Title: Pet Rock
Author: castrovalva9
Rating: PG
Characters: Five/Turlough, Black Guardian, Tegan
Summary: The Black Guardian sets Turlough a seemingly impossible task.
Notes: Not quite crack!fic, but not terribly far off of it, either. I did try to keep the plot grounded in its own form of logic, though.
Set after Terminus, so the Black Guardian's still around and Nyssa has recently left. There just isn't a place for her in this particular story.
Beta read by Kara MT.
As days went, Turlough's had already been nothing short of disastrous, and it was barely half over. Tegan had stomped on his foot while wearing high heels (she claimed it was an accident, but Turlough had his doubts), the Doctor had forgotten his existence and nearly stranded him on the frozen fields of Alton Major, and to top it off, the Black Guardian had just materialised to demand a chat.
Leaning against a roundel in one of the endless corridors aboard the TARDIS, Turlough balanced the despised crystal in one hand, slipped off his right shoe, and rubbed his sore foot as the Guardian launched into a typical tirade. He still wasn't happy Tegan had injured him, but had to admit that tending the wound provided a convenient excuse to avoid looking the Guardian in the eye. Unfortunately, listening to his haranguing voice was not optional.
"You, my boy, are pathetic. I've made a very easy request and you have completely failed to fulfill it. Clearly, you are useless at committing simple acts such as murder and sabotage. I cannot find the words to express how disappointed I am." There was a significant pause during which Turlough braced himself for more abuse. The Guardian continued in a disturbingly gentler tone, "However, I have been considering the matter in some depth and I'm pleased to announce that I've come up with a way for you to redeem yourself."
Such a generous offer instantly raised Turlough's suspicions. "What do you have in mind?" he asked carefully. He had no illusions; the new task was bound to be dreadful, probably worse than his original revolting assignment to kill the Doctor.
"Even you can accomplish this job," the Guardian assured him. "As a bonus, it will be a great boost to your low self-esteem when you succeed. All you must do is convince the Doctor to pilot the TARDIS to a specific location."
Turlough waited to hear the inevitable catch as he finished massaging his foot and replaced his shoe. "And then what?" he finally prompted when the Guardian had remained silent for some seconds.
"And then nothing. That is where your participation in the plan begins and ends."
Turlough rolled his eyes, but only because he knew the Guardian was too busy posturing to notice. "Well, why didn't you just ask me to do that the very first time we met?"
"Because initially, I never imagined that you would be so inept at an elementary job like a quick murder. Due to your sheer incompetence, I've had to simplify matters substantially. Now, listen carefully and commit this information to memory, if you can manage even that much." Here the Guardian rattled off a set of coordinates.
Turlough obediently memorised the words, then thought of an obvious question. "But can't I just program the coordinates myself? I don't need the Doctor for that."
"On the contrary, you very much need him. Only someone with extremely advanced knowledge of and connection to a TARDIS will be able to pilot it to that exact place. It also requires a level of intelligence that you have so far shown no sign of possessing. The Doctor must do it himself. And you must convince him, or suffer the consequences," the Guardian firmly concluded.
"So how am I supposed to persuade him?"
"Do whatever is necessary. Be creative." The Guardian's lips curved. "While you may be good for little else, in this case I'm quite sure you have your wiles... er, ways. And I am equally sure that the Doctor will find those ways most enticing."
A chill spread through Turlough's stomach. "Oh, hold on, you don't expect me to..."
"Seduce him into it? It would be the most efficient method. And when one is operating under a deadline, one should strive for maximum efficiency. If one desires long-term survival, that is. Don't bother to protest that you are unwilling. We both know the opposite is true."
Turlough lowered his gaze. "Maybe so, but he'll wonder why I want to go to that place, and it'll look suspicious when I can't explain."
"Of course you can explain. Lie, boy, lie! Tell him you buried a fortune in gold there. Tell him it's your mother's rest home. I don't care what story you make up as long as you deliver him to that location. I will take care of the rest."
Turlough nodded. "That sounds..." His voice trailed off. The plan didn't sound "good" in the least; it sounded awful, but he didn't dare speak his mind. Instead he rephrased, "I understand what I have to do, and I won't let you down."
"You had better not." The Guardian regarded Turlough with a frown. "You see, I am going to allow you free rein to complete this job. This time, I won't be around to assist."
Turlough nearly dropped the crystal in shock. "What?"
"I do have other ongoing projects, you know. I'm a busy man, and it's impossible for me to constantly monitor you. Besides, your need for extensive supervision has become quite tedious. Has the thought never crossed your mind that I might like to participate in the occasional poker tournament or even read a good book once in a while? I see by the expression on your face that it has not. Ah, well, I am not surprised. Your lack of imagination is one of your outstanding characteristics." The Guardian's image wavered and began to fade. Just before he vanished, he uttered the reminder, "You are entirely on your own to complete this job. Succeed, and you are free. Fail, and the consequences will be severe. Two days should prove sufficient."
