Garrulous.
The second part. First can be read here.
He was not entirely sure what happened over the few days; he slid in and out of consciousness, the scene unfolding about him like a play. There was a woman leaning over him, working intently on his shoulder. A man bustled back and forth at the foot of the bed, worrying something through his hands, running out the door suddenly, barking orders loudly. On occasion a mechanical voice would sound out, confusing him in his delirium.
The real parade was second only to the parade of disturbed dreams. Tegan, Nyssa, the Doctor standing in the TARDIS. The Brig, Hippo, and headmaster glaring at him in the infirmary at Brendon. Various monsters and aliens that he had seen on his travels. The civil war and his exile, a dark period in his life. And through it all, the Black Guardian, laughing at him. He tossed and turned at the pain he felt mentally and physically. Finally, with a hypodermic needle to the inside of his elbow from the woman, and it all faded away into blackness.
He awoke suddenly with a screech, trying to hide his face in the crook of his elbow. Eventually he gained his bearings, realizing his surroundings. It wasn’t as much of a comfort; he went from having no idea where he was to having just very little idea. He thought he recognized the TARDIS infirmary, but he couldn’t be certain; he was used to every wall being covered in roundels, this room was just bare concrete.
Attempting to sit up made him hiss in pain. Pulling a blanket that was up to his chin back, he saw he was clothed in an oversized white shirt. He worked stiff fingers to unbutton it, fumbling embarrassingly before succeeding. Underneath he saw his left shoulder was covered in neat white bandages, taped to his skin and pulling at it uncomfortably when he moved. He was amazed though; he knew he had suffered a nasty injury, but all the discomfort he felt was adhesive on his body hair and a needle in the crook of his other arm connected to an IV. “How remarkable,” he observed aloud as he examined himself.
“Are you impressed with my handiwork?” a woman asked, making him jump. She stood in the doorway, a smile curling the corners of her delicate mouth. “Mind you, I am not a surgeon, but traveling with the Doctor has taught me to pick up some key skills like stitches and antibiotic use.”
“Yes, I served in a war; I can appreciate the work you did.” He looked at her inquiringly.
She took his scrutiny for a moment before feeling annoyed. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, I did not mean to be rude,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m just trying to figure out… anything.” He smacked his palm against the bed. “Could you help me sit up? I feel very much like an upset tortoise.” She crossed the room and in a moment’s time he was sitting comfortably against his pillows. “Thank you very much, uh… “
“Romanadvoratrelundar, but you can call me-“
“Fred,” he interrupted suddenly. “I know, the Doctor told me about you.”
“-Romana, actually.” She arched a fine eyebrow at him. “Now when were you and he talking?”
He grimaced. “I’m guessing about… twenty, thirty years into the future? It hasn’t been that long for him, considering I know Tegan who knew Adric who knew you.” She sat quietly, thinking. “He often talks about you, he misses you a lot.”
“Why are you here?” she asked abruptly. “Why have you crossed our timeline?”
He looked down at his hands, unwilling to take the anger she had in her eyes. “I… I don’t know. I was just with the Doctor- the one I know- and something happened and I was here. I had no control over it, I swear-“
“It was the Black Guardian’s doing,” a third voice said from the doorway. Turlough looked up at the tall man as he walked to the bed, a commanding presence despite his ragged look. There was little mistake that the broad shouldered middle aged man was the cricket-loving thirty-something madman with a different face. “The Black Guardian wants to change the course of events, change my personal timeline for the worse,” he said, a residual sadness in his voice.
Turlough nodded. “He tried to force me to-“
The Doctor hissed at him loudly, chopping his hand through the air. “Don’t tell me anything! Your presence alone will probably ruin everything, don’t exacerbate the situation!”
“Exacerbate, Doctor? Impressive word use.”
He glared at Romana. “I do have an elementary understanding of the thesaurus.”
“Do you, Doctor? Well, what about ‘aggravate’, ‘intensify’, ‘worsen’-“
“Romana..” the Doctor growled.
“-or the antonym ‘improve.’” She said matter-of-factly.
The Doctor shook his head wearily. “Yes, yes, whatever, you’re point?”
“I have no point other than I believe you are being very unfair to this young man. He had no control over his own fate. Instead of yelling why don’t we calmly figure out what is going on, shall we?”
