Friends and Enemies:
Author's Notes: Set before Enlightenment. This is for the fanfic100 challenge and will be perhaps the easiest prompt to do. It's treading over old ground for sure, but it does fit in. I suppose you could consider it a semi-sequel to my other Turlough story - but a lot of the same issues are explored. -shrugs- Still working on writing Turlough believably.
And I'm still weak at endings.
Friends and enemies, Turlough never could figure out which was which.
After failing to kill the Doctor – again – he was beginning to feel hopeless. The Black Guardian's constant threats, while somewhat inspiring in making him try and figure out an alternate plan, hardly stirred up a sense of companionship. He supposed it wasn't meant to. It was just a business deal, more than anything. Kill the Doctor and you can go home. It sounded so simple. How had it gotten so complicated?
It didn't help that the man seemed to go out of his way to be nice. While Tegan seemed suspicious of him, the Doctor seemed to wave away any misgivings as if it wasn't possible that Turlough might not be what he seemed. He hadn't thought he was that good of an actor. It was beginning to make him suspicious. The kindness was unnatural, and when he'd agreed to kill the fellow, he'd been under the impression that he would be a bad man. The Doctor seemed to delight in disproving it, which just made him feel worse.
And Tegan. She was suspicious. Half of him felt like she was a threat, but the other half was saying that whatever she did had no bearing on what he'd been told to do anyway. Besides, she was no more of a threat than the Black Guardian himself.
He supposed this was why he was going along with it. There was no way he could challenge the Black Guardian. He half-hoped the Doctor would be capable, but he doubted it. He'd have given anything for the two to sort each other out. Turlough hated the idea of feeling caught in the crossfire. It wasn't his conflict. He could at least kid himself about that.
He rested his chin on his arm and sighed. He was being played as an assassin in somebody else's games, but who was the real enemy? At least the Doctor appeared friendly, despite the fact his trust in Turlough was vastly misplaced.
Or was it?
Getting up to find the rest of this motley crew, he was filled with the realisation that perhaps he'd never know who could really be called an enemy – but he knew where he'd sooner end up. He just didn't know how to get there.
He supposed he'd figure it out. Despite how it felt, he still had time. Anything could happen.
(And it did.)