"Wait! What if I need more time?" Turlough yelled. Silence answered him. "Well, that was a big help," he muttered as he clutched the dormant crystal.
A hand fell upon his shoulder. Turlough froze; the hand was attached to the Doctor, who had turned up at almost the worst possible moment. He circled Turlough and looked inquisitively at the object in his palm. "What an unexpected sight. Turlough, I must say, I'm extremely surprised."
"It really isn't what you think," Turlough blindly insisted, curling his fingers over the top of the crystal.
The Doctor smiled kindly. "I know exactly what you're holding, and there's no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed. Absolutely no reason at all. You could be up to a lot worse."
What could be that much worse than colluding with the Black Guardian against the Doctor? Turlough thought. "What do you mean?"
"It isn't a bad thing by any means, and I don't think any less of you for it. I simply had no idea that you possessed a pet rock."
"A pet rock?" Turlough repeated. It was one of the last things he had expected to hear.
"You don't know their history?" The Doctor slipped into familiar lecture mode. "In 1970s America, a man named Gary Dahl came up with the idea of selling ordinary grey pebbles along with mock training booklets containing instructions on how to feed the rocks and teach them to perform tricks such as sitting and staying. Some owners even talked to their 'pets', like you do."
Turlough stared at him; the Doctor didn't appear to be joking. "That's the most asinine idea I've ever heard of."
"Perhaps not so foolish, since it did make the inventor a millionaire within mere months," the Doctor pointed out. "And, Turlough, I understand that the original concept may be unfamiliar to you, as the fad peaked in 1975. However, you do realise if that is not a pet rock, then I'll have to ask you some very uncomfortable questions about what it actually is."
Turlough sighed in defeat. "Fine, I guess it's a pet rock."
The Doctor nodded. "Exactly as I thought. It's a very quaint and human habit you've picked up here. You see, not everything you learned on Earth was bad for you." After a final cheery smile and a pat on Turlough's back, he proceeded down the corridor and out of sight.
Turlough eyed the crystal. "Be careful, or he might get suspicious of you and me."
"Turlough, are you talking to a crystal?" came Tegan's voice from beside him.
Somehow not terribly surprised to be caught in the act again, Turlough squared his shoulders. "Yes, I am talking to a crystal, Tegan. But you see, this isn't just any ordinary crystal. It's a very special crystal. This is my pet rock."
"Your what?"
"Ask the Doctor." Turlough turned and meandered away, leaving Tegan speechless for once. Doubtless, she would soon recover and charge away to confront the Doctor with Turlough's crackpot story. He only wished he could see the look on her face when she suffered the humiliation of the Doctor informing her that it was true.
In the meantime, though, Turlough had more weighty matters to consider. He'd already failed to kill the Doctor by his own hand, and sabotaging the TARDIS had reaped less than positive results. He supposed he was very lucky to have been offered this latest opportunity, even though it came along with yet another moral dilemma. Turlough was sure that after he gave the Black Guardian what he wanted, the Doctor would not live a very long or a very happy life. The knowledge that he would be sending another man to sure doom did not especially thrill him.
Still, the Doctor's future was none of Turlough's concern. He had to look out for himself first and foremost. If it boiled down to a choice between his life or the Doctor's, self-preservation had to prove victorious. He would follow the Black Guardian's orders, win the Doctor's confidence, and betray him. Then he would be free. As for the Doctor, he would just have to take his chances.
Within that very hour, Turlough started his work in earnest and continued it over the next two days. During meals he brushed the Doctor's hand while passing requested items. He tried smiling seductively, innocently, boldly, and sweetly (that version was a real stretch and he wasn't entirely sure he pulled it off). He complimented the Doctor's apple pie, requested the name of his tailor, and even engaged in long, detailed discussions of cricket--knowledge courtesy of a handy but excruciatingly dull guide called The Noble Sport Through the Centuries-- during which he impressed the Doctor by dropping terms such as leg spinner and flat throw.
Despite Turlough's outrageous flirting, over the course of those two days he made not the slightest bit of meaningful progress. The Doctor's behaviour towards him did not alter one iota. He remained pleasant, polite, and friendly, but no more.
Truth be told, Turlough was rather insulted. He didn't think he was that unattractive, and it wasn't like there were a lot of options while aboard the TARDIS. If someone--anyone at all--offered, Turlough thought the Doctor should be accepting with a hell of a lot more eagerness than he had shown so far. So why was he ignoring Turlough's blatant advances? The Doctor couldn't be blind or naive as he was acting; he had to know exactly what Turlough was getting at. Didn't he?
