Fic: Loomed (crack!fic)
Title: Loomed
Author: codenamecarrot
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Martha, Romana
Rated: G
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sexual reproduction is as useful as the opposible thumb. Of course the Doctor does things the hard way
Spoilers: mild for 'Human Nature' and 'Family of Blood' (S3)
Notes: This probably needs a kicker make it truely cracktastic, but I couldn't think of where to take it. Enjoy as is. Unbeta'd
It's after his mind and body are back where they belong that she asks about kids. As in, did he leave any behind with the matron?
Oh he's left a lot of them behind. His granddaughter in a future he no longer dares check, children on a world that's been consumed by time, but no, none with the matron. And besides, they wouldn't really be his, now would they? All pink and human. And born. Definitely born. That seems to be a sticking point for him.
* * *
Over tea and toast a few days later, hers with cream cheese and ginger jam his with some alien version of peanut butter and real-Earth-bananas, she feels bold enough to dig deeper.
"So, Mr. Smith, if you were to have children, how would they be-not born."
"They'd be loomed." He says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. There's a smear of butter and banana at the corner of his lips.
"Oh, of course. Because every civilized race looms their children."
"Quite so."
"Quite not." Martha retorts, "Sexual reproduction works for most of earth-"
"Excepting fungi, virus, bacteria-"
"I get it," Martha growled, cutting the Doctor's tangent short. "Like I said, most of Earth. Including mono- and dicot plants." The doctor smiled at her dig. Science geek. "It worked for Valerie and Brannigan, and he's a cat. It's like opposable thumbs and the gripping palm - things that turn up wherever, whenever, we go."
"The solar creature--"
"Aah. Aah." She waggled a finger at him. The doctor stopped talking and crammed another slice of toast into his mouth like a rude little boy, but Martha continued undeterred, "Things that turn up because they're dead useful. So since you're people seem to be set on not being like any other species I've encountered, and, if you're any example, making things ten time more complicated than necessary, the least you can do is explain."
"What do you think that I've been trying to do?" The doctor asked, indignant, as Martha refilled his empty cup and set to work on her own toast.
"Distract me and hare off on some tangent. Perhaps get in a few select insults about human's tiny brains."
"Er, well." The doctor studied his tea for a bit. Martha watched him fidget and tried not to giggle. Finally, with one of his manic bursts of energy he looked up with a huge smile, "Doctor Jones, how would you care for a field trip?"
* * *
The Doctor's field trip didn't involve fields. Or trips, well, it didn’t if you discounted the stumble Martha had on what seemed to be the two-hundredth staircase they'd descended.
"We're right under the control room," the Doctor called out.
"Really?"
"We'll as much as one can be under on a trans-dimensional spaceship. In as much as she's got geography, this is just below the base of the time rotor."
"So we're going to have to climb all of those stairs to get back."
"Nah. Down that corridor, third door on the right, should take you back to the bins… I think." He was scratching his head again, "But anyway! Looms!"
He pushed open the door in front of him and Martha gasped. It did look like the control room, sort of. It was arched, and brown, and the bottom of the rotor hung half way down to the floor like a giant stalactite. It also had what looked like heavy glass spiderwebs filling the space above their heads and green glass pods, like oversized Christmas ornaments, tucked in between the pillars.
She reached up to touch one of the strands, and shrieked when it flowed down to spill over her hand and onto the floor in long viscous strands. She could hear rapidly spoken French French coming from somewhere and reached up to secure a hat she'd never worn.
"Oh my." The Doctor was looking at her vary strangely. "I suppose it would happen that you'd touch her memories first."
"Rose?" Martha asked.
"No She was as human as you are. This is," he twined his hands in the strands and they flowed up and over his palms, "the last president of Gallifrey. The one who made me do it. Romanadvoratrelundar.
"She likes you."
* * *
Author: codenamecarrot
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Martha, Romana
Rated: G
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sexual reproduction is as useful as the opposible thumb. Of course the Doctor does things the hard way
Spoilers: mild for 'Human Nature' and 'Family of Blood' (S3)
Notes: This probably needs a kicker make it truely cracktastic, but I couldn't think of where to take it. Enjoy as is. Unbeta'd
It's after his mind and body are back where they belong that she asks about kids. As in, did he leave any behind with the matron?
Oh he's left a lot of them behind. His granddaughter in a future he no longer dares check, children on a world that's been consumed by time, but no, none with the matron. And besides, they wouldn't really be his, now would they? All pink and human. And born. Definitely born. That seems to be a sticking point for him.
* * *
Over tea and toast a few days later, hers with cream cheese and ginger jam his with some alien version of peanut butter and real-Earth-bananas, she feels bold enough to dig deeper.
"So, Mr. Smith, if you were to have children, how would they be-not born."
"They'd be loomed." He says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. There's a smear of butter and banana at the corner of his lips.
"Oh, of course. Because every civilized race looms their children."
"Quite so."
"Quite not." Martha retorts, "Sexual reproduction works for most of earth-"
"Excepting fungi, virus, bacteria-"
"I get it," Martha growled, cutting the Doctor's tangent short. "Like I said, most of Earth. Including mono- and dicot plants." The doctor smiled at her dig. Science geek. "It worked for Valerie and Brannigan, and he's a cat. It's like opposable thumbs and the gripping palm - things that turn up wherever, whenever, we go."
"The solar creature--"
"Aah. Aah." She waggled a finger at him. The doctor stopped talking and crammed another slice of toast into his mouth like a rude little boy, but Martha continued undeterred, "Things that turn up because they're dead useful. So since you're people seem to be set on not being like any other species I've encountered, and, if you're any example, making things ten time more complicated than necessary, the least you can do is explain."
"What do you think that I've been trying to do?" The doctor asked, indignant, as Martha refilled his empty cup and set to work on her own toast.
"Distract me and hare off on some tangent. Perhaps get in a few select insults about human's tiny brains."
"Er, well." The doctor studied his tea for a bit. Martha watched him fidget and tried not to giggle. Finally, with one of his manic bursts of energy he looked up with a huge smile, "Doctor Jones, how would you care for a field trip?"
* * *
The Doctor's field trip didn't involve fields. Or trips, well, it didn’t if you discounted the stumble Martha had on what seemed to be the two-hundredth staircase they'd descended.
"We're right under the control room," the Doctor called out.
"Really?"
"We'll as much as one can be under on a trans-dimensional spaceship. In as much as she's got geography, this is just below the base of the time rotor."
"So we're going to have to climb all of those stairs to get back."
"Nah. Down that corridor, third door on the right, should take you back to the bins… I think." He was scratching his head again, "But anyway! Looms!"
He pushed open the door in front of him and Martha gasped. It did look like the control room, sort of. It was arched, and brown, and the bottom of the rotor hung half way down to the floor like a giant stalactite. It also had what looked like heavy glass spiderwebs filling the space above their heads and green glass pods, like oversized Christmas ornaments, tucked in between the pillars.
She reached up to touch one of the strands, and shrieked when it flowed down to spill over her hand and onto the floor in long viscous strands. She could hear rapidly spoken French French coming from somewhere and reached up to secure a hat she'd never worn.
"Oh my." The Doctor was looking at her vary strangely. "I suppose it would happen that you'd touch her memories first."
"Rose?" Martha asked.
"No She was as human as you are. This is," he twined his hands in the strands and they flowed up and over his palms, "the last president of Gallifrey. The one who made me do it. Romanadvoratrelundar.
"She likes you."
* * *