moragmacpherson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moragmacpherson) wrote2009-01-26 04:32 pm
moragmacpherson) wrote2009-01-26 04:32 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Impossible Things (14/15)
Title: Impossible Things (14/15)
Author: MoragMacPherson
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Set during Human Nature/Family of Blood for DW, sometime in the Season Eight comics for BtVS
Disclaimer: Oddly enough, characters = not mine. Note for attorneys: if I file for bankruptcy, the only creditor who will still be able to get me is the student loan guys.
Archive: Here, TtH, & Teaspoon. If you'd like it, let me know.
Beta: The incomparable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
booster17
Author's Note: So I saw a piece of fanart by BuffyCharmed over at TtH and got all inspired here. Then she saw the story I wrote and made me some genuinely terrific fanart here and there (my favorite is there).
Summary: John Smith and Martha hide from the Family of Blood at the Farringham School, where Martha meets a new friend from the 21st century.
The Kannemara mines were as dark and cold as the Doctor promised. Buffy dutifully hauled a barrel of water out of the TARDIS while the silent Family carried bundles of food to their final resting place. She didn’t look back, because if she did she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from taking bloody revenge on that monster wearing her friend Jenny’s face. Not to mention the little girl one-
But this wasn’t a Slayer problem. This was a Doctor problem, and Buffy was Doing The Right Thing. If he couldn’t have his cold-served revenge, neither could she. So she sat on the bench, and the Doctor handed the Father a lantern with one final nod. Buffy even clamped her snark down when the Father said, “Thank you,” as the doors shut.
Enough was enough. As the Doctor turned towards her, she jumped to her feet and announced, “Wasn’t that fun?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Fun?” he repeated.
“Oh yeah. Danger, violence, fires and explosions, and in the end we all learned a valuable lesson.”
“And what, pray tell, was that?”
Buffy bobbed her head. “Procrastination is bad.”
The Doctor pursed his lips. “Right.” He headed towards the console, and Buffy followed him.
“Hear me out. You procrastinated about dealing with the Family-”
“I did not-”
Buffy held up her hands. “I’m not saying I blame you. I didn’t want to deal with them either. Anyway, you put off dealing with them-”
“They hadn’t done anything wrong yet!”
“They had evil genius laughs! Plus, they shot at you.” The Doctor glared at her, then moved around to the other side of the console. “You procrastinated, so Martha got stuck playing serving girl to the wannabe Klan brats for two months.”
The Doctor picked up his mallet, whacked it against the controls, then pointed it at Buffy. “Okay, but if we hadn’t shown up, who exactly was coming along to rescue you from a long life of inglorious servitude?”
“Fair enough.” Buffy straightened her back. “Do you think that little girl was going to be pretty when she grew up?”
The mallet lowered. “Below the belt,” muttered the Doctor.
“I know. You thought it first.” Buffy approached him cautiously, but she wasn’t very surprised when he reached out and grabbed her, hugging her close. He leaned down, burying his head in her hair, long breaths tickling the skin of her neck. “We can’t save them all.”
“No.”
“Revenge is never as good as being there in time.”
“It’s not.”
“Procrastination is bad.”
The Doctor looked her in the eyes, then rested his forehead against hers. “Procrastination is bad,” he murmured, letting his eyelids drift downwards. “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?”
“Like what?”
“Difficult. Maddening. Embarrassing. A faint chance of being ultimately rewarding.” He pulled away and his eyes opened. Beyond the pain and exhaustion, she saw real mirth dancing in them.
“You spent fifteen minutes inside my brain. What do you think? How much do you remember?” She raised a hand to her temple.
“Quite a bit. There were some, uh, interesting speeches. And outfits. Your quipping is excellent.” Buffy kept her expression straight. “Wait. How much do you remember?”
“Not as much as you, probably,” she replied, arching just one eyebrow.
He allowed himself one quick peek. “You know my name!”
“It’s not like I can pronounce it,” she deflected. He was smiling again, relaxed. She missed his smiles. Not that it made this any easier. But procrastination was bad. Buffy backed away, leaning against the console. “You said John was safe inside. That means he’s part of you, right?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not him.”
His expression tightened. “I can be everything he was, but no, I’m not him.”
“I loved him.” Buffy looked down, fingers brushing against buttons and switches. “He was sweet, and brave, and he thought I was pretty.”
