“What would you have done if we had been trapped on that ship forever?”
Nyssa was sitting on her bed, legs swinging, and Tegan looked up in surprise when she spoke. She’d asked it in a perfectly normal voice, as if it was a perfectly normal question. No different to inquiring about the weather or wondering aloud what outfit she should wear today.
“I don’t know.”
What was she supposed to say? It was all over now, anyway. Tegan didn’t particularly want to dwell on it. The Brigadier had been returned to his own time, with his memories fully restored and, as usual, the Doctor had swept away just as suddenly as he’d arrived.
Sometimes his detachment alarmed Tegan, but, the more time she spent with him, the more she came to understand why it was necessary. He’d been willing to give up his regenerations to save her and Nyssa, but they’d never speak about it again. Couldn’t speak about it again. It would be too hard.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for Turlough, they probably would have swept the entire incident under the metaphorical carpet. But, with him on board the TARDIS, it was rather hard for any of them to forget. Nyssa was worried. So was Tegan, actually, but she wasn’t going to admit as much. She was supposed to be the brave one, wasn’t she? Brave heart.
“There are worse things than being stuck with you for an eternity,” Nyssa continued, with that soft smile of hers. The smile that made Tegan feel hot and cold at the same time, and - when it was directed at the Doctor rather than her - inordinately jealous.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Tegan found herself wrestling with an urge to reach forward and do it herself. She was sitting on her own bed, only a few feet away. It wasn’t impossible. Just a little foolish.
“No, there aren’t!” retorted Tegan with a laugh, “I’m just…” “A mouth on legs?” “Exactly. I’d drive you mad!”
Nyssa shook her head, brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. Again, Tegan fought the impulse to tangle her fingers in them, drawing Nyssa to her across the room and…
“You could never drive me mad, Tegan. You’re my best friend.”
…and kissing her. Kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. Over and over again, until they’d both forgotten themselves enough for Tegan to pluck up the courage and slide a hand beneath Nyssa’s skirt.
“Are you alright? Tegan?”
The ivory skin of a pale thigh beneath her fingertips. Nyssa’s eyes were half closed, and Tegan brushed her lips over the eyelids - over every inch of skin she could reach, in fact - before moving them down to the hollow of her collarbone. She could feel breathless sighs and moans against her own skin, and then, when Nyssa finally summoned up some courage of her own, a small hand moved to cup Tegan's breast through the material of her blouse, and…
“Tegan?” “Oh, I’m fine,” she replied quickly, “I was just thinking.” “About what life on the ship would have been like?” “In a way.”
She grinned at her friend. “It wouldn’t have been too bad, would it?”
Next: Shakespeare/Romana II, Donna/Lee McAvoy ('Forest of the Dead'), Romana I/Romana II
Romana I/Romana IIjaneturenneMarch 23 2011, 06:40:04 UTC
“Romana! Crossing your own timestream. I knew you’d turn out all right in the end.”
“Hello, Doctor,” says Romana, with a smile. “However did you recognize me?”
“Oh, I have a bit of a knack for these things, you know, very simple once you’ve got the hang of it. Look, Romana,” he says, turning to the woman on the other side of the console, “say hello to yourself.”
“Charmed,” says the younger Romana, carefully looking herself over.
“Hello,” says Romana, with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll both be wondering what I’m doing here.”
“I was just saying to myself, wasn’t I just saying to myself, yes, I was just saying to myself, ‘What is Romana doing here,’ I was saying, wasn’t I?”
“Well, Doctor,” says the older Romana. “Not to put too fine a point on it, I’ve come for the sake of love.”
“Love?” asks the Doctor his eyes bulging.
“Love?” asks the other Romana, raising an eyebrow.
“Love, mistress?” asks K-9.
“Yes,” she agrees, decisively. “Love. I’ve done a great deal of traveling now, you know, and the further I went, the more I saw, the more worlds I explored, the clearer it became to me that there would only ever be one person for me. There was one person in all my travels who was so brilliant, so charming, so stylish, so intelligent and so winning--in short, so nearly perfect in every way--that I simply couldn’t imagine ever setting for anybody else.”
The Doctor puffs out his chest. “Well, well, well,” he says. “I must admit, I am rather...”
“Romana?” says Romana, holding out her hand to herself.
The younger Romana smiles, and takes it. “I always knew,” she says.
“Would it be too forward of me to suggest...”
“Oh, not at all, darling.”
“Right,” says the older Romana. “Doctor, we’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Do try not to destroy the TARDIS in that time, won’t you?”
The Doctor stares open-mouthed as the two Romanas depart in the direction of her quarters. He continues to stare for precisely three point seven two microspans. And then his jaw snaps shut, so abruptly it would make both K-9 and the TARDIS jump, if either of them were capable.
“Right,” says the Doctor, “we’re going to see my old friend Oscar. I’ve got a new one for him to misquote.”
“Querry, master?” asks K-9.
“To love one’s selves,” pronounces the Doctor, as he throws himself onto the controls, “is the beginning of a lives-long romance.”
