Fic: Not In Kansas Anymore
Title: Not In Kansas Anymore
Author: Nemesis (Nems)
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves implied
Fandoms: Jeeves & Wooster, Doctor Who
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: The Doctor's traveling again, with Bertie in tow, but the Doctor's forgotten that Bertie has never seen an alien before and doesn't remember that Bertie needs to take it slow.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this. Just having fun.
A/N: This is a sequel to The Watch and makes little sense if you haven't read that first.
Many thanks to zekkass for the beta and helping get Bertie's voice right!
He was so excited to be traveling again, properly, among the stars, that he forgot to take it slow. He knew Bertie, had learned every last thing about him in those years he spent as Jeeves, and he knew that Bertie would go into shock if shown pleasure planets or the 51st century, or, for that matter, the 21st century.
But the 1920s were horribly dull for the Doctor, and he couldn’t remember a single exciting, dangerous, adrenaline-raising thing happening while he was Jeeves. There were those (dull, dull, dull) problems Bertie was always bringing home, aunts and women and nitwit friends with not enough common sense to be classified as rational humans, and there was Jeeves’ yearly two weeks off, in which he tried to do something scary and a bit dangerous, but overall, they were dull. 1920 didn’t hold a candle to, say, Skaro.
The Doctor wanted some kind of adventure again (never again would he say that all he wanted was a quiet life) and he was determined to find it.
Bertie, on the other hand, nearly passed out at the sight of the TARDIS. He spent about an hour trying to express the whole “It’s bigger on the inside” thing.
He forgot how to be patient and slow, forgot that he should have been. He was running out of the door at every new world, rushing about like a child with a new toy, and Bertie trailed along helplessly, like a lost little kid, sputtering at everything.
“I say… that’s a woman! As… Prime Minister!”
“Goodness! That’s… two men. In public. They allow that now? … That’s three men. At once. Jeeves… I mean, Doctor?”
“Look here! That woman is blue. Should she be blue?”
“I say! Je - Doctor, that man is made completely out of metal.”
“Goodness! Doctor, that box has people in it. And explosions. Should it be doing that?”
“What ho! Doctor! It’s… a talking dog. A talking metal dog. Is that normal?”
The Doctor ran around excitedly, breathing the air of new planets, looking up at the stars from a different sky, talking in different languages (oh, how bored he was of 1920s English), and seeing aliens again. And he had a companion again, someone to show the stars to, someone to explain stuff to, and it was good.
But this time, he hadn’t chosen his companion because they had helped him out in a spot of trouble or because they were bright and helpful, but because he felt bad for Bertie and he did like him, even if he was a bit thick.
One day, Bertie didn’t step outside the TARDIS when they landed. The Doctor shrugged it off; his companions didn’t always want to go with him. Sometimes they were tired or not feeling completely up to it, and he didn’t think anything of Bertie begging off.
Bertie walked helplessly around the TARDIS console. None of this made any sense to him, and he missed the stability of 1920s England. He couldn’t stand living like this, all this moving around, all these strange creatures and strange customs. It was too much to take in.
Even the TARDIS was too weird for him. Especially the TARDIS. It was a tiny box, and there was all that space on the inside.
He bit his lip, trying to fight his tears. He had lost Jeeves, stable, reliable, brilliant Jeeves, and now there was the Doctor. Still brilliant, but not Jeeves at all. There was nothing of Jeeves left, no moment where the Doctor sounded or acted like his Jeeves. He even looked different - wore different clothes, didn’t smooth his hair back with gel every day, stood a little less like he had a poker for a spine.
The Doctor didn’t love him like Jeeves had. He missed Jeeves holding him, kissing him, making love to him. The Doctor didn’t do any of that - apparently, that was a ‘human’ thing, and the Doctor wasn’t human anymore.
Bertie choked down a sob. It had been a mistake to go. He wanted Jeeves back. He wanted his family back, his friends, the Drones club lunches and the quiet evenings home with Jeeves.
The Doctor came back to find Bertie curled up in the console chair, staring listlessly ahead. He looked absolutely crushed. The Doctor wasn’t sure how to handle this. He was quickly forgetting who Jeeves had been (a lie, as far as the Doctor was concerned), and his knowledge of Bertie went with it.
“Take me back,” Bertie asked softly, his lower lip trembling.
The Doctor nodded, hiding his sadness. He didn’t like losing companions, didn’t like traveling alone, but it was obvious to even him that this wasn’t for Bertie.
Bertie hiccuped, his eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t do this.”
The Doctor didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I... I forgot how to take it slow. I was too excited to see everything again.”
Bertie accepted this with a nod, but he stayed put. “I just miss everything.” He paused. “I miss Jeeves.”
“He’s not going to be there,” the Doctor reminded him.
Bertie nodded, tears springing to his eyes again. “I know. He’s gone, and you replaced him. … You have his face.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But it didn’t change anything.
Bertie was left standing, two months after he left, staring at the spot where the TARDIS stood. Behind him was his empty, cold flat where he had no food and no one to take care of him, still full of Jeeves’ things.
He finally entered his flat and looked around sadly. His gaze fell on the watch that started all this, and he felt like crying again. He shimmied out of his clothing and curled up in bed, sobbing himself asleep.
