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ptahrrificTitle: George's World (3/5)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Scares, swearing, suggestions of sex
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: New Who S3, TW S1
Young!Stephen reassures George. The Doctor makes a couple of severely wrong moves with adult!Stephen. The timey-wimeyness gets weirder yet, and the narrative takes a level in angst. Jack, still being dead, misses all the fun.
Table of contents here.
George's World - Part 3
The Doctor had a sneaking suspicion he had seen this before.
'This' referring to the temporal fraying going on around here, of course. He knew full well that he had seen these reflections before. Wasn't fair, really. The best thing about his last regeneration had been that he would never have to see those ears again, and now he was getting them in stereo.
And where had Stephen and Jack got to?
His Stephen, that is, not the twitchy adult walking beside him. Not that the Doctor blamed alternate-Stephen (this had to be some alternate universe, because there was no way his own Stephen would forget him. And that wasn't even ego! Just good old empirical evidence!). Anyone would be falling apart under the circumstances.
The Doctor was just on the verge of thinking up something really reassuring to say when Stephen let out a yelp.
Following his gaze, the Doctor spotted an all-too-familiar rear end and set of legs protruding from one of the mirrored walls.
"Don't worry, it's just Jack," he told Stephen quickly. "And isn't that just like him? Gets himself chopped in half by a chrono-pulse-induced low-level phase shift, and he still manages to flash us all doing it."
"And you figured all that out without even licking it."
"Didn't need to, did I? Worked it all out. Told you I was clever. Besides, he doesn't have a reflection. Or what's left of him doesn't, anyway. His front end's got lost, I'm afraid."
"Doctor." Stephen's voice was raspy. "That. That thing. Is that what's happened to George?"
"No," said the Doctor. "'Course not."
Stephen fixed him with an intent look, as if trying to stare the truth out of him. Well, that had been the truth. Mostly.
Then the man's gaze hopped over the Doctor's shoulder, and he made an incoherent noise of urgency. "George!"
⇔ ⋅ ⇔ ⋅ ⇔ ⋅ ⇔
Even after Jack lost consciousness, Stephen continued to cradle the man's head in his lap. Wasn't much else to do. Besides, if Jack revived while the split in his body was still around to kill him again, Stephen wanted him to be comfortable.
When he heard a sniffle, he thought at first that it was his own. It wouldn't have been the first time.
But there was something strangely off about the sound, so Stephen held his breath and listened. There it was again. He turned Jack's head over, just to check. Still dead.
"Is someone else in here?" he called.
The reply had a weird echo, but it didn't sound far off. "H-hello?"
Maybe it was just the acoustics, but it sounded like a kid. A young one.
"Are you stuck here too?" asked Stephen.
"Uh-huh!" came the reply.
Definitely a little boy. Stephen took a deep breath. "You don't have to be afraid," he called.
"I'm not afraid!"
"Of course you are! A little kid, lost in a creepy place like this? You'd have to be frightened. Lucky for you I'm here. You wouldn't want to be lost and alone."
⇔ ⋅ ⇔ ⋅ ⇔ ⋅ ⇔
Before the shout was all the way out of his mouth Stephen was off like a shot: skidding to the end of a hall, looking frantically around, pushing off of a mirror to dash down the next corridor.
Seconds later, there was a crunch of flesh on metal.
When the Doctor had got him in view again, Stephen was pounding frantically on one of the mirrors. His own figure wasn't facing him. Instead, as if viewed through a glass window, a little boy with brown skin and dark hair stood in the middle of the reversed floor. His T-shirt said neveS dauqS ahplA ,nesnaJ keT.
The boy didn't look up as Stephen screamed his name.
Nor did he so much as twitch as the Doctor ran forward and pried his father away from the mirror. "Stephen, stop! It's just a reflection. He can't hear you. He's not there!"
"Let go of me!" shouted Stephen, kicking and clawing against the Time Lord's grip. "George! GEORGE!"
