FIC: Jamie - Chapter 5
May. 18th, 2009 10:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nentariTitle: Jamie - Chapter 5
Author: Me
Beta-Reader:alouzon
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3657
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its characters belong to the BBC. I own nothing - not even the Fourteenth Doctor.
Summary: Jamie McCrimmon was returned to 18th century Scotland, his memories erased... But one day, a ghost from those lost days shows up at his doorstep.
Warning: Spoilers for The War Games, The Mind Robber and Journey's End.
Chapter 5
The bickering spilled out into the corridor, followed by Jamie, who carefully manoeuvred the Doctor through the kitchen doorway. "Will you please put me down?"
Jamie continued to carry her down the hallway. "You're in no condition to walk," he politely declined her request.
The Doctor spluttered. "No condition, no condition... Honestly, Jamie, you make it sound like I'm completely incapacitated! Now get off!"
"After what just happened, I'll not take any chances." Jamie's resolve to be pleasant during this ordeal was beginning to crack.
"Great. I've won a surrogate mother in the form of a male human child," the Doctor grumbled to herself indistinctly, becoming more vigorous in her bid for freedom, and accidentally jabbing the long-suffering Highlander in the eye again.
"Och, stop squirming, will you?" he hissed.
"Not until you put me down." She emphasized each word with a determined wriggle, but Jamie kept a firm hold on her.
"No. Now where is your room?"
The Doctor switched tactics. "Wouldn't you like to know..." she asked archly. Jamie dismissed her provocative tone as a result of the "post-regenerative stress" the Doctor had mentioned over breakfast, and shrugged.
"Suit yourself." Jamie changed directions, marching with a more deliberate stride, clearly with a known destination in mind.
"Wait. Jamie, where are you taking me?"
"My room," he said with an evil glint in his maltreated eye.
"Oh, no no no..." the Doctor protested vehemently, renewing her efforts to squirm out of his grasp.
"Oh, aye. If you don't let me take you to your room, you'll be sleeping in mine. I'll sleep on the floor, if I have to," he added as a gentlemanly afterthought.
"You expect me to sleep in that... that disaster area?" She was clearly horrified by the prospect, and seeing his determination (or stubbornness) gave up all pretence of resistance, slumping wearily.
"Aye. Now hush up and let me take care of you, or I'll larrup you like a spoiled bairn, since you insist on behaving like one." Jamie stopped in the corridor, turning what he hoped was a domineering glare on her (he had a feeling his disarming-smile tactic, which he had perfected over the course of his youth, wouldn't work on a Time Lord).
"Yes, Mummy," simpered the Doctor mutinously.
"And don't you roll your eyes at me. Now, where is your room?" He leaned back in the direction they had come from, hoping he didn't look as completely lost as he actually was.
The Doctor gave in with ill grace. "Oh, all right. Turn right at the end of this corridor, and then take the second left..."
***
The Doctor's quarters looked nothing like Jamie expected. He walked into a spacious and elegant room, tastefully wallpapered and filled with soft cushions, everything in tones of cream, pastels and flowery motifs, with solid yet elegant wooden furniture.
Just like Maxtible's home, Jamie thought, immediately wondering who this Maxtible person was, that had suddenly come to his mind. An image of a large painting depicting Victoria (no, it is not Victoria, his mind told him) hanging over a fireplace swiftly came to him; he pushed it to the back of his mind. He'd find out soon enough - that is, if he was able to convince the Doctor to rest and let herself get better.
"You know, Mummy, I'm not so bad that can't get into a bed by myself," the Doctor protested, as Jamie laid her on the oak bed and began to tuck her in.
"Och, knock it off," he grumbled. "I'm just trying to help."
"If you want to help, get us a cup of tea."
"If I do, you'll get sick again like you did in the kitchen," he protested, "and I'll not clean up after you, this time."
"But it's tea!" she exclaimed. As Jamie, still busy fussing over her, did not reply, she added, "You're just afraid I'll scarper off somewhere else while you're gone, aren't you?"
"Aye, there's that," he replied, as he sat down on a small sofa close to the door, crossing his arms.
"Mother, nurse and warden," the Doctor chuckled, momentarily defeated.
"Stop that." Jamie knew she was just joking, but couldn't help feeling annoyed. He was doing all he could to help, even though he had no idea what he actually should do. There was also the fact that he felt as if this was all a bizarre dream, just like all the others he had been experiencing ever since he had left Scotland: he expected to wake up startled and bewildered any minute. It was already confusing and scary, looking after a clearly ill woman without the help of a doctor, and the fact that the woman was also a person who lived in a strange box and had just changed her whole appearance and personality did not help.
