Work Text:
Desire
A Doctor Who story
“How many left?” he called to the Doctor.
The Time Lord was busy trying to corral another of the beastly animals. Spingbops were relatives of Earthly gazelles but in miniature; they could leap and run very well and traveled in herds. The Doctor and Jothan had been unlucky enough to open the door of the TARDIS just in time for a stampede and had been working for hours trying to force the intruders out.
“I think this might be the last one,” the Doctor informed his husband.
Together the two herded the animal toward the TARDIS door. The Time Lord was the lucky one this time; he managed to snag a horn just before the beast could spring. He threw it out, then shut the door quickly.
“Rassilon's beard, that was awful,” the Doctor sighed in relief. “Good thing we had the Console Room door shut or we would've had a black hole of a time getting them out.”
The medic was looking anxiously at the underside of the TARDIS console where the Doctor had been working when the invasion occurred. “I think we have a problem, Doctor—the pesky things were chewing on some of the TARDIS innards.”
The Time Lord took a look for himself, then came up looking grim. “That's not good; we're going to have to do some repairs. Trouble is, this world has absolutely no technology of any kind. Well, there's nothing for it; we've got to risk flying her to the nearest advanced planet and hope we make it. I hope they didn't rip apart anything basic.”
Jothan stroked the console gently. “Don't worry; we'll soon have you running in tip-top shape.” He then looked around on the floor, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I'd better get this mess cleaned up before it dries,” he said, kicking at a small pile of poop.
The Doctor was still examining the console and its insides. “It's bad, but we should be able to fly her a little way. I'll have to pull up a star chart and see what we're close to.”
“Right, then,” the medic sighed, going to fetch a broom and mop.
Two hours later, the Doctor told his companion, “We're at the closest planet with the technology level we need; now comes the tricky bit. I can't say for certain that we'll be able to materialize.”
Jothan's face was set. “It's not like we can stay here forever. We have to take the chance.”
It was a rough landing; the ship shuddered and groaned loudly in protest. The Doctor pushed extra buttons and twisted dials and pulled levers, and finally the vibration ceased as they landed. “Made it!” the Time Lord sighed in relief. “Next stop is the nearest shipyard or electronics dump.”
“Where are we exactly?” Jothan wanted to know.
“We're on Selbrinar Gamma,” the Doctor told the younger man. “They're not too kindly toward strangers here, so make sure you stay with me or in the spaceport. No wandering off!”
“I won't,” the medic promised.
The two stepped out of the TARDIS into a busy spaceport. There was a guard already waiting for them. She was an orange-skinned humanoid with a feathery crest on the top of her head and wings sprouting from her back. “No free parking!” she barked. “Fifty standard credits a day and it better not be leaking anything! Fueling station's on the west side of the spaceport.”
“Leaking?” the Doctor huffed, insulted. “My ship—”
Jothan quickly stepped in front of the Time Lord, holding out his credit disk. “We'd like to pay for three weeks in advance,” he told the sentry.
The guard took the credit disk and swiped it through a handheld scanner, which beeped and produced a bright pink tag. “Leave this on the front of the craft, unless you want it towed.”
The Doctor was about to get very angry, so Jothan decided to intervene yet again. He grabbed the Time Lord's arm and pulled hard. “Remember, Doctor,” he said low, “they don't like off-worlders. If they get mad at us, we really will be in trouble.”
The Time Lord's face was red, but he kept his peace as the sentry marched off.
Jothan and the Doctor explored a little until they found an information kiosk. Nimbly the Doctor typed, and a map appeared. “Looks like there's an electronics dump right here at the spaceport. Very handy, and it means we won't need to leave the tourist areas.”
“They dislike other races that much? That's not good,” Jothan observed.
“Selbrinarians are convinced that they're better than everyone else, and they have a phobia of interbreeding with other races. They'll get over it in a few thousand generations or so.”
