Threads of Time, Part 2/?
A/N: This is what happens when Romana convinces Verity to send "the best version to help" if things go all wrong and the TARDIS chooses the Doctor's Sixth incarnation. Um... Define "Best". Verity gets her bond a lifetime sooner than she should, because Two realizes that no matter what the Time Lords won't take his ship from him. Did I mention that Jamie's in the room? Um... Gee I wonder why they are late.
*Blinks innocently*
Chapter contains mention of naughty bits, Gàidhlig (Scottish Gaelic) phrases, and three-way smut.
What? Jamie's special... I'll provide translations if needed although it should be pretty clear what Jamie's saying.
Doctor Who and the Threads of Time
Part Two: The Second Doctor's TARDIS, post “The Two Doctors”
He was just inside the door, trembling like he'd run a mile, all his muscles firing off in skittering jolts of static. Hot and cold waves of sensation, making him aware of every inch of himself. Very aware that they were alone, but not. The piper could feel the TARDIS, her pain and confusion, under the sense of welcome and greeting. She was like an abused dog, loyal and faithful and loving, but so beat back that she cowered and tried to hide her whimpers. The contrast to the older version which was headstrong and motherly was remarkable. Jamie wanted to heal that damaged relationship between Thete and his ship but he had no idea how to go about it. And there was something inside him demanding intense physical contact, right now.
The Scotsman swallowed, watched his Thete at the controls, and struggled with an odd mixture of overwhelming need and absolute horror at his memories of how he acted the last time he felt this way. The combination more or less froze him at the door, keeping him from acting one way or the other. He felt like he had a raging beast that he could not control pounding against his ribs, wanting out. It was just overwhelming. He'd been told not to give in to this here, but damn it all, he didn't think he could make it much longer. They should have stayed at that house and gone into one of the bedrooms and taken care of this first. Surely Thete felt this too. What had made him flee so recklessly into the Vortex when they had a perfectly safe place to deal with this where they were? Was it his older self that made him run?
Part of him sort of wanted to just give in to whatever this feeling, urge, compulsion was and do what it needed, if he could just keep enough control of himself to not hurt the other man. That was his fear, honestly. He knew that the line between what they had, the intense desire to be as close as possible, and what he'd done, forcing Thete and dominating him in such a way that it hurt him, was so very thin. He didn't deserve all the sweet times and stolen nights that Thete had given him after. But they'd been apart for almost two weeks. He'd thought the other man dead, and his mind had cracked under the strain. Then that foul creature had threatened to take Thete as her consort, her lover... and Thete was HIS, damn it all. If they could just proclaim it, make it known, then things might be easier. Or not. But he guessed that folks would be less inclined to separate them if their connection was a bit more official.
It was thoughts like those that were going to get him in massive trouble here. He needed Thete, like he needed air to breathe or food to eat. His life would not be worth living if they were pulled apart. Having met an older version of the Doctor that he couldn't feel was frightening. Five hundred years they'd been apart, if the fellow had told him the truth, and he'd managed to survive without - Did the Doctor not need him as much as he needed the Doctor? Was this horrible driving, consuming, desire to possess and claim one sided? Had his actions driven the Doctor away from him?
Or maybe he needed to tell the man how he felt, what he meant. He hadn't done before. Was that what Peri's Doctor meant about telling him how he felt and taking control of the situation? Was that what was needed when he told him to demand no secrets? Did it go beyond just their sharing personal things? Did they need to express this shared secret with the Doctor's ship? Or did he just need to make sure that the little man knew how he felt? Maybe he needed to reassure Thete that his cousins taunting him, calling him 'wormhole' while poking at his body and noticing he was different, made no alterations in their feelings. God, what awful memories... No wonder Thete acted like he did, hording remembered bits of happiness like a greedy man horded gold. But they could, together, wipe all those bad times away and make new good ones, if they tried.
The smaller dark haired man finally looked away from the controls, his face creased in a frown as he jerked his resting hand away from his belly as though he'd caught it on fire. He needed to stay aware of what he was doing and rubbing a baby bump that didn't exist yet was not something he should do. Ever. So much had gone wrong there, in Seville. He never should have met himself. He shouldn't be remembering this, but somehow he knew that the condition he was in wouldn't let him forget, drugs or no. He shouldn't be feeling like Jamie was consuming him alive with his eyes. And he shouldn't be wanting it either. But he was. His hearts were thudding in his chest and his groin was tingling and swelling. He could almost feel the pheromones slipping out of skin, filling the room, sending out the chemical siren song that would drive the human lad out of his mind. They shouldn't do this here. He wasn't sure they'd make it to the zero room. Suddenly he wasn't sure he cared.