Searching for any other reason to explain why he was being spurned, Turlough decided it was, naturally, all Tegan's fault. Having her hampering presence around was like being a Derby entrant with an extra six stone on its back: a crippling handicap. Turlough shuddered to think of the complications of seduction if he still had Nyssa about to contend with as well. Yes, as soon as Tegan gave him some breathing space and stopped lurking about and interrupting meaningful moments, Turlough thought he should be able to make serious inroads. Therefore, on the second day of his assignment he bided his time until finally, Tegan left the console room to turn in for the night.
The setup was ideal: He and the Doctor were alone, with Tegan nowhere to be seen. The Doctor was engaged in the familiar pastime of unsuccessfully fiddling with the TARDIS console. Turlough was assisting in small ways such as holding tools and making sympathetic noises whenever the Doctor swore. He had been considering, rehearsing, and rejecting potential conversational openers for hours. Now the depressing weight of the omnipresent crystal in his pocket spurred Turlough into speech. "So, Doctor, you must have been travelling around for quite a long while," he began.
"It's been some time, yes," the Doctor agreed, handing Turlough a spanner to hold and turning back to the console.
"I'm sure you must feel very lonely out here sometimes."
"Oh, I'm hardly alone," the Doctor replied as he soldered a wire and then glanced at Turlough. "I usually have friends with me."
"No, I meant 'lonely', not 'alone'. Lonely in a personal sort of way." Turlough smiled and stroked his tie with his right index finger.
"What are you going on about, Turlough?" the Doctor said blankly.
The Doctor was giving new meaning to the word "oblivious". Trying to give him an unmistakable sign, Turlough fondled the knot of his tie. In the next moment, the TARDIS lurched violently and they crashed on the planet of Telva.
The enforced landing ruined Turlough's plan. For the remainder of the night, the Doctor was far too concerned with TARDIS repairs and negotiating with the Telvans for supplies to even notice his attempts at flirtation. In fact, considering the notable lack of success he had so far encountered, Turlough was beginning to suspect that the Black Guardian had set him an impossible task. There was no way anyone could have won over the Doctor within only 48 hours. Even given an unlimited amount of time, it might not be possible at all. The Doctor just didn't seem to understand the concept.
The crystal had, as promised, remained dim throughout the two days. Now, though, as Turlough moodily haunted the corridors and contemplated deliberately injuring himself just to get some attention, the horrible thing lit up his pocket like a spotlight. Turlough yanked it out and cupped it in his palms. Apparently they were to hold yet another key discussion in the open, probably because the Black Guardian delighted in tormenting Turlough with the constant fear of being discovered. The technique was effective. However, much to Turlough's relief, this time only the Guardian's voice confronted him, while his form stayed wherever it was when it wasn't offending Turlough's eyes.
"You have failed me once more, Turlough," the Guardian stated without preamble. "A very disheartening pattern to our interactions has formed. You are fortunate that, inept as you are, I have so far required your services. Nevertheless, your consistent failures do not inspire confidence."
"Yeah, well, it isn't all my fault. Not even close to it. I've been working night and day, so you know there's no lack of effort on my part."
"Then why is the Doctor not where I instructed you to bring him?"
"It does take two, and he hasn't exactly cooperated with me. Are you sure he even knows how to--"
"Certainly he does, boy," the Guardian snapped, "he is more than 750 years old."
"Well, he doesn't act like he has the first clue. What the hell is he saving it for anyway?" Turlough stopped, a potentially life-saving thought springing to the front of his brain. "Hey, maybe he just doesn't like me. If he isn't interested, you really can't blame me."
"Make him like you," the Guardian boomed, then paused. "Or perhaps your latest spectacular failure is indeed not entirely your fault."
Turlough could hardly believe his ears. Was the Black Guardian actually admitting that Turlough might be right?
"Perhaps," the Guardian went on, "you have competition. I understand you and the Doctor have another travelling companion, a female human. Can the girl possibly be the problem? Are she and the Doctor involved with each other?"
Turlough scoffed. "No, he's definitely not getting it from Tegan. Together they'd be like oil and water. In fact, I can't even figure out why she's still on board. She's always complaining about everything." He mimicked Tegan's voice. "'We crashed again, you couldn't steer a bicycle, Turlough's evil, the TARDIS burnt my toast.'"
"Why has she stayed around, indeed?" the Guardian mused. "It truly is a question to ponder."
Not for Turlough; he had more important things to consider than Tegan's baffling presence. Things like getting out of this mess alive and in one piece. Desperate to secure a reprieve, he heard himself uttering the words he had never thought he would voluntarily say. "Can't I just kill him instead? That would be so much easier."
"No. Use the girl," came the Black Guardian's faint voice.
"What?" Use Tegan how? Turlough wondered. Flirt with her to make the Doctor jealous? Strangle her so she would finally be out of his way? Something else? "A little direction would be nice!"
"Use the girl," the Guardian repeated, and on that note he left Turlough to think.
