Disclaimer: It all belongs to BBC. I just play.
The night air had seemed warm previously. Now it was freezing on her naked skin. She was livid. Her hands balled into fists and hung defiantly at her side. If one of the men stayed close enough, she would have slapped them. It would have gotten her hit, she supposed, but anything was better than getting stripped.
She had seen anger and warning in the Doctor's eyes. He was silently pleading with her not to draw retaliation. He had worn the same look on the bridge of the ship just days ago. He was angry she was being mishandled; after all, he had always been mad about his companions being accosted. Yes, the stare she had seen was almost burning with fury, yet was quietly simmering under the ice blue.
And that clear anger in the eyes of her emotionally detached, sometimes lover, was enough to make her bite her tongue. Instead of lashing out, she lifted her chin and steeled her gaze on their captor.
The priest was staring at them, the gaze pointed and cold as ice. He switched his gaze from one to the other and began to speak in clear concise words. Tegan immediately recognized it. "Rabbits."
The Doctor's hand enclosed her wrist and he stepped up alongside her. "Quiet," he warned.
"But that's..."
"Yes, Tegan..." he breathed. "Now quiet...I need to interpret."
She gritted her teeth at his tone, but remained quiet. To her ears, and apparently to his, the words were Ancient Gallifreyan or a close facsimile thereof.
"But how..." she whispered quietly, barely about the breeze. "And why?"
The Doctor didn't answer. He stood, his eyes trained on their leader, his lips moving silently. She was mesmerized by the flickering of the torches around them; she stared at them in an effort to ignore the people around them; she made a conscious effort not to be ashamed and glared at everyone.
She didn't know entirely why she, the Doctor and Tren were naked, but with all the bustling around behind the leader, she assumed it was a ceremony of some sort. At least no one was staring at their bodies. In fact it seemed as though they were being shunned. No one looked directly at them.
Suddenly the Doctor's arm slid around her waist and she was brought up hard against his flank. Her muscles tensed. "What's he said?" she asked, as the Doctor took up her hand in his. He didn't answer her. Rather, he shouted out a couple of words, stumbling over the second. The priest nodded, but appeared unhappy. He banged his stick twice on the ground. The Doctor apparently didn't care for the tone nor the look for he continued to talk loudly. His voice was forceful and quite commanding. After a moment, the priest waved his hand and the Doctor fell into silence.
Another volley began a moment later. The Doctor's hand continued to squeeze her wrist; she knew it was going to leave marks. She winced despite herself and wrapped her other hand around his to keep it from crushing her bones.
"At least tell me what he's saying..." she whispered pointedly.
The Doctor rocketed off another response to their overlording captor. And then quietly answered Tegan: "We trespassed on sacred ground to An and Nanna. Apparently they are very impressed we weren't struck down."
"Nanna? It doesn't look like Gran's house." Her weak joke was met with silence. "So glad we've made some sort of impression," Tegan grumbled. Her fingers were getting white from trying to stem the force of his grip. "Does that mean they're going to let us go?"
He was already involved in another exchange of words. When he finished, he shook his head. "No, no, Tegan...far from it."
"Wonderful," she breathed. "Doc...you're hurting me."
His grip lessened slightly, but he still held firmly. Several men were approaching them again. "Sentencing has been passed," he muttered as both of his hands tightened on her.
"What on Earth does that mean?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "We weren't even represented."
"Hush, Tegan," he warned. She felt his back straightening and all his muscles tightening. She could tell, through knowing him, through knowing other people in the face of a threat, that he was sizing the man up. He was assessing the situation. With a frown, after a heated exchange, he moved her behind him.
She didn't have time to respond. Apparently angered by something the Doctor had said, the priest came towards them, fiery, loud and incensed. Tegan heard the yell of the priest and the Doctor's quietly fierce response. She fought the want to jump into the foray, laying her hand against the Doctor's cool back.