Author: Nemesis (Nems)
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves implied
Fandoms: Jeeves & Wooster, Doctor Who
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: The Doctor's traveling again, with Bertie in tow, but the Doctor's forgotten that Bertie has never seen an alien before and doesn't remember that Bertie needs to take it slow.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this. Just having fun.
A/N: This is a sequel to The Watch and makes little sense if you haven't read that first.
Many thanks to zekkass for the beta and helping get Bertie's voice right!
He was so excited to be traveling again, properly, among the stars, that he forgot to take it slow. He knew Bertie, had learned every last thing about him in those years he spent as Jeeves, and he knew that Bertie would go into shock if shown pleasure planets or the 51st century, or, for that matter, the 21st century.
But the 1920s were horribly dull for the Doctor, and he couldn’t remember a single exciting, dangerous, adrenaline-raising thing happening while he was Jeeves. There were those (dull, dull, dull) problems Bertie was always bringing home, aunts and women and nitwit friends with not enough common sense to be classified as rational humans, and there was Jeeves’ yearly two weeks off, in which he tried to do something scary and a bit dangerous, but overall, they were dull. 1920 didn’t hold a candle to, say, Skaro.
The Doctor wanted some kind of adventure again (never again would he say that all he wanted was a quiet life) and he was determined to find it.
Bertie, on the other hand, nearly passed out at the sight of the TARDIS. He spent about an hour trying to express the whole “It’s bigger on the inside” thing.
He forgot how to be patient and slow, forgot that he should have been. He was running out of the door at every new world, rushing about like a child with a new toy, and Bertie trailed along helplessly, like a lost little kid, sputtering at everything.
“I say… that’s a woman! As… Prime Minister!”
“Goodness! That’s… two men. In public. They allow that now? … That’s three men. At once. Jeeves… I mean, Doctor?”
“Look here! That woman is blue. Should she be blue?”
“I say! Je - Doctor, that man is made completely out of metal.”
“Goodness! Doctor, that box has people in it. And explosions. Should it be doing that?”
“What ho! Doctor! It’s… a talking dog. A talking metal dog. Is that normal?”
The Doctor ran around excitedly, breathing the air of new planets, looking up at the stars from a different sky, talking in different languages (oh, how bored he was of 1920s English), and seeing aliens again. And he had a companion again, someone to show the stars to, someone to explain stuff to, and it was good.
But this time, he hadn’t chosen his companion because they had helped him out in a spot of trouble or because they were bright and helpful, but because he felt bad for Bertie and he did like him, even if he was a bit thick.
One day, Bertie didn’t step outside the TARDIS when they landed. The Doctor shrugged it off; his companions didn’t always want to go with him. Sometimes they were tired or not feeling completely up to it, and he didn’t think anything of Bertie begging off.
Bertie walked helplessly around the TARDIS console. None of this made any sense to him, and he missed the stability of 1920s England. He couldn’t stand living like this, all this moving around, all these strange creatures and strange customs. It was too much to take in.
Even the TARDIS was too weird for him. Especially the TARDIS. It was a tiny box, and there was all that space on the inside.
He bit his lip, trying to fight his tears. He had lost Jeeves, stable, reliable, brilliant Jeeves, and now there was the Doctor. Still brilliant, but not Jeeves at all. There was nothing of Jeeves left, no moment where the Doctor sounded or acted like his Jeeves. He even looked different - wore different clothes, didn’t smooth his hair back with gel every day, stood a little less like he had a poker for a spine.
The Doctor didn’t love him like Jeeves had. He missed Jeeves holding him, kissing him, making love to him. The Doctor didn’t do any of that - apparently, that was a ‘human’ thing, and the Doctor wasn’t human anymore.
Bertie choked down a sob. It had been a mistake to go. He wanted Jeeves back. He wanted his family back, his friends, the Drones club lunches and the quiet evenings home with Jeeves.
The Doctor came back to find Bertie curled up in the console chair, staring listlessly ahead. He looked absolutely crushed. The Doctor wasn’t sure how to handle this. He was quickly forgetting who Jeeves had been (a lie, as far as the Doctor was concerned), and his knowledge of Bertie went with it.
“Take me back,” Bertie asked softly, his lower lip trembling.
The Doctor nodded, hiding his sadness. He didn’t like losing companions, didn’t like traveling alone, but it was obvious to even him that this wasn’t for Bertie.
Bertie hiccuped, his eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t do this.”
The Doctor didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I... I forgot how to take it slow. I was too excited to see everything again.”
Bertie accepted this with a nod, but he stayed put. “I just miss everything.” He paused. “I miss Jeeves.”
“He’s not going to be there,” the Doctor reminded him.
Bertie nodded, tears springing to his eyes again. “I know. He’s gone, and you replaced him. … You have his face.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But it didn’t change anything.
Bertie was left standing, two months after he left, staring at the spot where the TARDIS stood. Behind him was his empty, cold flat where he had no food and no one to take care of him, still full of Jeeves’ things.
He finally entered his flat and looked around sadly. His gaze fell on the watch that started all this, and he felt like crying again. He shimmied out of his clothing and curled up in bed, sobbing himself asleep.