“You are pretty.” She saw his hand move to touch her, reassure her in some way, but the Doctor controlled the impulse. He rocked backwards on his heels. “I – I understand. I’d like it if you came with me – with Martha and me. If you traveled with us. You... make me happy. Less lonely. And maybe even a little more insane, and you’re one of very few people who can appreciate that statement.” He drew another breath, looking past her. “And you know my name. But that means, well, you know other things. Everything.” And now he did tuck his fingers under her chin, pushing her face up. “If it’s too much, if you hate me for that, or for taking John away, or - I can – well – I can take it back. You don’t have to remember.” He drew his hand away.
“What?”
“It would kill me, but it would be better than you hating me.”
Buffy grabbed his wrists and saw the shock in his eyes. “Ow!”
“I told you that I’m strong. And you’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“You’ve read my thoughts. So, tell me, when are these hordes of women who know about all the skeletons in your dimensionally-transcendent closet but love you all the same gonna start pounding down the doors? Or am I still the only one?”
The Doctor blinked. “Just you.”
“Good.” She released his wrists, and he rubbed them. “It’s not going to be easy. I won’t say that I’m the world’s easiest date, or that I have the best taste in men.”
“Date?”
She eased off of the console, taking his lapels in her hands. “That’s right. Eventually. We’re taking baby steps here. I know it’s been awhile for you.” She’d seen a long dry spell in his dating history. He wasn’t panicking or pulling away. Either he was reacting better than she expected or he’d proceeded directly to shock. It was her turn to tilt his chin towards her. “I’m going to look at you sometimes and miss him, and I just wanted to say right now that I’m sorry if it makes you jealous, but I won’t apologize for the feeling.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Now the hardest part. Buffy dove straight in. “I’m human. I come with an expiration stamp. Even worse, I’m a Slayer. Procrastination is bad.”
“Procrastination is bad,” he repeated.
She got on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. “Now you’ve got it.” Buffy sighed as he pulled her back for a deeper kiss. He really was good at this part. Later, they would not procrastinate on the two dimensions problem, because while she liked him, she did miss her sister and her friends. Even before that, when they landed in a few minutes, she was going to have to figure out how to explain all of this to Martha, and maybe, because she was a really nice person, Martha wouldn’t mind and Buffy wouldn’t be an evil, crush-poaching, Bad Friend. His fingers ran up her spine. She was a bad person, who did not deserve wonderful tingles from Time Lord caresses. Bad Buffy. Naughty Doctor. Nice tingles.
Oh, to hell with it: she’d had a really long night. She let her hand cup the curve of his bottom. This never would be easy, but damned if it wasn’t going to be good.
Author: MoragMacPherson
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Set during Human Nature/Family of Blood for DW, sometime in the Season Eight comics for BtVS
Disclaimer: Oddly enough, characters = not mine. Note for attorneys: if I file for bankruptcy, the only creditor who will still be able to get me is the student loan guys.
Archive: Here, TtH, & Teaspoon. If you'd like it, let me know.
Beta: The incomparable
booster17 Author's Note: So I saw a piece of fanart by BuffyCharmed over at TtH and got all inspired here. Then she saw the story I wrote and made me some genuinely terrific fanart here and there (my favorite is there).
Summary: John Smith and Martha hide from the Family of Blood at the Farringham School, where Martha meets a new friend from the 21st century.
14. Everyone's Life Ends But No One Ever Completes It
The Kannemara mines were as dark and cold as the Doctor promised. Buffy dutifully hauled a barrel of water out of the TARDIS while the silent Family carried bundles of food to their final resting place. She didn’t look back, because if she did she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from taking bloody revenge on that monster wearing her friend Jenny’s face. Not to mention the little girl one-
But this wasn’t a Slayer problem. This was a Doctor problem, and Buffy was Doing The Right Thing. If he couldn’t have his cold-served revenge, neither could she. So she sat on the bench, and the Doctor handed the Father a lantern with one final nod. Buffy even clamped her snark down when the Father said, “Thank you,” as the doors shut.
Enough was enough. As the Doctor turned towards her, she jumped to her feet and announced, “Wasn’t that fun?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Fun?” he repeated.
“Oh yeah. Danger, violence, fires and explosions, and in the end we all learned a valuable lesson.”
“And what, pray tell, was that?”
Buffy bobbed her head. “Procrastination is bad.”
The Doctor pursed his lips. “Right.” He headed towards the console, and Buffy followed him.
“Hear me out. You procrastinated about dealing with the Family-”
“I did not-”
Buffy held up her hands. “I’m not saying I blame you. I didn’t want to deal with them either. Anyway, you put off dealing with them-”
“They hadn’t done anything wrong yet!”
“They had evil genius laughs! Plus, they shot at you.” The Doctor glared at her, then moved around to the other side of the console. “You procrastinated, so Martha got stuck playing serving girl to the wannabe Klan brats for two months.”