The Doctor reached for her finally and turned his back on the priest. Even in the torch light she could see his eyes like hard icicles. Her friend was buried; Supremo reigned.
Over his shoulder she could see men approaching. Each carried blue swathes of cloth draped over his arm. "Thank God, clothes..." she breathed.
He rolled his eyes. "Particular clothes, Tegan. We're to be inducted into the service of the temple. And before you ask, that includes the wearing of the provided clothes and under a certain guise."
"Meaning?" She tried not to flinch as one of the men draped the cloth over one of her shoulders. The cloth fell, rough in texture, about her hips to the top of her thighs. It was simply tucked about her waist and left as is. It covered none of her chest and even less of the rest of her. "I don't think I like this very much. Hell's teeth, Doc..." she griped as they draped another cloth about the Doctor's hips. "What is going on around here?"
"I am to help with the scribes. Apparently," he sighed. "Apparently my mastering of the few languages skills associated with Ancient Gallifreyan has led them to feel I am of the educated class."
"And me? Tren?" she asked.
The Doctor eased her nearer to him and glanced back at Tren. There was a slight change the Doctor's eye color: she knew that meant he was concerned. The tick in his cheek, the lifting of his right eyebrow was an unvoiced comment on how he thought Tren was doing. And it wasn't good.
"You and Tren are to enter into the cultic rites associated with An and Ishtar."
"But this is the temple of Nanna," she argued. "They've got the wrong place."
"Yes, well..." the Doctor sighed. "I don't think that matters much to them. You will be given to the new temple rites by next full moon." He stiffened as the men of the temple neared them. Tegan watched the dance and pull of the torch flames as they passed. She knew if she looked directly at the men, her anger would get the better of her.
"Can't we just leave?"
The Doctor shook his head as they were surrounded and instructed to walk towards the open door again.
"Why not? You've gotten what....hey!" She had moved barely three steps when her arm was grabbed and her bracelet was taken. "Doctor!"
The Time Lord frowned and reached back for Tegan. "Keep walking."
"But..." Tegan was livid. "That was the only way..."
"No, it isn't the only way you can leave here," he reassured. "There is another way, albeit a bit more convoluted and hard, but it is doable." He grimaced as they passed from the temple interior out into the ink black night. His pace was clipped and Tegan ran to keep up with him.
"Please tell me we aren't going back to that cell," she stated. "I'm decidedly tired of it."
"Oh, no," he replied as they drew to a stop at the top of the stairs. Tren puffed next to them. She disentangled her hand from the Doctor and wrapped her arm around the man. Tren flinched and Tegan could feel the tremors in his body.
"No," he continued as their guards began to herd them down the stairs. "We're to be placed in the household of the head scribe of the temple as his slaves." Before Tegan could say anything, he turned to her with a smile. "At least it isn't a hole, Tegan, cheer up."
"Slaves?" she bit out. Tren simply whimpered. "I think I would prefer the cell, thank you very much."
The Doctor sighed heavily. "Be thankful you aren't transferred to the temple immediately, Tegan. The cultic rights mean you shall be a symbol of fertility in Ishtar's temple; you'll be a temple prostitute."
She sputtered as she stumbled down the stairs, holding Tren up. The Doctor came around to the man's other side and slipped his arm under Tegan's to take the man's weight. "Over my dead body," she warned. The Doctor nodded. "And mine."
"Then let's go!" she nearly shouted.
"Tegan," he continued as they began down the main slope toward the ground. "I don't think you understand the depth of what is going on here. This is Sumeria...the cradle of civilization for Homo Sapiens. There is a priest here who speaks on some level, in some mutated form, Gallifreyan. There's Gallifreyan writing on obelisks about the place. And it ties to the Eye of Orion."
"So those bastards you call a race have been here," she rumbled. "Doesn't surprise me in the least."
