Fic: Alone With A TARDIS Key
Title: Alone With A TARDIS Key
Rating: T
Word count: 958
Characters: Tegan, Jack, mention of Fifth Doctor
Timeline/spoilers: Immediately post-Resurrection of the Daleks for Tegan, pre-Utopia for Jack.
Summary: All that’s left is a TARDIS key.
Challenge: Worst Day ... EVER!
She would not cry. She would not. She was Tegan Jovanka, she had made this choice and she would be adult about it.
Leaning against the wall of the warehouse, Tegan wondered if she could, if she tried hard enough, convince herself that the burning in her eyes didn’t mean tears, didn’t mean she had to fight hard to keep from loosing the floodgates.
It had been a long, hard day. And it wasn’t over yet, she knew that much. This might be her time, might be the London she knew, but that didn’t mean she had anywhere to go. She had friends in London - or at least, she’d had friends when she left - but no family, and no money to get anywhere. She’d walked away from the Doctor with just the clothes on her back. Not that she’d walked onto the TARDIS with more than that, either time, but she had gathered things, clothes from the wardrobe and from various planets and eras they’d visited, and souvenirs.
Her drawings. Tegan gave a choking kind of laugh. She’d left her sketchpad behind, the drawings she’d made of the places they’d been, the people she’d met. Memories faded, she’d told the Doctor once, but if she was careful, the drawings would last her lifetime and beyond.
Except she’d left them behind.
Tegan leaned against the warehouse wall for a moment, and then slowly dropped until she was sitting on the ground, legs stretched out in front of her. She would get cold if she sat here for too long, she knew that, but for a while it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if there was anyone around to move her along - or ask what was wrong.
She stared at her shoes, her impractical heels, and wondered when it had gone so wrong.
“Hey.”
She looked up, blinked several times at the man who had appeared almost out of nowhere. Tall, dark-haired, extremely handsome but wearing odd, old-fashioned clothes, he was looking down at her with a concerned expression.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Tegan gave an irritated huff and swiped a hand across her damp cheeks. “Sorry,” he said then. “Stupid question. You’re obviously not alright.” He stepped closed, and Tegan started to try to stand up, unwilling to be in such a vulnerable position with a strange man. He stopped, stepped backwards and spread his hands. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just concerned, that’s all.”
“I’m fine,” Tegan said, and cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“You don’t look fine,” the stranger said, quiet and gentle. “Look…” He sighed, and Tegan wrapped her arms around herself, not sure if she should be getting up and running or not. “I’ll be honest,” he continued at length. “I work for an organisation that monitors alien activity on Earth.” Tegan stiffened and began to push herself to her feet. “I’m not here because of them,” the man said quickly. “Honest. I…I detected...” He sighed again. “Look, I travelled with the Doctor once,” he said, and there was something of desperation in his voice - enough to make Tegan stop, one hand braced against the wall, stooped in a half-crouch. “Did he leave you behind?” the man went on, “or did you -”
“I left,” Tegan said, and straightened, swallowed back the last of her tears. “It was my choice.” She looked up at him. “You?”
“No, I was left,” he said, and gave a brief, bitter smile. “You mind if I ask what your Doctor looked like?”
“Blond,” said Tegan. “About…this tall.” She held her hand up above her head. “Has a thing for cricket. And celery.” The stranger looks crestfallen, and she lets her hand drop, waits to see if he will break the silence before she does. “That good or bad for you?” she asked eventually.
“Depends on your perspective,” he said. “He’s earlier than the Doctor I travelled with, so I haven’t missed an opportunity. That’s good.” He grimaces. “But he’s not the Doctor I need to find, so…” He shrugged. “Not my worst day ever.”
“No?” Tegan found herself choking back tears again, and she pounded her fist angrily into the brick wall. “Well, it’s pretty bad on my scale.” She found herself thinking of the Daleks again, of the Doctor with a gun in his hand, of all the death she’d seen.
“Hey,” said the man, and somehow while she’d been thinking he’d stepped closer, close enough to take her hand. “You’re bleeding,” he pointed out. “You hit that wall pretty hard.” He turned her hand over, showed her the grazes on her knuckles. She looked at the blood welling up, bit her lip hard. “Look, why don’t you come with me,” the man said. “Just to a café or something. We can get your hand cleaned up. Maybe talk?”
“I don’t even know your name,” said Tegan after a long moment. “You don’t know mine. I don’t even - I only have your word for it that you even travelled with the Doctor!”
The man nodded. “Fair enough. I’m Jack Harkness.” He reached to his neck, fished something from under his shirt - a thin chain, from which hung a very familiar key. “This is my key,” he said, and Tegan nodded, reached for the chain around her own neck and showed an identical key. “So, you believe me now?” asked Jack, smiling down at her.
“I’m Tegan,” she said as a reply. “Tegan Jovanka.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tegan,” he said. “Now. Let’s go talk about your bad day, yeah?” He offered his arm, and Tegan tried to smile. It didn’t work very well, but Jack didn’t seem to mind.