She must have sensed his turmoil, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I promise I won't leave this bed if you go and make me a cup of tea. I can't sit here for the rest of the day with an empty stomach, after all." She game him a broad smile and batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly. "Please?"
Now it was Jamie's turn to sigh. The disarming-smile tactic would clearly not work on her: she'd already mastered it. "Och, all right then." He rose from his seat. "But no funny business while I'm gone, d'you hear me?"
"I promised I wouldn't leave this place." She made a face of annoyance. "Not that I'll be able to, the way you tucked in my blankets."
He gave her a smug grin. "Good."
***
Making tea should have been an easy task. Jamie followed his instinct on how to work the stove, and sorted through unlabelled tea-boxes; there were some latent memories about him having done this in the past guiding him haphazardly, but trying to focus on what little hints his mind gave him made it all a bit too blurry to be useful. However, he eventually did succeed in making what he felt was a passable pot of tea, which he then placed on a tray along with cups and a plate of biscuits (he'd remembered where those were kept quite handily), and carried it all in triumph to the Doctor's room.
She had kept her promise and had remained in her bed, to all appearances by her own free will (there were no obvious signs of struggle, anyway), and was distracting herself by attentively studying the flowery wallpaper.
"Thank you, Jamie," she smiled, as he handed her a cup. She turned her attention to the walls again, this time with a marked frown. "This will have to go."
"Eh?" he asked, as he sat down on the sofa, his cup in his hands.
"The wallpaper. Actually, everything will have to go." She gestured around the room. "I mean, it's beautiful, but it's just not me. Not anymore."
"And what is 'you'?" asked Jamie, a bit nervously, as though worried about the answer.
She pondered this for a second, before replying. "I'm not really sure. Not yet, anyway. I'll find out eventually."
She sipped her tea and made a grimace. Jamie's face fell.
"I'm so sorry, Doctor," he said, starting to babble. "I only realized I don't know how to use your strange kettle when I was making it, but there's no fireplace to hang it, only that white contraption in the corner, and I thought for a moment I knew how to use it, but I cannae remember, now. I thought I had done it correctly, but I'm not sure..." He made as if to remove the tea tray from the Doctor's lap immediately.
"Jamie, it's all right." She interrupted him and gave him a reassuring smile. "The tea is fine. Really. You just forgot the sugar."
He rose from his seat. "I'll go get it."
"No, no, leave it. I'll drink it like this."
"Are you sure?"
"I am." She took another sip, and grimaced again. "All right, maybe I'm not. But still, don't worry about it. At least my stomach doesn't seem to be complaining any longer, and I don't know if adding sugar won't change this."
Jamie took a sip of his own cup and shuddered. "Well, you might not need it, but I do." He rose again. "I'll be right back."
"Jamie," the Doctor said, as he was right about to leave. He turned and noticed her smiling.
"Doctor?"
"Thank you."
Returning her smile, he left to fetch the sugar. When he came back a few minutes later, he found her fast asleep. After placing her now empty cup on the tray, which he set aside, he tucked her in again, this time gently and allowing her the freedom of movement his annoyance had denied her before. Brushing the hair from her eyes, he returned to the sofa and turned his attention to his own tea; he emptied his cup and soon he too, fell asleep.
***
The mechanical soldier is approaching, ticking violently and brandishing its bayonet. Instinctively, he begins to climb the steep, rocky cliff to escape from its grasp, knowing that the creature will not be able to follow him. Eventually, he reaches a narrow ledge.
"Oh no," he says to himself, as he looks around and realizes the surface of the rock wall above him is almost sheer. "I'd need to be a human fly to get up that lot. I can't go back though. What I really need is a..."
Before he can finish the sentence, a rope suddenly falls from high above.
"Who says wishes don't come true?" he says, grabbing it, as he tugs on it and starts climbing.
Eventually, he reaches a tower on the very top of the cliff and stops right outside a window.
"So far so good... Some sort of castle..." he tells himself. "All right, Jamie, now where? You don't have much choice, do you?"
As he tries to think of something, he absentmindedly pulls on the rope.
"Ouch!" a female voice exclaims, startling him, and from inside appears a richly-dressed, pretty blond girl, who scowls at him.
"I suppose you know that hurts," she half-complains with a slight smile. It is then that he realizes just what he had been using to climb the cliff.
"You mean, this is your hair?"
"Of course," she says, matter-of-factly. "I don't object to people climbing it - I'm quite used to it actually - but you would keep tugging it so!"
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry."
She looks at him with hopeful eyes. "Are you a prince?"
He looks at her with bafflement. "No, why?"