"But it isn't Gallifreyan, Tegan...it's an older, cruder language. I want to know what this Gatherer is...I want to know why it's here. And why it is incorporated in the religion of these people. It could be vitally important. Someone is fooling around with the beginning of your race. This means that everything that is listed as being a part of this society...the use of 60 as a predominant number in maths, it's how Terrans will tell time, the wheel, laws...might be in question."
Put that way, Tegan thought, he had a point.
"I'll have us away from here by the time the full moon occurs, Tegan. I do promise that. You will not be put into the cultic rites."
She hadn't been looking at him, but the tone of his voice made her shiver. The message of his warning came across loud and clear. He needed to stay, but he wouldn't allow her to be harmed. She didn't need the support; she would fight her own battles, but the sentiment was welcomed. There was the feeling that if she started a fight, he would most definitely finish it.
She blinked and looked out from the pyramid. Flames danced on torches as far as she could see, dark houses, quietly moving animals...it was a quiet, peaceful image of the first civilization on Earth. She knew that. And she knew that if it was in trouble, they had to do something. The Doctor was usually not wrong about his feelings in matters like these. And her gut feeling told her all wasn't right there.
"All right, Doc," she sighed. "Let's figure it out. But quickly?"
"Brave heart, Tegan," he said for the second time that night. "I'll be so quick that if you blink, you'll miss it."
**
*Crack*
She didn't know if the sound of the creaking basket she held was louder, or the sound of her back creaking as she stood. If she got old, she didn't know it. So it came as a surprise to her that her body sounded old. Must have been the year she spent sleeping on the ground, she supposed. Apparently it affected her enough that she had a hard time sleeping on the relative comfort of a pallet and the Doctor's shoulder.
She looked down at the collection of hemp that she had just placed in the basket. In another time, another place, it would be humorous that she was harvesting the crop, but here it was commonplace.
Tegan straightened and began to walk across the short distance to the house. She gave the guard a smirk as she passed him. It wasn't intellectually hard work, as she had told the Doctor, anyone could manage it, but that hadn't been his worry that morning.
They had been awakened roughly by the head of the household. As she had disentangled herself from the Doctor, it had apparently become clear to their new boss that she didn't speak the language. The Doctor had accompanied her to the field quickly and quietly, listening intently as to what he was being told. Then he stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders and nodded gravely to the field.
"The hemp is ready for harvesting," he had muttered. "They want you to help the others to bring it in and if there is enough time, reduce it and begin to weave it into rope."
"Doesn't sound too hard, Doc," she had commented. She had glanced around at the others and then sighed. "And looks mundane and safe enough, but I won't say it's my favored job. But let's not stay around here long enough for it to become my chosen profession, eh?"
But she could see he worried about something else, it was written as fresh and etched as deeply in his eyes as those marks he was planning on transferring. "You are planning on getting us out of here quickly, yes?"
"Oh quite," he had agreed with a deep sigh. "I just need to figure out how to get over to the obelisks without a problem."
"I thought you were helping with the carving..."
"Yes, well, Tegan...the ones I need to interpret are already finished," he had quipped. "I won't be near them." But then he had turned to look at the man who was leading him away and frowned. "Ah, well, shall see what I can do. Keep safe and if you have a problem, find me."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
And with that, they had separated. She stretched as best she could while still moving and entered the main courtyard. Blinking in the bright sunlight, she wiped sweat from her brow. She had to admit that amidst all the problems that this vacation was throwing in their way and the apparent right angle their course had taken, simply the smell of wet, hot Earth was enough to make her feel calm. After a year of rotten decaying planet life and then the last week of stagnant air of a spacecraft and the smell of thousands of dying and dead bodies, it was like ambrosia. Heaven, like summer on her uncle's farm, was to be found in the smell of sun baked mud and grass.
"Rabbits."
It made her feel calm, at least, until she practically stumbled over Tren. He was sitting, holding his basket in his lap. Self-consciously, she reached to adjust the material of her swathed clothes as far over her chest as she could. With a sigh, she knelt. "Tren? Cripes, are you all right?"