There were two things he could do. He could flee the room knowing that the Bond would call Jamie to him (likely in a maddened violent state) or he could go to the lad and let him stake his claim and possibly exert enough control to keep it from becoming nightmare inducing. Most of his futures showed him running from the room and making it to the Zero Room... And darkness in the distance. He'd been consistently going about things to push the darkness back as far as he could, but what existed on the other side of it? Was it possible that he'd be able to change the future and keep Jamie with him? Was that worth the risks? His older self had thought so. He did trust himself, didn't he? The strong threads of his future were shimmering and shifting through the shadowed storm clouds across time and he had the choice here. The known path of survival or the unknown one that had not been tried before. He might not be able to alter what stood in store for is eventual future, but he could take control of some aspects of it, and he could make it so that his people wouldn't dare pull Jamie from him. They'd have to make a stop on Karn, and he'd have to admit to his condition, seeking the blessing of the Sisterhood. He'd have to weave a deeper bond with both Jamie and Verity, forcing his people to accept the Scot as his Tyro. That could lead to them all being banished for his daring, but the Time Lords wouldn't separate them, not if they wore the mark of the Sisterhood.
The Doctor took in the control room, scanning it over, remembering how he and his ship used to soar over the Vortex, together in bliss. He shivered from the intense gaze focused on him and the strong broadcast of animal need that Jamie was sending to him through their Bond. They needed help, desperately. And there was only one way they were going to get it. He needed to allow Verity back into his mind, and into Jamie's, and into their bond. He'd started changing Jamie when he healed him after the Androgum Shockeye's attack. He could see Time diverging, creating alternate realities, changing his course and running parallel to it. He closed his eyes and pondered the situation, thinking it through and realizing one very important thing that his older self had given him, he would survive this condition to regenerate eventually. He'd have this child either willingly or ripped from him. It was then his choice, and he needed to somehow protect both his unborn and his bonded.
He needed to start by letting Jamie see the possible futures, to help him chose which course the should take, if indeed they were to walk those paths together. This meant telling the lad the truth, and using that favor with 'Fred' to help further change the piper's physical state. Would she agree? He'd have to make it so that she couldn't refuse. Suddenly he could see a glimpse of his futures, one that included a network of people, including an altered Jamie. A Jamie that was more than human. He looked at the lad. His healing had started mutating the piper, exposing him to Time itself. It would eventually kill him, the Doctor could see that now, unless - he could demand that 'Fred' fix it. Because she could fix Jamie, alter and stabilize his genes. But at what cost?
Jamie noticed that the gray-blue eyes danced about the room, seeing everything but him at first. When they did lock on, the creature snarling against his mind surged to the forefront. The piper whimpered as he struggled with it, unwilling to let it out and unable to tame it. Why didn't Thete just let him have this? What could his people actually do? He belonged to Thete, forever. Nothing could ever change that. He believed the absolute truth of it even if he had not felt Peri's Doctor. There must be a reasonable explanation for it. He focused on the floor and tried to get his body to listen to his mind that was insisting they couldn't do this here. But even his mind was beginning to wonder why. He'd felt how protective and how loving the TARDIS became as she got older. He'd felt her greet him as though she knew something sad would happen that hadn't needed to happen. He thought perhaps including her was the answer they needed, after all. She trusted him, maybe he needed to force Thete to trust her.
The Doctor crossed the room in a few short strides, “Jamie?” Not only was the lad blocking him at the moment but his mind had been so focused on the echoing words chiding him to tell the piper his secret that he'd not noticed the yanking sensation coming from the Bond. He was somewhat fearful that it was threatening Jamie's sanity again. He wasn't sure if he could tolerate more abuse, right now, with everything his body had been through the last two weeks. His Temporal freeze had been less than total on stopping the development because he'd diverted it to healing himself. The sensation of his being sick, the nausea, had been from more than just the drugs. And then he'd healed Jamie, taking on the damage himself and using even more power to heal it.