---
Requests: Six/Iris Wildthyme, Romana II/Leela/Narvin, Braxiatel/River Song
Romana II/William ShakespearejaneturenneMay 19 2011, 23:24:23 UTC
"Romana, this is Will Shakespeare," says the Doctor. "Very old friend of mine, Will. I'm going to save him from witches someday, or so he tells me. Will, this is the Lady Fred of Gallifrey, but you can call her Romana."
Will's eyes go straight to Romana's, and the intensity of their expression increases by a thousandfold at least. "My Lady Romana," he says, lifting her hand in his, and pressing a lingering kiss to her fingertips without ever looking away from her face.
"I've met poets before," says Romana, in a cautionary tone. "If you're going to try something like 'she walks in beauty like the night'..."
"Wrong century," coughs the Doctor, hastily.
"My dear Lady of Time," says Will, his eyes sparkling, "I would not do you the injustice of concealing my meaning with words too high-flown to speak sense. Your wit doth shine as clearly as your beauty..."
"Too right," Romana interrupts, with an approving nod.
"...so I will do you the courtesy of plain speech." He slips his arm around her waist, and pulls her to him so quickly she can't react. "I would have you in my bed."
Her eyes widen. "That is blunt," she says. She studies him with mild disapproval, and then, quite suddenly, grins. "Well, I suppose I have always been curious about precisely what your species gets up to in that arena. If I'm going to permit myself a little...xenobiological research, it may as well be with the greatest artist in the history of the species."
Will grins back, dipping her in his arms. "Your words are strange, my Lady," he says, "but your looks speak rhapsodies."
"You've not seen the half of it yet," she murmurs, as his lips slowly near hers.
"Romana," says the Doctor, craning his neck between Romana and Will so that his face swims into her vision upside-down, "I really don't think..."
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Romana?"
"Sod off."
Sulking, the Doctor turns away. "Fine," he says, with a sniff. "I suppose I'll just go visit good Queen Bess. She always seems very eager to see me."
There is no answer. The Doctor turns back around to find Romana and Will deeply involved in what looks like a critically important bit of snogging.
"I'll be back for you tomorrow," the Doctor says, trying and failing to sound anything other than deeply disapproving.
"Make it next week," says Romana, her diction perfect despite the fact that she never appears to stop kissing Will.
"A pox on the both of you," grumbles the Doctor, with a desultory kick at his own scarf, making his way to the door of Will's rooms and pulling it open. "Her eyes really are nothing like the sun, you know," he calls over his shoulder.
"No," agrees Will. "They are blue as the dome of the heavens, the face of God himself, blue as the great Police Box that sails through those skies like..."
"Oh, now that is quite enough," says the Doctor, pulling the door closed behind him with a scowl. "Bad enough kidnapping a Time Lord's Romana without bringing his Police Box into it. Really, poet or no poet, the man has quite simply no taste."
--- Requests: Nyssa of Traken/Zoe Herriot, River Song/Romana II, Leela/Rory Williams
Nyssa was sitting on her bed, legs swinging, and Tegan looked up in surprise when she spoke. She’d asked it in a perfectly normal voice, as if it was a perfectly normal question. No different to inquiring about the weather or wondering aloud what outfit she should wear today.
“I don’t know.”
What was she supposed to say? It was all over now, anyway. Tegan didn’t particularly want to dwell on it. The Brigadier had been returned to his own time, with his memories fully restored and, as usual, the Doctor had swept away just as suddenly as he’d arrived.
Sometimes his detachment alarmed Tegan, but, the more time she spent with him, the more she came to understand why it was necessary. He’d been willing to give up his regenerations to save her and Nyssa, but they’d never speak about it again. Couldn’t speak about it again. It would be too hard.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for Turlough, they probably would have swept the entire incident under the metaphorical carpet. But, with him on board the TARDIS, it was rather hard for any of them to forget. Nyssa was worried. So was Tegan, actually, but she wasn’t going to admit as much. She was supposed to be the brave one, wasn’t she? Brave heart.
“There are worse things than being stuck with you for an eternity,” Nyssa continued, with that soft smile of hers. The smile that made Tegan feel hot and cold at the same time, and - when it was directed at the Doctor rather than her - inordinately jealous.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Tegan found herself wrestling with an urge to reach forward and do it herself. She was sitting on her own bed, only a few feet away. It wasn’t impossible. Just a little foolish.
“No, there aren’t!” retorted Tegan with a laugh, “I’m just…”
“A mouth on legs?”
“Exactly. I’d drive you mad!”
Nyssa shook her head, brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. Again, Tegan fought the impulse to tangle her fingers in them, drawing Nyssa to her across the room and…
“You could never drive me mad, Tegan. You’re my best friend.”
…and kissing her. Kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. Over and over again, until they’d both forgotten themselves enough for Tegan to pluck up the courage and slide a hand beneath Nyssa’s skirt.
“Are you alright? Tegan?”
The ivory skin of a pale thigh beneath her fingertips. Nyssa’s eyes were half closed, and Tegan brushed her lips over the eyelids - over every inch of skin she could reach, in fact - before moving them down to the hollow of her collarbone. She could feel breathless sighs and moans against her own skin, and then, when Nyssa finally summoned up some courage of her own, a small hand moved to cup Tegan's breast through the material of her blouse, and…
“Tegan?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied quickly, “I was just thinking.”