There was no time to weigh his options. The Doctor wrested one arm around until he could press his fingertips to Stephen's temple, reaching out towards his mind. Calm, he urged. Stephen, you've got to be calm.
He could sense the blowback from Stephen's scattered thoughts, like standing by a highway with your eyes closed and feeling the wind rush by. As the physical struggle began to ease, they slowed too, until they coalesced into something conscious and verbal: What are you—?
Then: No. NO. Don't touch me there. DON'T TOUCH ME!
Hot pain ripped through his hand, both inside the bond and out. He barely noticed when Stephen ripped away from his physical hold; the jolt as he fell back against the wall was nothing compared to the psychic agony. The Doctor had never felt a mental defense so uncannily like a gunshot.
Stephen ended up pressed against the mirror opposite him, looking more terrified than ever.
"What are you?" he whispered.
"I'm—a traveler," panted the Doctor, knowing it was completely inadequate, still reflexively clutching his hand. "And...and a friend. Of yours, in a way. You're still a geek in this world, right? If I say 'alternate universe', will you know what that means?"
"Don't patronize me, sir," hissed Stephen.
"That hasn't changed, I see. Fantastic. Well, I'm from one. Got a lovely ship, but it has a tendency to go hopping dimensions when I'm not expecting it. And there's a version of you in my universe, who's joined me a couple of times. You're traveling with me right now, me and Jack. And you trust me, Stephen. I swear."
Stephen pulled himself slowly to his feet, hands braced against the glass behind him, eyes locked on the Doctor all the while.
"Well," amended the Doctor. "He's not you you, exactly. You'll understand when you see...."
"He's a kid," Stephen breathed.
He wasn't staring at the Doctor. He was staring at something in the mirror. Sure enough, when the Doctor turned around, there in the glass behind him was an afterimage of the teenager who had pleaded his way onto the TARDIS. It couldn't be just a past-reflection of this universe's Stephen, either: printed across his front was trihS-T diputS sihT saW toG I llA dnA edemynaG oT tneW I.
The Doctor couldn't help himself: he grinned. "That's our Stephen, all right," he said proudly, turning back. "Did I mention my ship travels in time?" he began, then stopped.
The eyes of this universe's Stephen had gone cold as steel.
"What," he outright snarled, "do two grown men get out of hanging around with a teenage boy?"
The Doctor felt like tearing his hair out.
It wasn't as if people of all species hadn't made the same assumption about him and Jack. Or him and Martha. Or him and Rose. Or, well, just about every single attractive young thing (and, in Jack's case, attractive old thing) he had ever spent more than five minutes with.
And it wasn't as if nobody had ever gotten hostile because of it. (The large ears now showing up in so many reflections had never quite stopped ringing from Jackie Tyler's slaps.)
But being accosted by an adult version of the companion he was meant to be getting it on with? That was definitely a new one.
"It's not like that," he protested, even as he could see the words were falling on deaf ears. (As opposed to the usual state of affairs, deaf ear.) "It's nothing like that. Stephen, you have to understand—"
"I understand plenty." Stephen had begun to edge along the wall. "I'll find George on my own. You, stay away from me. Stay out of my head. And don't you even think about touching my son."
He kept the Doctor in his sights until he turned a corner, then broke into a run, footsteps pounding off into the distance.
⇔ ⋅ ⇔ ⋅ ⇔ ⋅ ⇔
As soon as it became clear nobody was following him, Stephen slowed to a walk.
He couldn't have run much longer anyway. It felt like he had been run over by a train.
"Shake it off, Col-bert," he muttered. It was an old habit, and he corrected himself almost immediately: "Be with it, Colbert."
He had shaken too many things off over the years. Right now, he had to stay together, even though that meant he couldn't escape the hurt and the terror and the oh-god-don't-touch-me revulsion. George needed him together.
(He knew, instinctively, that if he lost George he would shatter, and never be in one piece again.)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Scares, swearing, suggestions of sex
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: New Who S3, TW S1
Young!Stephen reassures George. The Doctor makes a couple of severely wrong moves with adult!Stephen. The timey-wimeyness gets weirder yet, and the narrative takes a level in angst. Jack, still being dead, misses all the fun.
