Things to Do When the Universe Ends, parts 9 and 10
Title: Things to Do When the Universe Ends, parts 9 and 10
Rating: 15
Setting: Post-season 4 for Ten, way after Chosen for Dawn.
Characters: The Tenth Doctor, Dawn and a couple of OC’s later.
Word count: 518 and 555
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. They’re not Morag’s either.
Summary: The Doctor's had odd companions before. Still, it's not every day you pick up an anthromorphic embodiment of a principle sitting around at the end of the Universe, is it? Now, if only he could get over the feeling that SHE picked HIM up.
Author's Notes: Written by myself and MoragMacPherson cliffhanger style, desperately trying to stump each other. She does the first part in each post, I do the second.
Part 9 - More Talk About Buildings and Food
“Whaddya mean it’s gone?” asked Dawn as she sat sprawled among the rocky scrub where Clark had dropped her. The Doctor removed a small cylinder which glowed blue on one end when he pressed a button. “And whasht that?”
“It’s a sonic screwdriver, and I’m using it to find out exactly where the TARDIS has gone.” He paused in his scanning for a moment to retrieve a banana from his pocket. “Here, eat this, it should help with your drinking problem.
He handed her the fruit, which she dutifully began to unpeel. Clark arched his brow ridge. “I didn’t realithe that bananash were a hangover cure.”
“Mostly it will keep her mouth occupied,” said the Doctor, pointing the screwdriver in various directions.
Dawn glared at him. “I resseem- I reesen- I ressen- I resent that remark,” she said around a mouthful of banana.
“I’m sure you do.” The Doctor replaced the screwdriver. “Clark, do you have any idea who lives in that direction?” He pointed towards a long stand of mountains located in the opposite direction of the town.
“Oh, we don’t want to go in that direction. That’sh where Mad Miriam livesh.” Clark shook his head.
The Doctor scratched his head. “I don’t suppose she’s called Mad Miriam because she’s so mad about giving gifts and hugs to people who wander onto her property.”
“Nope.”
“They never are,” added Dawn, who was feeding bits of the banana to a nearby vole.
“Mad Miriam ownsh mosht of the planet. She’sh a notoriouth gambler and gun-runner. Over there ith her factory.”
“Does she have an army of robot guards?” asked Dawn.
“Nah, Mbatanoss is a notoriously Luddite world. She’s probably got a posse of loyal young toughs and a small army of slave labor,” said the Doctor. Clark didn’t reply, just tapped a scaly finger on the end of his snout. “So, the TARDIS is in the hands of a vile warlord, we’ve been banned from the only saloon in a twenty mile radius, and Dawn, the dimensional tuning fork, is working on a hangover.”
Clark nodded. “That’sh about right.”
“It’s not Tuesday again is it? I don’t want to be kidnapped,” wailed Dawn. The Doctor and Clark exchanged a glance.
“Well, this is hardly the worst case scenario,” said the Doctor. He pulled a flask of water from his jacket, tossed it to Dawn, then started striding towards Mad Miriam’s lair. “You’d damn well better be sober by the time we arrive.”
Clark looked down at Dawn, then offered her a hand. “Thorry. He can be like thish whenever there’sh adventure to be had.”
Dawn accepted the hand and was pulled up. “I know the type.” She dumped half the water down her throat, and the rest of it on her head. Then she started after the Doctor, Clark just a few steps behind.
After about a half an hour, she tugged on the Doctor’s coat. “What now?”
Dawn grimaced. “Is there any chance that there’s a bathroom nearby?”
Part 10 - Of Bushes, In One Form Or Another
It turned out a little more difficult to locate a proper area for Dawn’s visit to the toilet than first imagined. Thoughout the increasingly desperate search, Dawn’s face got more and more strained and her legs became clamped tighter and tighter together. Any bushes they passed were either too sparse to hide anything from the Doctor or Clark, or just too high up in the canyon walls for Dawn to get to.
Eventually, the canyon led into a valley, sheltered from the winds and with a fresh stream of water running through it. The resulting fertile area caused the growth of several large groups of trees, various bushes and undergrowth. At least, that was how the Doctor described the area very loudly to Clark while Dawn spent some time behind the largest of these bushes.
