FIC: Jamie - Chapter 6
May. 18th, 2009 10:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nentariTitle: Jamie - Chapter 6
Author: Me
Beta-Reader:alouzon
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2951
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: No spoilers this time, but there's a reference to all of Jamie's televised adventures. Well, except for The Five Doctors, for obvious reasons.
Chapter 6
Jamie woke up about six hours later, his neck cramped from sleeping on the sofa. It seemed reading time off a clock was also something he had learned in his prior travels with the Doctor. Crossing over to the bed, he checked to make certain the Doctor was resting comfortably, brushing the rebellious fringe from her eyes, before returning to his own quarters. Jamie felt positively grimy.
Ever since Culloden, he had been fastidiously aware of the infrequency with which people bathed. Jamie had made a point of swimming every day the weather was fine, and went to much trouble to bathe or wash during the winter months, so much so, that it had become something of a joke among his friends. He vaguely recalled a very small chamber on board the TARDIS, lined with some sort of stone, a kind of warm rainstorm one could start and stop on demand. A shower. It was located off his sleeping quarters, if he remembered correctly.
Figuring out how the shower worked proved to be as difficult for Jamie as his first attempt at tea-making had been. After nearly getting himself scalded, he wondered if it might not be easier to go outside and bathe in the burn where he used to fish as a young boy. However, he quickly discovered how to regulate the temperature of the water to something warm and comfortable, and the burn soon vanished from his mind - and soon all the events from the past twenty-four hours also washed away.
When Jamie eventually relented and left the shower, he felt like a new man. He chose a grey sweater and red kilt and sporran from the dresser in his quarters, and a pair of boots that he found under the bed. These garments were very unlike in cut and shape to his usual attire, but at the same time he knew they were his, and that he had worn them many times before. He moved on to the kitchen, as his rumbling stomach told him that it would perhaps be a good idea to see if preparing a proper meal would prove less difficult than taking a shower.
After some ten minutes, he had assembled a tray of sandwiches big enough to feed half a dozen people. Hoping that the Doctor's stomach would be more accepting of this new batch (and wondering if they would be enough), he carried the tray to her quarters.
"Doctor?" he called as he knocked on the door. "I brought you something to eat." There was no answer from the other side. "Doctor?"
Carefully, he placed the tray on the floor in order to open the door, and found the room deserted. The bed had been meticulously made during his absence, but there were no signs of the Doctor anywhere.
"Doctor?" Jamie called again, this time more loudly. Maybe she is in the bathroom, he thought, immediately putting away the idea of going inside to check out, in case she was unclothed. "Doctor, are you in there?" He knocked on the bathroom door, receiving no answer. Jamie began to feel impatient. "Doctor, I'm coming in," he warned. He opened the door, entering in yet another empty room.
Worry and annoyance clashed with each other simultaneously. "Doctor!" he shouted, as he rushed back to the corridor. He ran through it, opening all the doors that he could find and calling for her. "Doctor, where are you?"
"In here!" he finally heard her reply, after nearly ten minutes of frantic search. The sound of her voice seemed to come from the console room.
"Ah, thank the Lord," he sighed, but annoyance soon overcame his relief, as he quickly concluded that she decided to sneak in there, probably to take flight again.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked sternly, as he entered the console room. "I was worried to death. You should be in-"
"Shush, Jamie," she interrupted, waving a hand at him in a shooing gesture.
Jamie stopped in his tracks, not because she told him to be silent, but because the sight of her froze him. The Doctor was sitting on top of a wooden chest - which his fragmented memories seemed to indicate used to be there in times past, but which had definitely not been in the room a few hours ago. Also, the Doctor seemed to have strapped a metallic contraption to her head, which was wired to the TARDIS console.
The thing that startled him the most, however, was the strangely familiar outfit the Doctor was now wearing instead of the large white shirt that had been her sole piece of clothing since her regeneration. This outfit was a full throat-to-ankle body-suit, which seemed to sparkle as if made of dark diamonds, and clung disturbingly close to every curve.
"You should not be wearing that," he finally heard himself whisper.
"Quiet, Jamie," the Doctor said, without opening her eyes. "I need to concentrate."
