought it might be obsidian..."
"This isn't heavy enough. Where did it come from?"
"Fell into the garden last year. I thought it was a meteorite."
"This is no meteorite, John. It might have fallen into your garden but it isn't space debris."
"What is it then?"
"I think it's..." The Doctor frowned. "It's a wonder that Torchwood haven't been by to collect this. It's rather rare. Originates in a solar system light years from yours." He flashed out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the thing, scrutinising the results. "Hm, as I thought, residual energy signature. This has fallen through the Rift."
"The Rift? What's that when it's at home?"
"A rip in the fabric of space, a wormhole, a tunnel of sorts. It's unpredictable and elusive, and things just sort of fall through it from time to time. Torchwood are always on the lookout for things that fall through, in case they can use them, but in your time, their technology is limited at best so they probably don't know about this yet." He changed the setting on the screwdriver and tried again. His eyebrows rose. "It's as I thought. It's registering one life sign. Listen, Riddell, this needs to go back where it belongs... It shouldn't be here and the longer it stays, the less chance it has. Would you come with me? I dare say returning this should be interesting... John?"
"I'm not sure... I'm not feeling too well, really. I think I might be going to have another attack soon. Would rather be here for that."
"Oh, well... Look, the TARDIS has a medical facility. We can take care of you if the worst should happen. You've slept on board before, you know she can make you comfortable and I promise to get you back soon. This shouldn't take long... Come on, John, not like you to pass up a chance like this. This is an egg, it's alive and it needs caring for." Riddell seemed to be considering the possibilities. Then he shrugged and smiled which was all the answer the Doctor needed. Quickly he made his apologies to his rather startled butler and then he and the Doctor left hurriedly, clattering back down the stairs, startling Cook, who shrieked as they ran out the back door.
The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief as the TARDIS door closed and the vortex engines whirred around them. The 'egg' sat on the console, rocking slightly. Under the TARDIS' lights, it revealed itself to be far from the dull black that Riddell had thought. It changed as he watched, a gradual chameleon-like ripple of colour across the surface.
"It's the vortex affecting it, probably," the Doctor offered by way of explanation. "It comes from an ancient race, attuned to the energies of the universe. No surprise really." It was a pretty thing, all mottled blue and purple with very thin streaks of gold running through it.
"So it really is an egg." Riddell reached out a hand but then drew it back. Damn it, it wasn't as if he hadn't handled it hundreds of times.
"Oh yes, that much is true, but if we don't get it home, it'll die. It needs heat to gestate. While it was with you, it was in stasis, of a sort. It will hatch much the same as a lizard, but these grow to immense size on their home planet."
"Dinosaur is it?"
The Doctor chuckled. "Not quite," he said gently. "They tried living on our world before the dinosaurs but it didn't work. Not enough of the right minerals. So they left. That's why you don't have any fossils of them. Pity really."
"What are they?" Riddell was curious.
"Well, put it this way. They make those dinosaurs on the spaceship look small. Here we are then." The flick of a switch put the viewscreen on, revealing a world beneath them of blue sea and fluffy white cloud, high mountains and lush green valleys.
"Not dissimilar to earth really," Riddell was saying. Something chose that moment to fly past the screen. Riddell staggered back, a look of shock in his eyes. "Was that...?" No, it couldn't have been...could it? "I mean... dash it all, those things don't exist."
"Not on your world, no. At least not any more. However, on their home planet, there are thousands of them." The screen cleared of clouds as they descended. Across the skies majestic creatures dipped and dived and swooped, criss-crossing in flight, their sinuous tails whipping through the air, their magnificent wings bearing them aloft with ease. Riddell's eyes widened. Those things were glittering in the sunlight, jewel colours dazzling his eyes; blues and reds and copper and gold and amber and emerald green...
"Dragons?" he breathed.
"Here be dragons," the Doctor said with a smile. "Wonderful, aren't they?"
