the doctors; an old folks (doctor who/sanctuary crossover) ficlet.
the doctors, an eleven/helen magnus (doctor who & sanctuary crossover) ficlet.
aka, the old folks
written for corellianjedi, who understands
(set sometime mid-s2 of sanctuary, undetermined in dw.)
970 words, pg
She’d always had a way of attracting the attentions of certain men. The adventurers, the scientists, the eccentric geniuses. Birds of a feather and all that. A handful of them proved diverting and stimulating for a time. A few months here, a couple years there. But necessity dictated that such… dalliances, if you will, be short lived. She either broke things off because the questions became too frequent or because her research and work with the Sanctuary was endangering them. Or they left on their own accord-fed up with the interrupted dates and the rain checks never cashed, the bruises and cuts and ‘business trips’ she refused to explain.
Magnus had become accustomed to temporary love, even as everything else seemed to stretch into infinity for her. Everyone else seemed so fleeting and precious when compared to her, and it was becoming more and more difficult to watch people she cared about age and fade away.
But for one very unique exception…
“Hello, Magnus, old girl,” he announced with that sly, knowing smirk. It was as if he’d popped out of the ground, a magical elf (or perhaps mischievous troll, judging by his self-satisfied air) eager to cause trouble.
“Hello, Doctor,” she said with as much unsurprised dignity as she could muster. “It’s been a while.”
“Missed me?”
“Always, darling. How many times have you saved the multiverses since we last spoke? A baker’s dozen?”
“Perhaps seven or eight.”
“My, you must be losing your touch.”
“I just don’t keep score,” he said nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his tweed jacket.
“You’ve always kept score. Why else do you go to museums?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to be around things that are as old as me.”
“Very few things in museums are as old as you, Doctor. At least here on Earth.”
“I’ll grant you that,” he conceded with a tilt of his head. “But I just like seeing old things treated with the proper decorum and respect.”
“Anyone tries to give you decorum and respect, you shrug it off and make a bad pun about retirement homes,” she said acerbically. “I can’t help but think about a particular encounter with Omar Bradley-the man tried to salute you and you laughed in his face.”
“Well, he had feathers stuck to his shirt from that chicken that got loose.”
“That you let loose. Anyway, you hurt his feelings.”
“Have I hurt yours?” he asked suddenly, swinging about on one lanky leg to stare at her intently.
“My feelings?” she said. “Of course not, Doctor, don’t be daft. You haven’t been around for a couple months now-you couldn’t have done anything to hurt my feelings.”
“It’s just that you’re very sharp-tongued with me today, and you’re only like that when you’re upset about something.”
“You don’t know me well enough to judge my emotions so summarily.”
“Sure I do,” he countered. “All the adventures we’ve had? All of that time, all of that space. I know you, Helen Magnus.”
Okay, so he did know her. Not as much as John, perhaps, or even Big Guy-but certainly better than most. Better than Will, even. And you have to know someone to trust them with the secrets he’d given her.
“So?” he said, matching her pace. “What’s bothering you? Why are you out here in this cemetery by yourself?”
“Visiting old friends,” she said quietly. “Musing on the nature of loss. How it effects the mind over time. Did you know that some medical studies are showing that prolonged grief and depression can actually have a negative effect on intelligence? A genius could fall into a terrible bout of melancholia and resurface only moderately intelligent. Isn’t that a sobering thought?”
“Nah, it’s bollocks,” the Doctor said casually. “Utter hogwash. Ooh, that’s a fun word! I should use it more often.”
“Are you speaking honestly, or frivolously, Doctor?”
“Helen, you know I would never be frivolous on a subject like this,” the Doctor said. “If those studies were accurate, I would be about as capable as a goldfish by now. So even more rubbish at cards than I am now.”
She paused by a weathered, half-legible tombstone. “But Doctor, you’re not quite human, are you?”
“You’re not that far from a Time Lord, you barmy old humans,” he replied. “Just a couple rungs down on the evolutionary ladder, so to speak.”
“Watson would have loved to hear you talk like that.”
“Yes, good old Watson,” the Doctor sighed. “Ran into him a while back, when he was just starting university. It was strange, seeing him so young and optimistic. The times, how they sometimes change. He had no idea who I was, of course. Gave him the old pseudonym and dashed off. Had an Auton to intercept on his way to an assassination.”
Magnus smiled. “Doctor, it is nice to see you.”
“Sorry I don’t pop by more often.”
“That’s quite alright. I know how it is. Besides, if you stuck around for more than a few days at a time, we’d most likely drive each other mad.”
“We’re all mad here, Dr. Magnus,” the Doctor laughed. “So, fancy a little trip? I was thinking… Petrifold Banoosh.”
“What’s in Petrifold Banoosh?”
“The most beautiful pyramid in the universe. We’ll climb straight to the top of it and have a cuppa. Sound lovely?”
“Absolutely, Doctor.” She slipped her hand through his arm. “You know, sometimes I think you’re the closest thing to the perfect man the universe is capable of.”
“Oh? And why is that? Is it the bowtie? The hair? The ever-impressive TARDIS?”
“That effortless way you have of making my life so much easier to bear,” she said with sincerity. “And you always take me to the nicest places.”