The babe was a good trimester grown now. He had to make a choice, to freeze it totally (and risk death but keep it hidden) or let it develop and tell Jamie what impossible thing they had created. He was honestly starting to think that delaying the darkness was stupid. Letting himself make choices out of fear was stupid. His older self had told him as much, and he took away that lesson if nothing else. Why was it OK to risk his life for the Universe but not accept what he was because it should be impossible?
He made up his mind, he'd offer Jamie the choice, the chance, and then invite Verity into it, because he couldn't do this alone if he wanted to survive it. And then... he'd find some way to pull off a miracle, to protect those he cared about through the looming darkness, one moment at a time. The Doctor reached for his bonded, extending his hand. He stopped himself before he touched the Scot, knowing that if he did there would be no way to stop. “Can you hang on, my boy?”
Something inside Jamie snapped at the sound of the Doctor's voice and the smell of him. Having made up his mind to take this out of the other man's hands already Jamie instantly decided to not fight it anymore. He needed this. He needed Thete to know he needed it. He needed the TARDIS to know. He needed the Universe to know. Damn the Doctor's people. He was going to have his Thete, now. They'd deal with the consequences after.
Too late the Time Lord realized that Jamie's condition was less a matter of hanging on and more a matter of desperate animal need. Something the Doctor could well understand now, having had his appetite more than stoked rather recently. The piper made a graceful twist, almost in slow motion, and launched at him with a speed that was enhanced by the filtered vortex energy still flowing through his blood. The smaller dark-haired man took half a step back and managed to twist enough to protect his middle as he was knocked to the floor. He hit on his hip and shoulder, having some of the wind knocked out of him, although the TARDIS had seen the topple and altered the landing area just enough to avoid serious injury. The Doctor blinked, struggling to figure out what was going on, as Jamie's mind flooded his with the raw emotions and desires fueled by their separation, the overheard threats, his fear and confusion over meeting an older Doctor and TARDIS with a much changed relationship, and his need to re-establish their strained link. The sound of cloth ripping was rather enough to send his mind reeling away from the reality of the situation.
Jamie did not think. He felt the other man's physical closeness and his own desire. That was enough to make him lunge for the Doctor, tackling him to the floor. He got his hands into the pale blue shirt, noticing that the bow tie was already loosened. The scent of honey and cloves filled his nose. This was his. His. Lover, Spouse, Mate, Bonded... his. The English words of the concept didn't quite have the impact he needed. But the Gàidhlig word would. Did. He'd never ever called anyone by it before. And he'd never call anyone not connected to the Doctor by it ever again. “Mo Cèile,” the growl was almost too deep in his throat to make much sense of, but he'd managed to say it. His. The Doctor was his forever. But why did the little man wear so many clothes? He tugged, pulling the fabric away, getting it open, exposing skin and touching. Driven to it, unaware of anything else but that cool skin and the scent in his nose and the timbre of the voice in his ears.
The Time Lord blinked as the hot fingers found his skin, grabbing, kneading, pushing psychic pulses into his being that sparked across his awareness like firecrackers. “Don't do this, Jamie...” he tried to get a grip on the clawing hands that were shredding his clothing, leaving him with scratches and marks from his nails. His shirt was ruined, ripped and torn, buttons scattered across the floor, the undershirt tattered exposing more of him than he's currently comfortable with. The lad did not rip his coat although he was currently strong enough to do so. He needed to assert some control here before Jamie drove him to not caring. The piper's mouth crashed down on his, rather cutting off his protests. The sparks from the touch fired through him, and he responded with a gasp. The lad wasted no time, intensifying the osculation, licking and stroking the inside of his mouth with a heated organ that created just as many sparkles across his soul as his hands were doing on his body. 'Jamie! You're going to hurt me, if you don't get a grip on yourself!' He couldn't breathe, or rather he forgot to for a moment, as Jamie ravaged his mouth with his tongue, much as he could sense the lad wanted to do with the proper parts of their bodies. The mental scold seemed to flow right past the piper, consumed as he was with the Bond trying to force them into easing the strain.
