Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2008-10-23 12:18 am
ptahrrific) wrote2008-10-23 12:18 am
Entry tags:
Fake News/Doctor Who: I'm Your Moon, part 8
Title: I'm Your Moon (8/9)
Rating: PG
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3/Torchwood S2 is fair game.
Summary: Stephen gets some unexpected support, and not a moment too soon: he's the only one who can save Four and Sarah Jane, if he can pull himself together in time.
Contains more Red Dwarf allusions. Also, (David) Ten(nant) is a pretty, pretty person. Just sayin'.
Beta by the singularstellar_dust. Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
I'm Your Moon
Part Eight
The Vortex.
Stephen didn't know how long they sat in silence.
At some point Jack's arm went around his shoulders. He snuggled closer in response. No words were spoken.
And it didn't go horribly wrong.
At last he ventured, "Jack? Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"You said I'm not your type."
"That's right."
"Well . . . is 'your type' by any chance tall and skinny? With big ears . . . sideburns . . . kind of crazy brown hair? Maybe a tendency to lick things?"
Jack mussed his hair, perhaps a little more roughly than was strictly necessary. "Now, what makes you ask that?"
Before Stephen could answer, there was a knock on the door.
"Hope everything's all right in there, Stephen!" came the Doctor's voice from the far side. "When you're ready, come on up. I've got something to show you."
This was followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Stephen looked anxiously up at Jack; the older man gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry. You'll be okay. I've got your back."
⇔
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
Only now, when the danger had passed, did Stephen let himself break down.
For several minutes he sobbed unrestrained against Jack's Alpha-Squad-uniformed chest, fears and anxieties and regrets all pouring out in a single frantic stream. And Jack held him, not caring that he was wet and sandy and salty and hardly fit to be touched, until at last the tears began to slow.
"I think," he choked out, when he was spent enough to be coherent again, "I think they left me. Th' Doctor an' Sarah Jane. I, I, I've been such a nuisance—I keep having to be rescued—maybe they've said, enough's enough, this time we're not gonna hunt him down . . ."
⇔
Sarah Jane stumbled, nearly falling, as something in the blackness growled at her.
"Does that mean some part of Stephen hates me?" she wondered out loud, clutching the Doctor's scarf to keep them in contact. There was a bit of light from the manifested Wørd flying high above them, but the sky was still dark and the trees didn't help. "Or is this bit of him just hostile to everyone?"
"I rather think most of him is hostile to everyone," said the Doctor astutely.
"Then why are we working so hard to rescue him?" huffed Sarah Jane. (She was joking. Mostly.)
"Because," replied the Doctor, with perfect seriousness, "underneath all that neurotic mess is someone nice trying to get out."
⇔
"Do you think the Doctor would do that?" asked Jack.
Stephen sniffled. "I g-guess not."
"Of course not. Your friends are doing their best to find you. But they're in danger too. And they need your help."
"What am I s'posed to do? If the Doctor can't handle it, what good am I?"
"Don't be silly," said Jack tenderly. "If the Doctor could fix everything by himself, why would he travel with human companions in the first place?"
"I guess that makes sense."
"That's right. You're the only one who can help them right now. So you need to be strong, for their sakes. Can you do that?"
Stephen pulled off his glasses and rubbed at them, trying not to think how his frazzled and gritty sleeve must be scratching the lenses. He wiped off his face, dabbed briefly at his eyes, and replaced the frames.
"Of course I can be strong," he said, his voice hardly shaking at all. "I'm Stephen Colbert."
"That's my Stephen," said Jack proudly. "You can handle this one on your own."
With that, he vanished.
"Jack!" Stephen launched himself forward, grabbing at the empty air. It was no use: one second the man had been there, and the next there was not a trace of him left.
Well, that wasn't quite true. The light was still there.
⇔
"How long have we been walking?" asked Sarah Jane. It felt like days.
"About an hour," replied the Doctor promptly.
Of course. "We can't possibly be planning to explore this entire moon on foot, can we?"
"I rather hope it won't come to that."
"That's not very reassur—"
"Hush, Sarah!"
Sarah Jane hushed.