“No, no, do carry on,” Turlough said quickly. “My Doctor hasn’t argued with me half as much as you two have since I woke up.”
The Doctor looked at Romana aghast. “Look, he’s telling me things I shouldn’t know already!”
“What, that you apparently finally calm down?”
“No! That I apparently become compliant and watered down.”
Turlough tried to interrupt as politely as he could. “Not to steal the show, but I appear to be bleeding.”
Romana turned to face him, seeing how his bandage had turned an alarming shade of crimson. “Doctor, get me some fresh gauze.” She gingerly pulled the tape free. “ How does it feel?”
“I feel fine, those chest hairs you pulled out hurt the most. Why is that?”
Pulling the gauze back she responded, “Don’t worry, that’s the painkillers.”
He whistled at the sight of his injury, a wide gash that spread across his thin chest. “Now that’s going to leave a scar.”
“You seem awfully flippant about that,” the Doctor said, pointing.
“Like I told Romana, I fought in a war-“ he was hissed into silence again. “Well, if I can’t tell you anything about you or me, what can I say?” he asked, exasperated.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing! I have to get you back to your timestream immediately!”
“Well, how can I do that if I can’t tell you anything?!” The Doctor looked at him sullenly as response. A thought occurred to the young man. “Listen, couldn’t you at least tell me what you two are doing?”
He felt the hands working on his shoulder tense. “Doctor, maybe he isn’t what he says he is, maybe he has been sent to work against us,” Romana said, looking up from her work.
“Well, in the strictest sense, I have been sent to obstruct something you are doing,” Turlough remarked, shrugging his good shoulder. Both Time lord and lady looked at him questioningly. “I had rather thought it was obvious.”
“The Black Guardian.” It wasn’t a question, but Turlough nodded his head in answer anyway. The Doctor sat down on the edge of the bed and gripped his knee. “Can you tell me why he would do this without telling me too much?” he asked earnestly.
Turlough thought about it as he met the clear blue eyes of his not-yet friend and mentor. ‘Sure, he said if I didn’t kill you he would kill me instead,’ he thought bleakly. ‘I only escaped that fate by attempting my own suicide and jumping off a boat in space. But it worked out because we were reunited, found the explosive, and won the race and Enlightenment.’ He shook his head. The Doctor sighed as he ran his fingers through his tangled curls. “But you could answer my question, instead?”
The Doctor gave him a sidelong glance, then looked at Romana. She shrugged and went back to sewing the puncture closed again. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you.” He hooked his foot around the leg of a chair and pulled it to him, seating himself comfortably. “Romana and I are busy trying to find the pieces of the Key to Time.” Turlough gasped loudly. “You’ve heard of it?”
“Have I? Doctor, it all makes sense now!” he gave Romana an annoyed glance. “That is starting to sting, actually.”
“Focus, boy, focus!” The Doctor snapped.
“I’ve got a name, you know,” he responded sulkily before continued. “But clearly the Guardian does not want you guys to succeed. When he tried to trick you into giving it to him, he- ahh...”
The Doctor was holding his scarf over his ears, humming loudly and persistently. “Stop being so juvenile, Doctor, it doesn’t suit you,” Romana said airily as she flicked her dark hair over her shoulder before snipping the threads.
“Anyway, after my… incident with the man, he must have realised this would be a more effective way to get what he wants.” He looked at the Doctor squarely. “The Universe in chaos.”
“Well, that is cheerful,” she said as she placed a fresh bandage. “But you shouldn’t worry about it. What you need is to rest.” She proffered a glass of water and a small pill for him to take.
“We can stop him though, right?” Turlough asked as held the glass to his lips. “I mean, he’s immortal and in control of everything, but he can be stopped. Right, Doctor? Doctor?”
The Timelord was staring straight ahead. “He’s interrupted my personal timeline. What can’t he do?”
“Doctor? Maybe you should rest too,” Romana said, gently touching his shoulder. He started, then looked around.
Suddenly a large grin cracked his face. “Indeed… this will be an adventure. Get some sleep, young man, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.” They left him, shutting off the lights as they went out.
He sighed and punched his pillow, rolling over onto his good shoulder. “Figures. Different clothes but same sense for getting into trouble.” But he didn’t worry for long before he drifted off.