Clark scratched his snout thoughtfully. “Tho, that coverth the plant life Doctor. What sort of animalth should we expecth?”
The Doctor paused for thought. He hadn’t actually gotten that far ahead in his theory of local conditions and evolution, having part of his brain busy calculating the average bladder capacity of young teenage girls cross-referencing with the length of time Dawn was taking. Thankfully, Dawn’s scream answered both sets of questions.
It turned out to be a particularly friendly vole that had snuffled at Dawn’s ear at a most unfortunate time. In fact, the same vole that Dawn had been busy feeding banana to earlier that day.
“Still,” as the Doctor remarked later as they continued to trudge up the mountain pass they’d eventually managed to locate, “At least you’d managed to get most of your trousers back on before we charged in.”
“I’m still keeping him,” Dawn muttered and tickled her new friend under the chin. Clark, who’d been starting to feel a mite peckish, looked disappointed.
The Doctor stopped and took another set of readings with the sonic screwdriver, before setting off once again. “At least the old girl’s stopped moving now,” he said thoughtfully, and tapped his teeth with the sonic screwdriver.
Clark stared around at the mountain scape all around them. “Taking a wild guesth, Doctor - we’re thtill heading for Mad Miriam’th ethtate?”
Dawn looked up from where she’d placed Emort* into her breast pocket and re-adjusted the black cowboy hat on her head. “Like it could be anywhere else?”
The Doctor smiled wanly. “’Fraid so. You know, just once I’d like to be able to avoid the inevitable breaking in, dodging the guards and stealing the TARDIS.”
There was the sound of several safeties being taken off various weapons, and several armed figures rose from their hiding places. The one nearest the Doctor, with a slightly more elaborate helmet than the others, levelled his gun directly at the Doctor’s head. “Oh, I think we might be able to help you there,” he smirked. “Go directly to Jail, do not pass Go and we collect $200 each.”
“Oh joy,” said Dawn, rolling her eyes. “It’s the also inevitable ambush.”
Emort just squeaked.
---------------------------------
*That’s what she decided to call the vole. Clark didn’t get it at all. The Doctor took several days, then unconvincingly claimed that he knew exactly what Dawn had meant all along and simply hadn’t found it funny.
Rating: 15
Setting: Post-season 4 for Ten, way after Chosen for Dawn.
Characters: The Tenth Doctor, Dawn and a couple of OC’s later.
Word count: 518 and 555
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. They’re not Morag’s either.
Summary: The Doctor's had odd companions before. Still, it's not every day you pick up an anthromorphic embodiment of a principle sitting around at the end of the Universe, is it? Now, if only he could get over the feeling that SHE picked HIM up.
Author's Notes: Written by myself and MoragMacPherson cliffhanger style, desperately trying to stump each other. She does the first part in each post, I do the second.
Part 9 - More Talk About Buildings and Food
“Whaddya mean it’s gone?” asked Dawn as she sat sprawled among the rocky scrub where Clark had dropped her. The Doctor removed a small cylinder which glowed blue on one end when he pressed a button. “And whasht that?”
“It’s a sonic screwdriver, and I’m using it to find out exactly where the TARDIS has gone.” He paused in his scanning for a moment to retrieve a banana from his pocket. “Here, eat this, it should help with your drinking problem.
He handed her the fruit, which she dutifully began to unpeel. Clark arched his brow ridge. “I didn’t realithe that bananash were a hangover cure.”
“Mostly it will keep her mouth occupied,” said the Doctor, pointing the screwdriver in various directions.
Dawn glared at him. “I resseem- I reesen- I ressen- I resent that remark,” she said around a mouthful of banana.
“I’m sure you do.” The Doctor replaced the screwdriver. “Clark, do you have any idea who lives in that direction?” He pointed towards a long stand of mountains located in the opposite direction of the town.
“Oh, we don’t want to go in that direction. That’sh where Mad Miriam livesh.” Clark shook his head.
The Doctor scratched his head. “I don’t suppose she’s called Mad Miriam because she’s so mad about giving gifts and hugs to people who wander onto her property.”
“Nope.”
“They never are,” added Dawn, who was feeding bits of the banana to a nearby vole.
“Mad Miriam ownsh mosht of the planet. She’sh a notoriouth gambler and gun-runner. Over there ith her factory.”