They made their way through the spaceport to their destination. Jothan saw many different types of ships as they passed, some large and some clearly meant for only one passenger. There were many interesting aliens to look at as well, along with shops and businesses. As they passed one ship, he happened to catch a whiff of something spicy and tangy from a stall in front of a ship that looked like an oversized doughnut. He would have stopped, but the Doctor was in a hurry and Jothan didn't want to get lost so he merely filed the information away and rushed on.
The electronics dump was easy to find; the gate had been fashioned from half of a wing of some alien space transport. Here and there you could see circuit boards, radar dishes, and other various gadgets and gizmos. The Doctor and Jothan were met at the entrance by an alien with five eyestalks, numerous tentacles, and a beak. “A credit to enter, no haggling,” the being announced. “If you want to take something out or have something to sell, then we deal.”
Jothan handed over his credit disk, and the creature let them in. They didn't have to go far before the Doctor found something worthy of his interest. “Jothan, look— it's a Slarjee space pod. It's sure to have something we can use . . .” The Time Lord was already headed for the capsule.
For the next three hours Jothan tried to be patient and enthusiastic about the Doctor's finds. He didn't know much about what the Doctor was looking for or how it would help the TARDIS, but he did his best to look interested, or at least not bored out of his skull. Finally he said diplomatically, “Don't you think it's time for some lunch? The parts are bound to be here when we get back . . .”
The Doctor waved him off, his hands full of what looked like space junk. He was going to answer when suddenly his eyes bulged out of his head and he started running to his left. “It can't be . . . it's impossible . . .”
Jothan followed his husband through the piles of broken bits until they were standing in front of something familiar. “A TARDIS console?” Jothan asked, amazed. “Is it really?”
The Doctor was bending over to get at the access panels under the console. He popped them open and said in wonder, “It can't be possible, but it's here somehow.” He dumped what he had been carrying aside and started immediately on the new find.
“Is it compatible? How old is it?” the medic wanted to know.
The Doctor got out his sonic screwdriver and started fiddling, lying on his back to get into the console. He popped his head out and said, “It's a Type 30; that's an older model than ours, but a lot of the parts will be the same. Seems like it's relatively intact as well. It's simply incredible what we can get from this . . .”
Jothan sighed a little; lunch was definitely going to be out. Just then the Doctor told him, “I'm going to need you to go back to the ship and get me one of the dimensionally transcendent boxes I have in the workshop; there's no way I can get all I'm going to want in my pockets. Look at all this—a tharnic regulator, time chaining circuits . . . the magnetron acceleration unit looks like it still runs . . . ” He went on listing parts that he could use, completely forgetting his husband.
The younger man headed for the exit after getting a return pass; there would be no sense in having to pay twice. He got back to the TARDIS and told her, “We found an old Type 30 console; you are going to be so happy . . .” He went to the workshop and found one of the crates the Doctor had been talking about. It was just light enough for Jothan to carry on his own.
He headed back with his unwieldy load, having to stop several times to rest for a bit. As he was taking a break he smelled the intriguing odor he had caught before. He looked at the stall in front of the doughnut ship; it was selling small glass containers of a thin, cobalt blue liquid, and some of the same liquid was in a tall pitcher. The stall owner was a lithe, feline-looking humanoid with sharp canines and a fluffy tail. It saw Jothan and said invitingly, “Care for some frelnon to boost you up? You look like you could use a drink.”
Jothan looked at the seller doubtfully. “I'm from Sol Three, in Mutter's Spiral Galaxy; it'll probably be poisonous.”
“Not at all, my good being!” the owner said expansively. “Frelnon isn't poisonous to any humanoid kind. It might be different if you were a silicate creature, but you're not. Here, try a bit—a free sample, if you will.” It reached down behind the stall and took out a small saucer. It poured a little of the pitcher's contents onto the saucer, then held it out to the medic.
Jothan took the saucer and sniffed it. Frowning, he then took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned it. It didn't react, so he knew the stall owner hadn't been lying. He put the screwdriver back in his pocket and took an experimental sip. It had an interesting metallic and spicy taste with a touch of sweetness. He drained the saucer, then looked at one of the glass containers. “How much for one?” he asked.
