happydalek (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
happydalek) wrote2006-12-11 12:22 am
happydalek) wrote2006-12-11 12:22 am
Fic Update: Fission (6/?)
Title: Fission (6/?)
Author: happydalek
Summary: The Fifth Doctor dies a gruesome death. But no worries, he can regenerate! The problem? Now there are two of him! And that's just the start of his problems in this utterly strange, utterly CRACK!fic.
Characters: Five, Nyssa, Tegan, Ainley Master
Rating: PG-13 (or T, for Teen)
Beta: None, but there is a Theta. Theta Sigma, in fact...
A/N: The irregular updates continue!
Author: happydalek
Summary: The Fifth Doctor dies a gruesome death. But no worries, he can regenerate! The problem? Now there are two of him! And that's just the start of his problems in this utterly strange, utterly CRACK!fic.
Characters: Five, Nyssa, Tegan, Ainley Master
Rating: PG-13 (or T, for Teen)
Beta: None, but there is a Theta. Theta Sigma, in fact...
A/N: The irregular updates continue!
* * * * * *
Nyssa couldn't believe what had just happened. She stared at the Doctor's face, so relaxed and innocent as he slumbered next to her, and felt a wave of guilt chase away her languid comfort. How long had it been since she'd brought the Doctor back to the TARDIS? How much time had she frittered away, satisfying her own selfish needs when Tegan was alone somewhere in the hostile base? And what would the Doctor think of all this, once he was back in his right mind?
At least, Nyssa thought sardonically, she could be quite positive that he was physically fine. Although she was a bit surprised at how quickly he'd fallen asleep afterwards, like a young child who had exhausted himself at play and needed a nap. Nyssa couldn't recall the last time she'd seen the Doctor sleep, and lying as he was, his mouth open slightly, his floppy blond hair mussed against the pillow and his soft features unmarred by worry or consternation, there was something very childlike about him. Even his skin tone and colour seemed younger and fresher somehow. Still, she was glad he was asleep. She felt awkward enough about things as they were.
Nyssa carefully rolled away from the Doctor and sat up, careful not to disturb him, and quickly found a clean set of clothes. Her originals were a crumpled mess on the floor. Nyssa bent to retrieve them, and had to shake out the Doctor's striped trousers, which had somehow become tangled in with her clothes. She then noticed that the Doctor's question-marked braces appeared to have been cut off. Nyssa paused to examine them a little more closely. Strangely, the straps were sliced both in front and in back. What kind of trouble had he got himself into, anyway?
"Hello, again," the Doctor said.
Nyssa startled badly and dropped his trousers. "You're awake!"
The Doctor smiled brightly, stretched, and sat up, yawning for effect. "So that's what sleep feels like! Yes, I suppose I was. You've put your clothes back on, Nyssa."
Nyssa picked up his trousers again and folded them, doing her best to ignore his innocent display of muscle flexing. She meant business this time. "Yes, and now I'm going back to the console room. If the guards have gone, we can start looking for Tegan."
"That won't be as fun, will it?" the Doctor asked, practically pouting.
Nyssa could feel herself beginning to blush, and didn't look at him. "There are more important things than fun, Doctor." She placed his folded trousers on the edge of her bed and started to leave.
The Doctor pulled back the sheet and got up. "I'll come with you, though. You can make anything more fun just by being there, I would think."
Nyssa turned away, blushing in earnest. "Put your trousers on, first!"
"Must I? It feels rather nice not wearing anything. Though not nearly as nice as it felt when we—"
"Please, Doctor! Do it for me?" Nyssa cut him off quickly, her cheeks positively burning with embarrassment.
"Alright."
Nyssa had the viewer on and was feeling her stomach turn to stone as the Doctor strolled into the console room, tugging on the waist of his trousers. He hadn't bothered to put his socks or shoes back on. "The guards are still there," he observed.
"They most certainly are," Nyssa agreed, watching them assemble a sizeable device of some kind in the corridor. One of the guards lifted a large, cylindrical component out of a box. It looked suspiciously reminiscent of a large, nasty gun barrel.