The TARDIS landed in a field, a cultivated field, attached to a small dwelling that looked far too small for a dragon to inhabit. "Good heavens, no," the Doctor said when Riddell broached it. "They live in caves. Humanoids live here, and no, they're not human. They look like you, but they've grown up here alongside the Flamori for millennia. The Flamori live in harmony with the Brexacofalons. Flamor and Brexa were neighbouring planets. Flamor was destroyed by natural phenomena a few thousand years ago. Meteor strikes changed the climates and the food dried up. So the Flamori flew here, across the void of space. When they arrived, they made peace with the Brexacofalons and lived in harmony. I think they might teach humans a thing or two."
"How did they fly all that way?" Riddell was puzzled. "You said there was no air in outer space. People suffocate up there."
"Ah, a very good question. The Flamori are fire breathers. It's the way they process the minerals their bodies need. The gas in their stomachs ignites on contact with oxygen in the atmosphere. Otherwise they don't breath. They don't need lungs. They need nitrogen and oxygen which pass through their skins directly into the bloodstream. They have two hearts, one which pumps the equivalent of blood through their bodies and the other pumps another fluid, which removes waste and the toxic build up from the gases. They eat vegetation, digest it, the by-product of which is the flammable gas. The food is turned into nutrients which goes into the other circulatory system. Very clever. As you saw back there, they can fly, but physically the size of the wings cannot account for their lifting that huge bulk around. Wings alone wouldn't do the job. They manage by being marginally telekinetic. They lift themselves as well as using their wings. Together the two forces work to help them fly."
"But that doesn't tell me how they travel through space," Riddell insisted.
"Yes it does. Being telekinetic and able to manipulate energy means they can cocoon themselves in a ball of energy and technically fly through space. They couldn't manage it at all were their skins any less tough or if they had to breathe. It's not without risk, even so. Some suffocated, the lack of oxygen and nitrogen starving their tissues, some died on re-entry to the atmosphere when they were too weak to maintain their protective energy ball. About fifteen percent died overall, but they considered that worth that risk to save their race. Now here they are. Flying free and living in harmony."
"Can they speak?"
"After a fashion. They tend to communicate mind to mind. They are telepathic too."
"Brilliant, just...brilliant." Riddell was awed, watching the skies for any chance to see the creatures. "Real, live dragons. God, what I wouldn't give to be able to hunt one."
"While I appreciate the desire, I cannot appreciate the sentiment. It would be like hunting your cousin, Riddell. These things are intelligent."
"Dolphins are intelligent," Riddell said. "Men still hunt them."
"Not for much longer," the Doctor said firmly. "No more talk of hunting, please. The Flamori are well able to take care of themselves. Unless you like being flavour of the month, I suggest you think about something else. They're telepathic remember, they can read minds!" He hid his smirk as Riddell's expression turned to horrified comprehension. Quickly the adventurer schooled it into something more serious and sober. "That's better," the Doctor murmured, an edge of glee to his tone. He turned in time to see a tall slender girl with a mass of dark curls exiting one of the houses. "Excuse me," he called, watching as the girl turned. She waved and changed course to meet them. "Can you tell me where the nearest hatching ground is?"
"Doctor?" Riddell asked as they rode into a small community that resided in the lee of the woodland against the mountainside. "I hope you don't mind but I have a question."
"Fire away, John. What's on your mind?"
"How come we can understand these people? I mean, we're not on earth, and while I speak eight languages, three of them badly, I don't expect for a moment that those languages developed here too, not with absolutely no contact with the shores of good old Blighty. I'm speaking the King's English at the moment, or at least, it sounds like it. How do you explain that, eh?" The Doctor smiled and patted him on the shoulder.
"Blame the TARDIS," he said. "She employs a translation matrix that keys into a telepathic field which allows us to understand any language we hear and for the speaker to understand us in return."
"Ah, intriguing," Riddell replied, nodding sagely as if he understood perfectly. "Is that how Nefertiti and I understood each other?" The Doctor nodded and was careful not to wound his pride a second time by suggesting that this was something else he had no comprehension of. The man was trying, at least. "So how come we could only communicate with hand gestures before, on Elshar?"
"Simple. The tribe we were visiting don't speak. They stay quiet so as not to attract predators. You didn't have any problems understanding them though, did you?"