“It really was awful,” she confided, suddenly feeling like crying wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Rating: T
Word count: 958
Characters: Tegan, Jack, mention of Fifth Doctor
Timeline/spoilers: Immediately post-Resurrection of the Daleks for Tegan, pre-Utopia for Jack.
Summary: All that’s left is a TARDIS key.
Challenge: Worst Day ... EVER!
She would not cry. She would not. She was Tegan Jovanka, she had made this choice and she would be adult about it.
Leaning against the wall of the warehouse, Tegan wondered if she could, if she tried hard enough, convince herself that the burning in her eyes didn’t mean tears, didn’t mean she had to fight hard to keep from loosing the floodgates.
It had been a long, hard day. And it wasn’t over yet, she knew that much. This might be her time, might be the London she knew, but that didn’t mean she had anywhere to go. She had friends in London - or at least, she’d had friends when she left - but no family, and no money to get anywhere. She’d walked away from the Doctor with just the clothes on her back. Not that she’d walked onto the TARDIS with more than that, either time, but she had gathered things, clothes from the wardrobe and from various planets and eras they’d visited, and souvenirs.
Her drawings. Tegan gave a choking kind of laugh. She’d left her sketchpad behind, the drawings she’d made of the places they’d been, the people she’d met. Memories faded, she’d told the Doctor once, but if she was careful, the drawings would last her lifetime and beyond.
Except she’d left them behind.
Tegan leaned against the warehouse wall for a moment, and then slowly dropped until she was sitting on the ground, legs stretched out in front of her. She would get cold if she sat here for too long, she knew that, but for a while it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if there was anyone around to move her along - or ask what was wrong.
She stared at her shoes, her impractical heels, and wondered when it had gone so wrong.
“Hey.”
She looked up, blinked several times at the man who had appeared almost out of nowhere. Tall, dark-haired, extremely handsome but wearing odd, old-fashioned clothes, he was looking down at her with a concerned expression.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Tegan gave an irritated huff and swiped a hand across her damp cheeks. “Sorry,” he said then. “Stupid question. You’re obviously not alright.” He stepped closed, and Tegan started to try to stand up, unwilling to be in such a vulnerable position with a strange man. He stopped, stepped backwards and spread his hands. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just concerned, that’s all.”
“I’m fine,” Tegan said, and cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“You don’t look fine,” the stranger said, quiet and gentle. “Look…” He sighed, and Tegan wrapped her arms around herself, not sure if she should be getting up and running or not. “I’ll be honest,” he continued at length. “I work for an organisation that monitors alien activity on Earth.” Tegan stiffened and began to push herself to her feet. “I’m not here because of them,” the man said quickly. “Honest. I…I detected...” He sighed again. “Look, I travelled with the Doctor once,” he said, and there was something of desperation in his voice - enough to make Tegan stop, one hand braced against the wall, stooped in a half-crouch. “Did he leave you behind?” the man went on, “or did you -”
“I left,” Tegan said, and straightened, swallowed back the last of her tears. “It was my choice.” She looked up at him. “You?”
“No, I was left,” he said, and gave a brief, bitter smile. “You mind if I ask what your Doctor looked like?”
“Blond,” said Tegan. “About…this tall.” She held her hand up above her head. “Has a thing for cricket. And celery.” The stranger looks crestfallen, and she lets her hand drop, waits to see if he will break the silence before she does. “That good or bad for you?” she asked eventually.
“Depends on your perspective,” he said. “He’s earlier than the Doctor I travelled with, so I haven’t missed an opportunity. That’s good.” He grimaces. “But he’s not the Doctor I need to find, so…” He shrugged. “Not my worst day ever.”
“No?” Tegan found herself choking back tears again, and she pounded her fist angrily into the brick wall. “Well, it’s pretty bad on my scale.” She found herself thinking of the Daleks again, of the Doctor with a gun in his hand, of all the death she’d seen.
“Hey,” said the man, and somehow while she’d been thinking he’d stepped closer, close enough to take her hand. “You’re bleeding,” he pointed out. “You hit that wall pretty hard.” He turned her hand over, showed her the grazes on her knuckles. She looked at the blood welling up, bit her lip hard. “Look, why don’t you come with me,” the man said. “Just to a café or something. We can get your hand cleaned up. Maybe talk?”
“I don’t even know your name,” said Tegan after a long moment. “You don’t know mine. I don’t even - I only have your word for it that you even travelled with the Doctor!”
The man nodded. “Fair enough. I’m Jack Harkness.” He reached to his neck, fished something from under his shirt - a thin chain, from which hung a very familiar key. “This is my key,” he said, and Tegan nodded, reached for the chain around her own neck and showed an identical key. “So, you believe me now?” asked Jack, smiling down at her.
“I’m Tegan,” she said as a reply. “Tegan Jovanka.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tegan,” he said. “Now. Let’s go talk about your bad day, yeah?” He offered his arm, and Tegan tried to smile. It didn’t work very well, but Jack didn’t seem to mind.
“It really was awful,” she confided, suddenly feeling like crying wasn’t such a bad thing after all.