"What are they doing?" the Doctor asked, walking up to the viewer and watching with unblinking fascination. He lifted a hand to touch the screen, following the movement of the component from the box to the assembled device.
"I think they're building a gun of some kind."
"Gun?" He turned to blink inquisitively at Nyssa.
"A machine used to kill people and damage things. They must be intending to blast open the TARDIS with it."
"Can they do that?" the Doctor asked, looking around the console room in alarm.
Nyssa hoped not, but it was the Doctor's sincere ignorance that frightened her more. "The TARDIS is quite durable, Doctor." But not indestructible, she knew.
She turned to look at the TARDIS controls. How many times had she watched him fly it from these very panels? How often had she assisted the Doctor in repairing faulty circuits and running diagnostics? Surely it couldn't be that difficult to suss out the particulars of flying the time machine?
She looked back at the screen. The guards had finished their weapon assembly and appeared to be putting the finishing touches on some wiring. Her heart began to pound.
"All the same," she added turning back to the console, "We'd be better off moving the TARDIS away from here."
The Doctor walked around her to stare at the controls, too. "It moves? How?"
His astounded tone did not inspire confidence. Nyssa looked up at him, searching his eyes. "You should know, Doctor. Think." He stared back at her blankly.
Nyssa took his arm and guided him around the console. "These are the vector controls, remember? The geospatial hyper-link is here, and this is the interstitial temporal phase locator. This one is the chronowave generator, and, I believe that blue line of buttons over there is the artron flow valve. You must recognise some of them. Get us out of here."
Nyssa let go of his arm and watched the Doctor circle the panels slowly, eyeing the arrangements of buttons and levers with a look of deep concentration on his face. Nyssa was getting more than a little anxious, but was afraid to push him. It was a long shot, but Nyssa knew that though his declarative memory was damaged, it was possible that his procedural memory might still be intact and allow him to operate the controls correctly, even though he couldn't explicitly remember what they were or recall having ever done it.
He paused and looked at Nyssa confusedly. "I don't know."
"Just do what feels right," she directed, recognizing the risk she was taking. "Look at the controls, and follow your instinct, Doctor."
He went back to studying the controls. When he'd arrived at the far side of the console, he stopped, reached out, and flicked the big, red, door mechanism with one finger. The TARDIS doors obediently swung open.
"Doctor! No!" Nyssa dashed over to put it back, as a guard rushed into the console room, followed by another. Both guards skidded to a stop and stared around the spacious console room.
Nyssa took advantage of their momentary stupor to reach for the door lever, but her movement appeared to snap the first guard back to the present.
He swiftly pulled his gun on Nyssa. "Step away from the controls, and don't move!" he ordered gruffly. "Sergeant!" he snapped.
The second guard jumped, and aimed his blaster at the Doctor, who smiled in fascination at the energy weapon in his face.
"Hands where I can see them," the first guard ordered her.
Dismayed, Nyssa obeyed, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.
"You too, Smiley," the second guard said to the Doctor.
The Doctor followed Nyssa's lead and lifted his hands, cocking his head quizzically. "Smiley? I thought my name was 'Doctor'?"
At least, Nyssa thought sardonically, she could be quite positive that he was physically fine. Although she was a bit surprised at how quickly he'd fallen asleep afterwards, like a young child who had exhausted himself at play and needed a nap. Nyssa couldn't recall the last time she'd seen the Doctor sleep, and lying as he was, his mouth open slightly, his floppy blond hair mussed against the pillow and his soft features unmarred by worry or consternation, there was something very childlike about him. Even his skin tone and colour seemed younger and fresher somehow. Still, she was glad he was asleep. She felt awkward enough about things as they were.
Nyssa carefully rolled away from the Doctor and sat up, careful not to disturb him, and quickly found a clean set of clothes. Her originals were a crumpled mess on the floor. Nyssa bent to retrieve them, and had to shake out the Doctor's striped trousers, which had somehow become tangled in with her clothes. She then noticed that the Doctor's question-marked braces appeared to have been cut off. Nyssa paused to examine them a little more closely. Strangely, the straps were sliced both in front and in back. What kind of trouble had he got himself into, anyway?