Riddell frowned. Now that he thought about it, the Doctor was right. He had understood on a basic level. "Intriguing," he said again, hoping he sounded at least halfway to understanding. The Doctor was careful not to wound his pride a third time.
Asking around had lead them to a man who was willing to act as a guide to get them to the hatching ground with their precious cargo. He had urged them onto some kind of odd-looking quadruped to ride; it was a bit like a cross between a horse and a bison, thick necked and shaggy maned but possessing long strong legs built for speed and endurance. They were amiable creatures but somewhat dense and it took them quite a while to travel along the pass wherein lay the hatching ground. The weather was at least bright and cold but dry, much like an English October, Riddell mused.
Their destination turned out to be a vast cavern that their mounts flatly refused to go near. They had to leave them outside of the mountain with their guide who promised to wait for them there. Judging by the small tavern set up by the roadside this was a place of pilgrimage for the populus. A small crowd were gathered and they welcomed the guide enthusiastically as if they knew him already.
The way in was huge, a tunnel carved out of solid rock. Riddell marvelled at it, running his hand over the smooth stone, mottled and lined with russet patterns like dark wood.
"You could drive four hansoms abreast through here and you'd still have room to pass on both sides. This is incredible," Riddell commented. Both men could feel the heat coming at them from inside the mountain. "And just what is causing that heat? Am I to assume we are actually inside a volcano?"
"Yes, it is a volcanic chamber, an old slumbering giant." The Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver around, then read the results quickly. "Shouldn't worry, the pressure is holding. She won't blow today." He grinned. "The Flamori use this as a living space. The heat incubates their eggs. I think they might be related to Silurians, they have traces of similar DNA.."
"What? To those lizard-like things from the ship, you mean?"
"Yes, I do. It's no big surprise really. The Flamori and the Silurs are probably both descended from the same genetic ancestor. Much like humans share a common ancestor with apes."
"Oh, that," Riddell muttered. "Darwinist, are we?"
"You're not? I'm surprised at you, Riddell, a scientist like you?"
"Never said I wasn't, but I don't necessarily take one viewpoint. I'm not much of a religious man, Doctor, but sometimes, when you're lying on a blanket in the desert with the heavens whirling above you, it's easy to feel small in the grand scheme of things. It's easy to feel the need for a supernatural answer, someone or something watching over you, so to speak. It may interest you to know, since I met you I feel even smaller so the need for that is exponentially greater. We're not alone in the Universe and the laws of physics are not what I thought they were. I live for the adventure, I enjoy mortal peril, I'm a survivor, but I've had to rethink my entire existence and that—" Riddell stabbed a finger toward the Doctor "—that is hard to do for an ingrained, dyed-in-the-wool, creature of habit like me. Even though I like excitement and a modicum of danger, I assess the odds first. You would think me a fool if I mounted a major expedition without having the right equipment, supplies, and some local knowledge, some inkling of difficulty, and knowing what I'm hunting for, at least. Only a fool would rush in feet first without asking what lies ahead, after all."
"You're not a fool, John," The Doctor said.
"Even if my plans change, even if things go awry through unexpected circumstance, I still have a modicum of logistics to fall back on and sans that, my own skills and experiences. Now I cannot help but wonder if those skills are enough. I look up at the stars and I wonder who else knows what I know? Who else living beside me is not from this world? I find it unsettling. You are not human, Doctor, but you look just like me. How many others are like you? Always thought my neighbour was an odd cove. Am I to find he's an alien too?" Riddell sighed heavily. "How will I know? When you go, I'll be left with questions nobody else can answer. That leaves me feeling very alone." The Doctor had remained silent throughout this tirade, walking steadily down the tunnel toward the hatching ground. He still did not say anything as they walked deeper.
The heat grew increasingly oppressive. The air was dry and heavy with fumes from the volcanic gasses. Suddenly the tunnel turned and opened up almost immediately into a vast chamber, lined with ledges along the walls. Those ledges were lined with dragons, all sitting beside their broods. The chamber floor was reserved for the largest dragons, protecting broods of more than twenty eggs. Riddell frowned. What did they do now?
