Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2008-10-16 12:05 am
ptahrrific) wrote2008-10-16 12:05 am
Entry tags:
Fake News/Doctor Who: I'm Your Moon, part 6
Title: I'm Your Moon (6/9)
Rating: PG-13 (angst, language)
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3/Torchwood S2 is fair game.
Summary: Four, Sarah Jane, and the Wørd start fighting through the wilds of Stephen's psyche; Jack finally learns who Stephen is, and Ten says a bit too much.
(A couple of people have been trying to guess the arc word. Note that it appears at least once in every serial—which really narrows your options, because the first serial doesn't have all that many words.)
Beta by the superstantialstellar_dust. Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
I'm Your Moon
Part Six
Earth: 1562.
"It's not even the dying I mind," complained Jack as they returned to the TARDIS. "It's the collateral damage. I mean, I just had the most elaborate bath of my life! And besides, I liked this shirt."
"We can get that one washed, if you like," pointed out the Doctor. "In an infinite universe, someone, somewhere, somewhen, has come up with a solution that completely removes bloodstains."
"Great! No rush, though. I can just grab a fresh one before I talk to Stephen."
He looked pointedly at the Doctor, hoping to provoke a reaction; but the Doctor was focused on unlocking the door of the TARDIS as he replied, almost nonchalantly, "Don't do it, Jack."
"I swear, I'm only going to talk to him. He needs someone to tell him there's nothing wrong with appreciating cute boys. Unless you think there's another reason he was so jumpy?"
"Not at all," said the Doctor, circling the console. "He's perfectly petrified of his own sexuality. It breaks rules, which in his mind leads to anarchy and destruction, remember?"
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Talking about Stephen like it's old news."
"Isn't it?" The Doctor actually stopped fiddling with controls at this. "Aww, Jack, haven't you figured it out yet?"
Jack folded his arms in exasperation. "Apparently not. Are you going to tell me?"
"You'd probably get it in a second if you saw his name written down. Stephen Col-bert. He grows up to be Stephen Colbert."
⇔
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
The Wørd deposited Sarah Jane and the Doctor inelegantly on the grass outside before collapsing beside them. "Sorry About That," she panted. "I'm Not Used To Being Corporeal."
"That's all right," the Doctor assured her. "You're doing very well for your first time. Jelly baby?"
"Can we be serious for a moment?" complained Sarah Jane as the papilløn took one of the candies from the bag proffered. "What if they follow us?"
"They Won't," the Wørd said. "In That Tower, Truthiness Rules. Out Here, There Are Too Many Ugly Truths. He Pretends This Place Doesn't Exist."
The exterior of the building behind them was a strangely curved skyscraper, a giant C-shaped tower of unadorned glass and steel. The only light, aside from the faintly glowing Wørd, was the occasional rectangle of yellow from an open window; the night was dark, as was the forest on the far side of the high stone wall around the building.
"Doesn't look like he'll be able to do it much longer," said the Doctor, walking a few steps down the slope to tap on the wall. Tree branches were reaching over the top, vines hanging down the sides; there was evidently a root growing under one section, which was starting to buckle from beneath. "This barrier can't last."
"It's Usually In Better Shape," observed the papilløn. "Right Now, Stephen's Fears Are Almost Overwhelming Him."
"Then we'll just have to get to him first," declared the Doctor. "Do you know where he is?"
"I'm Sorry. Somewhere Outside The Wall; That's All I Know. Would You Like Help Getting Over?"
"No, no, I think we'll manage." Tossing his scarf into the air and looping it over a tree branch, the Doctor dragged the bough down to their level. "Grab hold, Sarah."
⇔
The eerie silence of the forest was being replaced by a kind of quiet roaring, which did nothing to soothe Stephen's nerves.
When the forest gave way, it was so sudden that he nearly tripped over nothing at all; and then at last he realized what he had been hearing. At the edge of the trees, the dirt sloped downwards and turned into sand, and the sand gave way to water, and the water stretched off without end into the blackness.
He had forgotten how loud the ocean could be.
At least a few stars were visible beyond the canopy of the forest, casting a dim light on the white crests of the waves. Stephen pulled his torn suit jacket closer against the salty wind and looked for a boat, a shack, a campfire, any sign of light from a living source.
He found nothing.
This is it, he thought. I'm going to die. I'll wander around this planet until I drop dead from hunger or exhaustion, and no one will ever see me again.
⇔
Sarah Jane had scaled half the wall when it began to waver under her feet. She barely had time to notice something was wrong before the entire section gave way, sending her swinging through to land in a cloud of dust on the other side.
"You all right?" asked the Doctor, climbing through the hole and waving away some of the stone dust with his scarf.
"A bit bruised," said Sarah Jane, coughing, eyes watering. "Scratched. Sore. I've got a touch of rope burn from letting go that branch, and I'm choking on the physical evidence of Stephen's impending terrified breakdown. Other than that, never better."
⇔
Earth: 1562.