The creature switched its tail back and forth lazily. “Just twenty standard credits for a container, and that's a bargain indeed.”
Jothan thought about it for a moment. It was better than some of the teas he had tried on other worlds, and it certainly had been refreshing. “I suppose I will get some,” he said, getting out his credit disk. The being gave him one of the glass containers and Jothan slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you,” he said politely.
“Pleasure to do business,” the other creature said in reply.
Jothan picked up the box again and lugged it the rest of the way to the electronics dump. The owner looked grouchy when he saw what Jothan had with him. “A box? You better be prepared to buy anything you put in there—I won't have you pick out a bunch of parts only to change your mind and have me put them back where they go!”
The medic sighed. “I promise you we'll buy everything we put in it. Can I bring it in or not?”
The owner humphed a bit, but finally let the young man in.
Jothan went back to where he had left the Doctor and dropped the crate beside the Time Lord. “I got the biggest one I could carry. Just make sure you only put things you want in there—we'll be expected to buy everything in it.”
The older man stuck his head out again, saying, “It won't be a problem—there's no way I can get everything I'll want in one trip. We're going to be here quite a while; at some point I'll run back to the TARDIS and get some stuff from the workshop I can trade for what I want.”
“When will you actually get to work on the repairs?” Jothan asked, hoping for a good reply.
The Doctor shrugged, going back under the console. “It could take a week before I've gotten all the parts out of here that I can use. Figure another week to get the new parts installed . . . say two weeks total?”
Jothan groaned inwardly. He was glad they were going to be able to help the TARDIS, but he didn't fancy having to stay in the spaceport for a whole two weeks. Still, the TARDIS deserved the best and the Doctor would need his help. “All right,” he replied patiently, “Where do we start?”
************
Jothan woke up and stretched, then looked down to find a note on the pillow next to him. Heading to the electronics dump, it read. Come meet me there when you're up; I'll have a box for you to carry back.
Jothan re-read the note, then balled it up grumpily and threw it in the waste basket. It had been three days and he'd been little more than a porter, carrying loads of parts back to the ship and then returning with the empty box to pick up more. All the Doctor could talk about was the latest part he had found, or something else the new equipment would be able to do. Jothan was getting tired of this place very quickly, and he was annoyed at how absorbed the Time Lord had become. He hadn't even stayed with Jothan for breakfast.
The medic got up, took a shower, and went into the kitchen. He reached up into the cupboard and got down the frelnon that he had been drinking. To his surprise, he found the container was almost empty. He wondered how it had happened so quickly, then shrugged. He'd just get some more. He finished the frelnon and threw the empty container away, then set out to get some breakfast. In spite of his irritation, he felt quite lively and ready for adventure, not that he was likely to get anything but sore muscles.
He stopped at the little stall on his way to meet the Doctor. The creature that had sold him the frelnon was sitting at the stall looking at the traffic passing by. Jothan went over and asked, “Would you be able to sell me another container of frelnon or two? It really is good . . .”
The alien looked at him eagerly. “Of course I can, my fine being. Thirty credits each, is all.”
Jothan frowned. “Thirty? It was twenty the other day . . .”
The creature's tail bobbed back and forth as it explained, “The locals don't like it when off-worlders have access to their frelnon, so it's hard stuff to get.”
Jothan looked at the alien suspiciously, but decided that it would be worth the cost. “Ok, I'll get three—just in case the price goes up again.”
“As you wish, my fine being.” The creature took his credit disk, then passed it back along with the three containers of frelnon. “Best of days to you.”
Jothan spent the day lugging the heavy box back and forth to the TARDIS and emptying it so more could be put in. He barely got to see the Doctor at all; the older man spent his time buried up to his elbows in TARDIS innards, and wouldn't leave the dump until they were kicked out that night. Even when the Doctor was there he wasn't really; he spent the whole evening meal worrying that the dump owner would kick him out before he got to all the parts he really wanted. The medic nodded at the right points but was relieved when the Time Lord went off to sort his precious parts into some order. The last thing Jothan did before he turned in for the night was get a quick sip of frelnon to sleep on; the taste coated his tongue and made everything seem just a bit brighter.
