fic: belantana rescues the ladies of spooks, part iv
(alternate subtitle: The birthday fic I promised lost_spook... last year. *hides*)
(alternate subtitle: fic_rush FIC-PURGE #2)
Ruth meets the Eleventh Doctor. Exists in the same universe as lost_spook's fic in which Ruth meets Eight and my fic in which she meets Nine. Set after series 9 of Spooks (vague spoilers), and between series 5 & 6 of Who (no spoilers). 900 words, unbetaed fluff (you have been warned).
- - -
Carpe Diem And All That
Having spent her whole life caught off-guard by things she should've expected, Ruth was oddly composed at the realisation she was being tailed through airport crowds by a Roman Centurion.
She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. "I'm not changing my mind," she said.
The Roman furrowed his brow. "What?"
"If you came here to change my mind," Ruth elaborated, glancing around the crowded terminal to see if there was any obvious reason for costumes, "I'm telling you that nothing you can say, or do, or - or threaten, is going to achieve it."
"Right," said the Roman, who was very English-sounding for a Roman, "look, just don't go anywhere for a minute, would you? He's been distracted by something slimy in the gift shop."
It was Ruth's turn to frown. "Shiny?"
"Slimy."
"I see."
A boarding call drowned out any further explanation the Roman might have offered. Not Ruth's flight, of course, because escape would never be that easy. She had a terrible moment to wonder if the costume was all part of the cover (who would believe her cries for help if he were to escort her to a car at swordpoint?), but the theatrics were a little too much, even for Harry.
Nevertheless, she scanned the terminal for any other oddly-dressed people. She noticed a policewoman in an outdated uniform of questionable length flirting what looked like a heavy metal band, a moment before the Roman did. He muttered under his breath and took off at a very fast walk, waving an arm back at Ruth: "So just - don't get on any planes yet, all right?"
Ruth watched his departure with something that wasn't quite alarm, but felt enough like it not to qualify as amusement. She put down her suitcase and picked it up again. Oh, why couldn't they just call her flight?
Halfway across the terminal the Roman collided with a spindly man in a bow-tie. "Not your messenger boy," he muttered, pointing towards Ruth.
She gathered herself mentally and took a tighter grip on her suitcase. "I'm not changing my mind," she said again.
The bow-tied man beamed at her. "No, no, no you are not, I knew it, could sense it at a hundred paces. Humans! Never change your minds except when you do. Sorry for the hold-up, I was distracted by a thing. Well, it was distracted by me, but we're all safe now. Ruth, how delightful to see you again."
Ruth stared.
He glanced around and took a half-step closer. "It is Ruth this time, isn't it? Only I know you aren't always Ruth." He left a heavy pause, then bounced up as if he'd been stung. "Oh! I'm always forgetting. New face! New face! I'm devilishly young this time, aren't I? Don't know why that keeps happening."
Ruth's power of speech finally caught up with the memory her brain had supplied the moment she saw the Roman.
"Do you know the Doctor?" she asked carefully.
"I know him very well," the stranger said, making a convoluted bow, "for I am he."
Over his shoulder Ruth could see the Roman facing off with the heavy metal band, the policewoman standing between them with her hands on her hips.
Suddenly she became very flustered. "Oh, is it a hereditary title? I knew your predecessor."
"No, not really. Well, sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that. And anyway, I believe the last time we met you were Sally in Antwerp."
"Susan in Amsterdam," Ruth corrected.
"Is it?" the Doctor said, looking around. "I thought Heathrow."
Ruth couldn't help a smile. "No no, this is Heathrow. And I'm Ruth."
"Ruth in London again! Excellent!"
"Soon to be," she added firmly, as her flight was finally called, "Ruth in Cyprus."
She had been practising a resolute expression to go with these words. It seemed to work as well on the Doctor as she'd hoped it would on the person she'd meant it for. (She had also practised five layers of irrefutable reasons for leaving, beginning with the outer layer of still needing to sort out the house and finances and you know how these things are, and ending with the simple truth that leaving was all she had left, again, but the Doctor didn't ask for reasons.)
"Well," he said, "well well well. And nothing, you say, can change your mind?"
"Nothing."
Ruth picked up her suitcase and looked around for her gate, but there were crowds everywhere and she couldn't focus on anything. She put the suitcase down again. "Unless," she said. The suitcase fell over. She stood it up. "You said once that - "
The Doctor made another ridiculous bow. "Any time," he said.
The Roman had extracted the policewoman from her bit of fun and they stood bickering a short distance away. The policewoman was enjoying this far less than the Roman was. She rolled her eyes elaborately and grabbed the Doctor by the arm. "Doctor, get me out of here before I kill him."
"Right," the Doctor said briskly, "can't have that. Let's go then!" He looked back at Ruth. "Departing from Gate 42."
Ruth watched them disappear into the crowd. The expression he'd left her with was half a wink, and half deeply serious enough to make her realise with a jolt that he understood all five layers of her reasons, plus the ones which she didn't understand herself.
A few seconds later the Doctor stuck his head out from behind a pillar. "Did I say departing any time? I meant in the next forty seconds."
"Final call, BA-0662 to Larnaca," came over the loudspeakers.