The man's eyes were empty when he glanced up at her. That wasn't any different from how he had been in the last 24 hours. She sat down next to him on the ground, and set the basket to the side. "Tren? How are you doing, huh?"
Tren blinked and continued to blindly pick the leaves in front of him. She glanced around to gauge the location of the other people. Her new friend was in a world of his own. He still looked busy and she supposed that was the most important thing.
She laid her hand against his back and was reminded of the young lad that had died in their last battle. He, too, had had the lost look in his eyes. "Rabbits," she breathed as she stroked his back. "Tren, I don't like it here either, but we aren't being whipped. The Doc will get what he needs and we'll leave, I promise. He does this...he gets involved... But...he has to..."
She patted his back and stood. Even in the last year she hadn't seen anyone fall into shock so quickly.
"He will, Tren..."
Her voice drifted off. Squinting into the mid afternoon sun, she could see the Doctor. He was bent over a small obelisk. At a distance, his blond hair looked darker than it was and his height seemed increased. His shoulders glistened and she realized he was sweating. That was interesting to her. He stopped what he was doing and straightened. His back looked board straight and her eyes followed the lines of his body from his head to his shoulders to his naked back down to the dark blue material wrapped at his waist.
And his thighs were definitely more muscular, she thought with a smile.
A shout brought her attention back and she continued towards the house quickly. Although she bristled at the thought of slavery, she knew she had to keep an even emotional keel about it all. The Doctor had a plan. She had to help him as she could.
**
"Well, bloody hell," Tegan muttered. The food was placed in front of her with a slap.
She tried to muscle her way to the pallet they had had the night before with her food, and found she was getting nowhere. She couldn't get too angry as it was a woman with a young child in her arms and a bowl of food in her hands. But when a pair of hands landed on her shoulders, she turned, livid, to take the threat.
"Doc!"
"Hmm," the Doctor looked down at what she held in her hands for food and sighed. "I think if we put yours and my food stuffs together we might just have a meal." He grimaced and reached for her free hand to bring her over to another pallet. Tren was seated against the wall, curled in a ball, facing the window.
"Thank hell, you found him," Tegan whispered as they approached. "I couldn't in this group."
The Doctor's eyebrows sardonically rose in response and gave her a half- lidded stare. She could see his worry about their new friend. He released her and allowed her to sit next to Tren. The Doctor glanced down at his food and then, with a sigh, he handed off his food to Tren. "Eat up, Tren. We'll need our energy tomorrow."
Tegan glanced up harshly. "Are we going somewhere? Back to the Eye?" The odor of the food filled her nostrils and she sniffed heavily. She was hungry and had eaten much worse; still, she played with the collection of green and grains.
The Doctor sat down next to her. "Ah, no, Tegan, no. I shall need you this evening, however."
She picked up a limp leaf, gave it a disdainful look and brought it to her lips to nibble. "That sounds serious. Rabbits, I wish you said we were heading back. Cripes, poor Peri..."
With a sigh, he nodded. "I'm sure she's adjusted, Tegan. She's a big girl." He reached over to take a leaf and put a pinchful of grain into it, forming a packet which he popped in his mouth. "After all, you and I both know she's quite capable. I rather think she's fine. We'll get back as soon as possible."
Tegan finished chewing and leaned forward to catch his gaze. "What are you thinking, Doc?"
His eyes held the familiar gleam of excitement they always did during an adventure, but there was a hard, cold icy edge under the blue. The cricketer was betrayed by the soldier but she could see the prior wished for dominance. His arm rounded her shoulder and smiled. "Your guerilla skills are honed, are they not, Tegan?"
Despite her anger at the situation, her dirty and aching feet, her lack of clothing and the fact that hearing those words from the Doctor sounded like she were back on Sylvana, she smiled widely. "You bet."