He could see in graphic detail what Jamie wanted, or rather what the Bond between them needed, and what the lad feared he would do to get it. The last thing he'd wanted was for the piper to remember that incident inside the Zero Room, but in the course of healing him the mental blocks had fallen. Now he saw that Jamie was horrified by his actions and never wanted to do such a thing again. His intention in blocking those memories had not been to scare him, but to prevent him from associating release of the strain on the Bond with violence. He was rapidly spiralling down to that level again, and fighting it with every fiber of his being.
The hot fingers worked his trousers open even though he was trying to remain somewhat curled and protect himself from the overly rough touches. He could feel his TARDIS expressing growing alarm, too. He sent her as much of a calming sensation as he could manage, aware that this was far beyond anything he and Jamie had let slip around her before. It had been nearly two weeks since the Bond was indulged, and the deep plunge Jamie made into it and the panicked healing he risked to save him had not even made a ripple on the surface of their passion. If anything Jamie's still experiencing enhanced abilities because of it, making him stronger, faster, more acute and deeply cognizant. The Scot straddled his legs and made him buck involuntarily, using the movement to expose him, sliding the trousers and pants down to his ankles nearly. He shivered at the feel of the hot flesh against his own and the contrasting cooler air.
Jamie shifted enough to settle the kilt more over him, to cover and increase skin to skin contact. He tries to twist again, reflectively attempting to protect or hide his stomach. The piper's hands and body force him back more flat with persistence. He's tingling all over, unable to stop his own reactions. He's flushing deep russet now and releasing even more scent. He's never been dominant over Jamie. Not even the last time when he let the boy take him in the Zero Room. But he must think of other things now, and Jamie was the one person that could hurt him enough to kill him at the moment. He started actively trying to catch the Scotsman's roving hands, and for a few seconds they seemed to be fighting each other, only once he managed to catch Jamie's wrists the lad seemed perfectly happy to hold his hands after the Doctor entwined their fingers.
He's half aroused, his genitalia definitely becoming more engorged, darkening with his blood, moistened and hard. It would take on a human penis shape, eventually, although currently it was still more inside his body than exposed. Not that it mattered, really. Most times Jamie topped, and he let him have that. This time the Bond was not being picky, and Jamie was sitting just below his groin, pinning his legs together. The branding heat of the lad's own masculinity rubbed over his slick cold hardness prompting both of them to hiss from the contrasting sensations. Jamie's sound became a growl as he moved in and set his teeth to the bundle of nerves along the Doctor's exposed left collarbone. Fireworks of nerve impulses and psychic lava-like heat washed over him. He cannot shatter, but he can writhe with the intensity of the sensation that flooded him. Jamie knew this, using his body's reactions against him. He shifted his pinning position, driving a wool covered knee between the other man's legs. The Scot knew where to put pressure, where to grind into the sensitive areas of the Doctor's groin in order to work him into a state of full arousal. He arched and bucked not sure if he wanted the lad off him or if he wanted more contact. Cool thick moisture welled up from the bite before he was able close the blood flow off.
The piper tasted the skin in his mouth, tasted the blood on his tongue from breaking it, and managed to pull back, telling himself that he's marked Thete, and that's enough. But on some level it's not. He can tell from the cool oily slick sensation and bone-like hardness against his parts and his thighs, that the other man is fully aroused now, even if he's not completely mentally open. He needed to tell him how he felt, to reassure him that he's not ever going to hurt him again like he'd done that one time. He'd crossed the line then, and his anger did not excuse his behaviour in the least. But would the Doctor, alien as he was, understand the difference between then and now? Could he see and feel that he'd not lost control, in spite of the bite? The smaller man shivered under him, shuttering against him. Alarmed by the display Jamie began whispering, “Tha gaol agam ort,” over and over, like a mantra or an apology or a reminder... He did not stop the tears that leaked from his eyes and splattered against the cold skin like drops of warm salty rain. The shaking slowed as he kissed his way up the cool honeyed throat. The Doctor caught his lips with his own as he moved to cover his face in light pattering touches, fiercely possessive. Jamie felt the other man then kissing him as he moved to the Doctor's ear, dropping cool pats of velvet on his feverish neck and shoulder, some on his shirt and some under it.