The name did the trick. Once Jack had heard it, everything began falling into place.
"Stephen Colbert?" he repeated.
"Stephen Colbert," said the Doctor distractedly. He was back to working the console, pulling levers, taking off.
"The Stephen Colbert? The—" The preeminent media figure of the early 21st century; the deciding factor in the 2008 presidential election; the man who left marks on the culture and the language that resounded for centuries to come. "—the obnoxious pundit Ianto's always snarking about?"
"That's the one."
"I've seen him on TV a couple of times. Thought he was an idiot." He had to speak up now, to be heard over the grinding of the TARDIS in flight. "That's our Stephen? I mean, sure, he's a bit dense sometimes, but . . . ."
"I've had him in the TARDIS. The adult version, I mean. He's a bit dense, yeah, but he's not an idiot. Just very, very neurotic. Surely you picked that up from watching the program."
"Hard to miss!"
"Of course it is. It's the driving force behind the program, along with everything else he does. His neuroses; his fears; his need for structure and stability, not to mention attention and validation—they shape his career, his life, the place he makes for himself in the timeline. You can't fix him! He's defined by not being fixed!"
"What do you mean, 'can't'? Do you mean that it's impossible, or that you don't want me to do it because it might mess up history?"
"It—it might not be possible. I don't know."
"Well, I have to take a shot at it. If there's anything I can do for him and I don't at least try, I'll never forgive—"
"He's not Gray, Jack!"
The racket of the TARDIS did nothing to fill the deafening silence.
"I'm sorry—" began the Doctor at last.
"What do you know about my brother?"
"Nothing. I swear. Please, forget I even brought it up. But the timeline—"
"Screw the timeline," snapped Jack, and strode out of the console room without looking back.
Rating: PG-13 (angst, language)
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3/Torchwood S2 is fair game.
Summary: Four, Sarah Jane, and the Wørd start fighting through the wilds of Stephen's psyche; Jack finally learns who Stephen is, and Ten says a bit too much.
(A couple of people have been trying to guess the arc word. Note that it appears at least once in every serial—which really narrows your options, because the first serial doesn't have all that many words.)
Beta by the superstantial
stellar_dust. Table of contents, and footnotes, here.I'm Your Moon
Part Six
Earth: 1562.
"It's not even the dying I mind," complained Jack as they returned to the TARDIS. "It's the collateral damage. I mean, I just had the most elaborate bath of my life! And besides, I liked this shirt."
"We can get that one washed, if you like," pointed out the Doctor. "In an infinite universe, someone, somewhere, somewhen, has come up with a solution that completely removes bloodstains."
"Great! No rush, though. I can just grab a fresh one before I talk to Stephen."
He looked pointedly at the Doctor, hoping to provoke a reaction; but the Doctor was focused on unlocking the door of the TARDIS as he replied, almost nonchalantly, "Don't do it, Jack."
"I swear, I'm only going to talk to him. He needs someone to tell him there's nothing wrong with appreciating cute boys. Unless you think there's another reason he was so jumpy?"
"Not at all," said the Doctor, circling the console. "He's perfectly petrified of his own sexuality. It breaks rules, which in his mind leads to anarchy and destruction, remember?"
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Talking about Stephen like it's old news."
"Isn't it?" The Doctor actually stopped fiddling with controls at this. "Aww, Jack, haven't you figured it out yet?"
Jack folded his arms in exasperation. "Apparently not. Are you going to tell me?"
"You'd probably get it in a second if you saw his name written down. Stephen Col-bert. He grows up to be Stephen Colbert."
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
The Wørd deposited Sarah Jane and the Doctor inelegantly on the grass outside before collapsing beside them. "Sorry About That," she panted. "I'm Not Used To Being Corporeal."
"That's all right," the Doctor assured her. "You're doing very well for your first time. Jelly baby?"
"Can we be serious for a moment?" complained Sarah Jane as the papilløn took one of the candies from the bag proffered. "What if they follow us?"
"They Won't," the Wørd said. "In That Tower, Truthiness Rules. Out Here, There Are Too Many Ugly Truths. He Pretends This Place Doesn't Exist."
The exterior of the building behind them was a strangely curved skyscraper, a giant C-shaped tower of unadorned glass and steel. The only light, aside from the faintly glowing Wørd, was the occasional rectangle of yellow from an open window; the night was dark, as was the forest on the far side of the high stone wall around the building.
"Doesn't look like he'll be able to do it much longer," said the Doctor, walking a few steps down the slope to tap on the wall. Tree branches were reaching over the top, vines hanging down the sides; there was evidently a root growing under one section, which was starting to buckle from beneath. "This barrier can't last."
"It's Usually In Better Shape," observed the papilløn. "Right Now, Stephen's Fears Are Almost Overwhelming Him."
"Then we'll just have to get to him first," declared the Doctor. "Do you know where he is?"
"I'm Sorry. Somewhere Outside The Wall; That's All I Know. Would You Like Help Getting Over?"