"You're supposed to be." She's clearly disappointed. "I'm a princess, but I suppose you knew that. My name is Rapunzel." She becomes excited again. "You're not a woodcutter's son, by any chance?"
"No, I'm the son of a piper," he says proudly.
The smile fades from her face once again. "Oh, how very disappointing. Well, in that case I think you'd better go. Goodbye."
She begins to leave, but he calls on her.
"Your highness, wait."
"Well?" she asks, turning back.
"I can't go back there. It's a sheer drop, and... well, I can't just stand out here. I'll... I'll have to climb in though the window."
She looks around, as if worrying that someone might have overheard him. "Well, I don't know if that will be allowed."
"Well, I won't stay long, just passing through, you might say." She seems to hesitate. "Oh, please," he begs.
"It's a pity you're not a prince," she sighs, "you'd have made rather a good one. Well, I suppose you'd better come inside. But for goodness sake, be quiet," she adds with a whisper.
He climbs through the window...
...but before he could see what was inside, Jamie woke up.
He stretched, yawned, and smiled. This dream had been a bit puzzling, but it wasn't as bad as most of the others. If all of these strange dreams featured pretty-looking girls who were not upset or in danger, he wouldn't mind them nearly so much.
He looked at the Doctor, who was still sleeping peacefully. Her rebellious fringe was once again hanging in her eyes, but apart from that, it didn't look as if she had moved at all since he had returned to the room.
He looked around, trying to find something to keep himself busy. Having noticed a small bookshelf next to the door, he decided to peruse the titles and see if there was anything that would grab his attention. However, none of the titles (The Large Scale Structure of Spacetime, That's It For God, A New Determination of Molecular Dimensions, Black Holes and Baby Universes and Other Essays, The Brand New Monty Python Papperbok, A Brief History of Time, Foundations of the General Theory of Relativity, Exploring the World: The Travelling Journals of Donna Noble (2008-2050) , Geometry and Experience: Expanded Edition of the Celebratory Lecture Given at the Prussian Academy) seemed to trigger his curiosity, until he noticed a small tome, Death in the Clouds, which had a curious drawing on the cover depicting a gigantic wasp attacking a contraption that seemed strangely familiar. He selected the book, but then noticed a wooden box hidden behind it. Intrigued, he picked it up and, glancing once again at the sleeping Doctor to ascertain she was still resting comfortably, opened it up to investigate. Inside, he found a large collection of portraits made of a strange kind of paper, all of them as incredibly detailed and life-like as the one of Victoria he had found in his room. Sitting down on the sofa, he studied each of them carefully.
The first one showed the tall Doctor he had met in France. He was very sharply dressed in a sober yet elegant grey suit, and now that Jamie could see his face without the paleness of approaching death distorting his physiognomy, he could see that this Doctor had a very pleasant and friendly expression. Next to him were a couple of blond-haired youths, a boy and a girl in their late teens - he, a rather good-looking lad, and she, not particularly pretty but with a slight otherworldliness about her features.
Another portrait showed a middle-aged man wearing a hat, a dark coat and a couple of scarves, one of which Jamie realized with a twinge of excitement had the same tartan pattern he wore. Next to this Doctor (for Jamie immediately recognized the twinkle in his eye) stood a pretty, round-faced girl with a striped shirt, who seemed to be looking deviously at him.
The next portrait made Jamie gasp with surprise. Staring right at him were the smiling faces of the grey-haired man and the girl who had rescued him from the Redcoats two years before. After studying them in shock for a minute, his face broke into a wide smile. "That explains it," he murmured, his fingers touching the faces of those two no-longer-mysterious old acquaintances.
Moving on, he then picked the image of three men and a woman. One of the men, rather handsome and with finely chiselled features, was holding two fingers behind the head of a black man, while yet another blond-haired girl looked half-amused and half-disapprovingly at him. Their companion, dressed in leather (with rather unfortunate set of prominent ears), had an arm around the girl's shoulders and was smiling goofily. Jamie wondered which one of them had been the Doctor, if any.
The following portrait showed an old man, sitting between a man and a woman who were both laughing. A girl of about 15 or 16 years old had her arms wrapped around the old man's neck in a very gentle and protective way. Jamie was surprised to see how much this girl resembled the new Doctor for whom he was now responsible; they could have been sisters, he thought, albeit ones with a considerable age gap.
And then, to his shock, he found a portrait of himself with Ben and the first Doctor he had met. Jamie was sitting behind his friends, looking rather uncomfortable and confused, while Ben and the Doctor were grinning comically. Jamie stared at this for what seemed to be an eternity, confusion and wonder twirling together inside his mind. He did not recall sitting for this portrait.