“About what life on the ship would have been like?”
“In a way.”
She grinned at her friend. “It wouldn’t have been too bad, would it?”
Next: Shakespeare/Romana II, Donna/Lee McAvoy ('Forest of the Dead'), Romana I/Romana II
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“Hello, Doctor,” says Romana, with a smile. “However did you recognize me?”
“Oh, I have a bit of a knack for these things, you know, very simple once you’ve got the hang of it. Look, Romana,” he says, turning to the woman on the other side of the console, “say hello to yourself.”
“Charmed,” says the younger Romana, carefully looking herself over.
“Hello,” says Romana, with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll both be wondering what I’m doing here.”
“I was just saying to myself, wasn’t I just saying to myself, yes, I was just saying to myself, ‘What is Romana doing here,’ I was saying, wasn’t I?”
“Well, Doctor,” says the older Romana. “Not to put too fine a point on it, I’ve come for the sake of love.”
“Love?” asks the Doctor his eyes bulging.
“Love?” asks the other Romana, raising an eyebrow.
“Love, mistress?” asks K-9.
“Yes,” she agrees, decisively. “Love. I’ve done a great deal of traveling now, you know, and the further I went, the more I saw, the more worlds I explored, the clearer it became to me that there would only ever be one person for me. There was one person in all my travels who was so brilliant, so charming, so stylish, so intelligent and so winning--in short, so nearly perfect in every way--that I simply couldn’t imagine ever setting for anybody else.”
The Doctor puffs out his chest. “Well, well, well,” he says. “I must admit, I am rather...”
“Romana?” says Romana, holding out her hand to herself.
The younger Romana smiles, and takes it. “I always knew,” she says.
“Would it be too forward of me to suggest...”
“Oh, not at all, darling.”
“Right,” says the older Romana. “Doctor, we’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Do try not to destroy the TARDIS in that time, won’t you?”
The Doctor stares open-mouthed as the two Romanas depart in the direction of her quarters. He continues to stare for precisely three point seven two microspans. And then his jaw snaps shut, so abruptly it would make both K-9 and the TARDIS jump, if either of them were capable.
“Right,” says the Doctor, “we’re going to see my old friend Oscar. I’ve got a new one for him to misquote.”
“Querry, master?” asks K-9.
“To love one’s selves,” pronounces the Doctor, as he throws himself onto the controls, “is the beginning of a lives-long romance.”
---
Requests: Six/Iris Wildthyme, Romana II/Leela/Narvin, Braxiatel/River Song
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Will's eyes go straight to Romana's, and the intensity of their expression increases by a thousandfold at least. "My Lady Romana," he says, lifting her hand in his, and pressing a lingering kiss to her fingertips without ever looking away from her face.
"I've met poets before," says Romana, in a cautionary tone. "If you're going to try something like 'she walks in beauty like the night'..."
"Wrong century," coughs the Doctor, hastily.
"My dear Lady of Time," says Will, his eyes sparkling, "I would not do you the injustice of concealing my meaning with words too high-flown to speak sense. Your wit doth shine as clearly as your beauty..."
"Too right," Romana interrupts, with an approving nod.
"...so I will do you the courtesy of plain speech." He slips his arm around her waist, and pulls her to him so quickly she can't react. "I would have you in my bed."
Her eyes widen. "That is blunt," she says. She studies him with mild disapproval, and then, quite suddenly, grins. "Well, I suppose I have always been curious about precisely what your species gets up to in that arena. If I'm going to permit myself a little...xenobiological research, it may as well be with the greatest artist in the history of the species."
Will grins back, dipping her in his arms. "Your words are strange, my Lady," he says, "but your looks speak rhapsodies."
"You've not seen the half of it yet," she murmurs, as his lips slowly near hers.
"Romana," says the Doctor, craning his neck between Romana and Will so that his face swims into her vision upside-down, "I really don't think..."
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Romana?"
"Sod off."
Sulking, the Doctor turns away. "Fine," he says, with a sniff. "I suppose I'll just go visit good Queen Bess. She always seems very eager to see me."
There is no answer. The Doctor turns back around to find Romana and Will deeply involved in what looks like a critically important bit of snogging.
"I'll be back for you tomorrow," the Doctor says, trying and failing to sound anything other than deeply disapproving.
"Make it next week," says Romana, her diction perfect despite the fact that she never appears to stop kissing Will.
"A pox on the both of you," grumbles the Doctor, with a desultory kick at his own scarf, making his way to the door of Will's rooms and pulling it open. "Her eyes really are nothing like the sun, you know," he calls over his shoulder.
"No," agrees Will. "They are blue as the dome of the heavens, the face of God himself, blue as the great Police Box that sails through those skies like..."
"Oh, now that is quite enough," says the Doctor, pulling the door closed behind him with a scowl. "Bad enough kidnapping a Time Lord's Romana without bringing his Police Box into it. Really, poet or no poet, the man has quite simply no taste."
---
Requests: Nyssa of Traken/Zoe Herriot, River Song/Romana II, Leela/Rory Williams
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