Endless Circle of Fic Continues With Nine And Q
Yep, it's the latest ficlet, this one for mtgat, who gave me a choice of several interesting prompts. I picked "Q and the Doctor, preference on Nine or Eleven," despite the fact that the last time I wrote Q I swore I was never writing another godlike superbeing again. Mainly because lately various things have been reminding me how much I loved Nine. I miss writing Nine. So here he is. With more Dead Planet Angst. Sorry about that.
As always, the first eligible person to comment on this post can request a ficlet prompt. Feedback on this ficlet is not necessary to request a new one. The only rule is no repeat customers, though, of course, it's a good idea to request something in a fandom I'm familiar with. If you're not sure about a particular fandom, go ahead and ask anyway. The worst that will happen is that I'll ask you if you want to change your prompt. Or else you'll get OOC crack. I make no guarantees about how long it takes me to get to these. Could be hours, could be months. [ETA: claimed!]
For reference, the people who have requested fic so far, and are thus currently ineligible, are: jaxomsride, sallymn, redstarrobot, kernezelda, kerravonsen, eve11, ultrapsychobrat, vilakins, izhilzha, ladymercury_10, aelfgyfu_mead and mtgat.
Title: What's Done
Fandom: Doctor Who/ST:TNG
Characters: Nine, Q
Rating/Warnings: PG, none
Length: ~650 words
What's Done
Q popped into physical existence dressed in full ceremonial Time Lord regalia -- which, if he did say so himself, looked much better on him than it ever had on those stuffy Gallifreyans. He timed his entrance very neatly; one moment the Doctor turned his head away from nothingness, and the next he'd turned back to Q lounging comfortably against the console room wall.
The look of mingled hope and fear that lit the Time Lord's eyes for an instant before being replaced by a closed-off expression would almost have been enough to move Q to pity if he'd been remotely inclined to such pointless emotions. Since he wasn't, he simply glanced around the console room and said, "I have to say, I was expecting something a little more impressive."
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest. Possibly he thought it made him look intimidating. "Do I know you?"
"My name is Q. Of the Q continuum." He let his voice drop into a slightly more dangerous register. "I imagine you've heard of us."
"I've heard of you." The Doctor met his eyes, unblinking, and to Q's surprise, said nothing more for a long moment. "Sorry," he added finally, "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Actually, yes. Although I shouldn't be surprised. Your kind always did lack a sense of perspective. Really, it was almost charmingly naïve. Calling yourselves 'Lords of Time,' as if that were an accomplishment worth bragging about." He shook his head. "Pathetic."
The Doctor's jaw twitched slightly, but all he said was, "Did you want something? Or did you just come here to hurl insults at the dead?"
"Oh, my motivation was pure curiosity. I thought I'd pop in and take a look at the man who won the war."
"I didn't win. Everyone lost. At least, everyone who fought lost. I seem to remember when the High Council begged the Continuum for help, they said they 'don't concern themselves with petty mortal affairs.'"
"Ah, yes, the non-interference policy," said Q. "You have to admit, there is a certain poetic justice there. Which, of course, just makes it so marvelously appropriate that you're the one who survived." The Doctor glared at him. Q grinned. "Oh, no, I mean that. It's always nice to meet someone who agrees that non-interference policies are boring. I'm something of a non-conformist on the subject, myself. In fact, I could just---" He raised his hand, positioning his fingers for a snap, and gave the Doctor a sly look.
"No." The Doctor's voice was completely flat.
"No?" Q did not lower his hand. "Are you sure?"
"Don't." Now there was the slightest tremble in his voice.
"But isn't it what you want? Sitting around moping all this time, it's what you keep thinking about. If only this, and if I hadn't that... Well, maybe you can't change things, but I can." He smiled.
"You know what I hate?" said the Doctor, quietly. "I hate beings who think that power is their own personal toy. Who think they have the right to play with other people's lives, and don't care what it means or who gets hurt."
"Are we talking about my people," said Q, "or yours?"
The Doctor said nothing.
Q sighed and lowered his hand. "You'll regret it."
"I don't want anything from you," said the Doctor. "I think you should leave."
Q studied him for a moment, then shook his head. "It's not over, you know," he said, and vanished before the Doctor could ask him what he meant. Not his best exit line ever, but you could do worse than something cryptic, and menacing, and true.