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know."
He raised his eyes with a guilty start and saw the Doctor sitting upright on the bed, looking at him.
"Oh, I... er..." he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I found the box and I..."
"That's all right," she said, reassuringly. "I'm glad to see you're interested in it, but it might be a good idea to ask for permission next time." She paused, pondering something. "Oh my, I'm in a very forgiving mood, aren't I? I wonder if this is how I am going to be from now on..."
Jamie sighed with relief, and brought the box over to the Doctor's bedside. Then, remembering the image still in his hand, he raised it so that she could see. "Doctor, this portrait..."
She tilted her hear, looking intently at it. Then, recognition struck her. "Oh yes. The photograph we took in Gatwick. 1966, I believe. That nasty business with Chameleon Tours."
"Eh?"
She smiled. "Don't worry, Jamie. It will come back once you regain your memories."
"Well, can you not tell me about it now?"
She chuckled. "What, and ruin the surprise?"
He frowned. "Oh, come on..."
"No, my dear. I can tell you about the others, if you want."
The annoyance that he was starting to feel dissipated immediately. "You will?"
"Of course. Who knows, reminiscing might be good for me."
"Well, then..." he rummaged through the portraits he had already seen, and took out the one depicting the old man and the teenage girl. "Can you tell me who this lassie is, and why she looks so much like you?"
"Looks like..." Her eyes widened as Jamie handed her the image. "Quickly, Jamie, find me a mirror."
"Eh?"
The Doctor was clearly in a state of shock. "A mirror. Quick!"
Jamie looked around, and soon noticed a small mirror on top of a cupboard, which he promptly handed to the Doctor. She gasped at the sight of her own reflection.
"Oh my goodness... Susan."
"Susan? Is that her name?" Jamie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Yes. She was my granddaughter."
Now it was time for Jamie's eyes to widen. "Your granddaughter?"
"The eyes are a different colour, though, and the nose is the wrong shape. It looks more like..." She paused, gave a slight smile, and turned her head slightly so that she could see herself in profile. She gave a slight poke on the tip of her nose before her expression relaxed into a huge smile and she whispered warmly, "Hello, Dodo."
"Eh?" said Jamie weakly. It was becoming a bit repetitive, but it seemed to be the best reply he could come up with.
The Doctor turned her attention to Jamie. "A sweet, lovely child who travelled with me for a while. I'm sure you would have liked her." She chuckled. "It's funny that this new regeneration shows some resemblance to my own flesh and blood. I wonder if this means something..." She trailed off and absently gazed in the mirror again.
Jamie sighed. Something inside told him that if the Doctor would start doing these philosophical ramblings, she'd end up forgetting all about her promise. "Doctor, the portraits," he said, shaking the box.
"Oh, yes." She shook herself from her wonderings. "I'm sorry, Jamie. Of course. Now, where to begin..." She looked at the image she was still holding. "Yes, Susan. And Ian and Barbara, of course..."
***
They studied the portraits ("Photographs, Jamie! These are photographs.") for hours. The Doctor's tales about his former companions jumped back and forward in time and were occasionally interrupted by small reminiscences of completely separate events, but at no moment did Jamie feel confused or overwhelmed. He did, however, feel frustrated that she'd occasionally break off abruptly as she was about to mention something that happened during the time they travelled together. "As a good friend of mine used to say - 'spoilers'!" she told him with a smile. Jamie would start to complain, but the Doctor would suddenly pick a new photograph and say "This was Mel," and his eagerness to learn more would overcome his indignation.
She told him about Susan, Ian and Barbara. Liz, Jo, Sarah Jane and Harry (she was rather vague about the people she worked for when he met them, however). River, Graham and Pandora. Mel and Ace. Vicki and Katarina ("She's not in here, but her face will forever be burned in my memory"). Arthur and Morgaine. Martha and Rose.
When the Doctor began to tell him about Donna ("Oh, she was magnificent. Truly magnificent.") Jamie noticed something changing in her speech. It was not the sadness of the loss or the warmth of the recollection, though both of those were still present as she described her travels with the redhead, but something else. It was only when the Doctor reached the moment of their parting that he realized what was different: she was concerned about how he'd react to what she'd been forced to do to Donna, because of what had been done to him by the Time Lords.
"You did what you had to," he told her, reassuringly.
"Did I?" She sighed. "Even after all this time, I keep thinking of other alternatives."
"You were short on time. You said so yourself." He put his arm around her, and she smiled, evidently quite relieved by his straight-forward acceptance of the event that had obviously made her question herself for a long time afterward.
"Well, she remained her amazing self. And the universe will forever remember just how amazing Donna Noble was."