He was not entirely sure what happened over the few days; he slid in and out of consciousness, the scene unfolding about him like a play. There was a woman leaning over him, working intently on his shoulder. A man bustled back and forth at the foot of the bed, worrying something through his hands, running out the door suddenly, barking orders loudly. On occasion a mechanical voice would sound out, confusing him in his delirium.
The real parade was second only to the parade of disturbed dreams. Tegan, Nyssa, the Doctor standing in the TARDIS. The Brig, Hippo, and headmaster glaring at him in the infirmary at Brendon. Various monsters and aliens that he had seen on his travels. The civil war and his exile, a dark period in his life. And through it all, the Black Guardian, laughing at him. He tossed and turned at the pain he felt mentally and physically. Finally, with a hypodermic needle to the inside of his elbow from the woman, and it all faded away into blackness.
He awoke suddenly with a screech, trying to hide his face in the crook of his elbow. Eventually he gained his bearings, realizing his surroundings. It wasn’t as much of a comfort; he went from having no idea where he was to having just very little idea. He thought he recognized the TARDIS infirmary, but he couldn’t be certain; he was used to every wall being covered in roundels, this room was just bare concrete.
Attempting to sit up made him hiss in pain. Pulling a blanket that was up to his chin back, he saw he was clothed in an oversized white shirt. He worked stiff fingers to unbutton it, fumbling embarrassingly before succeeding. Underneath he saw his left shoulder was covered in neat white bandages, taped to his skin and pulling at it uncomfortably when he moved. He was amazed though; he knew he had suffered a nasty injury, but all the discomfort he felt was adhesive on his body hair and a needle in the crook of his other arm connected to an IV. “How remarkable,” he observed aloud as he examined himself.
“Are you impressed with my handiwork?” a woman asked, making him jump. She stood in the doorway, a smile curling the corners of her delicate mouth. “Mind you, I am not a surgeon, but traveling with the Doctor has taught me to pick up some key skills like stitches and antibiotic use.”
“Yes, I served in a war; I can appreciate the work you did.” He looked at her inquiringly.
She took his scrutiny for a moment before feeling annoyed. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, I did not mean to be rude,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m just trying to figure out… anything.” He smacked his palm against the bed. “Could you help me sit up? I feel very much like an upset tortoise.” She crossed the room and in a moment’s time he was sitting comfortably against his pillows. “Thank you very much, uh… “
“Romanadvoratrelundar, but you can call me-“
“Fred,” he interrupted suddenly. “I know, the Doctor told me about you.”
“-Romana, actually.” She arched a fine eyebrow at him. “Now when were you and he talking?”
He grimaced. “I’m guessing about… twenty, thirty years into the future? It hasn’t been that long for him, considering I know Tegan who knew Adric who knew you.” She sat quietly, thinking. “He often talks about you, he misses you a lot.”
“Why are you here?” she asked abruptly. “Why have you crossed our timeline?”
He looked down at his hands, unwilling to take the anger she had in her eyes. “I… I don’t know. I was just with the Doctor- the one I know- and something happened and I was here. I had no control over it, I swear-“
“It was the Black Guardian’s doing,” a third voice said from the doorway. Turlough looked up at the tall man as he walked to the bed, a commanding presence despite his ragged look. There was little mistake that the broad shouldered middle aged man was the cricket-loving thirty-something madman with a different face. “The Black Guardian wants to change the course of events, change my personal timeline for the worse,” he said, a residual sadness in his voice.
Turlough nodded. “He tried to force me to-“
The Doctor hissed at him loudly, chopping his hand through the air. “Don’t tell me anything! Your presence alone will probably ruin everything, don’t exacerbate the situation!”
“Exacerbate, Doctor? Impressive word use.”
He glared at Romana. “I do have an elementary understanding of the thesaurus.”
“Do you, Doctor? Well, what about ‘aggravate’, ‘intensify’, ‘worsen’-“
“Romana..” the Doctor growled.
“-or the antonym ‘improve.’” She said matter-of-factly.
The Doctor shook his head wearily. “Yes, yes, whatever, you’re point?”
“I have no point other than I believe you are being very unfair to this young man. He had no control over his own fate. Instead of yelling why don’t we calmly figure out what is going on, shall we?”