"Hello, again," the Doctor said.
Nyssa startled badly and dropped his trousers. "You're awake!"
The Doctor smiled brightly, stretched, and sat up, yawning for effect. "So that's what sleep feels like! Yes, I suppose I was. You've put your clothes back on, Nyssa."
Nyssa picked up his trousers again and folded them, doing her best to ignore his innocent display of muscle flexing. She meant business this time. "Yes, and now I'm going back to the console room. If the guards have gone, we can start looking for Tegan."
"That won't be as fun, will it?" the Doctor asked, practically pouting.
Nyssa could feel herself beginning to blush, and didn't look at him. "There are more important things than fun, Doctor." She placed his folded trousers on the edge of her bed and started to leave.
The Doctor pulled back the sheet and got up. "I'll come with you, though. You can make anything more fun just by being there, I would think."
Nyssa turned away, blushing in earnest. "Put your trousers on, first!"
"Must I? It feels rather nice not wearing anything. Though not nearly as nice as it felt when we—"
"Please, Doctor! Do it for me?" Nyssa cut him off quickly, her cheeks positively burning with embarrassment.
"Alright."
Nyssa had the viewer on and was feeling her stomach turn to stone as the Doctor strolled into the console room, tugging on the waist of his trousers. He hadn't bothered to put his socks or shoes back on. "The guards are still there," he observed.
"They most certainly are," Nyssa agreed, watching them assemble a sizeable device of some kind in the corridor. One of the guards lifted a large, cylindrical component out of a box. It looked suspiciously reminiscent of a large, nasty gun barrel.
"What are they doing?" the Doctor asked, walking up to the viewer and watching with unblinking fascination. He lifted a hand to touch the screen, following the movement of the component from the box to the assembled device.
"I think they're building a gun of some kind."
"Gun?" He turned to blink inquisitively at Nyssa.
"A machine used to kill people and damage things. They must be intending to blast open the TARDIS with it."
"Can they do that?" the Doctor asked, looking around the console room in alarm.
Nyssa hoped not, but it was the Doctor's sincere ignorance that frightened her more. "The TARDIS is quite durable, Doctor." But not indestructible, she knew.
She turned to look at the TARDIS controls. How many times had she watched him fly it from these very panels? How often had she assisted the Doctor in repairing faulty circuits and running diagnostics? Surely it couldn't be that difficult to suss out the particulars of flying the time machine?
She looked back at the screen. The guards had finished their weapon assembly and appeared to be putting the finishing touches on some wiring. Her heart began to pound.
"All the same," she added turning back to the console, "We'd be better off moving the TARDIS away from here."
The Doctor walked around her to stare at the controls, too. "It moves? How?"
His astounded tone did not inspire confidence. Nyssa looked up at him, searching his eyes. "You should know, Doctor. Think." He stared back at her blankly.
Nyssa took his arm and guided him around the console. "These are the vector controls, remember? The geospatial hyper-link is here, and this is the interstitial temporal phase locator. This one is the chronowave generator, and, I believe that blue line of buttons over there is the artron flow valve. You must recognise some of them. Get us out of here."
Nyssa let go of his arm and watched the Doctor circle the panels slowly, eyeing the arrangements of buttons and levers with a look of deep concentration on his face. Nyssa was getting more than a little anxious, but was afraid to push him. It was a long shot, but Nyssa knew that though his declarative memory was damaged, it was possible that his procedural memory might still be intact and allow him to operate the controls correctly, even though he couldn't explicitly remember what they were or recall having ever done it.
He paused and looked at Nyssa confusedly. "I don't know."
"Just do what feels right," she directed, recognizing the risk she was taking. "Look at the controls, and follow your instinct, Doctor."
He went back to studying the controls. When he'd arrived at the far side of the console, he stopped, reached out, and flicked the big, red, door mechanism with one finger. The TARDIS doors obediently swung open.
"Doctor! No!" Nyssa dashed over to put it back, as a guard rushed into the console room, followed by another. Both guards skidded to a stop and stared around the spacious console room.