From a dimension the Time Lords never learned to access, Q watched as the Doctor slumped, rested his head in his hands, and let out a single strangled noise.
Q still did not believe in pity. But that had turned out to be a lot less fun than he'd hoped.
As always, the first eligible person to comment on this post can request a ficlet prompt. Feedback on this ficlet is not necessary to request a new one. The only rule is no repeat customers, though, of course, it's a good idea to request something in a fandom I'm familiar with. If you're not sure about a particular fandom, go ahead and ask anyway. The worst that will happen is that I'll ask you if you want to change your prompt. Or else you'll get OOC crack. I make no guarantees about how long it takes me to get to these. Could be hours, could be months. [ETA: claimed!]
For reference, the people who have requested fic so far, and are thus currently ineligible, are: jaxomsride, sallymn, redstarrobot, kernezelda, kerravonsen, eve11, ultrapsychobrat, vilakins, izhilzha, ladymercury_10, aelfgyfu_mead and mtgat.
Title: What's Done
Fandom: Doctor Who/ST:TNG
Characters: Nine, Q
Rating/Warnings: PG, none
Length: ~650 words
What's Done
Q popped into physical existence dressed in full ceremonial Time Lord regalia -- which, if he did say so himself, looked much better on him than it ever had on those stuffy Gallifreyans. He timed his entrance very neatly; one moment the Doctor turned his head away from nothingness, and the next he'd turned back to Q lounging comfortably against the console room wall.
The look of mingled hope and fear that lit the Time Lord's eyes for an instant before being replaced by a closed-off expression would almost have been enough to move Q to pity if he'd been remotely inclined to such pointless emotions. Since he wasn't, he simply glanced around the console room and said, "I have to say, I was expecting something a little more impressive."
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest. Possibly he thought it made him look intimidating. "Do I know you?"
"My name is Q. Of the Q continuum." He let his voice drop into a slightly more dangerous register. "I imagine you've heard of us."
"I've heard of you." The Doctor met his eyes, unblinking, and to Q's surprise, said nothing more for a long moment. "Sorry," he added finally, "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Actually, yes. Although I shouldn't be surprised. Your kind always did lack a sense of perspective. Really, it was almost charmingly naïve. Calling yourselves 'Lords of Time,' as if that were an accomplishment worth bragging about." He shook his head. "Pathetic."
The Doctor's jaw twitched slightly, but all he said was, "Did you want something? Or did you just come here to hurl insults at the dead?"
"Oh, my motivation was pure curiosity. I thought I'd pop in and take a look at the man who won the war."
"I didn't win. Everyone lost. At least, everyone who fought lost. I seem to remember when the High Council begged the Continuum for help, they said they 'don't concern themselves with petty mortal affairs.'"
"Ah, yes, the non-interference policy," said Q. "You have to admit, there is a certain poetic justice there. Which, of course, just makes it so marvelously appropriate that you're the one who survived." The Doctor glared at him. Q grinned. "Oh, no, I mean that. It's always nice to meet someone who agrees that non-interference policies are boring. I'm something of a non-conformist on the subject, myself. In fact, I could just---" He raised his hand, positioning his fingers for a snap, and gave the Doctor a sly look.
"No." The Doctor's voice was completely flat.
"No?" Q did not lower his hand. "Are you sure?"
"Don't." Now there was the slightest tremble in his voice.
"But isn't it what you want? Sitting around moping all this time, it's what you keep thinking about. If only this, and if I hadn't that... Well, maybe you can't change things, but I can." He smiled.
"You know what I hate?" said the Doctor, quietly. "I hate beings who think that power is their own personal toy. Who think they have the right to play with other people's lives, and don't care what it means or who gets hurt."
"Are we talking about my people," said Q, "or yours?"
The Doctor said nothing.
Q sighed and lowered his hand. "You'll regret it."
"I don't want anything from you," said the Doctor. "I think you should leave."
Q studied him for a moment, then shook his head. "It's not over, you know," he said, and vanished before the Doctor could ask him what he meant. Not his best exit line ever, but you could do worse than something cryptic, and menacing, and true.
From a dimension the Time Lords never learned to access, Q watched as the Doctor slumped, rested his head in his hands, and let out a single strangled noise.
Q still did not believe in pity. But that had turned out to be a lot less fun than he'd hoped.