**
The night air had seemed warm previously. Now it was freezing on her naked skin. She was livid. Her hands balled into fists and hung defiantly at her side. If one of the men stayed close enough, she would have slapped them. It would have gotten her hit, she supposed, but anything was better than getting stripped.
She had seen anger and warning in the Doctor's eyes. He was silently pleading with her not to draw retaliation. He had worn the same look on the bridge of the ship just days ago. He was angry she was being mishandled; after all, he had always been mad about his companions being accosted. Yes, the stare she had seen was almost burning with fury, yet was quietly simmering under the ice blue.
And that clear anger in the eyes of her emotionally detached, sometimes lover, was enough to make her bite her tongue. Instead of lashing out, she lifted her chin and steeled her gaze on their captor.
The priest was staring at them, the gaze pointed and cold as ice. He switched his gaze from one to the other and began to speak in clear concise words. Tegan immediately recognized it. "Rabbits."
The Doctor's hand enclosed her wrist and he stepped up alongside her. "Quiet," he warned.
"But that's..."
"Yes, Tegan..." he breathed. "Now quiet...I need to interpret."
She gritted her teeth at his tone, but remained quiet. To her ears, and apparently to his, the words were Ancient Gallifreyan or a close facsimile thereof.
"But how..." she whispered quietly, barely about the breeze. "And why?"
The Doctor didn't answer. He stood, his eyes trained on their leader, his lips moving silently. She was mesmerized by the flickering of the torches around them; she stared at them in an effort to ignore the people around them; she made a conscious effort not to be ashamed and glared at everyone.
She didn't know entirely why she, the Doctor and Tren were naked, but with all the bustling around behind the leader, she assumed it was a ceremony of some sort. At least no one was staring at their bodies. In fact it seemed as though they were being shunned. No one looked directly at them.
Suddenly the Doctor's arm slid around her waist and she was brought up hard against his flank. Her muscles tensed. "What's he said?" she asked, as the Doctor took up her hand in his. He didn't answer her. Rather, he shouted out a couple of words, stumbling over the second. The priest nodded, but appeared unhappy. He banged his stick twice on the ground. The Doctor apparently didn't care for the tone nor the look for he continued to talk loudly. His voice was forceful and quite commanding. After a moment, the priest waved his hand and the Doctor fell into silence.
Another volley began a moment later. The Doctor's hand continued to squeeze her wrist; she knew it was going to leave marks. She winced despite herself and wrapped her other hand around his to keep it from crushing her bones.
"At least tell me what he's saying..." she whispered pointedly.
The Doctor rocketed off another response to their overlording captor. And then quietly answered Tegan: "We trespassed on sacred ground to An and Nanna. Apparently they are very impressed we weren't struck down."
"Nanna? It doesn't look like Gran's house." Her weak joke was met with silence. "So glad we've made some sort of impression," Tegan grumbled. Her fingers were getting white from trying to stem the force of his grip. "Does that mean they're going to let us go?"
He was already involved in another exchange of words. When he finished, he shook his head. "No, no, Tegan...far from it."
"Wonderful," she breathed. "Doc...you're hurting me."
His grip lessened slightly, but he still held firmly. Several men were approaching them again. "Sentencing has been passed," he muttered as both of his hands tightened on her.
"What on Earth does that mean?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "We weren't even represented."
"Hush, Tegan," he warned. She felt his back straightening and all his muscles tightening. She could tell, through knowing him, through knowing other people in the face of a threat, that he was sizing the man up. He was assessing the situation. With a frown, after a heated exchange, he moved her behind him.
She didn't have time to respond. Apparently angered by something the Doctor had said, the priest came towards them, fiery, loud and incensed. Tegan heard the yell of the priest and the Doctor's quietly fierce response. She fought the want to jump into the foray, laying her hand against the Doctor's cool back.