He smiled with her, and reached for the next photograph.
Author: Me
Beta-Reader:
alouzonFandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3657
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its characters belong to the BBC. I own nothing - not even the Fourteenth Doctor.
Summary: Jamie McCrimmon was returned to 18th century Scotland, his memories erased... But one day, a ghost from those lost days shows up at his doorstep.
Warning: Spoilers for The War Games, The Mind Robber and Journey's End.
The bickering spilled out into the corridor, followed by Jamie, who carefully manoeuvred the Doctor through the kitchen doorway. "Will you please put me down?"
Jamie continued to carry her down the hallway. "You're in no condition to walk," he politely declined her request.
The Doctor spluttered. "No condition, no condition... Honestly, Jamie, you make it sound like I'm completely incapacitated! Now get off!"
"After what just happened, I'll not take any chances." Jamie's resolve to be pleasant during this ordeal was beginning to crack.
"Great. I've won a surrogate mother in the form of a male human child," the Doctor grumbled to herself indistinctly, becoming more vigorous in her bid for freedom, and accidentally jabbing the long-suffering Highlander in the eye again.
"Och, stop squirming, will you?" he hissed.
"Not until you put me down." She emphasized each word with a determined wriggle, but Jamie kept a firm hold on her.
"No. Now where is your room?"
The Doctor switched tactics. "Wouldn't you like to know..." she asked archly. Jamie dismissed her provocative tone as a result of the "post-regenerative stress" the Doctor had mentioned over breakfast, and shrugged.
"Suit yourself." Jamie changed directions, marching with a more deliberate stride, clearly with a known destination in mind.
"Wait. Jamie, where are you taking me?"
"My room," he said with an evil glint in his maltreated eye.
"Oh, no no no..." the Doctor protested vehemently, renewing her efforts to squirm out of his grasp.
"Oh, aye. If you don't let me take you to your room, you'll be sleeping in mine. I'll sleep on the floor, if I have to," he added as a gentlemanly afterthought.
"You expect me to sleep in that... that disaster area?" She was clearly horrified by the prospect, and seeing his determination (or stubbornness) gave up all pretence of resistance, slumping wearily.
"Aye. Now hush up and let me take care of you, or I'll larrup you like a spoiled bairn, since you insist on behaving like one." Jamie stopped in the corridor, turning what he hoped was a domineering glare on her (he had a feeling his disarming-smile tactic, which he had perfected over the course of his youth, wouldn't work on a Time Lord).
"Yes, Mummy," simpered the Doctor mutinously.
"And don't you roll your eyes at me. Now, where is your room?" He leaned back in the direction they had come from, hoping he didn't look as completely lost as he actually was.
The Doctor gave in with ill grace. "Oh, all right. Turn right at the end of this corridor, and then take the second left..."
The Doctor's quarters looked nothing like Jamie expected. He walked into a spacious and elegant room, tastefully wallpapered and filled with soft cushions, everything in tones of cream, pastels and flowery motifs, with solid yet elegant wooden furniture.
Just like Maxtible's home, Jamie thought, immediately wondering who this Maxtible person was, that had suddenly come to his mind. An image of a large painting depicting Victoria (no, it is not Victoria, his mind told him) hanging over a fireplace swiftly came to him; he pushed it to the back of his mind. He'd find out soon enough - that is, if he was able to convince the Doctor to rest and let herself get better.
"You know, Mummy, I'm not so bad that can't get into a bed by myself," the Doctor protested, as Jamie laid her on the oak bed and began to tuck her in.
"Och, knock it off," he grumbled. "I'm just trying to help."
"If you want to help, get us a cup of tea."
"If I do, you'll get sick again like you did in the kitchen," he protested, "and I'll not clean up after you, this time."
"But it's tea!" she exclaimed. As Jamie, still busy fussing over her, did not reply, she added, "You're just afraid I'll scarper off somewhere else while you're gone, aren't you?"
"Aye, there's that," he replied, as he sat down on a small sofa close to the door, crossing his arms.
"Mother, nurse and warden," the Doctor chuckled, momentarily defeated.
"Stop that." Jamie knew she was just joking, but couldn't help feeling annoyed. He was doing all he could to help, even though he had no idea what he actually should do. There was also the fact that he felt as if this was all a bizarre dream, just like all the others he had been experiencing ever since he had left Scotland: he expected to wake up startled and bewildered any minute. It was already confusing and scary, looking after a clearly ill woman without the help of a doctor, and the fact that the woman was also a person who lived in a strange box and had just changed her whole appearance and personality did not help.