The Doctor picked up his mallet, whacked it against the controls, then pointed it at Buffy. “Okay, but if we hadn’t shown up, who exactly was coming along to rescue you from a long life of inglorious servitude?”
“Fair enough.” Buffy straightened her back. “Do you think that little girl was going to be pretty when she grew up?”
The mallet lowered. “Below the belt,” muttered the Doctor.
“I know. You thought it first.” Buffy approached him cautiously, but she wasn’t very surprised when he reached out and grabbed her, hugging her close. He leaned down, burying his head in her hair, long breaths tickling the skin of her neck. “We can’t save them all.”
“No.”
“Revenge is never as good as being there in time.”
“It’s not.”
“Procrastination is bad.”
The Doctor looked her in the eyes, then rested his forehead against hers. “Procrastination is bad,” he murmured, letting his eyelids drift downwards. “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?”
“Like what?”
“Difficult. Maddening. Embarrassing. A faint chance of being ultimately rewarding.” He pulled away and his eyes opened. Beyond the pain and exhaustion, she saw real mirth dancing in them.
“You spent fifteen minutes inside my brain. What do you think? How much do you remember?” She raised a hand to her temple.
“Quite a bit. There were some, uh, interesting speeches. And outfits. Your quipping is excellent.” Buffy kept her expression straight. “Wait. How much do you remember?”
“Not as much as you, probably,” she replied, arching just one eyebrow.
He allowed himself one quick peek. “You know my name!”
“It’s not like I can pronounce it,” she deflected. He was smiling again, relaxed. She missed his smiles. Not that it made this any easier. But procrastination was bad. Buffy backed away, leaning against the console. “You said John was safe inside. That means he’s part of you, right?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not him.”
His expression tightened. “I can be everything he was, but no, I’m not him.”
“I loved him.” Buffy looked down, fingers brushing against buttons and switches. “He was sweet, and brave, and he thought I was pretty.”
“You are pretty.” She saw his hand move to touch her, reassure her in some way, but the Doctor controlled the impulse. He rocked backwards on his heels. “I – I understand. I’d like it if you came with me – with Martha and me. If you traveled with us. You... make me happy. Less lonely. And maybe even a little more insane, and you’re one of very few people who can appreciate that statement.” He drew another breath, looking past her. “And you know my name. But that means, well, you know other things. Everything.” And now he did tuck his fingers under her chin, pushing her face up. “If it’s too much, if you hate me for that, or for taking John away, or - I can – well – I can take it back. You don’t have to remember.” He drew his hand away.
“What?”
“It would kill me, but it would be better than you hating me.”
Buffy grabbed his wrists and saw the shock in his eyes. “Ow!”
“I told you that I’m strong. And you’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“You’ve read my thoughts. So, tell me, when are these hordes of women who know about all the skeletons in your dimensionally-transcendent closet but love you all the same gonna start pounding down the doors? Or am I still the only one?”
The Doctor blinked. “Just you.”
“Good.” She released his wrists, and he rubbed them. “It’s not going to be easy. I won’t say that I’m the world’s easiest date, or that I have the best taste in men.”
“Date?”
She eased off of the console, taking his lapels in her hands. “That’s right. Eventually. We’re taking baby steps here. I know it’s been awhile for you.” She’d seen a long dry spell in his dating history. He wasn’t panicking or pulling away. Either he was reacting better than she expected or he’d proceeded directly to shock. It was her turn to tilt his chin towards her. “I’m going to look at you sometimes and miss him, and I just wanted to say right now that I’m sorry if it makes you jealous, but I won’t apologize for the feeling.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Now the hardest part. Buffy dove straight in. “I’m human. I come with an expiration stamp. Even worse, I’m a Slayer. Procrastination is bad.”
“Procrastination is bad,” he repeated.
She got on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. “Now you’ve got it.” Buffy sighed as he pulled her back for a deeper kiss. He really was good at this part. Later, they would not procrastinate on the two dimensions problem, because while she liked him, she did miss her sister and her friends. Even before that, when they landed in a few minutes, she was going to have to figure out how to explain all of this to Martha, and maybe, because she was a really nice person, Martha wouldn’t mind and Buffy wouldn’t be an evil, crush-poaching, Bad Friend. His fingers ran up her spine. She was a bad person, who did not deserve wonderful tingles from Time Lord caresses. Bad Buffy. Naughty Doctor. Nice tingles.
Oh, to hell with it: she’d had a really long night. She let her hand cup the curve of his bottom. This never would be easy, but damned if it wasn’t going to be good.