Nyssa took advantage of their momentary stupor to reach for the door lever, but her movement appeared to snap the first guard back to the present.
He swiftly pulled his gun on Nyssa. "Step away from the controls, and don't move!" he ordered gruffly. "Sergeant!" he snapped.
The second guard jumped, and aimed his blaster at the Doctor, who smiled in fascination at the energy weapon in his face.
"Hands where I can see them," the first guard ordered her.
Dismayed, Nyssa obeyed, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.
"You too, Smiley," the second guard said to the Doctor.
The Doctor followed Nyssa's lead and lifted his hands, cocking his head quizzically. "Smiley? I thought my name was 'Doctor'?"
o0o
Tegan tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?"
"I'm thinking."
Tegan felt as though she'd been wandering this base for hours, hauling the Doctor like a living rucksack, and not getting anywhere. She almost suspected that the Doctor was navigating randomly, and she really didn't like being a packhorse. "I thought you said you knew the way back to the TARDIS?"
"Yes," the Doctor mumbled thoughtfully, obviously ignoring her. "Left here."
She balked. "Are you sure?"
"Tegan..."
"Just checking." She turned down another unfamiliar corridor and walked to the next intersection. She stopped and waited for new instructions, sighing. The Doctor was conspicuously quiet. "You don't know, do you?" she accused sharply.
"One moment! Surprisingly, I'm having some difficulty concentrating. I'm sure it's nothing to do with your constant whinging, however," he snapped back harshly.
Tegan detected strain in his voice and immediately backed down. "Sorry, Doctor. I'm just tired and freaked out. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
The Doctor sighed and sagged against her back. "I know." Tegan felt his chin rest against her shoulder. "It seems I'm a little more out of sorts than I realised, I'm sorry."
Tegan looked both ways, and spotted a computer interface in the wall. "I understand."
"What, that I've lost half a body, so half my wits as well?" he kidded wearily.
Tegan smirked and headed for the computer terminal. "You said it, Doc, not me."
"Where are you taking me?"
"To ask directions," Tegan announced, stopping in front of the interface. "I reckon this system ought to have a map, or a blueprint or something, right?"
Tegan saw their reflection in the computer screen, and the Doctor immediately perked up, putting his thoughtful face on. "It just might. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Because you're male," Tegan answered off-handedly, prudently keeping silent about any qualifiers she could have added to that statement, given the circumstances.
The Doctor made a face, but prudently kept silent about any rejoinders he could have answered with, and instead went with, "Access the mainframe, would you?"
Tegan stared at the screen and unmarked keypad with minor trepidation. She'd never been hugely competent with computers. "Erm..." She glanced askance at the Doctor, was watching keenly over her shoulder.
He looked back at her. "Right, better if I do it. Hold me up."
Yeah, mused Tegan moments later, this couldn't get much more awkward. The Doctor was tapping away at the keys, his back against Tegan's chest as she held him tightly across his stomach. She could have held him more easily by putting a hand underneath him for support, but the notion made her slightly squeamish. He continued to work in silence, so Tegan looked both ways to make sure no one was coming. It suddenly struck her how tremendously odd they must appear right now. She tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was doing, but without getting a mouthful of blond hair in the process.
"Your hair is longer than mine," she quipped.
"Hm?"
Tegan knew that distracted tone. "Nothing." Vaguely, though, she wondered what shampoo he used. The scent was foreign to her nostrils, but nice all the same. Unconsciously, Tegan rested her chin against his shoulder, letting the scent of his hair mingle with that of his white jumper. It was spicy and fragrant, and Tegan quite liked it. It was a thrilling, exotic aroma that made her think of alien marketplaces, ancient palaces and space stations hanging in the great void of space, overlooking dusty nebulae and cloud-shrouded worlds no human eyes had ever seen before. At the same time, it was also a comforting scent, like coming back to a childhood home after many years away.
"Tegan?" The Doctor's voice drifted distantly.
"Hmm?"
"Are you sniffing me?"