She must have sensed his turmoil, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I promise I won't leave this bed if you go and make me a cup of tea. I can't sit here for the rest of the day with an empty stomach, after all." She game him a broad smile and batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly. "Please?"
Now it was Jamie's turn to sigh. The disarming-smile tactic would clearly not work on her: she'd already mastered it. "Och, all right then." He rose from his seat. "But no funny business while I'm gone, d'you hear me?"
"I promised I wouldn't leave this place." She made a face of annoyance. "Not that I'll be able to, the way you tucked in my blankets."
He gave her a smug grin. "Good."
Making tea should have been an easy task. Jamie followed his instinct on how to work the stove, and sorted through unlabelled tea-boxes; there were some latent memories about him having done this in the past guiding him haphazardly, but trying to focus on what little hints his mind gave him made it all a bit too blurry to be useful. However, he eventually did succeed in making what he felt was a passable pot of tea, which he then placed on a tray along with cups and a plate of biscuits (he'd remembered where those were kept quite handily), and carried it all in triumph to the Doctor's room.
She had kept her promise and had remained in her bed, to all appearances by her own free will (there were no obvious signs of struggle, anyway), and was distracting herself by attentively studying the flowery wallpaper.
"Thank you, Jamie," she smiled, as he handed her a cup. She turned her attention to the walls again, this time with a marked frown. "This will have to go."
"Eh?" he asked, as he sat down on the sofa, his cup in his hands.
"The wallpaper. Actually, everything will have to go." She gestured around the room. "I mean, it's beautiful, but it's just not me. Not anymore."
"And what is 'you'?" asked Jamie, a bit nervously, as though worried about the answer.
She pondered this for a second, before replying. "I'm not really sure. Not yet, anyway. I'll find out eventually."
She sipped her tea and made a grimace. Jamie's face fell.
"I'm so sorry, Doctor," he said, starting to babble. "I only realized I don't know how to use your strange kettle when I was making it, but there's no fireplace to hang it, only that white contraption in the corner, and I thought for a moment I knew how to use it, but I cannae remember, now. I thought I had done it correctly, but I'm not sure..." He made as if to remove the tea tray from the Doctor's lap immediately.
"Jamie, it's all right." She interrupted him and gave him a reassuring smile. "The tea is fine. Really. You just forgot the sugar."
He rose from his seat. "I'll go get it."
"No, no, leave it. I'll drink it like this."
"Are you sure?"
"I am." She took another sip, and grimaced again. "All right, maybe I'm not. But still, don't worry about it. At least my stomach doesn't seem to be complaining any longer, and I don't know if adding sugar won't change this."
Jamie took a sip of his own cup and shuddered. "Well, you might not need it, but I do." He rose again. "I'll be right back."
"Jamie," the Doctor said, as he was right about to leave. He turned and noticed her smiling.
"Doctor?"
"Thank you."
Returning her smile, he left to fetch the sugar. When he came back a few minutes later, he found her fast asleep. After placing her now empty cup on the tray, which he set aside, he tucked her in again, this time gently and allowing her the freedom of movement his annoyance had denied her before. Brushing the hair from her eyes, he returned to the sofa and turned his attention to his own tea; he emptied his cup and soon he too, fell asleep.
The mechanical soldier is approaching, ticking violently and brandishing its bayonet. Instinctively, he begins to climb the steep, rocky cliff to escape from its grasp, knowing that the creature will not be able to follow him. Eventually, he reaches a narrow ledge.
"Oh no," he says to himself, as he looks around and realizes the surface of the rock wall above him is almost sheer. "I'd need to be a human fly to get up that lot. I can't go back though. What I really need is a..."
Before he can finish the sentence, a rope suddenly falls from high above.
"Who says wishes don't come true?" he says, grabbing it, as he tugs on it and starts climbing.
Eventually, he reaches a tower on the very top of the cliff and stops right outside a window.
"So far so good... Some sort of castle..." he tells himself. "All right, Jamie, now where? You don't have much choice, do you?"
As he tries to think of something, he absentmindedly pulls on the rope.
"Ouch!" a female voice exclaims, startling him, and from inside appears a richly-dressed, pretty blond girl, who scowls at him.
"I suppose you know that hurts," she half-complains with a slight smile. It is then that he realizes just what he had been using to climb the cliff.
"You mean, this is your hair?"
"Of course," she says, matter-of-factly. "I don't object to people climbing it - I'm quite used to it actually - but you would keep tugging it so!"
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry."
She looks at him with hopeful eyes. "Are you a prince?"
He looks at her with bafflement. "No, why?"