"You see that?"
His arm was a blurry shadow against other blurry shadows, but Sarah Jane did her best to follow where he was pointing. "Is that—Doctor! Could that be a light?"
"I do believe it could," whispered the Doctor in reply. "Perhaps whatever's following us is only making for the light."
"'Following us'?"
"Of course! Haven't you noticed that hissing?"
She had; but the sound had been going on for so long that it had blended into the background hum of the forest, until now. "You just had to remind me, didn't you."
"Well, I assume it isn't hostile. It hasn't attacked us yet, has it? And don't you roll your eyes at me."
"You can't possibly see that I'm rolling my eyes."
"Doctor! Sarah Jane!" shouted the Wørd from above them. "Don't Move!"
"What is it?" called the Doctor, tilting his head upwards.
"Hold Perfectly Still," reiterated the papilløn, descending rapidly now. "Not Another Step!"
"All right, all right!" exclaimed the Time Lord, still looking at the Wørd as she crash-landed beside them. "What's the hurry?"
"Doctor!" shrieked Sarah Jane, grabbing his arm.
Now that the shining Wørd was on the ground, they could see the landscape clearly. Most of the trees around them were exactly what they appeared to be.
But not a meter to their left, where they might easily have stumbled to avoid a tree directly in their path, was a set of gleaming ivory teeth, each as high as Sarah Jane herself.
"Kill," hissed the dragon.
⇔
Stephen heard the hissing long before he heard the shriek.
He might have missed it if he hadn't known what to listen for, but the sound was very familiar. It was something he had heard on and off for years, maybe all his life, though he didn't have any clear memories of it from before one of the trips he had taken with the Doctor in his younger days (something to do with a restaurant, and beyond that he didn't think about it).
There was no pattern to it, except for the fact that it got stronger and clearer, sometimes turning into an actual voice, whenever he was around a gun.
Not until the shriek, though, did he realize that this time he was hearing the hissing voice in his good ear. In his shock he needed another moment to realize that the other voice was Sarah Jane's.
Clutching the lantern, he ran.
⇔
"What is it?" cried Sarah Jane.
"Your guess is as good as mine!" replied the Doctor unhelpfully.
"Kill," repeated the creature, huge and lizardlike and wicked-looking, scales shining like black metal. "There is no purpose in this world. Tear it all to pieces. Burn it all down."
"Keep Away From Them!" ordered the Wørd.
Her light flickered over dirt and dried leaves and patches of dark shining scales. The dragon wasn't just in front of them; it was under them, around them, part of the very landscape.
"By what authority do you think I should obey you?" it hissed. "Orders are meaningless. Life is pointless. Let it be gone. Starting with you . . . ."
"No!" shouted an unexpected voice.
A light was bouncing towards them—and it was Stephen, clutching some kind of lamp as he ran for all he was worth. He thudded to a stop between them and the beast, panting heavily, shaking his head emphatically at the creature.
"No, Sweetness!" he ordered, when he had got enough breath back to speak at all. "These people are our friends!"
⇔
Stephen had never stopped to imagine what Sweetness would look like, but there was no doubt in his mind that this dragon was she.
Her hiss became a frustrated growl as he stood before her, the lantern glinting off of her massive teeth. "Doesn't matter," she insisted, voice echoing in his deaf ear as well as his good one. "Nothing matters."
"They matter. They matter to me."
The ground shook and the trees twisted, branches cracking, as Sweetness flexed her bulk beneath them. "They'll die some day," she protested. "Why not now? It could be now. Let me make it happen . . ."
"No," repeated Stephen emphatically, though his hands shook and the light flickered. "Not now. Not here. You've got to leave them alone, Sweetness. You've got to go."
The next hiss was weaker, angry but wordless.
"Go!" shouted Stephen.
With a great rumbling, the dragon's massive head sank into the dirt.
⇔
Not until the hissing had completely faded did Stephen turn around. "Hi," he said shakily. "Are you guys okay?"
"We're all right, yeah," the Doctor replied. "That was quite an impressive piece of work. How are you holding up?"