“No, no, do carry on,” Turlough said quickly. “My Doctor hasn’t argued with me half as much as you two have since I woke up.”
The Doctor looked at Romana aghast. “Look, he’s telling me things I shouldn’t know already!”
“What, that you apparently finally calm down?”
“No! That I apparently become compliant and watered down.”
Turlough tried to interrupt as politely as he could. “Not to steal the show, but I appear to be bleeding.”
Romana turned to face him, seeing how his bandage had turned an alarming shade of crimson. “Doctor, get me some fresh gauze.” She gingerly pulled the tape free. “ How does it feel?”
“I feel fine, those chest hairs you pulled out hurt the most. Why is that?”
Pulling the gauze back she responded, “Don’t worry, that’s the painkillers.”
He whistled at the sight of his injury, a wide gash that spread across his thin chest. “Now that’s going to leave a scar.”
“You seem awfully flippant about that,” the Doctor said, pointing.
“Like I told Romana, I fought in a war-“ he was hissed into silence again. “Well, if I can’t tell you anything about you or me, what can I say?” he asked, exasperated.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing! I have to get you back to your timestream immediately!”
“Well, how can I do that if I can’t tell you anything?!” The Doctor looked at him sullenly as response. A thought occurred to the young man. “Listen, couldn’t you at least tell me what you two are doing?”
He felt the hands working on his shoulder tense. “Doctor, maybe he isn’t what he says he is, maybe he has been sent to work against us,” Romana said, looking up from her work.
“Well, in the strictest sense, I have been sent to obstruct something you are doing,” Turlough remarked, shrugging his good shoulder. Both Time lord and lady looked at him questioningly. “I had rather thought it was obvious.”
“The Black Guardian.” It wasn’t a question, but Turlough nodded his head in answer anyway. The Doctor sat down on the edge of the bed and gripped his knee. “Can you tell me why he would do this without telling me too much?” he asked earnestly.
Turlough thought about it as he met the clear blue eyes of his not-yet friend and mentor. ‘Sure, he said if I didn’t kill you he would kill me instead,’ he thought bleakly. ‘I only escaped that fate by attempting my own suicide and jumping off a boat in space. But it worked out because we were reunited, found the explosive, and won the race and Enlightenment.’ He shook his head. The Doctor sighed as he ran his fingers through his tangled curls. “But you could answer my question, instead?”
The Doctor gave him a sidelong glance, then looked at Romana. She shrugged and went back to sewing the puncture closed again. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you.” He hooked his foot around the leg of a chair and pulled it to him, seating himself comfortably. “Romana and I are busy trying to find the pieces of the Key to Time.” Turlough gasped loudly. “You’ve heard of it?”
“Have I? Doctor, it all makes sense now!” he gave Romana an annoyed glance. “That is starting to sting, actually.”
“Focus, boy, focus!” The Doctor snapped.
“I’ve got a name, you know,” he responded sulkily before continued. “But clearly the Guardian does not want you guys to succeed. When he tried to trick you into giving it to him, he- ahh...”
The Doctor was holding his scarf over his ears, humming loudly and persistently. “Stop being so juvenile, Doctor, it doesn’t suit you,” Romana said airily as she flicked her dark hair over her shoulder before snipping the threads.
“Anyway, after my… incident with the man, he must have realised this would be a more effective way to get what he wants.” He looked at the Doctor squarely. “The Universe in chaos.”
“Well, that is cheerful,” she said as she placed a fresh bandage. “But you shouldn’t worry about it. What you need is to rest.” She proffered a glass of water and a small pill for him to take.
“We can stop him though, right?” Turlough asked as held the glass to his lips. “I mean, he’s immortal and in control of everything, but he can be stopped. Right, Doctor? Doctor?”
The Timelord was staring straight ahead. “He’s interrupted my personal timeline. What can’t he do?”
“Doctor? Maybe you should rest too,” Romana said, gently touching his shoulder. He started, then looked around.
Suddenly a large grin cracked his face. “Indeed… this will be an adventure. Get some sleep, young man, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.” They left him, shutting off the lights as they went out.
He sighed and punched his pillow, rolling over onto his good shoulder. “Figures. Different clothes but same sense for getting into trouble.” But he didn’t worry for long before he drifted off.