Fic: Precipice
Title: Precipice
Fandom: Doctor Who/All Creatures Great and Small
Characters: Tegan, Fifth Doctor, Tristan Farnon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000~
Summary: Set just after Warriors of the Deep (Doctor Who) and late series 3 (ACGAS). Angst, angst, angst.
“Don’t you feel it, though? Now that the time has come, don’t you feel an absurd desire to take this whole wonderful little world of ours and drag it off with you somewhere safe? Somewhere where evil-minded men won’t be able to chuck their bombs and their poison gas about and destroy what we love so much?”
-Siegfried Farnon, 3x09: Brink of Disaster
Precipice
All wars come with warning signs.
Tegan had learned to recognize the hallmarks; the apprehension, the denial, the uncertainty - how they grew, fueled by rumour and multiplying like cells until it became sentient, hanging over a place like the shadow of some great gruesome creature poised to strike as soon as the first fool let his guard down.
They’d keep talking, the citizens and soldiers and old hats who had seen it happen in their lifetime. They spoke in low voices, as if whispers could keep it at bay, but the shadow only grew larger and more menacing until the air tasted of copper and smelled of fear.
***
Darrowby absolutely reeks of fear. Tegan doesn’t need the Doctor to tell her when and where they’ve landed; she can smell it on the air.
***
Before she walks out she calls him a monster and he’s surprised to see that she means it. She’s called him lots of things before but always without conviction.
He’s even more surprised to find he agrees.
It doesn’t stop him from opening the door and inviting her to leave.
***
He looks like the Doctor and it should be weird, but it isn’t.
She finds him in a pub called the Drovers, where the men are just as worn as the furniture and they look scandalized by her presence, or maybe it’s her clothes. A few of them look like they want to offer her a drink but he’s the first.
The resemblance is really only skin deep, but it’s more than that. He isn’t fragile the way the Doctor is. He isn’t complicated.
***
Some men hide behind false bravado, some behind a fervent denial - Tristan Farnon hides behind a self-assurance so well put on she almost believes he could talk Hitler into turning his armies around and marching out of Poland.
His doubt is written in the way his eyes won’t meet hers for long, in the way his fingers dance without rhythm on the table top, in the way his voice cracks and rises in pitch. It’s fresh, as if he’d woken up that morning and seen the tanks rolling across the Yorkshire fields with his own eyes. He’s coming to terms with the fact that his whole world is changing and trying his level best to hide it.
“I really don’t see what they’re kicking up a fuss about, Miss Jovanka; it’ll all be over in a few weeks, you’ll see.”
He stubs out the butt of a Woodbine and strikes a match to light a fresh one without pausing to ask if she minds.
She knows that brand of brazen over-confidence; it’s the sort that gets men killed. She wishes she can tell him how wrong he is. She doesn’t have the heart to.
***
He’s sweet, and she cares a lot more than she should for an hour’s conversation.
She cares too much about everything. Before the Doctor that didn’t mean much, but now it means risking her heart every time the TARDIS doors open.
Sometimes she believes the Doctor when he said that some things can’t be changed, but she can never forgive him for it.
***
She tries anyway.
“Tristan, when…if you get called up, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t try to be a hero.”
He frowns, his brow knitting together. “You know, you sound just like my brother.”
***
He’s sweet, and it helps her forgive the Doctor a little.
***
She kisses him behind the Drovers, just out of reach of the light spilling from the window.
The air smells faintly of the farms nearby and he tastes of bitter ale, but he kisses her with confidence and she finds she doesn’t mind the smell so much. It reminds her of home.
She tugs up her skirt and he doesn’t need any more of an invitation.
He isn’t rough, but there’s a desperation in the way he clings to her that she understands. He devours her like a man who isn’t sure when his next meal will be. If he’ll ever have one again.
He pretends not to notice when she calls him Doctor.
***
She understands that the universe will go on turning no matter what. Wars will be fought and men will die whether people like the Doctor are there to interfere or not.
She understands, but she doesn’t have to like it. One day soon she’ll have had enough.
***
The Doctor doesn’t say anything when Tegan comes back to the TARDIS.
She looks at him with an unnerving level of wisdom. He wonders then if she knows something he doesn’t, and he’s more conscious of the burns on his temples now than he ever will be until they heal.
She tells him she’s ready to leave and for a moment he thinks she really means it.
It’s the first time he feels the pain of her absence. The next time will be infinitely worse.
***
She finds him later when she’s sure he’ll be alone.
He expects she wants to apologize, if only because she’s always careful to when they’ve had a row. It’s easy for her, and not because she does it a lot. She always means it. It never gets easier for him to say.
“You were right. There wasn’t another way.”
Somehow, it’s infinitely better than an apology.
***
Some time later she kisses him, just once.
He’s smiling again, the first time since the Sea Base, and it reminds her of Tristan, so she stands on her toes and kisses the corner of his mouth.
He doesn’t ruin it by asking her why.
He smiles and reminds her for the last time why she wants to stay.