"You're supposed to be." She's clearly disappointed. "I'm a princess, but I suppose you knew that. My name is Rapunzel." She becomes excited again. "You're not a woodcutter's son, by any chance?"
"No, I'm the son of a piper," he says proudly.
The smile fades from her face once again. "Oh, how very disappointing. Well, in that case I think you'd better go. Goodbye."
She begins to leave, but he calls on her.
"Your highness, wait."
"Well?" she asks, turning back.
"I can't go back there. It's a sheer drop, and... well, I can't just stand out here. I'll... I'll have to climb in though the window."
She looks around, as if worrying that someone might have overheard him. "Well, I don't know if that will be allowed."
"Well, I won't stay long, just passing through, you might say." She seems to hesitate. "Oh, please," he begs.
"It's a pity you're not a prince," she sighs, "you'd have made rather a good one. Well, I suppose you'd better come inside. But for goodness sake, be quiet," she adds with a whisper.
He climbs through the window...
...but before he could see what was inside, Jamie woke up.
He stretched, yawned, and smiled. This dream had been a bit puzzling, but it wasn't as bad as most of the others. If all of these strange dreams featured pretty-looking girls who were not upset or in danger, he wouldn't mind them nearly so much.
He looked at the Doctor, who was still sleeping peacefully. Her rebellious fringe was once again hanging in her eyes, but apart from that, it didn't look as if she had moved at all since he had returned to the room.
He looked around, trying to find something to keep himself busy. Having noticed a small bookshelf next to the door, he decided to peruse the titles and see if there was anything that would grab his attention. However, none of the titles (The Large Scale Structure of Spacetime, That's It For God, A New Determination of Molecular Dimensions, Black Holes and Baby Universes and Other Essays, The Brand New Monty Python Papperbok, A Brief History of Time, Foundations of the General Theory of Relativity, Exploring the World: The Travelling Journals of Donna Noble (2008-2050) , Geometry and Experience: Expanded Edition of the Celebratory Lecture Given at the Prussian Academy) seemed to trigger his curiosity, until he noticed a small tome, Death in the Clouds, which had a curious drawing on the cover depicting a gigantic wasp attacking a contraption that seemed strangely familiar. He selected the book, but then noticed a wooden box hidden behind it. Intrigued, he picked it up and, glancing once again at the sleeping Doctor to ascertain she was still resting comfortably, opened it up to investigate. Inside, he found a large collection of portraits made of a strange kind of paper, all of them as incredibly detailed and life-like as the one of Victoria he had found in his room. Sitting down on the sofa, he studied each of them carefully.
The first one showed the tall Doctor he had met in France. He was very sharply dressed in a sober yet elegant grey suit, and now that Jamie could see his face without the paleness of approaching death distorting his physiognomy, he could see that this Doctor had a very pleasant and friendly expression. Next to him were a couple of blond-haired youths, a boy and a girl in their late teens - he, a rather good-looking lad, and she, not particularly pretty but with a slight otherworldliness about her features.
Another portrait showed a middle-aged man wearing a hat, a dark coat and a couple of scarves, one of which Jamie realized with a twinge of excitement had the same tartan pattern he wore. Next to this Doctor (for Jamie immediately recognized the twinkle in his eye) stood a pretty, round-faced girl with a striped shirt, who seemed to be looking deviously at him.
The next portrait made Jamie gasp with surprise. Staring right at him were the smiling faces of the grey-haired man and the girl who had rescued him from the Redcoats two years before. After studying them in shock for a minute, his face broke into a wide smile. "That explains it," he murmured, his fingers touching the faces of those two no-longer-mysterious old acquaintances.
Moving on, he then picked the image of three men and a woman. One of the men, rather handsome and with finely chiselled features, was holding two fingers behind the head of a black man, while yet another blond-haired girl looked half-amused and half-disapprovingly at him. Their companion, dressed in leather (with rather unfortunate set of prominent ears), had an arm around the girl's shoulders and was smiling goofily. Jamie wondered which one of them had been the Doctor, if any.
The following portrait showed an old man, sitting between a man and a woman who were both laughing. A girl of about 15 or 16 years old had her arms wrapped around the old man's neck in a very gentle and protective way. Jamie was surprised to see how much this girl resembled the new Doctor for whom he was now responsible; they could have been sisters, he thought, albeit ones with a considerable age gap.
And then, to his shock, he found a portrait of himself with Ben and the first Doctor he had met. Jamie was sitting behind his friends, looking rather uncomfortable and confused, while Ben and the Doctor were grinning comically. Jamie stared at this for what seemed to be an eternity, confusion and wonder twirling together inside his mind. He did not recall sitting for this portrait.
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know."