The Doctor reached for her finally and turned his back on the priest. Even in the torch light she could see his eyes like hard icicles. Her friend was buried; Supremo reigned.
Over his shoulder she could see men approaching. Each carried blue swathes of cloth draped over his arm. "Thank God, clothes..." she breathed.
He rolled his eyes. "Particular clothes, Tegan. We're to be inducted into the service of the temple. And before you ask, that includes the wearing of the provided clothes and under a certain guise."
"Meaning?" She tried not to flinch as one of the men draped the cloth over one of her shoulders. The cloth fell, rough in texture, about her hips to the top of her thighs. It was simply tucked about her waist and left as is. It covered none of her chest and even less of the rest of her. "I don't think I like this very much. Hell's teeth, Doc..." she griped as they draped another cloth about the Doctor's hips. "What is going on around here?"
"I am to help with the scribes. Apparently," he sighed. "Apparently my mastering of the few languages skills associated with Ancient Gallifreyan has led them to feel I am of the educated class."
"And me? Tren?" she asked.
The Doctor eased her nearer to him and glanced back at Tren. There was a slight change the Doctor's eye color: she knew that meant he was concerned. The tick in his cheek, the lifting of his right eyebrow was an unvoiced comment on how he thought Tren was doing. And it wasn't good.
"You and Tren are to enter into the cultic rites associated with An and Ishtar."
"But this is the temple of Nanna," she argued. "They've got the wrong place."
"Yes, well..." the Doctor sighed. "I don't think that matters much to them. You will be given to the new temple rites by next full moon." He stiffened as the men of the temple neared them. Tegan watched the dance and pull of the torch flames as they passed. She knew if she looked directly at the men, her anger would get the better of her.
"Can't we just leave?"
The Doctor shook his head as they were surrounded and instructed to walk towards the open door again.
"Why not? You've gotten what....hey!" She had moved barely three steps when her arm was grabbed and her bracelet was taken. "Doctor!"
The Time Lord frowned and reached back for Tegan. "Keep walking."
"But..." Tegan was livid. "That was the only way..."
"No, it isn't the only way you can leave here," he reassured. "There is another way, albeit a bit more convoluted and hard, but it is doable." He grimaced as they passed from the temple interior out into the ink black night. His pace was clipped and Tegan ran to keep up with him.
"Please tell me we aren't going back to that cell," she stated. "I'm decidedly tired of it."
"Oh, no," he replied as they drew to a stop at the top of the stairs. Tren puffed next to them. She disentangled her hand from the Doctor and wrapped her arm around the man. Tren flinched and Tegan could feel the tremors in his body.
"No," he continued as their guards began to herd them down the stairs. "We're to be placed in the household of the head scribe of the temple as his slaves." Before Tegan could say anything, he turned to her with a smile. "At least it isn't a hole, Tegan, cheer up."
"Slaves?" she bit out. Tren simply whimpered. "I think I would prefer the cell, thank you very much."
The Doctor sighed heavily. "Be thankful you aren't transferred to the temple immediately, Tegan. The cultic rights mean you shall be a symbol of fertility in Ishtar's temple; you'll be a temple prostitute."
She sputtered as she stumbled down the stairs, holding Tren up. The Doctor came around to the man's other side and slipped his arm under Tegan's to take the man's weight. "Over my dead body," she warned. The Doctor nodded. "And mine."
"Then let's go!" she nearly shouted.
"Tegan," he continued as they began down the main slope toward the ground. "I don't think you understand the depth of what is going on here. This is Sumeria...the cradle of civilization for Homo Sapiens. There is a priest here who speaks on some level, in some mutated form, Gallifreyan. There's Gallifreyan writing on obelisks about the place. And it ties to the Eye of Orion."
"So those bastards you call a race have been here," she rumbled. "Doesn't surprise me in the least."
