Ghost, Incarceration and Weathering the Storms
3 Fics from my FANFIC:100 over at Fantasy Script, all Beta'd by
fifth_sister. :-)
Title: Ghost
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Ninth Doctor/Romana II
Spoilers: None
Summary: He could see her, wherever he went, he could still see her. Nine/Romana II.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Never have, never will.
Notes: Prompt: Ghost
Ghost
He can see her.
Out of the corner of his eye, she stands there. Lifting her chin in that Romana way of her’s. Judging his every move, every microspan that passes.
Sometimes, she smiles. Just a small one, which shows that she knows best. Other times it will be that beatific beam he’s always loved.
He’d approach her and tears would glisten in her eyes and she would shake her head sadly, taking a few steps backwards. Away from his calloused hands that were borne from war. Not something to be touching someone quite as precious as her.
In his sleep, he hears her breaths, shallow, short, as she gazes over him. As he dreams, she’s walking through his memories - Paris, Tigella, Choloris - at least they’re not cheating him.
Rose comes aboard. She’s suitably awed by time and space, compassionate too, and so, so human. But she cannot see Romana. She just puts it down to it being part of her daft Doctor and his daft idiosyncrasies.
The Doctor didn’t much believe in ghosts, but couldn’t bring himself to believe the TARDIS would be cruel enough to throw up a projection of her. For he blames her for the death of his planet; and herself. But not quite so much as he blames himself.
Title: Incarceration
Author: tromana
Rating: K+
Characters: Fourth Doctor/Romana II
Spoilers: None
Summary: How was the Doctor meant to know he shouldn’t beat Princess Abizula at Tiddlywinks? 4/Romana II
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Never have, never will.
Notes: Prompt: Slammer
Incarceration
“The terrain doesn’t look suitable for K9.”
Romana wrinkled her nose at the rocky pathways of Hentra, before stepping gingerly outside. It seemed her delicate heels weren’t altogether suitable either, but that wasn’t going to stop her from leaving the TARDIS.
“No, you’re right,” the Doctor agreed. “K9… stay. Romana and I have an engagement at the castle.”
“We do?”
“We had an emergency call down whilst you were changing.”
Romana smiled and took the Doctor’s arm. Their pace was slow, but they didn’t mind. The sun basked down on them, through the idyllic surroundings and eventually they were tapping on the huge wooden door.
“Tiddlywinks,” the Doctor exclaimed sometime later. “Your great emergency is tiddlywinks?”
“The Princess Abizula is running out of willing competitors. A distress beacon was the only logical solution.”
Romana snorted in a rather undignified fashion, causing the Doctor to elbow her in the ribs. They were taken through to a rather decadent hall, sparsely decorated. At one end sat a tiny brunette girl, with a toothy grin, a cup and a collection of tiddlywinks.
The game progressed quickly, with the Princess growing more and more frustrated at the Doctor. Romana, thoroughly bored, took to observing the few pieces of artwork in detail whilst actively blocking out the infuriating child’s screams of contempt. No wonder no one wanted to play against her. She was positively ghastly.
“Good game there.” The Doctor grinned his toothiest grin and held out a hand.
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Romana looked up. Obviously the game had finished. “Throw him in the slammer. Her too. His accomplice.”
The girl was obviously unfathomably spiteful, and Romana had no idea what ‘the slammer’ was, but didn’t much appreciate being wrestled with by some guards for something the Doctor had done. Quickly and efficiently, they were lead to a small prison cell and suitably chained in before being left behind.
“Prison, jail, choky, slammer…”
“This isn’t helping, Doctor,” Romana hissed, rattling her chains thoroughly annoyed.
“…keep, penitentiary, house of correction, brig… oh you should meet the Brigadier, Romana. You’d like him.”
“I would?” she replied faintly, “but I’d also like to stay on the task in hand.”
“Which is?”
“Getting out of here!” She replied, exasperatedly, “I don’t plan to spend the rest of this regeneration incarcerated… no thanks to you. Oh I do wish I had my sonic screwdriver, it’s so unlike me to lose it…”
The Doctor grinned and pulled it out of his pocket, much to Romana’s horror. He had stolen it. Again. If he wanted a new one, he only need ask and she’d make him up one. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but laugh when he failed to get it to work.
“You’ve broken it, haven’t you?”
“No… I…” He tapped it firmly across his hands before trying to use it again. “Yes, sorry Romana.”