"May I help you, revered guests?" Riddell turned to see the most beautiful young woman he had laid eyes on in a long time. She was slender, her hooded grey robe doing nothing to hide the curves beneath. She smiled a welcome and gestured. "My name is Ahiri. I am one of the chosen here. You have come to return one of the lost?"
"Er... most likely," the Doctor agreed. "We've travelled a long way to bring it to you but..."
"You are not of our world. You have flown here in a ship?"
"Sort of," the Doctor grinned, offering the egg. The young woman reached out and gathered it to her.
"I feel her," she said and her smile turned radiant. "Oh, she thanks you. She feels the heat again. It was cold where she was, but she was safe, she knew. She will be one of our greatest. Thank you, honoured gentlemen. Thank you. Please, wait here." They watched her as she walked across the sands toward a huge beast, its golden-hued skin glinting in the light from a myriad torches lining the walls. The young woman offered the egg and the great beast dipped her head and sniffed. Then, ponderously, she nodded. The woman laid the egg down against the pile of similarly speckled eggs and watched as the dragon nudged sand around the newcomer. Then she hummed gently and settled back again. The woman returned, her feet gliding along the floor.
"She welcomes the little one's return and bids me thank you. She bids me also say she would sing of you when the hatching comes."
"That's a great honour," the Doctor replied.
"It is?" Riddell murmured.
"Yes, it is. Dragons don't just sing about anybody you know."
"You must be gone soon, though. This she knows, so she will sing for you now..."
"She will? An even bigger honour." The Doctor and Riddell followed the woman to some carved bench seats situated against the wall of the hatching ground. Comfortable cushions were placed on the benches and the two men sat and waited. Gradually, Riddell became aware of a bone-deep hum that sent a vibration right through his body. He frowned, feeling the urge to close his eyes. The hum increased in strength. He slumped along the pillow and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling immeasurably tired. All the aches in his body, all the aches in his heart and mind, flooded to the fore, almost too much to bear. He gasped with the pain of it, and just as suddenly felt the soothing wash of warmth and vibration flood through him, easing the pain into non-existence, gentling him with soft dreams and jewel-bright colours seen against his mind's eye. The last thing he registered was a soft voice calling his name, then nothing.
0o0o0o0o0
Blinking in the bright sunlight falling through the gap in the curtains, Riddell surfaced reluctantly. His mouth felt as if something had died in it. He tried to rise and decided that was a bad idea.
"John?" the quiet voice was familiar. He cracked an eye and frowned. The Doctor was sitting beside him on the bed in which he lay, regarding him with concern. "You're awake, good. How do you feel?"
"Not sure. Think I'm alright. I only just woke up... Why?"
"Alright alright? Or just alright."
Riddell sighed. "I don't know. I feel—" He stopped, blinked and his mouth fell open. "Oh...my God. She didn't...did she?" The Doctor's smile widened.
"Yes, she did. You're well again, I think. She healed you..." Riddell had nothing to say about that and so he relaxed back against the pillows. No more chills and feeling wrung out for days, no more gradual deterioration. He was going to live, and he was going to enjoy it, relish it even.
"What did she do for you?" he asked but the Doctor only smiled.
"I think," he said gently "that you should rest for a while. Bit of a shock that, I suspect. Take things easy. I'm not going to leave without you." The door opened and the woman to whom they had given the egg came in bearing a tray with a bowl and cups. Everything steamed enticingly and a delicious aroma filled the room.
"Oh, good, you're with us again," she smiled. Riddell was transfixed. She looked so like Eleanor...and yet not. She was taller, softer and darker, her skin more dusky, her eyes clear blue. She was beautiful.
"What did you say your name was, ma'am?" he asked, politely.
"Ahiri," she said, her smile a little teasing. "Here, I brought some warm drinks and restorative broth for you. You need sustenance." She handed a mug to the Doctor and then deposited the tray on Riddell's knees. "Can you feed yourself?"
Riddell nodded. "Yes, I can but..."
"But?"
"Would you stay? Your company would be most welcome."
"Very well. If you wish it."
"I very much do. Doctor, you were saying, you were going to come back later? Much later?"