He raised his eyes with a guilty start and saw the Doctor sitting upright on the bed, looking at him.
"Oh, I... er..." he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I found the box and I..."
"That's all right," she said, reassuringly. "I'm glad to see you're interested in it, but it might be a good idea to ask for permission next time." She paused, pondering something. "Oh my, I'm in a very forgiving mood, aren't I? I wonder if this is how I am going to be from now on..."
Jamie sighed with relief, and brought the box over to the Doctor's bedside. Then, remembering the image still in his hand, he raised it so that she could see. "Doctor, this portrait..."
She tilted her hear, looking intently at it. Then, recognition struck her. "Oh yes. The photograph we took in Gatwick. 1966, I believe. That nasty business with Chameleon Tours."
"Eh?"
She smiled. "Don't worry, Jamie. It will come back once you regain your memories."
"Well, can you not tell me about it now?"
She chuckled. "What, and ruin the surprise?"
He frowned. "Oh, come on..."
"No, my dear. I can tell you about the others, if you want."
The annoyance that he was starting to feel dissipated immediately. "You will?"
"Of course. Who knows, reminiscing might be good for me."
"Well, then..." he rummaged through the portraits he had already seen, and took out the one depicting the old man and the teenage girl. "Can you tell me who this lassie is, and why she looks so much like you?"
"Looks like..." Her eyes widened as Jamie handed her the image. "Quickly, Jamie, find me a mirror."
"Eh?"
The Doctor was clearly in a state of shock. "A mirror. Quick!"
Jamie looked around, and soon noticed a small mirror on top of a cupboard, which he promptly handed to the Doctor. She gasped at the sight of her own reflection.
"Oh my goodness... Susan."
"Susan? Is that her name?" Jamie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Yes. She was my granddaughter."
Now it was time for Jamie's eyes to widen. "Your granddaughter?"
"The eyes are a different colour, though, and the nose is the wrong shape. It looks more like..." She paused, gave a slight smile, and turned her head slightly so that she could see herself in profile. She gave a slight poke on the tip of her nose before her expression relaxed into a huge smile and she whispered warmly, "Hello, Dodo."
"Eh?" said Jamie weakly. It was becoming a bit repetitive, but it seemed to be the best reply he could come up with.
The Doctor turned her attention to Jamie. "A sweet, lovely child who travelled with me for a while. I'm sure you would have liked her." She chuckled. "It's funny that this new regeneration shows some resemblance to my own flesh and blood. I wonder if this means something..." She trailed off and absently gazed in the mirror again.
Jamie sighed. Something inside told him that if the Doctor would start doing these philosophical ramblings, she'd end up forgetting all about her promise. "Doctor, the portraits," he said, shaking the box.
"Oh, yes." She shook herself from her wonderings. "I'm sorry, Jamie. Of course. Now, where to begin..." She looked at the image she was still holding. "Yes, Susan. And Ian and Barbara, of course..."
They studied the portraits ("Photographs, Jamie! These are photographs.") for hours. The Doctor's tales about his former companions jumped back and forward in time and were occasionally interrupted by small reminiscences of completely separate events, but at no moment did Jamie feel confused or overwhelmed. He did, however, feel frustrated that she'd occasionally break off abruptly as she was about to mention something that happened during the time they travelled together. "As a good friend of mine used to say - 'spoilers'!" she told him with a smile. Jamie would start to complain, but the Doctor would suddenly pick a new photograph and say "This was Mel," and his eagerness to learn more would overcome his indignation.
She told him about Susan, Ian and Barbara. Liz, Jo, Sarah Jane and Harry (she was rather vague about the people she worked for when he met them, however). River, Graham and Pandora. Mel and Ace. Vicki and Katarina ("She's not in here, but her face will forever be burned in my memory"). Arthur and Morgaine. Martha and Rose.
When the Doctor began to tell him about Donna ("Oh, she was magnificent. Truly magnificent.") Jamie noticed something changing in her speech. It was not the sadness of the loss or the warmth of the recollection, though both of those were still present as she described her travels with the redhead, but something else. It was only when the Doctor reached the moment of their parting that he realized what was different: she was concerned about how he'd react to what she'd been forced to do to Donna, because of what had been done to him by the Time Lords.
"You did what you had to," he told her, reassuringly.
"Did I?" She sighed. "Even after all this time, I keep thinking of other alternatives."
"You were short on time. You said so yourself." He put his arm around her, and she smiled, evidently quite relieved by his straight-forward acceptance of the event that had obviously made her question herself for a long time afterward.
"Well, she remained her amazing self. And the universe will forever remember just how amazing Donna Noble was."
He smiled with her, and reached for the next photograph.