His eyes lit up however as they graced upon the brooch pinned to her delicate blouse. She frowned at him as he continued staring at it, until she finally caught up.
“Doctor, I like this brooch.”
“Yes, but do you want to get out?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then we’re going to have to pick locks with it.”
Carefully, Romana unpinned it, thanking all those Gods she didn’t know if she believed in back home that the chains were loose enough for her to do so. She tossed it over to the Doctor. She’d never had time to learn Earth-like techniques such as picking locks; she didn’t go around breaking things, after all.
The Doctor had walked through the door he had just picked open and was halfway up the corridor before he remembered that he hadn’t actually freed Romana too. He returned, with a guilty look on his face. She stared at him pityingly whilst holding forward her manacled wrists for him to work on.
“I’m sorry, Romana.”
“So you should be,” she replied primly, dusting down her skirt. “Thank you.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re always my most favourite person to be imprisoned with. Always.”
“You’re the only person I’ve been imprisoned with, Doctor. Although it does happen quite a lot,” she mused.
They managed to escape from the castle undetected, but the Doctor tripped off a defence mechanism which soon sent the guards running. The sunshine didn’t seem quite so idyllic and the ground caused havoc for Romana and her shoes. Nevertheless, they reached the TARDIS unharmed, albeit with an angry mob behind them.
“Well,” the Doctor exclaimed once they were hovering in space, “that explains why she’s running out of competitors. What a sore loser.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Romana sighed.
“Oh, your brooch.”
The Doctor handed over the twisted brooch, along with her broken sonic screwdriver.
“They’re both broken, Doctor.”
“Then we’ll have to go and replace the brooch then. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do as good a job as you on the screwdriver,” he replied earnestly.
She smiled. She didn’t think replacing it would be as easy as he thought.
Title: Weathering The Storms
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Doctor/Romana
Spoilers: None
Summary: Funny how the weather can represent your mood, sometimes. Doctor/Romana
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Never have, never will.
Notes: Prompt: Rain
You stare at him, like he’s gone insane. Third moon of Delta Magna, this is going to be your death-place. Sacrificed for some stupid squid that some primitive beings believe is a God. Your back is aching, being stretched to its very limits. And all he can do is open his mouth and positively screech.
The rain crashes down on you, thick, gushing. You’ve never been so glad to get soaked, or of your companion’s ridiculous party tricks.
----
Her laughter is like medicine as she skips through Paris. The rain doesn’t bother her. It’s that annoying sort, that drenches your clothes but you barely feel it. You smile at her as you wrap your scarf around your neck tightly. She just grins and grabs hold of the end. You wish it could never end.
But she’ll leave some day, they all do.
----
You’re screaming at him, until your throat is hoarse. Surely he can understand how utterly awful the idea of going back to Gallifrey is? He was young once. He knew about this thirst for adventure, this need to travel. The desire to help others, to do something rather than sit around and observe. They just want you back to shove into something terribly dull, now they’ve finally realised you haven’t returned from the quest for the Key to Time.
A thunderclap echoes around you, and you can’t help but snort. It’s not often the weather represents your moods.
----
Adric is eyeing you warily, through the sleet. So cold, so lonely. It hasn’t been this bad since… No, you don’t want to think about that. You trudge along aimlessly, agreeing with the boy’s twittering. He could be saying anything. You don’t care, your hearts are elsewhere. You left them behind in E-space with her and that little tin dog.
“Of course she’ll be wonderful,” you agree.
Whether or not you’ll be, is another matter.
----
Rain on Gallifrey is not particularly common, but that may be just because you’ve grown used to the comfortable shelters of the Capitol. He’s smiling a lopsided grin and wearing velvet. It suits his current regeneration. Secretly, you’re fond of the long curls he’s obtained. You’ve missed his dark curls, although there was nothing wrong with the other regenerations of his you’ve met along the way.
You approach him tentatively, the rain streaming down your back, through your robes. You place a kiss gently on his lips; an utterly reckless act for the Madam President to carry out, but you don’t care. All thoughts of drenched clothing are forgotten in a moment.
----
You’re lonelier than ever. There’s no gentle whisperings at the back of your mind, which you’ve always been used to. It’s slightly terrifying, the sound of silence. She’s gone now, with the rest of that godforsaken planet. A spark of light snuffed out too soon. You focus your energies on listening to the drip, drip, drop of rain surrounding you. You’re soaked to the core but you don’t care.