He finally found the ability to speak again. "What... What are you doing?"
"Trying to get some answers." She turned a dial on the contraption, located just above her left ear. "You're not the only one with memory issues."
"Eh?"
The Doctor sighed and removed the contraption from her head. "No, I'm afraid this won't do at all," she grumbled, looking at the wires. She then climbed off the chest and opened one of the circles on the wall, placing the contraption inside. "I'll have to find another way to figure this out." It was then that she finally seemed to notice Jamie's presence, not merely reacting to it as an interruption. "Oh, I'm sorry about this. I just remembered about the memory processor and decided to give it a go." She sat on the chest again, and looked at him with a grin, wrinkling her nose in an overly-obvious appreciative fashion. "I see you've showered. It was about time."
Jamie brushed off her teasing comment. "Did you say that thing was going through your memory? Is this supposed to help me somehow?"
"I never said such a thing. I don't need machinery to restore your memories, remember?"
"But you just said-"
The Doctor stalled his protest with a raised hand. "I was working on the TARDIS. There's... something missing from her memory banks that I was hoping to recover."
"What is it?" Jamie asked, as he sat next to her. She looked at him very seriously.
"I'm not sure. My past form was supposed to be my final regeneration, I should have died. And yet here I am, with a new one - or maybe a new set of regenerations. I have no way of knowing, and I have no idea when or where this happened." Before Jamie could ask, the Doctor cut him off. "No, I don't have a memory block myself. I've checked. I just... I just can't remember." She shrugged, and frowned. "But the TARDIS should have records about this, or at least some sign of awareness of the moment it happened." She pondered, tapping a finger against her chin. "Maybe this has something to do with the Time War..."
"Doctor," Jamie broke in before she could fall into a contemplative trance again.
"Oh, yes. Never mind that, Jamie. I'll figure it out eventually." She shook her head, as if waking up from a long reverie. "Was there something you wanted?"
"Er..." He paused, retracing his line of thought. His frantic search for the Doctor had made him forget about his rumbling stomach. "Oh, aye. I made sandwiches, if you want them."
Her face beamed. "Oh Jamie, sandwiches for breakfast? You spoil me." She looked around. "Where are they?"
Jamie imitated the Doctor until he realized what had happened. "Och, I forgot them outside your room when I noticed you were gone." He gave her a reproving frown. "You had me worried."
She looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Jamie. It's just that I decided to go to the wardrobe in search of some clothes, and was about to take the chest to my room when I remembered about the memory processor-"
"Now wait a minute," Jamie interrupted. "You carried this great big chest around all these corridors?"
"Well, yes."
Jamie looked at her with surprise. "But this is oak! It's too heavy for a wee lassie like you, especially in the state you're in."
The Doctor grimaced, but otherwise ignored the "wee lassie" comment. "First of all, I've told you, I'm much better now. Secondly," she knocked on the lid, "this is just pretending to be oak. And thirdly..." She stepped down again, nudging the bottom of the chest with the tip of her white boot, sending it smoothly across the floor with Jamie still seated on it, "it has wheels."
Jamie, however, was not ready to give up. "Oh, aye. But...!"
She gave a gentle pat on his shoulder. "Stop worrying so much. I am recuperating quite nicely now - I am no longer in pain, my fever is gone..."
"Och, well, I'll believe that when I see you eat," Jamie said sceptically as he got off the chest.
"That can be arranged. Shall we go get the tray?" The Doctor grinned in what appeared to be anticipation.
"D'you not think it's better for you wait here and rest a while? I can fetch the tray."
She grinned once again, and took his arm in a friendly manner, pressing so close that he felt his face blush. "Oh, stop being such a fuss, Jamie."
"Och, let's go, then," he said, still slightly embarrassed.
"So, what do you think?" she asked, as they left the console room.
"About what?"
"My clothes, of course."
"Oh, that." He made a grimace. "I don't think you should be wearing that."
She laughed. "Well, I couldn't remain half-naked, could I? I think you've seen enough of my bare legs."
Jamie felt his face flush again. "Didn't even notice," he lied.