"But it isn't Gallifreyan, Tegan...it's an older, cruder language. I want to know what this Gatherer is...I want to know why it's here. And why it is incorporated in the religion of these people. It could be vitally important. Someone is fooling around with the beginning of your race. This means that everything that is listed as being a part of this society...the use of 60 as a predominant number in maths, it's how Terrans will tell time, the wheel, laws...might be in question."
Put that way, Tegan thought, he had a point.
"I'll have us away from here by the time the full moon occurs, Tegan. I do promise that. You will not be put into the cultic rites."
She hadn't been looking at him, but the tone of his voice made her shiver. The message of his warning came across loud and clear. He needed to stay, but he wouldn't allow her to be harmed. She didn't need the support; she would fight her own battles, but the sentiment was welcomed. There was the feeling that if she started a fight, he would most definitely finish it.
She blinked and looked out from the pyramid. Flames danced on torches as far as she could see, dark houses, quietly moving animals...it was a quiet, peaceful image of the first civilization on Earth. She knew that. And she knew that if it was in trouble, they had to do something. The Doctor was usually not wrong about his feelings in matters like these. And her gut feeling told her all wasn't right there.
"All right, Doc," she sighed. "Let's figure it out. But quickly?"
"Brave heart, Tegan," he said for the second time that night. "I'll be so quick that if you blink, you'll miss it."
**
*Crack*
She didn't know if the sound of the creaking basket she held was louder, or the sound of her back creaking as she stood. If she got old, she didn't know it. So it came as a surprise to her that her body sounded old. Must have been the year she spent sleeping on the ground, she supposed. Apparently it affected her enough that she had a hard time sleeping on the relative comfort of a pallet and the Doctor's shoulder.
She looked down at the collection of hemp that she had just placed in the basket. In another time, another place, it would be humorous that she was harvesting the crop, but here it was commonplace.
Tegan straightened and began to walk across the short distance to the house. She gave the guard a smirk as she passed him. It wasn't intellectually hard work, as she had told the Doctor, anyone could manage it, but that hadn't been his worry that morning.
They had been awakened roughly by the head of the household. As she had disentangled herself from the Doctor, it had apparently become clear to their new boss that she didn't speak the language. The Doctor had accompanied her to the field quickly and quietly, listening intently as to what he was being told. Then he stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders and nodded gravely to the field.
"The hemp is ready for harvesting," he had muttered. "They want you to help the others to bring it in and if there is enough time, reduce it and begin to weave it into rope."
"Doesn't sound too hard, Doc," she had commented. She had glanced around at the others and then sighed. "And looks mundane and safe enough, but I won't say it's my favored job. But let's not stay around here long enough for it to become my chosen profession, eh?"
But she could see he worried about something else, it was written as fresh and etched as deeply in his eyes as those marks he was planning on transferring. "You are planning on getting us out of here quickly, yes?"
"Oh quite," he had agreed with a deep sigh. "I just need to figure out how to get over to the obelisks without a problem."
"I thought you were helping with the carving..."
"Yes, well, Tegan...the ones I need to interpret are already finished," he had quipped. "I won't be near them." But then he had turned to look at the man who was leading him away and frowned. "Ah, well, shall see what I can do. Keep safe and if you have a problem, find me."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
And with that, they had separated. She stretched as best she could while still moving and entered the main courtyard. Blinking in the bright sunlight, she wiped sweat from her brow. She had to admit that amidst all the problems that this vacation was throwing in their way and the apparent right angle their course had taken, simply the smell of wet, hot Earth was enough to make her feel calm. After a year of rotten decaying planet life and then the last week of stagnant air of a spacecraft and the smell of thousands of dying and dead bodies, it was like ambrosia. Heaven, like summer on her uncle's farm, was to be found in the smell of sun baked mud and grass.
"Rabbits."
It made her feel calm, at least, until she practically stumbled over Tren. He was sitting, holding his basket in his lap. Self-consciously, she reached to adjust the material of her swathed clothes as far over her chest as she could. With a sigh, she knelt. "Tren? Cripes, are you all right?"