"'M fine," insisted Stephen, staggering and dropping the lantern. It crashed to the ground, sputtered, and died.
Shaking out of her shock, Sarah Jane jumped forward to catch the man. "You're soaked through!" she exclaimed as he fell against her. "Doctor! Your coat, quick!"
The Doctor had barely started to unwind his absurdly long scarf when the Wørd lifted it from his shoulders in one go. Between the three of them they soon had Stephen wrapped in the coat, scarf draped several times around his shaking frame.
"I want to go home," whispered Stephen, not saying whether he meant Earth or the TARDIS. "Please, let's get out of here, as fast as possible."
"He Hasn't Figured It Out," remarked the Wørd.
"What's to figure out?" stuttered Stephen without looking up. "I hate it here! If you're one of the natives, I don't see how you can stand it! No one should have to live in a place like this!"
"Stephen," said the Doctor cautiously, "it's your mind."
Rating: PG
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3/Torchwood S2 is fair game.
Summary: Stephen gets some unexpected support, and not a moment too soon: he's the only one who can save Four and Sarah Jane, if he can pull himself together in time.
Contains more Red Dwarf allusions. Also, (David) Ten(nant) is a pretty, pretty person. Just sayin'.
Beta by the singular
stellar_dust. Table of contents, and footnotes, here.I'm Your Moon
Part Eight
The Vortex.
Stephen didn't know how long they sat in silence.
At some point Jack's arm went around his shoulders. He snuggled closer in response. No words were spoken.
And it didn't go horribly wrong.
At last he ventured, "Jack? Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"You said I'm not your type."
"That's right."
"Well . . . is 'your type' by any chance tall and skinny? With big ears . . . sideburns . . . kind of crazy brown hair? Maybe a tendency to lick things?"
Jack mussed his hair, perhaps a little more roughly than was strictly necessary. "Now, what makes you ask that?"
Before Stephen could answer, there was a knock on the door.
"Hope everything's all right in there, Stephen!" came the Doctor's voice from the far side. "When you're ready, come on up. I've got something to show you."
This was followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Stephen looked anxiously up at Jack; the older man gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry. You'll be okay. I've got your back."
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
Only now, when the danger had passed, did Stephen let himself break down.
For several minutes he sobbed unrestrained against Jack's Alpha-Squad-uniformed chest, fears and anxieties and regrets all pouring out in a single frantic stream. And Jack held him, not caring that he was wet and sandy and salty and hardly fit to be touched, until at last the tears began to slow.
"I think," he choked out, when he was spent enough to be coherent again, "I think they left me. Th' Doctor an' Sarah Jane. I, I, I've been such a nuisance—I keep having to be rescued—maybe they've said, enough's enough, this time we're not gonna hunt him down . . ."
Sarah Jane stumbled, nearly falling, as something in the blackness growled at her.
"Does that mean some part of Stephen hates me?" she wondered out loud, clutching the Doctor's scarf to keep them in contact. There was a bit of light from the manifested Wørd flying high above them, but the sky was still dark and the trees didn't help. "Or is this bit of him just hostile to everyone?"
"I rather think most of him is hostile to everyone," said the Doctor astutely.
"Then why are we working so hard to rescue him?" huffed Sarah Jane. (She was joking. Mostly.)
"Because," replied the Doctor, with perfect seriousness, "underneath all that neurotic mess is someone nice trying to get out."
"Do you think the Doctor would do that?" asked Jack.
Stephen sniffled. "I g-guess not."
"Of course not. Your friends are doing their best to find you. But they're in danger too. And they need your help."
"What am I s'posed to do? If the Doctor can't handle it, what good am I?"
"Don't be silly," said Jack tenderly. "If the Doctor could fix everything by himself, why would he travel with human companions in the first place?"
"I guess that makes sense."
"That's right. You're the only one who can help them right now. So you need to be strong, for their sakes. Can you do that?"
Stephen pulled off his glasses and rubbed at them, trying not to think how his frazzled and gritty sleeve must be scratching the lenses. He wiped off his face, dabbed briefly at his eyes, and replaced the frames.