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," the Doctor replied with a wicked grin. "Anyway, this is only temporary. I picked the first thing that fit, and it just happened to be this catsuit. I think Zoe would find it rather amusing, but I'll just settle for wearing it until I find something that is more like me." She paused and grinned once more. "I found these amazing socks, which is a nice start. Several pairs of them in the same size and colours, in fact. I think I'll build my entire wardrobe around them."
***
A couple of days went by, and Jamie could see that the Doctor was not lying about her recovery this time. The weak stomach and fits of pain and unconsciousness had vanished, and the ghostly paleness was gradually being replaced by a much more normal and healthy tone. Also, to his utmost embarrassment, he could now see that the disarming smile and the overfriendly (at least to him) manner in which she grabbed his arm seemed to be a part of the Doctor's new personality, and were here to stay. Luckily, some aspects of his old Doctor still remained in her speech and mannerisms, and he was glad to see them manifest themselves - particularly her outraged reaction every time he was cheeky or pointed out something she did not want to hear but he felt had to be said.
Eventually, he decided to bring up the subject of their departure. Part of him did not want to leave the Highlands, but another part, much stronger than the first, was looking forward to following the Doctor, whom he knew would not stay long in one place.
They both were sitting outside the TARDIS on the grass, a tablecloth between them upon which rested yet another mountain of sandwiches, and a large tart ("Banana. Absolutely delicious, Jamie - you should try some.") the Doctor had managed to either discover or produce when Jamie wasn't looking. However, neither of them was eating at the moment; Jamie was reverently fingering the bagpipes in an attempt to find the exact location of the problem, while the Doctor was doing something with a small circuit from the memory processor and an elongated object she called a "sonic screwdriver", in another attempt to find the solution for the as-yet-undivulged-question that she desperately longed to solve. Eventually, Jamie stopped what he was doing and turned to his companion. "Doctor?"
"Hmm?" she answered distractedly, without taking her eyes off the circuit.
"What are you planning to do next?"
"What do you mean?"
She was still focused on her work, only half-paying attention to his words, he noted with some exasperation. "You know, now that you're better. I know you want to go to that planet you've mentioned..."
She raised her eyes from the circuit. "Ah yes. I see what you mean. Well, once in Thoros Beta, I'll have to deliver a message to King Yrcanos so that he can help his queen. Then, I'll probably attend the feast they'll undoubtedly give in my honour." She rolled her eyes, but managed to smile smugly at the same time. "After that... I don't know, really." She paused, eyeing him. "How about you?"
The question took Jamie by surprise. "Eh?"
"Well, you know. This is a beautiful place, and even though it's not your own time I'm sure you'll still be happy here. We've landed in the..." she paused, trying to remember, "early 20th century, if I remember correctly what the readings were. The war is long gone, so you can have a peaceful life here."
Jamie could not believe what he was hearing. Was she really talking about abandoning him?
"Or I can take you back to where I picked you when I regenerated," she continued, misinterpreting his distressed expression. "It is your era, after all, and you're far away from the war, so I can be reassured that you'll be..."
"Och, come on, Doctor," he said, finally understanding her intentions. "You know very well that you're not going anywhere without me."
The Doctor stared blankly at him. "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Jamie."
"Of course you do." He grinned. "You know as well as I do that I cannae go back. I'm sure they all think I was bewitched and taken to hell by now."
"Goodness," she said, with the same blank expression. "I had no idea I had caused so much trouble for you."
Jamie snorted.
"But what about this point in space and time?" she continued. "20th century Scotland. Or I can drop you off at the Harrises, in mid-20th century England; Victoria chose to stay there with them, it's very safe. Please consider what you're asking, Jamie."
"It's no use trying to talk me out of it, Doctor. You know that I'm not going anywhere, so you can stop with this 'safe place' nonsense. You just want me to say I'll stay in one of those places so that you can then make a speech about how big the universe is."
She chuckled. "You know me too well, James Robert McCrimmon."
He smiled. "Aye, I do."
"And I should have remembered personal safety was never really much of an argument for you." She smiled back, and each of them grabbed a sandwich.
"So," she said after a while, "if you think I'm well enough to leave, does this mean you think I'm well enough to work on your memory blocks?"