He woke up the next few days to the same thing; there was the note on the pillow and the breakfast alone, and more carrying and carting. It was tedious, but the frelnon somehow made it better. As he headed over to the dump on the sixth day he suddenly stopped and went to a credit conversion unit; he wanted to see how many credits he still had. He checked out his balance and was a bit relieved; he still had more than half the credits he had won back at the Prataxen Pleasure Palace. At some point he would have to talk to the Doctor about taking him to a similar place to get some more money, but for now things were fine.
Checking over his credit balance reminded him of how much frelnon he had left; he had bought three containers but he was running low somehow. He also wanted to be sure he would have enough once he left the planet; who knew when he could get more. He went to the stall and sure enough, the feline alien was there watching the traffic. Jothan stepped up and asked, “How much frelnon do you have on hand?”
“A good day, my fine being! Back for more already? Well, let me check . . .” The creature rummaged around in the back of the stall and came up again with nine glass containers. “I have nine total . . .”
“And I want them all,” Jothan said firmly.
The creature's ears wiggled as it considered. “I'm not sure I can sell you my entire stock,” it said finally. “I have other customers to think of . . .”
“I'll pay you seventy credits a container. That ought to be enough to compensate you,” Jothan replied, already getting out his credit disk.
The alien thought for a moment, then took the credit disk. “Very well, my fine being, they're yours at that price.” It took the credit disk, swiped it, then returned it to the medic. “Do you wish a bag or other contrivance?”
“I have pockets, thank you,” the young man told the creature. He filled his pockets with the frelnon containers then headed to the electronics dump. He found the Doctor haggling with the dump owner over his latest acquisitions.
“Good, you're here,” the Time Lord said by way of greeting. “Take this load back to the TARDIS, there's a good chap. Leave it neatly in my workshop and I'll sort it tonight. And hurry back; some other aliens have been sniffing around that console and I want to make sure I get to it first.”
Jothan felt very insulted, but said nothing. Upon his return to the TARDIS he put the parts where the Doctor had asked, but took a moment to grab a cup of frelnon before he went back. He also put the rest of the frelnon in the kitchen cupboard, now sure he had enough to last him a while.
When he returned he found that the Doctor had been right; there were several other aliens looking at the old TARDIS console with interest. The Time Lord himself was working like mad to take parts out of it and get them into his box, muttering all the time about vultures. As swiftly as he could fill the box he had the medic cart the stuff away. “Hurry back!” he called as Jothan left with the second load of the day. “I want to get at the amplified matrix switches!”
Finally the day ended and the two were kicked out of the dump for the night. The Time Lord was dithering over all the things he had gotten out of the console that day. “The amplified matrix switches were a great find; most of them still work, and if I cannibalize the ones that didn't with what I already have . . . Jothan, what is that?”
“What?” the medic asked, taking the frelnon container out of the cupboard.
“That stuff in the container—what is it?” The Doctor sounded annoyed.
Jothan poured a cup of the liquid out and put it on the table. “This? It's just frelnon. Found it at a stall on the way to the electronics dump. Good stuff, too.”
The medic was surprised by the reaction he got from his husband. “Get that garbage off my TARDIS,” he was told flatly.
Jothan was stunned. “What?”
“You heard me—get rid of it. I won't have that filth on my ship.” The Doctor sounded angry.
The younger man tried to explain. “It's just—”
“Now, Jothan!” the Time Lord demanded.
Angry himself, Jothan took the containers of frelnon out one by one and stuffed them in his pockets. “Fine, fine. Order me about like I'm five.”
The Doctor changed his tone a bit. “You have no idea what that stuff can do, Jothan . . .”
“Don't worry, I'll spare your precious sensibilities,” Jothan snapped. He left the TARDIS in a fine temper. Taking the frelnon out of his pockets he threw each container into the trash, then stomped back. The Doctor was waiting in the Console Room. “Happy now?” he snarled.