"No, no, I think we'll manage." Tossing his scarf into the air and looping it over a tree branch, the Doctor dragged the bough down to their level. "Grab hold, Sarah."
The eerie silence of the forest was being replaced by a kind of quiet roaring, which did nothing to soothe Stephen's nerves.
When the forest gave way, it was so sudden that he nearly tripped over nothing at all; and then at last he realized what he had been hearing. At the edge of the trees, the dirt sloped downwards and turned into sand, and the sand gave way to water, and the water stretched off without end into the blackness.
He had forgotten how loud the ocean could be.
At least a few stars were visible beyond the canopy of the forest, casting a dim light on the white crests of the waves. Stephen pulled his torn suit jacket closer against the salty wind and looked for a boat, a shack, a campfire, any sign of light from a living source.
He found nothing.
This is it, he thought. I'm going to die. I'll wander around this planet until I drop dead from hunger or exhaustion, and no one will ever see me again.
Sarah Jane had scaled half the wall when it began to waver under her feet. She barely had time to notice something was wrong before the entire section gave way, sending her swinging through to land in a cloud of dust on the other side.
"You all right?" asked the Doctor, climbing through the hole and waving away some of the stone dust with his scarf.
"A bit bruised," said Sarah Jane, coughing, eyes watering. "Scratched. Sore. I've got a touch of rope burn from letting go that branch, and I'm choking on the physical evidence of Stephen's impending terrified breakdown. Other than that, never better."
Earth: 1562.
The name did the trick. Once Jack had heard it, everything began falling into place.
"Stephen Colbert?" he repeated.
"Stephen Colbert," said the Doctor distractedly. He was back to working the console, pulling levers, taking off.
"The Stephen Colbert? The—" The preeminent media figure of the early 21st century; the deciding factor in the 2008 presidential election; the man who left marks on the culture and the language that resounded for centuries to come. "—the obnoxious pundit Ianto's always snarking about?"
"That's the one."
"I've seen him on TV a couple of times. Thought he was an idiot." He had to speak up now, to be heard over the grinding of the TARDIS in flight. "That's our Stephen? I mean, sure, he's a bit dense sometimes, but . . . ."
"I've had him in the TARDIS. The adult version, I mean. He's a bit dense, yeah, but he's not an idiot. Just very, very neurotic. Surely you picked that up from watching the program."
"Hard to miss!"
"Of course it is. It's the driving force behind the program, along with everything else he does. His neuroses; his fears; his need for structure and stability, not to mention attention and validation—they shape his career, his life, the place he makes for himself in the timeline. You can't fix him! He's defined by not being fixed!"
"What do you mean, 'can't'? Do you mean that it's impossible, or that you don't want me to do it because it might mess up history?"
"It—it might not be possible. I don't know."
"Well, I have to take a shot at it. If there's anything I can do for him and I don't at least try, I'll never forgive—"
"He's not Gray, Jack!"
The racket of the TARDIS did nothing to fill the deafening silence.
"I'm sorry—" began the Doctor at last.
"What do you know about my brother?"
"Nothing. I swear. Please, forget I even brought it up. But the timeline—"
"Screw the timeline," snapped Jack, and strode out of the console room without looking back.
no subject
This is it, he thought. I'm going to die. I'll wander around this planet until I drop dead from hunger or exhaustion, and no one will ever see me again.
And, aww, poor adult!Stephen, too. *hugs him*
This is definitely my favorite serial so far.
no subject
Somehow I suspected you'd like this one.
Thanks!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-10-24 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
:D
no subject
no subject
The funny thing about this crossover is, I've read a lot of fanfic where the author decides to make everybody angsty for no reason, but this is probably the first one ever where ALL the angst is canon! O.o
no subject
No kidding. (Er, no pun intended.)
TW really ups the angst level for everyone involved. Add that to damaged!Stephen (at both ages) and emo!Ten, and, well, let's just say this team is a fixer-upper.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-10-24 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)the Word is my friend.
...aw, Jack!!
Kagaya
no subject
"Of course it is. It's the driving force behind the program, along with everything else he does. His neuroses; his fears; his need for structure and stability, not to mention attention and validation—they shape his career, his life, the place he makes for himself in the timeline. You can't fix him! He's defined by not being fixed!"
Ok, I have to say it- you fixed him in State of Grace, remember? At least you sorta fixed him. When I read "this is the ColberT ReporT", I died a little inside, becasue I knew a mentally stable Stephen was not what his audience wanted. I was worried about hsi future. : (
Ah well. I guess I can't begrudge the man a little stability and love, but it would be so hard to live without his daily ranting.
no subject
And nobody should ever have to continue being sick in order to entertain people. The ones who care about his disorders and not him are in for a disappointment. But I'm confident he'll find a niche that he fits into naturally, and he's got the talent and the charm to pick up a new audience while he's there.
no subject
no subject
(...also, shut up, Ten, before you drown in all that irony.)