Tegan opened her eyes and pulled her face away from his shoulder, appalled at herself. "What? No!"
The Doctor eyed her a bit suspiciously, amusement playing around his eyes. "Oh, sorry. My mistake."
"You bet it is," Tegan agreed vehemently.
The Doctor turned back to the computer, flicking his eyebrows.
Tegan was just as creeped out. Sniffing the Doctor? What was wrong with her?
"I'm thinking."
Tegan felt as though she'd been wandering this base for hours, hauling the Doctor like a living rucksack, and not getting anywhere. She almost suspected that the Doctor was navigating randomly, and she really didn't like being a packhorse. "I thought you said you knew the way back to the TARDIS?"
"Yes," the Doctor mumbled thoughtfully, obviously ignoring her. "Left here."
She balked. "Are you sure?"
"Tegan..."
"Just checking." She turned down another unfamiliar corridor and walked to the next intersection. She stopped and waited for new instructions, sighing. The Doctor was conspicuously quiet. "You don't know, do you?" she accused sharply.
"One moment! Surprisingly, I'm having some difficulty concentrating. I'm sure it's nothing to do with your constant whinging, however," he snapped back harshly.
Tegan detected strain in his voice and immediately backed down. "Sorry, Doctor. I'm just tired and freaked out. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
The Doctor sighed and sagged against her back. "I know." Tegan felt his chin rest against her shoulder. "It seems I'm a little more out of sorts than I realised, I'm sorry."
Tegan looked both ways, and spotted a computer interface in the wall. "I understand."
"What, that I've lost half a body, so half my wits as well?" he kidded wearily.
Tegan smirked and headed for the computer terminal. "You said it, Doc, not me."
"Where are you taking me?"
"To ask directions," Tegan announced, stopping in front of the interface. "I reckon this system ought to have a map, or a blueprint or something, right?"
Tegan saw their reflection in the computer screen, and the Doctor immediately perked up, putting his thoughtful face on. "It just might. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Because you're male," Tegan answered off-handedly, prudently keeping silent about any qualifiers she could have added to that statement, given the circumstances.
The Doctor made a face, but prudently kept silent about any rejoinders he could have answered with, and instead went with, "Access the mainframe, would you?"
Tegan stared at the screen and unmarked keypad with minor trepidation. She'd never been hugely competent with computers. "Erm..." She glanced askance at the Doctor, was watching keenly over her shoulder.
He looked back at her. "Right, better if I do it. Hold me up."
Yeah, mused Tegan moments later, this couldn't get much more awkward. The Doctor was tapping away at the keys, his back against Tegan's chest as she held him tightly across his stomach. She could have held him more easily by putting a hand underneath him for support, but the notion made her slightly squeamish. He continued to work in silence, so Tegan looked both ways to make sure no one was coming. It suddenly struck her how tremendously odd they must appear right now. She tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was doing, but without getting a mouthful of blond hair in the process.
"Your hair is longer than mine," she quipped.
"Hm?"
Tegan knew that distracted tone. "Nothing." Vaguely, though, she wondered what shampoo he used. The scent was foreign to her nostrils, but nice all the same. Unconsciously, Tegan rested her chin against his shoulder, letting the scent of his hair mingle with that of his white jumper. It was spicy and fragrant, and Tegan quite liked it. It was a thrilling, exotic aroma that made her think of alien marketplaces, ancient palaces and space stations hanging in the great void of space, overlooking dusty nebulae and cloud-shrouded worlds no human eyes had ever seen before. At the same time, it was also a comforting scent, like coming back to a childhood home after many years away.
"Tegan?" The Doctor's voice drifted distantly.
"Hmm?"
"Are you sniffing me?"
Tegan opened her eyes and pulled her face away from his shoulder, appalled at herself. "What? No!"
The Doctor eyed her a bit suspiciously, amusement playing around his eyes. "Oh, sorry. My mistake."
"You bet it is," Tegan agreed vehemently.
The Doctor turned back to the computer, flicking his eyebrows.
Tegan was just as creeped out. Sniffing the Doctor? What was wrong with her?
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