“Just so long as it's gone, Jothan. You don't—”
“Spare me the explanation,” Jothan spat back heatedly. “I'm not interested.” He marched back to his bedroom and slammed the door. He quickly undressed and got in bed, ready to sleep.
After several hours of tossing and turning, Jothan gave it up. He sat up in bed and tried to quiet his racing, angry thoughts. What right did the Doctor have to ignore him for days on end and then make such ridiculous demands? Who did that big-eared, arrogant git think he was? He regretted his hasty decision to actually get rid of the frelnon; the TARDIS was his home just as much as the Doctor's and the stuff had been expensive. He decided that tomorrow he would replace the frelnon he'd gotten rid of; the Doctor would just have to live with it. He was an adult, for Zeus' sake, not some little child that deserved a talking-to. He stared up at the ceiling for the rest of the night, unable to sleep, still seething over the waste of his frelnon.
In the morning the Time Lord was nowhere to be found, as usual. Jothan got up and took a shower but he was still ill-tempered, probably because of last night. He also seemed to have picked up some sort of rash, he thought; he was itching all over. He checked himself over in the mirror, but couldn't see anything. Wonderful, he thought to himself.
The medic picked at his breakfast, wishing he could have some frelnon with it. It annoyed him a little how much he was thinking about the blue liquid, but he just dismissed the thoughts; he was annoyed with his husband, that was all. He didn't need frelnon, not really; it had just been a fun little treat, a way to pamper himself a bit. He'd soon forget about it.
The Time Lord was working on something in the Console Room when Jothan made his appearance. The medic found himself rubbing his hands over his arms trying to quell the itch. “More carting today,” Jothan asked waspishly, “or are my days as a pack animal over?”
The Doctor pulled himself out from under the console. “Jothan . . .” he began.
“Are we going or not?” the younger man snapped.
“I wanted to go back and see what else might be there, but I don't think I'll find anything. Jothan, we really need to talk . . .”
“I have nothing to say to you,” the medic said flatly.
The Doctor looked regretful. “Will you at least listen?”
The younger man sighed mightily, but stayed where he was.
The Time Lord took that as an invitation and said hurriedly, “I just want to apologize for yesterday. I came at it wrong, and I'm sorry. You just haven't seen the damage frelnon can do, and I have. I overreacted, and I admit it. I hope you're not angry . . .”
“Fine,” Jothan huffed. He wanted to stop talking about it; he wanted to go to the stall and get just a little frelnon and afterward leave this rock behind. “I'm going out; I'll be back.”
He hurried to the place where the alien sold the frelnon, but found nothing there. Even the spaceship was gone. He marched back to the TARDIS, furious. He flung the door open and shouted, “Where did the stand go? Don't tell me you didn't have anything to do with it, either!”
It only added to his fury that the Doctor did not seem surprised by his accusation. “I spoke to the vendor this morning and told it who I was and what I expected. It was off-planet within an hour.”
“How dare you!” Jothan raged. “You had no right . . . I'm an adult, I can do what I please!”
The Doctor shook his head sadly. “I'm too late, aren't I? You're already hooked.”
“I don't need any sodding frelnon!” the medic yelled at him. “I liked it, that's all. I had some with breakfast and lunch, maybe a little in the afternoon, a cup at dinner, maybe a little before bed . . .”
“But nothing like a habit, am I right?” the Doctor asked softly. “Are you itching?”
“So what if I am?” the younger man raged.
The Doctor was still shaking his head. “You're going through withdrawal. The irritability, the itching . . . all classic signs. I'm sorry, Jothan. If I'd been paying more attention . . .”
“I don't need frelnon!” Jothan screamed. “I just want it!”