Table of contents here.
George's World - Part 3
The Doctor had a sneaking suspicion he had seen this before.
'This' referring to the temporal fraying going on around here, of course. He knew full well that he had seen these reflections before. Wasn't fair, really. The best thing about his last regeneration had been that he would never have to see those ears again, and now he was getting them in stereo.
And where had Stephen and Jack got to?
His Stephen, that is, not the twitchy adult walking beside him. Not that the Doctor blamed alternate-Stephen (this had to be some alternate universe, because there was no way his own Stephen would forget him. And that wasn't even ego! Just good old empirical evidence!). Anyone would be falling apart under the circumstances.
The Doctor was just on the verge of thinking up something really reassuring to say when Stephen let out a yelp.
Following his gaze, the Doctor spotted an all-too-familiar rear end and set of legs protruding from one of the mirrored walls.
"Don't worry, it's just Jack," he told Stephen quickly. "And isn't that just like him? Gets himself chopped in half by a chrono-pulse-induced low-level phase shift, and he still manages to flash us all doing it."
"And you figured all that out without even licking it."
"Didn't need to, did I? Worked it all out. Told you I was clever. Besides, he doesn't have a reflection. Or what's left of him doesn't, anyway. His front end's got lost, I'm afraid."
"Doctor." Stephen's voice was raspy. "That. That thing. Is that what's happened to George?"
"No," said the Doctor. "'Course not."
Stephen fixed him with an intent look, as if trying to stare the truth out of him. Well, that had been the truth. Mostly.
Then the man's gaze hopped over the Doctor's shoulder, and he made an incoherent noise of urgency. "George!"
Even after Jack lost consciousness, Stephen continued to cradle the man's head in his lap. Wasn't much else to do. Besides, if Jack revived while the split in his body was still around to kill him again, Stephen wanted him to be comfortable.
When he heard a sniffle, he thought at first that it was his own. It wouldn't have been the first time.
But there was something strangely off about the sound, so Stephen held his breath and listened. There it was again. He turned Jack's head over, just to check. Still dead.
"Is someone else in here?" he called.
The reply had a weird echo, but it didn't sound far off. "H-hello?"
Maybe it was just the acoustics, but it sounded like a kid. A young one.
"Are you stuck here too?" asked Stephen.
"Uh-huh!" came the reply.
Definitely a little boy. Stephen took a deep breath. "You don't have to be afraid," he called.
"I'm not afraid!"
"Of course you are! A little kid, lost in a creepy place like this? You'd have to be frightened. Lucky for you I'm here. You wouldn't want to be lost and alone."
Before the shout was all the way out of his mouth Stephen was off like a shot: skidding to the end of a hall, looking frantically around, pushing off of a mirror to dash down the next corridor.
Seconds later, there was a crunch of flesh on metal.
When the Doctor had got him in view again, Stephen was pounding frantically on one of the mirrors. His own figure wasn't facing him. Instead, as if viewed through a glass window, a little boy with brown skin and dark hair stood in the middle of the reversed floor. His T-shirt said neveS dauqS ahplA ,nesnaJ keT.
The boy didn't look up as Stephen screamed his name.
Nor did he so much as twitch as the Doctor ran forward and pried his father away from the mirror. "Stephen, stop! It's just a reflection. He can't hear you. He's not there!"
"Let go of me!" shouted Stephen, kicking and clawing against the Time Lord's grip. "George! GEORGE!"
There was no time to weigh his options. The Doctor wrested one arm around until he could press his fingertips to Stephen's temple, reaching out towards his mind. Calm, he urged. Stephen, you've got to be calm.
He could sense the blowback from Stephen's scattered thoughts, like standing by a highway with your eyes closed and feeling the wind rush by. As the physical struggle began to ease, they slowed too, until they coalesced into something conscious and verbal: What are you—?