"Of course I can be strong," he said, his voice hardly shaking at all. "I'm Stephen Colbert."
"That's my Stephen," said Jack proudly. "You can handle this one on your own."
With that, he vanished.
"Jack!" Stephen launched himself forward, grabbing at the empty air. It was no use: one second the man had been there, and the next there was not a trace of him left.
Well, that wasn't quite true. The light was still there.
"How long have we been walking?" asked Sarah Jane. It felt like days.
"About an hour," replied the Doctor promptly.
Of course. "We can't possibly be planning to explore this entire moon on foot, can we?"
"I rather hope it won't come to that."
"That's not very reassur—"
"Hush, Sarah!"
Sarah Jane hushed.
"You see that?"
His arm was a blurry shadow against other blurry shadows, but Sarah Jane did her best to follow where he was pointing. "Is that—Doctor! Could that be a light?"
"I do believe it could," whispered the Doctor in reply. "Perhaps whatever's following us is only making for the light."
"'Following us'?"
"Of course! Haven't you noticed that hissing?"
She had; but the sound had been going on for so long that it had blended into the background hum of the forest, until now. "You just had to remind me, didn't you."
"Well, I assume it isn't hostile. It hasn't attacked us yet, has it? And don't you roll your eyes at me."
"You can't possibly see that I'm rolling my eyes."
"Doctor! Sarah Jane!" shouted the Wørd from above them. "Don't Move!"
"What is it?" called the Doctor, tilting his head upwards.
"Hold Perfectly Still," reiterated the papilløn, descending rapidly now. "Not Another Step!"
"All right, all right!" exclaimed the Time Lord, still looking at the Wørd as she crash-landed beside them. "What's the hurry?"
"Doctor!" shrieked Sarah Jane, grabbing his arm.
Now that the shining Wørd was on the ground, they could see the landscape clearly. Most of the trees around them were exactly what they appeared to be.
But not a meter to their left, where they might easily have stumbled to avoid a tree directly in their path, was a set of gleaming ivory teeth, each as high as Sarah Jane herself.
"Kill," hissed the dragon.
Stephen heard the hissing long before he heard the shriek.
He might have missed it if he hadn't known what to listen for, but the sound was very familiar. It was something he had heard on and off for years, maybe all his life, though he didn't have any clear memories of it from before one of the trips he had taken with the Doctor in his younger days (something to do with a restaurant, and beyond that he didn't think about it).
There was no pattern to it, except for the fact that it got stronger and clearer, sometimes turning into an actual voice, whenever he was around a gun.
Not until the shriek, though, did he realize that this time he was hearing the hissing voice in his good ear. In his shock he needed another moment to realize that the other voice was Sarah Jane's.
Clutching the lantern, he ran.
"What is it?" cried Sarah Jane.
"Your guess is as good as mine!" replied the Doctor unhelpfully.
"Kill," repeated the creature, huge and lizardlike and wicked-looking, scales shining like black metal. "There is no purpose in this world. Tear it all to pieces. Burn it all down."
"Keep Away From Them!" ordered the Wørd.
Her light flickered over dirt and dried leaves and patches of dark shining scales. The dragon wasn't just in front of them; it was under them, around them, part of the very landscape.
"By what authority do you think I should obey you?" it hissed. "Orders are meaningless. Life is pointless. Let it be gone. Starting with you . . . ."
"No!" shouted an unexpected voice.
A light was bouncing towards them—and it was Stephen, clutching some kind of lamp as he ran for all he was worth. He thudded to a stop between them and the beast, panting heavily, shaking his head emphatically at the creature.
"No, Sweetness!" he ordered, when he had got enough breath back to speak at all. "These people are our friends!"
Stephen had never stopped to imagine what Sweetness would look like, but there was no doubt in his mind that this dragon was she.
Her hiss became a frustrated growl as he stood before her, the lantern glinting off of her massive teeth. "Doesn't matter," she insisted, voice echoing in his deaf ear as well as his good one. "Nothing matters."
"They matter. They matter to me."
The ground shook and the trees twisted, branches cracking, as Sweetness flexed her bulk beneath them. "They'll die some day," she protested. "Why not now? It could be now. Let me make it happen . . ."