"Oh aye, that," he said, after a second of confusion. "I had forgotten about it."
"Forgot about not remembering. Honestly, Jamie..." She chuckled again. "Well?"
He pondered about this for a moment. "Aye, I think it does."
She gave him a big smile. "Good. Do you want to do this now?"
He looked at her with sudden apprehension. "Now?"
"Why not?" She shrugged.
He took a final bite of his sandwich and straightened up. "Aye, let's do it."
Dropping the remains of her own sandwich on the plate, the Doctor leaned across the picnic blanket toward him. "Very well, then." She raised her hands to his head. "This is not going to hurt. Just try and relax..."
Jamie took a deep breath - and in a sudden rushing torrent, everything came back.
"Doctor, can we take him with us?"
"It's a machine, my old haggis. It's taken you away from Scotland forever."
"It's you. The phantom piper! No! No, I'll not go with you."
"The Macra! They're in control!"
"It's a flying beastie!"
"No, Doctor. Look, I'm telling you this: you and me - we're finished. You're just too callous for me. Anything goes by the board - anything at all."
"Well, if we count in Earth terms I suppose I must be about four hundred... Yes, about four hundred and fifty years old."
"I think your Doctor's worse than mine."
"Oh, Victoria. I think this is one of those instances where discretion is the better part of valour. Jamie has an idea. Come along."
"My legs! I can't feel my... I can't stand!"
"Sand castles? What does he think we are, a couple of children?"
"Oh, Jamie, don't you recognise him? It's Professor Travers."
"You wouldn't go... without saying goodbye, would you?"
"Doctor John Smith."
"Just act stupid - do you think you can manage that?"
"But... but-but-but you're not... Jamie!"
"You know something? You're a clever wee chappie!"
"Your people are gone. They are now companions of the Krotons."
"Travel-Mat? It sounds like a flying carpet!"
"Well, haven't you noticed, Jamie? Haven't you noticed how difficult it is to breathe properly now?"
"I... I won't forget you, you know."
The young Scot was overwhelmed; the speed with which his memories returned increased, resurfacing faster than Jamie could comprehend, and suddenly everything went black.
Author: Me
Beta-Reader:
alouzonFandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2951
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: No spoilers this time, but there's a reference to all of Jamie's televised adventures. Well, except for The Five Doctors, for obvious reasons.
Jamie woke up about six hours later, his neck cramped from sleeping on the sofa. It seemed reading time off a clock was also something he had learned in his prior travels with the Doctor. Crossing over to the bed, he checked to make certain the Doctor was resting comfortably, brushing the rebellious fringe from her eyes, before returning to his own quarters. Jamie felt positively grimy.
Ever since Culloden, he had been fastidiously aware of the infrequency with which people bathed. Jamie had made a point of swimming every day the weather was fine, and went to much trouble to bathe or wash during the winter months, so much so, that it had become something of a joke among his friends. He vaguely recalled a very small chamber on board the TARDIS, lined with some sort of stone, a kind of warm rainstorm one could start and stop on demand. A shower. It was located off his sleeping quarters, if he remembered correctly.
Figuring out how the shower worked proved to be as difficult for Jamie as his first attempt at tea-making had been. After nearly getting himself scalded, he wondered if it might not be easier to go outside and bathe in the burn where he used to fish as a young boy. However, he quickly discovered how to regulate the temperature of the water to something warm and comfortable, and the burn soon vanished from his mind - and soon all the events from the past twenty-four hours also washed away.
When Jamie eventually relented and left the shower, he felt like a new man. He chose a grey sweater and red kilt and sporran from the dresser in his quarters, and a pair of boots that he found under the bed. These garments were very unlike in cut and shape to his usual attire, but at the same time he knew they were his, and that he had worn them many times before. He moved on to the kitchen, as his rumbling stomach told him that it would perhaps be a good idea to see if preparing a proper meal would prove less difficult than taking a shower.
After some ten minutes, he had assembled a tray of sandwiches big enough to feed half a dozen people. Hoping that the Doctor's stomach would be more accepting of this new batch (and wondering if they would be enough), he carried the tray to her quarters.