You’ll move eventually, you’ve never been one to stay still for too long.
fifth_sister. :-)
Title: Ghost
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Ninth Doctor/Romana II
Spoilers: None
Summary: He could see her, wherever he went, he could still see her. Nine/Romana II.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Never have, never will.
Notes: Prompt: Ghost
Ghost
He can see her.
Out of the corner of his eye, she stands there. Lifting her chin in that Romana way of her’s. Judging his every move, every microspan that passes.
Sometimes, she smiles. Just a small one, which shows that she knows best. Other times it will be that beatific beam he’s always loved.
He’d approach her and tears would glisten in her eyes and she would shake her head sadly, taking a few steps backwards. Away from his calloused hands that were borne from war. Not something to be touching someone quite as precious as her.
In his sleep, he hears her breaths, shallow, short, as she gazes over him. As he dreams, she’s walking through his memories - Paris, Tigella, Choloris - at least they’re not cheating him.
Rose comes aboard. She’s suitably awed by time and space, compassionate too, and so, so human. But she cannot see Romana. She just puts it down to it being part of her daft Doctor and his daft idiosyncrasies.
The Doctor didn’t much believe in ghosts, but couldn’t bring himself to believe the TARDIS would be cruel enough to throw up a projection of her. For he blames her for the death of his planet; and herself. But not quite so much as he blames himself.
Title: Incarceration
Author: tromana
Rating: K+
Characters: Fourth Doctor/Romana II
Spoilers: None
Summary: How was the Doctor meant to know he shouldn’t beat Princess Abizula at Tiddlywinks? 4/Romana II
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Never have, never will.
Notes: Prompt: Slammer
Incarceration
“The terrain doesn’t look suitable for K9.”
Romana wrinkled her nose at the rocky pathways of Hentra, before stepping gingerly outside. It seemed her delicate heels weren’t altogether suitable either, but that wasn’t going to stop her from leaving the TARDIS.
“No, you’re right,” the Doctor agreed. “K9… stay. Romana and I have an engagement at the castle.”
“We do?”
“We had an emergency call down whilst you were changing.”
Romana smiled and took the Doctor’s arm. Their pace was slow, but they didn’t mind. The sun basked down on them, through the idyllic surroundings and eventually they were tapping on the huge wooden door.
“Tiddlywinks,” the Doctor exclaimed sometime later. “Your great emergency is tiddlywinks?”
“The Princess Abizula is running out of willing competitors. A distress beacon was the only logical solution.”
Romana snorted in a rather undignified fashion, causing the Doctor to elbow her in the ribs. They were taken through to a rather decadent hall, sparsely decorated. At one end sat a tiny brunette girl, with a toothy grin, a cup and a collection of tiddlywinks.
The game progressed quickly, with the Princess growing more and more frustrated at the Doctor. Romana, thoroughly bored, took to observing the few pieces of artwork in detail whilst actively blocking out the infuriating child’s screams of contempt. No wonder no one wanted to play against her. She was positively ghastly.
“Good game there.” The Doctor grinned his toothiest grin and held out a hand.
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Romana looked up. Obviously the game had finished. “Throw him in the slammer. Her too. His accomplice.”
The girl was obviously unfathomably spiteful, and Romana had no idea what ‘the slammer’ was, but didn’t much appreciate being wrestled with by some guards for something the Doctor had done. Quickly and efficiently, they were lead to a small prison cell and suitably chained in before being left behind.
“Prison, jail, choky, slammer…”
“This isn’t helping, Doctor,” Romana hissed, rattling her chains thoroughly annoyed.
“…keep, penitentiary, house of correction, brig… oh you should meet the Brigadier, Romana. You’d like him.”
“I would?” she replied faintly, “but I’d also like to stay on the task in hand.”
“Which is?”
“Getting out of here!” She replied, exasperatedly, “I don’t plan to spend the rest of this regeneration incarcerated… no thanks to you. Oh I do wish I had my sonic screwdriver, it’s so unlike me to lose it…”
The Doctor grinned and pulled it out of his pocket, much to Romana’s horror. He had stolen it. Again. If he wanted a new one, he only need ask and she’d make him up one. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but laugh when he failed to get it to work.
“You’ve broken it, haven’t you?”
“No… I…” He tapped it firmly across his hands before trying to use it again. “Yes, sorry Romana.”
His eyes lit up however as they graced upon the brooch pinned to her delicate blouse. She frowned at him as he continued staring at it, until she finally caught up.