"No," repeated Stephen emphatically, though his hands shook and the light flickered. "Not now. Not here. You've got to leave them alone, Sweetness. You've got to go."
The next hiss was weaker, angry but wordless.
"Go!" shouted Stephen.
With a great rumbling, the dragon's massive head sank into the dirt.
Not until the hissing had completely faded did Stephen turn around. "Hi," he said shakily. "Are you guys okay?"
"We're all right, yeah," the Doctor replied. "That was quite an impressive piece of work. How are you holding up?"
"'M fine," insisted Stephen, staggering and dropping the lantern. It crashed to the ground, sputtered, and died.
Shaking out of her shock, Sarah Jane jumped forward to catch the man. "You're soaked through!" she exclaimed as he fell against her. "Doctor! Your coat, quick!"
The Doctor had barely started to unwind his absurdly long scarf when the Wørd lifted it from his shoulders in one go. Between the three of them they soon had Stephen wrapped in the coat, scarf draped several times around his shaking frame.
"I want to go home," whispered Stephen, not saying whether he meant Earth or the TARDIS. "Please, let's get out of here, as fast as possible."
"He Hasn't Figured It Out," remarked the Wørd.
"What's to figure out?" stuttered Stephen without looking up. "I hate it here! If you're one of the natives, I don't see how you can stand it! No one should have to live in a place like this!"
"Stephen," said the Doctor cautiously, "it's your mind."
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Thanks!
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OHHH, BURN
Not gonna lie, just a little upset that Jack was a figment of Stephen's warped imagination. But he was there! It's all so bittersweet, the Jack/Ten thing, and how wee!Stephen completely sees through Jack.
Jack is action hero man! To the imaginary rescue!
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Poor Jack is caught in the twin tides of Everybody Loves The Doctor and The Doctor Loves All His Companions, But Not Like That.
Thanks!
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For several minutes he sobbed unrestrained against Jack's Alpha-Squad-uniformed chest, fears and anxieties and regrets all pouring out in a single frantic stream. And Jack held him, not caring that he was wet and sandy and salty and hardly fit to be touched, until at last the tears began to slow.
That sound? Only my heart breaking. Oh, Stephen. How is it you always make me want to give you a hug?
"What's to figure out?" stuttered Stephen without looking up. "I hate it here! If you're one of the natives, I don't see how you can stand it! No one should have to live in a place like this!"
Oh, ow. That just hurt. You are very mean!
(Much love, despite the meanness. Or because of? We shall never know!)
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Or because of? We shall never know!
...I know; I'm just not telling =P
Thanks!
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I noticed this while watching SWC, actually - it's very rare we see Stephen let himself cry. It's always a massive fight. (There's an exception during the episode where Geoffrey gets his face ripped off, which was what made me notice it.) So it was nice to see that :) And hugs, even if they're imaginary hugs, are always awesome.
But dragon!Sweetness! *flails* SO cool. I thought it was weird he always held the gun to his deaf ear. This makes so much scary sense. (On the show, she reminds me of Mr. Flibble. "We couldn't possibly do that. Who'd clear up the mess?" - On the subject of which, "It's your mind." Oh
RimmerStephen.)But he stood up to dragon!Sweetness! There's hope!
- I just spotted "these people are our friends". That's it, you win at references forever.
*stops writing because this comment is getting more and more incoherent*
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On the show, she reminds me of Mr. Flibble.
YES. Someday I will do the whole point-by-point comparison of Why Stephen Is Totally Rimmer With A Higher CHA Score, from Sweetness = Mr. Flibble to "You've obviously had hundreds of girlfriends" = "What a guy!"
Coherence or no, thanks!
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Ooh, can't wait to see how that plays out! Though, really, why does Stephen think Sweetness suddenly showed up (in dragon form, no less)?
(Your explanation of Sweetness, by the way, is Very Cool).
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(Thanks! This one's been percolating a while.)
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(Anonymous) 2008-10-24 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)SCARF. <-----
Kagaya
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...Scarf? (I like scarves.)
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...like I can talk.