“I just like to treat you in your old age, dear.”
aka, the old folks
written for corellianjedi, who understands
(set sometime mid-s2 of sanctuary, undetermined in dw.)
970 words, pg
She’d always had a way of attracting the attentions of certain men. The adventurers, the scientists, the eccentric geniuses. Birds of a feather and all that. A handful of them proved diverting and stimulating for a time. A few months here, a couple years there. But necessity dictated that such… dalliances, if you will, be short lived. She either broke things off because the questions became too frequent or because her research and work with the Sanctuary was endangering them. Or they left on their own accord-fed up with the interrupted dates and the rain checks never cashed, the bruises and cuts and ‘business trips’ she refused to explain.
Magnus had become accustomed to temporary love, even as everything else seemed to stretch into infinity for her. Everyone else seemed so fleeting and precious when compared to her, and it was becoming more and more difficult to watch people she cared about age and fade away.
But for one very unique exception…
“Hello, Magnus, old girl,” he announced with that sly, knowing smirk. It was as if he’d popped out of the ground, a magical elf (or perhaps mischievous troll, judging by his self-satisfied air) eager to cause trouble.
“Hello, Doctor,” she said with as much unsurprised dignity as she could muster. “It’s been a while.”
“Missed me?”
“Always, darling. How many times have you saved the multiverses since we last spoke? A baker’s dozen?”
“Perhaps seven or eight.”
“My, you must be losing your touch.”
“I just don’t keep score,” he said nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his tweed jacket.
“You’ve always kept score. Why else do you go to museums?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to be around things that are as old as me.”
“Very few things in museums are as old as you, Doctor. At least here on Earth.”
“I’ll grant you that,” he conceded with a tilt of his head. “But I just like seeing old things treated with the proper decorum and respect.”
“Anyone tries to give you decorum and respect, you shrug it off and make a bad pun about retirement homes,” she said acerbically. “I can’t help but think about a particular encounter with Omar Bradley-the man tried to salute you and you laughed in his face.”
“Well, he had feathers stuck to his shirt from that chicken that got loose.”
“That you let loose. Anyway, you hurt his feelings.”
“Have I hurt yours?” he asked suddenly, swinging about on one lanky leg to stare at her intently.
“My feelings?” she said. “Of course not, Doctor, don’t be daft. You haven’t been around for a couple months now-you couldn’t have done anything to hurt my feelings.”
“It’s just that you’re very sharp-tongued with me today, and you’re only like that when you’re upset about something.”
“You don’t know me well enough to judge my emotions so summarily.”
“Sure I do,” he countered. “All the adventures we’ve had? All of that time, all of that space. I know you, Helen Magnus.”
Okay, so he did know her. Not as much as John, perhaps, or even Big Guy-but certainly better than most. Better than Will, even. And you have to know someone to trust them with the secrets he’d given her.
“So?” he said, matching her pace. “What’s bothering you? Why are you out here in this cemetery by yourself?”
“Visiting old friends,” she said quietly. “Musing on the nature of loss. How it effects the mind over time. Did you know that some medical studies are showing that prolonged grief and depression can actually have a negative effect on intelligence? A genius could fall into a terrible bout of melancholia and resurface only moderately intelligent. Isn’t that a sobering thought?”
“Nah, it’s bollocks,” the Doctor said casually. “Utter hogwash. Ooh, that’s a fun word! I should use it more often.”
“Are you speaking honestly, or frivolously, Doctor?”
“Helen, you know I would never be frivolous on a subject like this,” the Doctor said. “If those studies were accurate, I would be about as capable as a goldfish by now. So even more rubbish at cards than I am now.”
She paused by a weathered, half-legible tombstone. “But Doctor, you’re not quite human, are you?”
“You’re not that far from a Time Lord, you barmy old humans,” he replied. “Just a couple rungs down on the evolutionary ladder, so to speak.”
“Watson would have loved to hear you talk like that.”
“Yes, good old Watson,” the Doctor sighed. “Ran into him a while back, when he was just starting university. It was strange, seeing him so young and optimistic. The times, how they sometimes change. He had no idea who I was, of course. Gave him the old pseudonym and dashed off. Had an Auton to intercept on his way to an assassination.”
Magnus smiled. “Doctor, it is nice to see you.”
“Sorry I don’t pop by more often.”
“That’s quite alright. I know how it is. Besides, if you stuck around for more than a few days at a time, we’d most likely drive each other mad.”
“We’re all mad here, Dr. Magnus,” the Doctor laughed. “So, fancy a little trip? I was thinking… Petrifold Banoosh.”
“What’s in Petrifold Banoosh?”
“The most beautiful pyramid in the universe. We’ll climb straight to the top of it and have a cuppa. Sound lovely?”
“Absolutely, Doctor.” She slipped her hand through his arm. “You know, sometimes I think you’re the closest thing to the perfect man the universe is capable of.”
“Oh? And why is that? Is it the bowtie? The hair? The ever-impressive TARDIS?”
“That effortless way you have of making my life so much easier to bear,” she said with sincerity. “And you always take me to the nicest places.”
“I just like to treat you in your old age, dear.”