Despite the Black Guardian's parting words of advice, by the next day Turlough had decided against "using" Tegan in any way. The thought of flirting with her made him sick to his stomach, she clearly felt the same level of distaste towards him, and the Doctor probably wouldn't notice anyway, let alone end up overcome with jealousy. Similarly, the idea of strangling Tegan--though tempting--was bound to backfire, since the Doctor was unlikely to be impressed by such violence. And if Turlough knew one thing for sure, it was that he didn't dare enlist Tegan to help in his schemes to entrap the Doctor. She didn't trust or like him and probably would enjoy nothing better than sabotaging his attempts. Not that she would need to bother. Turlough was crashing and burning quite well on his own, without any outside assistance.
No, Turlough concluded, the best way to deal with Tegan was to leave her well alone. For the time being, he was perfectly content to stay out of her path as long as she followed his lead. While it would be virtually impossible to entirely avoid her, he could do his best. Therefore, as he entered the console room he merely nodded briefly to Tegan in the bare minimum of a greeting and then pretended she didn't exist.
That matter taken care of, Turlough devoted his brainpower to the big question. He had to come up with a fresh approach. He studied the Doctor, who was half-buried in the console innards as he wielded a screwdriver to seemingly little effect. Now and then a spark flitted at him as the TARDIS protested his efforts.
Turlough had just taken a step towards him when a distraction struck. "Turlough, we need to talk." It was Tegan, hovering at his elbow like a particularly persistent gnat.
"Later, okay?"
"No, now." She grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the room.
Once in the corridor, well out of earshot of the Doctor, Turlough yanked his limb free. "What is it?"
Tegan announced, "I know what you're up to."
"Oh, really," Turlough said dismissively. "And what would that be?"
"I've seen how you're acting around the Doctor. The way you've been fawning all over him is disgusting. If you drooled any more, there'd be a puddle of saliva around your feet. Anyone with eyes can tell you have something up your sleeve. My guess is you want to win the Doctor's confidence and then betray him. The only reason he hasn't seen through you yet is that he's so idealistic, he always hunts for the good in everyone. And compared to some of the creatures he's believed in the past, you look relatively innocent. But I know you can't be trusted."
Despite himself, Turlough was intrigued by the (extremely accurate) accusations. Tegan was far more insightful than he ever would have guessed. Maybe if he prodded her a bit, she would unwittingly give his efforts a hand. "How do you think I'm going to 'win his confidence', as you put it?"
"You know what they say about public schools."
Turlough smirked. "No, what's that?"
Tegan scowled. "Don't try to play innocent with me. You know very well what I mean. But you're deluding yourself. The Doctor would never respond to you anyway. Why would he? He can do a lot better."
'He can do a lot better... do a lot better... do a lot better...'
The phrase echoed inside Turlough's head. It was significant. He just had to figure out how it was significant. Unless, perhaps... could it possibly be...?
"Are you even listening to me?" Tegan yelped.
Turlough flinched. "How can I avoid it?" Inside, however, he was grinning in triumph. He had found it: the key, the way to effectively use Tegan as a tool and accomplish his goals. She was playing right into his hands. "Yes, of course I'm listening to you, Tegan. Your voice just reached a level at which hearing damage can occur. You said you think the Doctor can do better than me. Personally, I'm not so sure about that. He seems pretty lonely. Probably wouldn't mind a little attention, even if it is just from me. After all, his options are awfully limited."
"Options?" Tegan repeated.
"No one, himself, me... oh, yeah, you're here too," Turlough said carelessly. "But you don't really count."
"Why not?" Tegan predictably flared.
Turlough shrugged. "You just... don't."
Tegan's eyes narrowed. "Leave the Doctor alone."
"Or what?"
"Or you'll see," Tegan coolly replied.
Turlough promptly decided that he very much wanted to see exactly what Tegan had in mind. If he'd guessed correctly, he'd roused Tegan's competitive instincts and lured her into the game. Soon, if all went according to plan, he could sit back and allow her to do the dirty work for him.
"While you're deciding what to do, I'll just go back in here." He shifted towards the console room.
Tegan did not speak. Instead, she appeared to be thinking very hard. Then she turned on her heel and hurried off.
Turlough gazed after her appraisingly. He didn't for a second believe that Tegan was running away. She wouldn't quit so easily. It just wasn't in her character. She was loyal to a fault, and more important in this case, she despised Turlough. Therefore, he knew she would return, and he also knew it would not be a quiet return.
Turlough spared a moment of sympathy for the poor Doctor, who would never know what had hit him once Tegan attacked. Unlike Turlough, she had no hidden agenda and absolutely nothing to lose. Also unlike Turlough, Tegan didn't know the meaning of the word "subtle". Back in the console room, he settled down with a TARDIS handbook and awaited her reappearance.
TBC