Ficlet: Using Your Head
Story: Using Your Head
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose
Rated: G
Word Count: 500 words exactly
Disclaimer: So very much not mine...
Summary: This particular jail probably scores about a nine on their jail-judging scale.
Written for lgrace61, who bid on me in the Support Stacie Auction and requested Nine/Rose, jailbreak.
Using Your Head
“We gonna get out of here or not?”
“Workin’ on it, aren’t I?” The Doctor shakes his head, tutting, then goes back to leaning against the bare-brick wall, twisting the top of his screwdriver then holding it against the brick.
“Yeah? Looks like you’re just proppin’ yourself up to me,” she retorts with a grin.
“I’m setting up a resonation pattern in the brick, Rose,” he explains in long-suffering tones. “Sonic screwdriver doesn’t work on wood.” He jerks his head towards the huge, very secure, wooden door.
“Why-” she begins to ask, but he cuts her off.
“Complicated. You wouldn’t understand. Now hush and let me get on with this.”
Typical. She shakes her head, stifling a grin. He hasn’t a clue how funny he is when he’s being all alien and gruff and completely missing the obvious.
They’re in jail again, of course, this time because the local police didn’t like her hair being uncovered. She reckons they’d have been let off with a warning, but the Doctor just had to start an argument with the police. So it’s his fault, really, and he knows it - which is why he’s being so moody.
This particular jail probably scores about a nine on their jail-judging scale. Bare concrete floor, a solid concrete slab intended to serve as a bed - no mattress or pillows and just one thin blanket, and the slab itself is about four feet long. Fine for the local population, but she can just imagine the Doctor lying on it with his legs dangling off the end. The facilities are primitive - a bucket in the corner - and their only light is from a skylight in the very high ceiling. So not the worst cell they’ve been in - that honour goes to the rat-infested one on Sforeai - but definitely deserving of honourable mention in the Jail Hall of Fame.
Idly, she plays with her hair. “So, this resonation thing - supposing it works, what’s it gonna do?”
“What d’you mean, supposing it works? Course it’s gonna work! What, you don’t believe me now?”
She strolls carelessly over to the door. “Course I believe you! I mean, genius an’ all that. Never wrong, are you?”
“Nope!” He glances around briefly and grins. “That’s me! The Doctor, always right.” The screwdriver buzzes again. “Have us out of here in a jiffy, I will. Well...” He pushes gently at the brick. “Maybe a bit more than a jiffy. Gonna take a while to resonate it enough to free the bricks.”
“That’s what I thought.” She runs her hands up and down her arms. “Bit nippy in here, eh?”
“Workin’ as fast as I can!” he tells her, slightly huffy. “Not my fault you insist on dressin’ for fashion, not warmth.”
“So, just so I’m gettin’ this right, you can’t get us out of here in the next five minutes, Doctor, yeah?”
She can actually hear him roll his eyes. “What’ve I just been tellin’ you? Takes time to perform a delicate operation like this. Be a couple of hours at least.”
“Right.”
“So you’ll just have to find a way of amusing yourself in the meantime, Rose. All right?”
She stifles a grin again. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, Doctor.”
“Good.” The screwdriver buzzes again. She turns her attention back to the door.
Five minutes later
“Doctor?”
“What now?” A long-suffering sigh.
“Well, ‘s just that this might help.”
He looks around - and stares, gob-smacked, at the wide-open door. “How’d you do that, then?”
Sliding her hair-clip back into place, she grins. “Just used my head.”
- end
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose
Rated: G
Word Count: 500 words exactly
Disclaimer: So very much not mine...
Summary: This particular jail probably scores about a nine on their jail-judging scale.
Written for lgrace61, who bid on me in the Support Stacie Auction and requested Nine/Rose, jailbreak.
Using Your Head
“We gonna get out of here or not?”
“Workin’ on it, aren’t I?” The Doctor shakes his head, tutting, then goes back to leaning against the bare-brick wall, twisting the top of his screwdriver then holding it against the brick.
“Yeah? Looks like you’re just proppin’ yourself up to me,” she retorts with a grin.
“I’m setting up a resonation pattern in the brick, Rose,” he explains in long-suffering tones. “Sonic screwdriver doesn’t work on wood.” He jerks his head towards the huge, very secure, wooden door.
“Why-” she begins to ask, but he cuts her off.
“Complicated. You wouldn’t understand. Now hush and let me get on with this.”
Typical. She shakes her head, stifling a grin. He hasn’t a clue how funny he is when he’s being all alien and gruff and completely missing the obvious.
They’re in jail again, of course, this time because the local police didn’t like her hair being uncovered. She reckons they’d have been let off with a warning, but the Doctor just had to start an argument with the police. So it’s his fault, really, and he knows it - which is why he’s being so moody.
This particular jail probably scores about a nine on their jail-judging scale. Bare concrete floor, a solid concrete slab intended to serve as a bed - no mattress or pillows and just one thin blanket, and the slab itself is about four feet long. Fine for the local population, but she can just imagine the Doctor lying on it with his legs dangling off the end. The facilities are primitive - a bucket in the corner - and their only light is from a skylight in the very high ceiling. So not the worst cell they’ve been in - that honour goes to the rat-infested one on Sforeai - but definitely deserving of honourable mention in the Jail Hall of Fame.
Idly, she plays with her hair. “So, this resonation thing - supposing it works, what’s it gonna do?”
“What d’you mean, supposing it works? Course it’s gonna work! What, you don’t believe me now?”
She strolls carelessly over to the door. “Course I believe you! I mean, genius an’ all that. Never wrong, are you?”
“Nope!” He glances around briefly and grins. “That’s me! The Doctor, always right.” The screwdriver buzzes again. “Have us out of here in a jiffy, I will. Well...” He pushes gently at the brick. “Maybe a bit more than a jiffy. Gonna take a while to resonate it enough to free the bricks.”
“That’s what I thought.” She runs her hands up and down her arms. “Bit nippy in here, eh?”
“Workin’ as fast as I can!” he tells her, slightly huffy. “Not my fault you insist on dressin’ for fashion, not warmth.”
“So, just so I’m gettin’ this right, you can’t get us out of here in the next five minutes, Doctor, yeah?”
She can actually hear him roll his eyes. “What’ve I just been tellin’ you? Takes time to perform a delicate operation like this. Be a couple of hours at least.”
“Right.”
“So you’ll just have to find a way of amusing yourself in the meantime, Rose. All right?”
She stifles a grin again. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, Doctor.”
“Good.” The screwdriver buzzes again. She turns her attention back to the door.
Five minutes later
“Doctor?”
“What now?” A long-suffering sigh.
“Well, ‘s just that this might help.”
He looks around - and stares, gob-smacked, at the wide-open door. “How’d you do that, then?”
Sliding her hair-clip back into place, she grins. “Just used my head.”
- end