Fandom: Doctor Who/All Creatures Great and Small
Characters: Tegan, Fifth Doctor, Tristan Farnon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000~
Summary: Set just after Warriors of the Deep (Doctor Who) and late series 3 (ACGAS). Angst, angst, angst.
“Don’t you feel it, though? Now that the time has come, don’t you feel an absurd desire to take this whole wonderful little world of ours and drag it off with you somewhere safe? Somewhere where evil-minded men won’t be able to chuck their bombs and their poison gas about and destroy what we love so much?”
-Siegfried Farnon, 3x09: Brink of Disaster
Precipice
All wars come with warning signs.
Tegan had learned to recognize the hallmarks; the apprehension, the denial, the uncertainty - how they grew, fueled by rumour and multiplying like cells until it became sentient, hanging over a place like the shadow of some great gruesome creature poised to strike as soon as the first fool let his guard down.
They’d keep talking, the citizens and soldiers and old hats who had seen it happen in their lifetime. They spoke in low voices, as if whispers could keep it at bay, but the shadow only grew larger and more menacing until the air tasted of copper and smelled of fear.
***
Darrowby absolutely reeks of fear. Tegan doesn’t need the Doctor to tell her when and where they’ve landed; she can smell it on the air.
***
Before she walks out she calls him a monster and he’s surprised to see that she means it. She’s called him lots of things before but always without conviction.
He’s even more surprised to find he agrees.
It doesn’t stop him from opening the door and inviting her to leave.
***
He looks like the Doctor and it should be weird, but it isn’t.
She finds him in a pub called the Drovers, where the men are just as worn as the furniture and they look scandalized by her presence, or maybe it’s her clothes. A few of them look like they want to offer her a drink but he’s the first.
The resemblance is really only skin deep, but it’s more than that. He isn’t fragile the way the Doctor is. He isn’t complicated.
***
Some men hide behind false bravado, some behind a fervent denial - Tristan Farnon hides behind a self-assurance so well put on she almost believes he could talk Hitler into turning his armies around and marching out of Poland.
His doubt is written in the way his eyes won’t meet hers for long, in the way his fingers dance without rhythm on the table top, in the way his voice cracks and rises in pitch. It’s fresh, as if he’d woken up that morning and seen the tanks rolling across the Yorkshire fields with his own eyes. He’s coming to terms with the fact that his whole world is changing and trying his level best to hide it.
“I really don’t see what they’re kicking up a fuss about, Miss Jovanka; it’ll all be over in a few weeks, you’ll see.”
He stubs out the butt of a Woodbine and strikes a match to light a fresh one without pausing to ask if she minds.
She knows that brand of brazen over-confidence; it’s the sort that gets men killed. She wishes she can tell him how wrong he is. She doesn’t have the heart to.
***
He’s sweet, and she cares a lot more than she should for an hour’s conversation.
She cares too much about everything. Before the Doctor that didn’t mean much, but now it means risking her heart every time the TARDIS doors open.
Sometimes she believes the Doctor when he said that some things can’t be changed, but she can never forgive him for it.
***
She tries anyway.
“Tristan, when…if you get called up, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t try to be a hero.”
He frowns, his brow knitting together. “You know, you sound just like my brother.”
***
He’s sweet, and it helps her forgive the Doctor a little.
***
She kisses him behind the Drovers, just out of reach of the light spilling from the window.
The air smells faintly of the farms nearby and he tastes of bitter ale, but he kisses her with confidence and she finds she doesn’t mind the smell so much. It reminds her of home.
She tugs up her skirt and he doesn’t need any more of an invitation.
He isn’t rough, but there’s a desperation in the way he clings to her that she understands. He devours her like a man who isn’t sure when his next meal will be. If he’ll ever have one again.
He pretends not to notice when she calls him Doctor.
***
She understands that the universe will go on turning no matter what. Wars will be fought and men will die whether people like the Doctor are there to interfere or not.
She understands, but she doesn’t have to like it. One day soon she’ll have had enough.
***
The Doctor doesn’t say anything when Tegan comes back to the TARDIS.
She looks at him with an unnerving level of wisdom. He wonders then if she knows something he doesn’t, and he’s more conscious of the burns on his temples now than he ever will be until they heal.
She tells him she’s ready to leave and for a moment he thinks she really means it.
It’s the first time he feels the pain of her absence. The next time will be infinitely worse.
***
She finds him later when she’s sure he’ll be alone.
He expects she wants to apologize, if only because she’s always careful to when they’ve had a row. It’s easy for her, and not because she does it a lot. She always means it. It never gets easier for him to say.
“You were right. There wasn’t another way.”
Somehow, it’s infinitely better than an apology.
***
Some time later she kisses him, just once.
He’s smiling again, the first time since the Sea Base, and it reminds her of Tristan, so she stands on her toes and kisses the corner of his mouth.
He doesn’t ruin it by asking her why.
He smiles and reminds her for the last time why she wants to stay.