“Doctor, I like this brooch.”
“Yes, but do you want to get out?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then we’re going to have to pick locks with it.”
Carefully, Romana unpinned it, thanking all those Gods she didn’t know if she believed in back home that the chains were loose enough for her to do so. She tossed it over to the Doctor. She’d never had time to learn Earth-like techniques such as picking locks; she didn’t go around breaking things, after all.
The Doctor had walked through the door he had just picked open and was halfway up the corridor before he remembered that he hadn’t actually freed Romana too. He returned, with a guilty look on his face. She stared at him pityingly whilst holding forward her manacled wrists for him to work on.
“I’m sorry, Romana.”
“So you should be,” she replied primly, dusting down her skirt. “Thank you.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re always my most favourite person to be imprisoned with. Always.”
“You’re the only person I’ve been imprisoned with, Doctor. Although it does happen quite a lot,” she mused.
They managed to escape from the castle undetected, but the Doctor tripped off a defence mechanism which soon sent the guards running. The sunshine didn’t seem quite so idyllic and the ground caused havoc for Romana and her shoes. Nevertheless, they reached the TARDIS unharmed, albeit with an angry mob behind them.
“Well,” the Doctor exclaimed once they were hovering in space, “that explains why she’s running out of competitors. What a sore loser.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Romana sighed.
“Oh, your brooch.”
The Doctor handed over the twisted brooch, along with her broken sonic screwdriver.
“They’re both broken, Doctor.”
“Then we’ll have to go and replace the brooch then. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do as good a job as you on the screwdriver,” he replied earnestly.
She smiled. She didn’t think replacing it would be as easy as he thought.
Title: Weathering The Storms
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Doctor/Romana
Spoilers: None
Summary: Funny how the weather can represent your mood, sometimes. Doctor/Romana
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Never have, never will.
Notes: Prompt: Rain
You stare at him, like he’s gone insane. Third moon of Delta Magna, this is going to be your death-place. Sacrificed for some stupid squid that some primitive beings believe is a God. Your back is aching, being stretched to its very limits. And all he can do is open his mouth and positively screech.
The rain crashes down on you, thick, gushing. You’ve never been so glad to get soaked, or of your companion’s ridiculous party tricks.
----
Her laughter is like medicine as she skips through Paris. The rain doesn’t bother her. It’s that annoying sort, that drenches your clothes but you barely feel it. You smile at her as you wrap your scarf around your neck tightly. She just grins and grabs hold of the end. You wish it could never end.
But she’ll leave some day, they all do.
----
You’re screaming at him, until your throat is hoarse. Surely he can understand how utterly awful the idea of going back to Gallifrey is? He was young once. He knew about this thirst for adventure, this need to travel. The desire to help others, to do something rather than sit around and observe. They just want you back to shove into something terribly dull, now they’ve finally realised you haven’t returned from the quest for the Key to Time.
A thunderclap echoes around you, and you can’t help but snort. It’s not often the weather represents your moods.
----
Adric is eyeing you warily, through the sleet. So cold, so lonely. It hasn’t been this bad since… No, you don’t want to think about that. You trudge along aimlessly, agreeing with the boy’s twittering. He could be saying anything. You don’t care, your hearts are elsewhere. You left them behind in E-space with her and that little tin dog.
“Of course she’ll be wonderful,” you agree.
Whether or not you’ll be, is another matter.
----
Rain on Gallifrey is not particularly common, but that may be just because you’ve grown used to the comfortable shelters of the Capitol. He’s smiling a lopsided grin and wearing velvet. It suits his current regeneration. Secretly, you’re fond of the long curls he’s obtained. You’ve missed his dark curls, although there was nothing wrong with the other regenerations of his you’ve met along the way.
You approach him tentatively, the rain streaming down your back, through your robes. You place a kiss gently on his lips; an utterly reckless act for the Madam President to carry out, but you don’t care. All thoughts of drenched clothing are forgotten in a moment.
----
You’re lonelier than ever. There’s no gentle whisperings at the back of your mind, which you’ve always been used to. It’s slightly terrifying, the sound of silence. She’s gone now, with the rest of that godforsaken planet. A spark of light snuffed out too soon. You focus your energies on listening to the drip, drip, drop of rain surrounding you. You’re soaked to the core but you don’t care.
You’ll move eventually, you’ve never been one to stay still for too long.