"What? Oh, yes. Later, of course. Much, much later in fact. I have some urgent business. I'll be getting along then... Bye then, John..."
"Yes, and Doctor..."
"Yes, John?"
Riddell smiled. "Thank you," he said sincerely. The Doctor nodded, smiling, and disappeared through the door.
Much later turned into the next day. The Doctor had seen that look in Riddell's eye before, namely the night he had strategically withdrawn from their tryst with the two dancers in Riddell's camp whom the adventurer had later proudly announced were "nothing I couldn't manage". Riddell was on the hunt again. He might be reaching middle age but he was still a fine figure of a man and the ladies seemed to be attracted to him. Whether it was his salt and pepper grey hair, his deep brown eyes, rakish smile or his self-assurance, or a combination of all four, the Doctor wasn't sure, but for whatever reason, Riddell obviously never had trouble with the female of the species. Ahiri was no different. The Doctor knew when to make himself scarce. He knocked on the door of the room they had given the adventurer and waited. He wasn't kept waiting long. The door opened and Riddell waved him in looking dishevelled but relaxed. He definitely had a satisfied grin on his face.
"Things go well then?" the Doctor said with a patient smile.
"Very well. Thank you, doctor." Riddell grinned and sat down by the fire, gesturing for the doctor to join him in the seat beside his. "I have something to tell you though."
"Oh? What would that be then?"
"Ahiri was telling me—" he cleared his throat "—last night...that the dragon who healed me, well, she didn't just heal me. She..." He paused.
"What did she do?"
"Apparently she repaired the cells in my body a little too well..."
"Oh no..." Thoughts of Jack rose to the fore but Riddell was shaking his head.
"Doctor, please, there's no need to worry. She simply...renewed me. I'm as fit as if I were twenty. I'll probably live to be a hundred and twenty. As long as I avoid getting badly hurt then I should live to a ripe old age." With an immense sense of relief, the Doctor realised that John Riddell didn't feel like Jack, he didn't have any of the wrongness that the Doctor associated with Jack Harkness. Jack was a fixed point, where Riddell was...well, new, he supposed. When he really looked at Riddell he could see that although the hair was still grey it was a shade darker now, and most of the wrinkles had smoothed although the laugh lines were still in evidence. He looked about a decade younger.
"That's...really good. Well, one good turn deserves another as they say."
Riddell smiled. "Would you mind if I stayed here a while? I'd like to explore a bit, and...well...Ahiri has asked me if I can." He exhaled sharply. "She's very...generous." He shook his head. "Last night, Doctor..." he smiled wolfishly. "Six times, six... Not done that since I was in my twenties..."
"Six times? What did you do six times?" the Doctor asked innocently. Riddell looked at him as if he'd grown two heads.
"I...well, you know... no, obviously you don't... I...well, we... that is..." They were saved by the appearance of Ahiri with refreshments. Riddell couldn't stop the relieved sigh and the Doctor hid his grin. She slid over to Riddell and slipped an arm around his waist. They kissed. "So, Doctor," Riddell said. "What do you say? Would you be able to come back in a few years or so?"
0o0o0o0o0
Occasionally the doctor would look ahead at someone's timeline, just for his own interest. He knew Riddell's had the potential to be quite spectacular. He would finally die aged one hundred and thirty two years old; he would walk out into his beloved land, lay his head beneath the stars of his second home and fall asleep, never to wake again. He would become a teacher, as suggested, imparting his knowledge to hundreds of young men across the years. He would serve with distinction in world war two, one of Monty's officers in the Africa Campaign against Rommel, saving his beloved continent for future generations. There would be one or two more adventures with the doctor before that happened, though, but for now... The TARDIS engines rumbled to life and the Doctor patted her affectionately. For now, Riddell had his lady, his health and he was in his element. There were large boar-like animals in the forests of Brexa that the native villagers relied upon as a food source but they were aggressive and dangerous. John was off hunting those. He had become quite the hero with the locals in a very short time, a hunter of distinction, and where John Riddell was concerned, he really, really couldn't ask for anything more.
So there it is. I hope you enjoy. Not exactly canon, maybe a little AU but an indulgence on my part. Reviews welcome.