February Fortnight of Fic #2
Title: In the Peripheries
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Yana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 526
Summary: Then the Doctor arrived and the shadows at the edges of his consciousness swirled and slithered around more frequently, but just as intangible.
A/N: Another from snowgrouse who wanted "Ten/Yana, angst." Funnily, flipped on the Sci-Fi channel this morning and 'lo and behold "Utopia" was on!
Like shadows and figures seen in the corner of one's eye, but when you look nothing is there, so too were memories for Professor Yana. Those elusive wisps plaguing him as much as the insistent sounding of drums.
While working in his lab, programming computers, staring at the configuration of a circuit board he would be reminded of...of something. Flashes of inspiration with their roots in unknown origins, but he could swear he had heard the formula before. In a class room? But where?
Then the Doctor arrived and the shadows at the edges of his consciousness swirled and slithered around more frequently, but just as intangible.
A spark of recognition? Perhaps he just reminded Yana of himself as a younger man. The exuberance and technological prowess he could identify with. Though infinitely modest, he couldn't help but feel a warm glow at the Doctor's praise, and tried as he might, he could not completely quell the twinge of jealousy with his admiration that the Doctor managed to solve in mere seconds the problem that daunted him for years and could have continued to do so years to come.
Then the Doctor would smile at him, and a shadow nudged, and his heart would fill. He chalked it up to the Doctor being a handsome young man, and himself a foolish old man.
"You know, it's the oddest thing, but I feel like we've met before," the Doctor said, much to Yana's surprise. "Though, I meet so many people..."
"Well, I don't, and I'm sure even if I did I'd remember you."
The Doctor grinned brilliantly. Yana smiled back.
Later, the Doctor stared at the neutralino map. His smile small and wistful, no more manic grins. He knew it was not his place to pry, but he found himself asking, "What are you thinking?"
The Doctor's head snapped around as if he'd forgotten he was not alone. He smiled, again not so bright. "I was just thinking, 'Just like the old days.' Odd, that."
"Indeed."
"I suppose," The Doctor said slowly, one hand raking through his hair, making it stand more wildly on end, "it's been a while since I've been able to work with someone like this. In school I had a...lab partner. We were always straying from the text books, never minding the professors' lectures about How Things Work, making them work our way."
"I know what you mean."
"Do you?"
"I've worked so long on my own. No one else to trade ideas or theories with."
"What about Chantho?"
Yana looked over at her, her head bowed in whispered conversation with Martha. Yana smiled, glad she had someone closer to her own age and sex for company. "She's a bright girl, a very devoted assistant. But for her, like so many, science is numbers and logic. She doesn't understand-"
"That it can also be art, intuitive, beautiful."
"Exactly," Yana whispered.
They stared into each other's eyes. Yana's heart quickened, the drums pounded and the shadows of his mind we're encroaching, persistent. He didn't try to look though, for the first time he purposefully turned away from them, suddenly afraid of what the darkness hid.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Yana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 526
Summary: Then the Doctor arrived and the shadows at the edges of his consciousness swirled and slithered around more frequently, but just as intangible.
A/N: Another from snowgrouse who wanted "Ten/Yana, angst." Funnily, flipped on the Sci-Fi channel this morning and 'lo and behold "Utopia" was on!
Like shadows and figures seen in the corner of one's eye, but when you look nothing is there, so too were memories for Professor Yana. Those elusive wisps plaguing him as much as the insistent sounding of drums.
While working in his lab, programming computers, staring at the configuration of a circuit board he would be reminded of...of something. Flashes of inspiration with their roots in unknown origins, but he could swear he had heard the formula before. In a class room? But where?
Then the Doctor arrived and the shadows at the edges of his consciousness swirled and slithered around more frequently, but just as intangible.
A spark of recognition? Perhaps he just reminded Yana of himself as a younger man. The exuberance and technological prowess he could identify with. Though infinitely modest, he couldn't help but feel a warm glow at the Doctor's praise, and tried as he might, he could not completely quell the twinge of jealousy with his admiration that the Doctor managed to solve in mere seconds the problem that daunted him for years and could have continued to do so years to come.
Then the Doctor would smile at him, and a shadow nudged, and his heart would fill. He chalked it up to the Doctor being a handsome young man, and himself a foolish old man.
"You know, it's the oddest thing, but I feel like we've met before," the Doctor said, much to Yana's surprise. "Though, I meet so many people..."
"Well, I don't, and I'm sure even if I did I'd remember you."
The Doctor grinned brilliantly. Yana smiled back.
Later, the Doctor stared at the neutralino map. His smile small and wistful, no more manic grins. He knew it was not his place to pry, but he found himself asking, "What are you thinking?"
The Doctor's head snapped around as if he'd forgotten he was not alone. He smiled, again not so bright. "I was just thinking, 'Just like the old days.' Odd, that."
"Indeed."
"I suppose," The Doctor said slowly, one hand raking through his hair, making it stand more wildly on end, "it's been a while since I've been able to work with someone like this. In school I had a...lab partner. We were always straying from the text books, never minding the professors' lectures about How Things Work, making them work our way."
"I know what you mean."
"Do you?"
"I've worked so long on my own. No one else to trade ideas or theories with."
"What about Chantho?"
Yana looked over at her, her head bowed in whispered conversation with Martha. Yana smiled, glad she had someone closer to her own age and sex for company. "She's a bright girl, a very devoted assistant. But for her, like so many, science is numbers and logic. She doesn't understand-"
"That it can also be art, intuitive, beautiful."
"Exactly," Yana whispered.
They stared into each other's eyes. Yana's heart quickened, the drums pounded and the shadows of his mind we're encroaching, persistent. He didn't try to look though, for the first time he purposefully turned away from them, suddenly afraid of what the darkness hid.