“Does she have an army of robot guards?” asked Dawn.
“Nah, Mbatanoss is a notoriously Luddite world. She’s probably got a posse of loyal young toughs and a small army of slave labor,” said the Doctor. Clark didn’t reply, just tapped a scaly finger on the end of his snout. “So, the TARDIS is in the hands of a vile warlord, we’ve been banned from the only saloon in a twenty mile radius, and Dawn, the dimensional tuning fork, is working on a hangover.”
Clark nodded. “That’sh about right.”
“It’s not Tuesday again is it? I don’t want to be kidnapped,” wailed Dawn. The Doctor and Clark exchanged a glance.
“Well, this is hardly the worst case scenario,” said the Doctor. He pulled a flask of water from his jacket, tossed it to Dawn, then started striding towards Mad Miriam’s lair. “You’d damn well better be sober by the time we arrive.”
Clark looked down at Dawn, then offered her a hand. “Thorry. He can be like thish whenever there’sh adventure to be had.”
Dawn accepted the hand and was pulled up. “I know the type.” She dumped half the water down her throat, and the rest of it on her head. Then she started after the Doctor, Clark just a few steps behind.
After about a half an hour, she tugged on the Doctor’s coat. “What now?”
Dawn grimaced. “Is there any chance that there’s a bathroom nearby?”
Part 10 - Of Bushes, In One Form Or Another
It turned out a little more difficult to locate a proper area for Dawn’s visit to the toilet than first imagined. Thoughout the increasingly desperate search, Dawn’s face got more and more strained and her legs became clamped tighter and tighter together. Any bushes they passed were either too sparse to hide anything from the Doctor or Clark, or just too high up in the canyon walls for Dawn to get to.
Eventually, the canyon led into a valley, sheltered from the winds and with a fresh stream of water running through it. The resulting fertile area caused the growth of several large groups of trees, various bushes and undergrowth. At least, that was how the Doctor described the area very loudly to Clark while Dawn spent some time behind the largest of these bushes.
Clark scratched his snout thoughtfully. “Tho, that coverth the plant life Doctor. What sort of animalth should we expecth?”
The Doctor paused for thought. He hadn’t actually gotten that far ahead in his theory of local conditions and evolution, having part of his brain busy calculating the average bladder capacity of young teenage girls cross-referencing with the length of time Dawn was taking. Thankfully, Dawn’s scream answered both sets of questions.
It turned out to be a particularly friendly vole that had snuffled at Dawn’s ear at a most unfortunate time. In fact, the same vole that Dawn had been busy feeding banana to earlier that day.
“Still,” as the Doctor remarked later as they continued to trudge up the mountain pass they’d eventually managed to locate, “At least you’d managed to get most of your trousers back on before we charged in.”
“I’m still keeping him,” Dawn muttered and tickled her new friend under the chin. Clark, who’d been starting to feel a mite peckish, looked disappointed.
The Doctor stopped and took another set of readings with the sonic screwdriver, before setting off once again. “At least the old girl’s stopped moving now,” he said thoughtfully, and tapped his teeth with the sonic screwdriver.
Clark stared around at the mountain scape all around them. “Taking a wild guesth, Doctor - we’re thtill heading for Mad Miriam’th ethtate?”
Dawn looked up from where she’d placed Emort* into her breast pocket and re-adjusted the black cowboy hat on her head. “Like it could be anywhere else?”
The Doctor smiled wanly. “’Fraid so. You know, just once I’d like to be able to avoid the inevitable breaking in, dodging the guards and stealing the TARDIS.”
There was the sound of several safeties being taken off various weapons, and several armed figures rose from their hiding places. The one nearest the Doctor, with a slightly more elaborate helmet than the others, levelled his gun directly at the Doctor’s head. “Oh, I think we might be able to help you there,” he smirked. “Go directly to Jail, do not pass Go and we collect $200 each.”
“Oh joy,” said Dawn, rolling her eyes. “It’s the also inevitable ambush.”
Emort just squeaked.
---------------------------------
*That’s what she decided to call the vole. Clark didn’t get it at all. The Doctor took several days, then unconvincingly claimed that he knew exactly what Dawn had meant all along and simply hadn’t found it funny.