Ruth picked up her suitcase.
- - -
(alternate subtitle: fic_rush FIC-PURGE #2)
Ruth meets the Eleventh Doctor. Exists in the same universe as lost_spook's fic in which Ruth meets Eight and my fic in which she meets Nine. Set after series 9 of Spooks (vague spoilers), and between series 5 & 6 of Who (no spoilers). 900 words, unbetaed fluff (you have been warned).
- - -
Carpe Diem And All That
Having spent her whole life caught off-guard by things she should've expected, Ruth was oddly composed at the realisation she was being tailed through airport crowds by a Roman Centurion.
She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. "I'm not changing my mind," she said.
The Roman furrowed his brow. "What?"
"If you came here to change my mind," Ruth elaborated, glancing around the crowded terminal to see if there was any obvious reason for costumes, "I'm telling you that nothing you can say, or do, or - or threaten, is going to achieve it."
"Right," said the Roman, who was very English-sounding for a Roman, "look, just don't go anywhere for a minute, would you? He's been distracted by something slimy in the gift shop."
It was Ruth's turn to frown. "Shiny?"
"Slimy."
"I see."
A boarding call drowned out any further explanation the Roman might have offered. Not Ruth's flight, of course, because escape would never be that easy. She had a terrible moment to wonder if the costume was all part of the cover (who would believe her cries for help if he were to escort her to a car at swordpoint?), but the theatrics were a little too much, even for Harry.
Nevertheless, she scanned the terminal for any other oddly-dressed people. She noticed a policewoman in an outdated uniform of questionable length flirting what looked like a heavy metal band, a moment before the Roman did. He muttered under his breath and took off at a very fast walk, waving an arm back at Ruth: "So just - don't get on any planes yet, all right?"
Ruth watched his departure with something that wasn't quite alarm, but felt enough like it not to qualify as amusement. She put down her suitcase and picked it up again. Oh, why couldn't they just call her flight?
Halfway across the terminal the Roman collided with a spindly man in a bow-tie. "Not your messenger boy," he muttered, pointing towards Ruth.
She gathered herself mentally and took a tighter grip on her suitcase. "I'm not changing my mind," she said again.
The bow-tied man beamed at her. "No, no, no you are not, I knew it, could sense it at a hundred paces. Humans! Never change your minds except when you do. Sorry for the hold-up, I was distracted by a thing. Well, it was distracted by me, but we're all safe now. Ruth, how delightful to see you again."
Ruth stared.
He glanced around and took a half-step closer. "It is Ruth this time, isn't it? Only I know you aren't always Ruth." He left a heavy pause, then bounced up as if he'd been stung. "Oh! I'm always forgetting. New face! New face! I'm devilishly young this time, aren't I? Don't know why that keeps happening."
Ruth's power of speech finally caught up with the memory her brain had supplied the moment she saw the Roman.
"Do you know the Doctor?" she asked carefully.
"I know him very well," the stranger said, making a convoluted bow, "for I am he."
Over his shoulder Ruth could see the Roman facing off with the heavy metal band, the policewoman standing between them with her hands on her hips.
Suddenly she became very flustered. "Oh, is it a hereditary title? I knew your predecessor."
"No, not really. Well, sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that. And anyway, I believe the last time we met you were Sally in Antwerp."
"Susan in Amsterdam," Ruth corrected.
"Is it?" the Doctor said, looking around. "I thought Heathrow."
Ruth couldn't help a smile. "No no, this is Heathrow. And I'm Ruth."
"Ruth in London again! Excellent!"
"Soon to be," she added firmly, as her flight was finally called, "Ruth in Cyprus."
She had been practising a resolute expression to go with these words. It seemed to work as well on the Doctor as she'd hoped it would on the person she'd meant it for. (She had also practised five layers of irrefutable reasons for leaving, beginning with the outer layer of still needing to sort out the house and finances and you know how these things are, and ending with the simple truth that leaving was all she had left, again, but the Doctor didn't ask for reasons.)
"Well," he said, "well well well. And nothing, you say, can change your mind?"
"Nothing."
Ruth picked up her suitcase and looked around for her gate, but there were crowds everywhere and she couldn't focus on anything. She put the suitcase down again. "Unless," she said. The suitcase fell over. She stood it up. "You said once that - "
The Doctor made another ridiculous bow. "Any time," he said.
The Roman had extracted the policewoman from her bit of fun and they stood bickering a short distance away. The policewoman was enjoying this far less than the Roman was. She rolled her eyes elaborately and grabbed the Doctor by the arm. "Doctor, get me out of here before I kill him."
"Right," the Doctor said briskly, "can't have that. Let's go then!" He looked back at Ruth. "Departing from Gate 42."
Ruth watched them disappear into the crowd. The expression he'd left her with was half a wink, and half deeply serious enough to make her realise with a jolt that he understood all five layers of her reasons, plus the ones which she didn't understand herself.
A few seconds later the Doctor stuck his head out from behind a pillar. "Did I say departing any time? I meant in the next forty seconds."
"Final call, BA-0662 to Larnaca," came over the loudspeakers.
Ruth picked up her suitcase.
- - -