“Mo Cèile,” Jamie hissed again, this time into his ear. The Doctor paused a moment then nuzzled the piper's shirt collar open. His poor TARDIS was not translating the words, more likely because of her shock at the events happening at the moment. The piper's hands squeeze his own, “Sgìth à dol am falach, Thete.” He narrows his eyes, his hearts beating fast. The bite was a signal. He licked the spot on Jamie's throat that was the most sensitive and then began applying strong suction as he pondered the fact that Jamie switched to Gàidhlig over English. He supposed the declarations meant more in his native language than they would in the language of his people's oppressors. He unfortunately was not that familiar with Gàidhlig. He was pretty sure that Jamie was claiming him, telling him he loved him, and maybe saying he wasn't going to hide anymore. But he'd have to look it up to be sure.
A hot moist puff of air rolled over his ear followed by Jamie's tongue, lips and teeth. This caused a very vocal reaction that the Doctor tried to suppress, in vain. The groan wrenched its way from his throat sounding rather foreign. Jamie let out his own gasp from the hickey about the same time then dove straight back in, licking and kissing any and every part of Thete he can reach. “Mo gràdh, tha gaol agam ort,” the Time Lord felt the words against his throat more than he heard them. After a moment Jamie gave up speech and moved into mental communication, 'Mas toigh leibh mise... If you love me, Thete... You'll give me this, Mo Cèile.'
The piper moved to cover him, and he automatically tried to prevent it, “It's not a matter of my stopping you...” The old spike of fear about breaking this law filled him again, “Jamie, we can't do this here.” Really though the only thing preventing it is the fact that he's got the piper's fingers tangled with his own, keeping him from ripping more of his clothing. He knows though that it's already too late. The TARDIS was well aware of two major things, one he was not denying Jamie's claim on him, and two he was not fighting this near anywhere as much as he would have if it were truly unwanted, but rather responding back as though its a natural thing. And in all the ways that count, it was. They've been doing this for years, just not in front of his ship. And certainly not inside her, but for the one time in the Zero Room.
“Seadh, mo Cèile, sinn fhèin can. Dinna mi innis you to trust her? Còir i fhèin.” The lad pulled back to look at him, “She already knows, understands.” He turned to the bite wound, soothing it with his tongue, sending waves through Thete that eventually would break down the most staunch resistance. He felt then something shift inside the Doctor's mind, some thread of connections and energy, and he was filled with a faint song. TARDIS song. He pulled back to study the dark haired Time Lord again, seeing him shimmer with golden sparkles, “Brèagha --” The breathless sound echoed in his head with a sense of splendor and awe.
Now he'd let Jamie hear the faint echoes of Verity whispering into his soul, and he could feel her wondering what he was up to. She might not like this. But he'd offer and let her see and she'd make her choice. The piper's hazel eyes were slightly out of focus as he tracked things beyond normal human sight. Like he did with most things, Jamie just accepted it as another wonder of his life with the Doctor. Well, it was going to get that much more intense. He lowered his mental shields to his ship, very slowly. The energy around him jumped in magnitude, as he loosened his hold on his own considerable mental power. This was what he was, totally. The only shields he kept up were those around Jamie's mind for the moment, blocking the TARDIS from feeling the lad until she had taken his silent invitation.
Verity was curious. This was like a moth to a flame, she'd not had his mind so open since they'd first met. He'd been considerably weaker then, although more than able to form the proper bonds with her. But this... She'd made him like this, appealing to the Validium in his blood as he regenerated in an effort to counteract the wasting sickness he'd suffered from. His mental power existed to fill a void within her own being. She would not need six operators if he accepted her. Was that what he was offering her now? She drifted closer. His mental call was like a siren's song to her. If she touched it the connection forged would be forever. And she wanted it, really she did. The one thing that confused her was Jamie. Why would the Doctor hold the human here, both physically and mentally? What did it mean? Would Jamie be able to hear her? She carefully enfolded the pair in her own mental embrace, detecting now the shields that her pilot placed around his human companion. Both of them were highly tense, in an unusual state of mental and chemical activity. She could sense the three hearts thudding in a rhythm that seemed to her to compliment her own song perfectly.
She knew then that this was real. He was offering himself to her on a deeper level than she ever imagined was possible. Like a union of opposites, the energy release would have repercussions across time and space, unless it was grounded. Did he think Jamie was that earthing force? The final part of their triad? It must be. If he were wrong all three of them would be driven mad. She allowed herself to flow into him, filling him, forming within his mind a strong multi-threaded connection. A bond of agelessness. Her aether to his void, forming a violent frothy overabundance within his aura, making him more powerful than he ever was alone.