Then: No. NO. Don't touch me there. DON'T TOUCH ME!
Hot pain ripped through his hand, both inside the bond and out. He barely noticed when Stephen ripped away from his physical hold; the jolt as he fell back against the wall was nothing compared to the psychic agony. The Doctor had never felt a mental defense so uncannily like a gunshot.
Stephen ended up pressed against the mirror opposite him, looking more terrified than ever.
"What are you?" he whispered.
"I'm—a traveler," panted the Doctor, knowing it was completely inadequate, still reflexively clutching his hand. "And...and a friend. Of yours, in a way. You're still a geek in this world, right? If I say 'alternate universe', will you know what that means?"
"Don't patronize me, sir," hissed Stephen.
"That hasn't changed, I see. Fantastic. Well, I'm from one. Got a lovely ship, but it has a tendency to go hopping dimensions when I'm not expecting it. And there's a version of you in my universe, who's joined me a couple of times. You're traveling with me right now, me and Jack. And you trust me, Stephen. I swear."
Stephen pulled himself slowly to his feet, hands braced against the glass behind him, eyes locked on the Doctor all the while.
"Well," amended the Doctor. "He's not you you, exactly. You'll understand when you see...."
"He's a kid," Stephen breathed.
He wasn't staring at the Doctor. He was staring at something in the mirror. Sure enough, when the Doctor turned around, there in the glass behind him was an afterimage of the teenager who had pleaded his way onto the TARDIS. It couldn't be just a past-reflection of this universe's Stephen, either: printed across his front was trihS-T diputS sihT saW toG I llA dnA edemynaG oT tneW I.
The Doctor couldn't help himself: he grinned. "That's our Stephen, all right," he said proudly, turning back. "Did I mention my ship travels in time?" he began, then stopped.
The eyes of this universe's Stephen had gone cold as steel.
"What," he outright snarled, "do two grown men get out of hanging around with a teenage boy?"
The Doctor felt like tearing his hair out.
It wasn't as if people of all species hadn't made the same assumption about him and Jack. Or him and Martha. Or him and Rose. Or, well, just about every single attractive young thing (and, in Jack's case, attractive old thing) he had ever spent more than five minutes with.
And it wasn't as if nobody had ever gotten hostile because of it. (The large ears now showing up in so many reflections had never quite stopped ringing from Jackie Tyler's slaps.)
But being accosted by an adult version of the companion he was meant to be getting it on with? That was definitely a new one.
"It's not like that," he protested, even as he could see the words were falling on deaf ears. (As opposed to the usual state of affairs, deaf ear.) "It's nothing like that. Stephen, you have to understand—"
"I understand plenty." Stephen had begun to edge along the wall. "I'll find George on my own. You, stay away from me. Stay out of my head. And don't you even think about touching my son."
He kept the Doctor in his sights until he turned a corner, then broke into a run, footsteps pounding off into the distance.
As soon as it became clear nobody was following him, Stephen slowed to a walk.
He couldn't have run much longer anyway. It felt like he had been run over by a train.
"Shake it off, Col-bert," he muttered. It was an old habit, and he corrected himself almost immediately: "Be with it, Colbert."
He had shaken too many things off over the years. Right now, he had to stay together, even though that meant he couldn't escape the hurt and the terror and the oh-god-don't-touch-me revulsion. George needed him together.
(He knew, instinctively, that if he lost George he would shatter, and never be in one piece again.)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-11 05:26 am (UTC)The Doctor's just trying to help, Stephen!
Poor Stephen. And poor George. IT WILL ALL BE OKAY. *pets*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-11 07:13 am (UTC)More astutely handled helping is on the way, never fear.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-11 09:35 am (UTC)I'm glad George and young!Stephen have found each other, though. (And Ten whining about Nine's ears is hilarious. Hey, at least yours work!)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-11 11:18 pm (UTC)As they say, though, hope is on the way!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-12 01:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-12 06:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-12 05:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-12 06:57 am (UTC)Sounds about right XD