"Doctor?" he called as he knocked on the door. "I brought you something to eat." There was no answer from the other side. "Doctor?"
Carefully, he placed the tray on the floor in order to open the door, and found the room deserted. The bed had been meticulously made during his absence, but there were no signs of the Doctor anywhere.
"Doctor?" Jamie called again, this time more loudly. Maybe she is in the bathroom, he thought, immediately putting away the idea of going inside to check out, in case she was unclothed. "Doctor, are you in there?" He knocked on the bathroom door, receiving no answer. Jamie began to feel impatient. "Doctor, I'm coming in," he warned. He opened the door, entering in yet another empty room.
Worry and annoyance clashed with each other simultaneously. "Doctor!" he shouted, as he rushed back to the corridor. He ran through it, opening all the doors that he could find and calling for her. "Doctor, where are you?"
"In here!" he finally heard her reply, after nearly ten minutes of frantic search. The sound of her voice seemed to come from the console room.
"Ah, thank the Lord," he sighed, but annoyance soon overcame his relief, as he quickly concluded that she decided to sneak in there, probably to take flight again.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked sternly, as he entered the console room. "I was worried to death. You should be in-"
"Shush, Jamie," she interrupted, waving a hand at him in a shooing gesture.
Jamie stopped in his tracks, not because she told him to be silent, but because the sight of her froze him. The Doctor was sitting on top of a wooden chest - which his fragmented memories seemed to indicate used to be there in times past, but which had definitely not been in the room a few hours ago. Also, the Doctor seemed to have strapped a metallic contraption to her head, which was wired to the TARDIS console.
The thing that startled him the most, however, was the strangely familiar outfit the Doctor was now wearing instead of the large white shirt that had been her sole piece of clothing since her regeneration. This outfit was a full throat-to-ankle body-suit, which seemed to sparkle as if made of dark diamonds, and clung disturbingly close to every curve.
"You should not be wearing that," he finally heard himself whisper.
"Quiet, Jamie," the Doctor said, without opening her eyes. "I need to concentrate."
He finally found the ability to speak again. "What... What are you doing?"
"Trying to get some answers." She turned a dial on the contraption, located just above her left ear. "You're not the only one with memory issues."
"Eh?"
The Doctor sighed and removed the contraption from her head. "No, I'm afraid this won't do at all," she grumbled, looking at the wires. She then climbed off the chest and opened one of the circles on the wall, placing the contraption inside. "I'll have to find another way to figure this out." It was then that she finally seemed to notice Jamie's presence, not merely reacting to it as an interruption. "Oh, I'm sorry about this. I just remembered about the memory processor and decided to give it a go." She sat on the chest again, and looked at him with a grin, wrinkling her nose in an overly-obvious appreciative fashion. "I see you've showered. It was about time."
Jamie brushed off her teasing comment. "Did you say that thing was going through your memory? Is this supposed to help me somehow?"
"I never said such a thing. I don't need machinery to restore your memories, remember?"
"But you just said-"
The Doctor stalled his protest with a raised hand. "I was working on the TARDIS. There's... something missing from her memory banks that I was hoping to recover."
"What is it?" Jamie asked, as he sat next to her. She looked at him very seriously.
"I'm not sure. My past form was supposed to be my final regeneration, I should have died. And yet here I am, with a new one - or maybe a new set of regenerations. I have no way of knowing, and I have no idea when or where this happened." Before Jamie could ask, the Doctor cut him off. "No, I don't have a memory block myself. I've checked. I just... I just can't remember." She shrugged, and frowned. "But the TARDIS should have records about this, or at least some sign of awareness of the moment it happened." She pondered, tapping a finger against her chin. "Maybe this has something to do with the Time War..."
"Doctor," Jamie broke in before she could fall into a contemplative trance again.
"Oh, yes. Never mind that, Jamie. I'll figure it out eventually." She shook her head, as if waking up from a long reverie. "Was there something you wanted?"
"Er..." He paused, retracing his line of thought. His frantic search for the Doctor had made him forget about his rumbling stomach. "Oh, aye. I made sandwiches, if you want them."