Neither had realized the potential there. And both could see how it would shape his choices now. He needed a network of triads around him, both extended and close, family and lovers, friends and students. They need not be the same species, but they did need to fall into a narrow range of complimentary elements. Of the center there needed to be two double triads minus one. Beyond that there could be any number. Of these triads he could function as a linking element, or they could hook to another. A web of souls, near and far, that would serve to assist him where needed.
Jamie squeezed the hands holding his as he watched the inky speckled aura around Thete change. He felt the TARDIS right there, almost as though her hands (if she'd had any) were also entwined with his. The sparks dancing over his arms and down his body were more intense than anything he'd felt before. Something convinced the Doctor and the TARDIS to join with one another, right there in front of him. Thete sent him a warning, and a question, did he want to feel this? Would he like to be part of it? Did he want to share? The piper leaned in and kissed the small man for everything he was worth.
The Scotsman knew the hand holding was to control him, to force him to slow down and think about how he might hurt Thete. He didn't want to cause damage, but he knew too that he couldn't control the link and the demands it made. The Time Lord could lock him out more effectively than was often necessary. Jamie supposed after he'd attacked the smaller cool skinned fellow that he deserved to be locked out on occasion. He didn't want to ever do such a thing again. He did not want his Thete to be frightened of him or scared of this intense driving need. He knew they needed help. So if this joining would help them, then he was all for it. He loved the Doctor's ship. It was home to him, more so than any place or time could be. Although he had been rough, causing damage was not what he had in mind.
His hands came untangled, and cool fingers brushed over his face. The touch was light and caressing. Then it settled onto his temples, 'Don't be scared, Jamie. She won't hurt you. I'm going to lower the blocks and shields I've placed in your mind now. She promises to not shout, OK?' Behind the thoughts he catches a giggle, almost as though the ship is high on the power being released. For all he knew she was. He took a shaky breath and curled his hands into the Doctor's rumpled coat. He wants to strip his cèile nude and fuck him into the floor. He knows he may get the chance yet, but he must control himself for a while longer first.
Verity waited for her pilot to show her what he'd promised to reveal. He'd said he had a good reason to fear, a valid one for his secrecy. She wanted to believe him. The outer shields slowly lowered and the crackling energy arced through the control room. She'd never felt anything like it before. Quite without meaning to she lost track of herself, her location, what she was doing and why... Being in the Vortex meant it wasn't dangerous for her to do such things, as all it did was delay arrival for a bit. But no wonder the Doctor hid this...
Jamie too was lost. He's soaring through a landscape that has no description, boundless, timeless, bodiless... He was with them, apart but joined. He wasn't sure where one began or the other ended, and it didn't matter. He was in bliss. Slowly his perception began to include his physical body again, which still needed and wanted physical release. He felt cool fingers and lips on his skin, careful hands divesting him of his clothes, the erotic sensation of breezes and shifting air currents that he knew was Verity touching him too.
He worked the coat off of Thete, trailing his fingers over the cool skin, feeling the skittering sparks as they soaked into their joint awareness. He was kneeling, his legs apart, his hands braced on the Doctor's bare shoulders when the first more solid phantom touch brushed across his spine. The golden embers were fizzy, like feeling a cat's purr. His spine always seemed so sensitive when he was in this state of arousal. He arched, exposing his throat. The rest of the wool slid off him, pooling on Thete's legs. The loose lacy shirt tickled his skin, as he realized he was still on him, although open. Of course, Verity could reach him even while he was clothed, if she wanted. He wiggled his toes against the floor, listening to her purr in his mind.
'Togair, mo Cèile, feum. Yha gaol agam ort,' He sent the words out to them both, using them to center himself, to hold onto his humanity within the maelstrom of his passion. What Thete and Verity send back was more than words, more than feeling, the pure deep thoughts of their native languages echoing through the triplicate bond like shimmering waves, arrant concepts without translation that told him his feelings were returned, the possession was joint, their connection total.
For once none of them care who was inside who, or which of them controlled and dominated the situation. They care not who lead and who followed. All that consumed them was their being with each other totally, as deeply as possible for as long as they were able. And in the haze of the entire thing beat a fourth heart...