fic!
A Mutual Understanding
by Branwyn
fandom: Doctor Who
pairing: Four/Romana
rating: G, with a gag warning for utter fluff.
notes: This piece of short and utter silliness began life as a drabble, I think, and then...escalated. In any case, I wrote it for lizbee, which is usually how these things happen to me.
summary: "Doctor," said Romana, "I have a feeling."
"Doctor," said Romana, "I have a feeling."
"Feelings are wonderful things to have," said the Doctor, his weathered face solemn. "They separate us from machines. The kind of machines that don't have feelings. Like Cybermen. Not like the TARDIS. The TARDIS has feelings, don't you old girl? Or K9, I suppose."
"I have a feeling," she repeated, proud of all the patience she'd learned, "that I won't be with you much longer."
"I'm afraid that if you regenerate again, Romana, people will say you're picking up bad habits."
People might be right, Romana mused, though regeneration wasn't precisely what she had in mind. "Have you heard anything from Gallifrey lately?"
"Oh, this and that. Rumors, gossip. Best not to pay any attention to rumors, one never knows what end of the time stream they hail from."
"I think that I may be called home soon."
The air between them stills suddenly, as though the TARDIS atmospheric regulator is programmed to respond to nuances in the Doctor's mood. He is frowning, and there is a distinct electrostatic charge in the room that wasn't there a moment ago.
"I don't think that's possible," he says, his eyes wide and serious. "I don't think I would have let them do that. I'm almost certain that I would have kept that from happening."
A faint twinge of trepidation at the back of Romana's mind competes with a lovely warm feeling spreading in her chest. "I hope you aren't about to tell me that you've gone mucking about in the timeline on my behalf."
"Oh no." His eyes clear, smiling and innocent.
"Oh," says Romana, unaccountably disappointed. "Good."
The Doctor turns to the console and begins fiddling with the dials. "I would never tell you I'd done that," he continues. "You might feel you had to turn me in, and that would quite defeat the purpose.
Romana blinks. Opens her mouth, then shuts it, and decides to make tea.
by Branwyn
fandom: Doctor Who
pairing: Four/Romana
rating: G, with a gag warning for utter fluff.
notes: This piece of short and utter silliness began life as a drabble, I think, and then...escalated. In any case, I wrote it for lizbee, which is usually how these things happen to me.
summary: "Doctor," said Romana, "I have a feeling."
"Doctor," said Romana, "I have a feeling."
"Feelings are wonderful things to have," said the Doctor, his weathered face solemn. "They separate us from machines. The kind of machines that don't have feelings. Like Cybermen. Not like the TARDIS. The TARDIS has feelings, don't you old girl? Or K9, I suppose."
"I have a feeling," she repeated, proud of all the patience she'd learned, "that I won't be with you much longer."
"I'm afraid that if you regenerate again, Romana, people will say you're picking up bad habits."
People might be right, Romana mused, though regeneration wasn't precisely what she had in mind. "Have you heard anything from Gallifrey lately?"
"Oh, this and that. Rumors, gossip. Best not to pay any attention to rumors, one never knows what end of the time stream they hail from."
"I think that I may be called home soon."
The air between them stills suddenly, as though the TARDIS atmospheric regulator is programmed to respond to nuances in the Doctor's mood. He is frowning, and there is a distinct electrostatic charge in the room that wasn't there a moment ago.
"I don't think that's possible," he says, his eyes wide and serious. "I don't think I would have let them do that. I'm almost certain that I would have kept that from happening."
A faint twinge of trepidation at the back of Romana's mind competes with a lovely warm feeling spreading in her chest. "I hope you aren't about to tell me that you've gone mucking about in the timeline on my behalf."
"Oh no." His eyes clear, smiling and innocent.
"Oh," says Romana, unaccountably disappointed. "Good."
The Doctor turns to the console and begins fiddling with the dials. "I would never tell you I'd done that," he continues. "You might feel you had to turn me in, and that would quite defeat the purpose.
Romana blinks. Opens her mouth, then shuts it, and decides to make tea.