Her face beamed. "Oh Jamie, sandwiches for breakfast? You spoil me." She looked around. "Where are they?"
Jamie imitated the Doctor until he realized what had happened. "Och, I forgot them outside your room when I noticed you were gone." He gave her a reproving frown. "You had me worried."
She looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Jamie. It's just that I decided to go to the wardrobe in search of some clothes, and was about to take the chest to my room when I remembered about the memory processor-"
"Now wait a minute," Jamie interrupted. "You carried this great big chest around all these corridors?"
"Well, yes."
Jamie looked at her with surprise. "But this is oak! It's too heavy for a wee lassie like you, especially in the state you're in."
The Doctor grimaced, but otherwise ignored the "wee lassie" comment. "First of all, I've told you, I'm much better now. Secondly," she knocked on the lid, "this is just pretending to be oak. And thirdly..." She stepped down again, nudging the bottom of the chest with the tip of her white boot, sending it smoothly across the floor with Jamie still seated on it, "it has wheels."
Jamie, however, was not ready to give up. "Oh, aye. But...!"
She gave a gentle pat on his shoulder. "Stop worrying so much. I am recuperating quite nicely now - I am no longer in pain, my fever is gone..."
"Och, well, I'll believe that when I see you eat," Jamie said sceptically as he got off the chest.
"That can be arranged. Shall we go get the tray?" The Doctor grinned in what appeared to be anticipation.
"D'you not think it's better for you wait here and rest a while? I can fetch the tray."
She grinned once again, and took his arm in a friendly manner, pressing so close that he felt his face blush. "Oh, stop being such a fuss, Jamie."
"Och, let's go, then," he said, still slightly embarrassed.
"So, what do you think?" she asked, as they left the console room.
"About what?"
"My clothes, of course."
"Oh, that." He made a grimace. "I don't think you should be wearing that."
She laughed. "Well, I couldn't remain half-naked, could I? I think you've seen enough of my bare legs."
Jamie felt his face flush again. "Didn't even notice," he lied.
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," the Doctor replied with a wicked grin. "Anyway, this is only temporary. I picked the first thing that fit, and it just happened to be this catsuit. I think Zoe would find it rather amusing, but I'll just settle for wearing it until I find something that is more like me." She paused and grinned once more. "I found these amazing socks, which is a nice start. Several pairs of them in the same size and colours, in fact. I think I'll build my entire wardrobe around them."
A couple of days went by, and Jamie could see that the Doctor was not lying about her recovery this time. The weak stomach and fits of pain and unconsciousness had vanished, and the ghostly paleness was gradually being replaced by a much more normal and healthy tone. Also, to his utmost embarrassment, he could now see that the disarming smile and the overfriendly (at least to him) manner in which she grabbed his arm seemed to be a part of the Doctor's new personality, and were here to stay. Luckily, some aspects of his old Doctor still remained in her speech and mannerisms, and he was glad to see them manifest themselves - particularly her outraged reaction every time he was cheeky or pointed out something she did not want to hear but he felt had to be said.
Eventually, he decided to bring up the subject of their departure. Part of him did not want to leave the Highlands, but another part, much stronger than the first, was looking forward to following the Doctor, whom he knew would not stay long in one place.
They both were sitting outside the TARDIS on the grass, a tablecloth between them upon which rested yet another mountain of sandwiches, and a large tart ("Banana. Absolutely delicious, Jamie - you should try some.") the Doctor had managed to either discover or produce when Jamie wasn't looking. However, neither of them was eating at the moment; Jamie was reverently fingering the bagpipes in an attempt to find the exact location of the problem, while the Doctor was doing something with a small circuit from the memory processor and an elongated object she called a "sonic screwdriver", in another attempt to find the solution for the as-yet-undivulged-question that she desperately longed to solve. Eventually, Jamie stopped what he was doing and turned to his companion. "Doctor?"
"Hmm?" she answered distractedly, without taking her eyes off the circuit.
"What are you planning to do next?"
"What do you mean?"
She was still focused on her work, only half-paying attention to his words, he noted with some exasperation. "You know, now that you're better. I know you want to go to that planet you've mentioned..."