The man's eyes were empty when he glanced up at her. That wasn't any different from how he had been in the last 24 hours. She sat down next to him on the ground, and set the basket to the side. "Tren? How are you doing, huh?"
Tren blinked and continued to blindly pick the leaves in front of him. She glanced around to gauge the location of the other people. Her new friend was in a world of his own. He still looked busy and she supposed that was the most important thing.
She laid her hand against his back and was reminded of the young lad that had died in their last battle. He, too, had had the lost look in his eyes. "Rabbits," she breathed as she stroked his back. "Tren, I don't like it here either, but we aren't being whipped. The Doc will get what he needs and we'll leave, I promise. He does this...he gets involved... But...he has to..."
She patted his back and stood. Even in the last year she hadn't seen anyone fall into shock so quickly.
"He will, Tren..."
Her voice drifted off. Squinting into the mid afternoon sun, she could see the Doctor. He was bent over a small obelisk. At a distance, his blond hair looked darker than it was and his height seemed increased. His shoulders glistened and she realized he was sweating. That was interesting to her. He stopped what he was doing and straightened. His back looked board straight and her eyes followed the lines of his body from his head to his shoulders to his naked back down to the dark blue material wrapped at his waist.
And his thighs were definitely more muscular, she thought with a smile.
A shout brought her attention back and she continued towards the house quickly. Although she bristled at the thought of slavery, she knew she had to keep an even emotional keel about it all. The Doctor had a plan. She had to help him as she could.
**
"Well, bloody hell," Tegan muttered. The food was placed in front of her with a slap.
She tried to muscle her way to the pallet they had had the night before with her food, and found she was getting nowhere. She couldn't get too angry as it was a woman with a young child in her arms and a bowl of food in her hands. But when a pair of hands landed on her shoulders, she turned, livid, to take the threat.
"Doc!"
"Hmm," the Doctor looked down at what she held in her hands for food and sighed. "I think if we put yours and my food stuffs together we might just have a meal." He grimaced and reached for her free hand to bring her over to another pallet. Tren was seated against the wall, curled in a ball, facing the window.
"Thank hell, you found him," Tegan whispered as they approached. "I couldn't in this group."
The Doctor's eyebrows sardonically rose in response and gave her a half- lidded stare. She could see his worry about their new friend. He released her and allowed her to sit next to Tren. The Doctor glanced down at his food and then, with a sigh, he handed off his food to Tren. "Eat up, Tren. We'll need our energy tomorrow."
Tegan glanced up harshly. "Are we going somewhere? Back to the Eye?" The odor of the food filled her nostrils and she sniffed heavily. She was hungry and had eaten much worse; still, she played with the collection of green and grains.
The Doctor sat down next to her. "Ah, no, Tegan, no. I shall need you this evening, however."
She picked up a limp leaf, gave it a disdainful look and brought it to her lips to nibble. "That sounds serious. Rabbits, I wish you said we were heading back. Cripes, poor Peri..."
With a sigh, he nodded. "I'm sure she's adjusted, Tegan. She's a big girl." He reached over to take a leaf and put a pinchful of grain into it, forming a packet which he popped in his mouth. "After all, you and I both know she's quite capable. I rather think she's fine. We'll get back as soon as possible."
Tegan finished chewing and leaned forward to catch his gaze. "What are you thinking, Doc?"
His eyes held the familiar gleam of excitement they always did during an adventure, but there was a hard, cold icy edge under the blue. The cricketer was betrayed by the soldier but she could see the prior wished for dominance. His arm rounded her shoulder and smiled. "Your guerilla skills are honed, are they not, Tegan?"
Despite her anger at the situation, her dirty and aching feet, her lack of clothing and the fact that hearing those words from the Doctor sounded like she were back on Sylvana, she smiled widely. "You bet."
**