She raised her eyes from the circuit. "Ah yes. I see what you mean. Well, once in Thoros Beta, I'll have to deliver a message to King Yrcanos so that he can help his queen. Then, I'll probably attend the feast they'll undoubtedly give in my honour." She rolled her eyes, but managed to smile smugly at the same time. "After that... I don't know, really." She paused, eyeing him. "How about you?"
The question took Jamie by surprise. "Eh?"
"Well, you know. This is a beautiful place, and even though it's not your own time I'm sure you'll still be happy here. We've landed in the..." she paused, trying to remember, "early 20th century, if I remember correctly what the readings were. The war is long gone, so you can have a peaceful life here."
Jamie could not believe what he was hearing. Was she really talking about abandoning him?
"Or I can take you back to where I picked you when I regenerated," she continued, misinterpreting his distressed expression. "It is your era, after all, and you're far away from the war, so I can be reassured that you'll be..."
"Och, come on, Doctor," he said, finally understanding her intentions. "You know very well that you're not going anywhere without me."
The Doctor stared blankly at him. "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Jamie."
"Of course you do." He grinned. "You know as well as I do that I cannae go back. I'm sure they all think I was bewitched and taken to hell by now."
"Goodness," she said, with the same blank expression. "I had no idea I had caused so much trouble for you."
Jamie snorted.
"But what about this point in space and time?" she continued. "20th century Scotland. Or I can drop you off at the Harrises, in mid-20th century England; Victoria chose to stay there with them, it's very safe. Please consider what you're asking, Jamie."
"It's no use trying to talk me out of it, Doctor. You know that I'm not going anywhere, so you can stop with this 'safe place' nonsense. You just want me to say I'll stay in one of those places so that you can then make a speech about how big the universe is."
She chuckled. "You know me too well, James Robert McCrimmon."
He smiled. "Aye, I do."
"And I should have remembered personal safety was never really much of an argument for you." She smiled back, and each of them grabbed a sandwich.
"So," she said after a while, "if you think I'm well enough to leave, does this mean you think I'm well enough to work on your memory blocks?"
"Oh aye, that," he said, after a second of confusion. "I had forgotten about it."
"Forgot about not remembering. Honestly, Jamie..." She chuckled again. "Well?"
He pondered about this for a moment. "Aye, I think it does."
She gave him a big smile. "Good. Do you want to do this now?"
He looked at her with sudden apprehension. "Now?"
"Why not?" She shrugged.
He took a final bite of his sandwich and straightened up. "Aye, let's do it."
Dropping the remains of her own sandwich on the plate, the Doctor leaned across the picnic blanket toward him. "Very well, then." She raised her hands to his head. "This is not going to hurt. Just try and relax..."
Jamie took a deep breath - and in a sudden rushing torrent, everything came back.
"Doctor, can we take him with us?"
"It's a machine, my old haggis. It's taken you away from Scotland forever."
"It's you. The phantom piper! No! No, I'll not go with you."
"The Macra! They're in control!"
"It's a flying beastie!"
"No, Doctor. Look, I'm telling you this: you and me - we're finished. You're just too callous for me. Anything goes by the board - anything at all."
"Well, if we count in Earth terms I suppose I must be about four hundred... Yes, about four hundred and fifty years old."
"I think your Doctor's worse than mine."
"Oh, Victoria. I think this is one of those instances where discretion is the better part of valour. Jamie has an idea. Come along."
"My legs! I can't feel my... I can't stand!"
"Sand castles? What does he think we are, a couple of children?"
"Oh, Jamie, don't you recognise him? It's Professor Travers."
"You wouldn't go... without saying goodbye, would you?"
"Doctor John Smith."
"Just act stupid - do you think you can manage that?"
"But... but-but-but you're not... Jamie!"
"You know something? You're a clever wee chappie!"
"Your people are gone. They are now companions of the Krotons."
"Travel-Mat? It sounds like a flying carpet!"
"Well, haven't you noticed, Jamie? Haven't you noticed how difficult it is to breathe properly now?"
"I... I won't forget you, you know."
The young Scot was overwhelmed; the speed with which his memories returned increased, resurfacing faster than Jamie could comprehend, and suddenly everything went black.