The Doctor's voice turned hard. “Well, there isn't any and there won't be any. Barring an emergency, you've had your last frelnon. It won't be pleasant but I'll help you through it,”
“I don't want your help!” Jothan spat back. “You've done enough help to last me a long, long time.” He stalked to the inner door of the TARDIS and went through it, then slammed it behind him. All he wanted at that moment was to be left alone. He went to his room to get a swimsuit, deciding to spend some time in the pool. It took no time at all to get changed and in minutes he was diving into the inviting water . . .
Suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire, the pain excruciating. He barely got to the surface of the water, but he somehow managed to make it to the side and haul himself out of the pool. He crawled over to where the poolside shower was and managed to stand up long enough to get the water on, then crumpled in a heap underneath the spray, tears filling his eyes. After a long time the burning lessened enough for him to turn over and rinse the other side. He was still lying under the water when the Doctor came hurrying in.
“You might not want—Jothan!” He rushed to the medic's aid, helping the younger man to his feet. “What happened?” he questioned anxiously. “You're bright red all over.”
“The water—it burned . . .” Jothan whimpered.
The Time Lord held him up under the rushing water, helping him rinse. “You must have had a reaction to one of the pool chemicals; the frelnon in your sweat caused the problem. We'll get you cleaned off and up to the Med Center to make sure there's no damage.”
Jothan let the Doctor help him to the Med Center, still feeling the burn from the water. The older man scanned him, then got out some medicines and began combining them in a spray bottle. He finished and told Jothan calmly, “This will stop the reaction; your skin's going to peel and be extra sensitive—you've sustained chemical burns.” He sprayed the medic liberally with his concoction, making sure to get it everywhere.
Jothan's anger returned a little. It was all the Doctor's fault. If he hadn't interfered he would have been fine, and none of this unpleasantness would have occurred. “Anything else?” he asked sourly. “I want to be alone.”
The Doctor shook his head as he cleaned up. “That's not a good idea, Jothan—I need to make sure you don't have any complications from withdrawal.”
“You said you had some frelnon for emergencies?”
“Yes,” the Doctor answered carefully.
“I would count this as an emergency, wouldn't you?” Jothan asked.
“No, Jothan,” the Time Lord responded, sounding hurt. “The emergencies I mean are things like heart arrhythmia and convulsions, not a little bit of discomfort.”
Jothan hated him in that moment. Self-satisfied, sanctimonious bastard! he thought inwardly. It's not your 'discomfort', is it? How in Jupiter would you know how I feel? “You have frelnon, and I want it,” he said reasonably. “If it weren't for you, I could be weaning myself off a little at a time.”
The Time Lord stood a little straighter. “I'm not giving you any frelnon, not unless it's an emergency. I have it in a hidden place, safe for if I deem it necessary. It doesn't work like that anyway, Jothan—a little is as bad as a lot.”
“I want that frelnon!” Jothan hissed acidly.
The Doctor turned his back on Jothan, heading for the door. “I'm not discussing this any further,” he stated.
Jothan ran up behind the Time Lord and grabbed his arm, spinning him around. “Don't you walk away from me!” He used his mental power to dig into the Doctor's mind painfully, bringing the Time Lord to his knees. “Where is it? Where did you hide it?” he roared.
The Doctor was resisting him, his mental will keeping Jothan out. “I won't . . . I won't . . .” he groaned.
“What did you do with that frelnon? Hand it over!” the medic screeched.
The Doctor made one last effort to pull away then slumped, unconscious.
Jothan was in a fury; he had pushed too far. With the Doctor unconscious he would be able to learn nothing. He kicked the Time Lord a few times in the ribs for good measure, then decided on a better course of action. He stripped the Doctor naked and locked him in the Med Center bathroom, relatively certain the older man would be trapped there for a while. He then went through all of the Doctor's pockets but found nothing. He snarled in anger, leaving all the contents of the Doctor's jacket in a pile by the door, then hurried to the Doctor's workshop and searched there too. There was no frelnon. Frustrated, he dashed to the Doctor's laboratory and looked there, knocking over beakers and dumping experiments over in his hurry. Still no frelnon.
Finally Jothan had another idea. He might not be able to get to the frelnon on the TARDIS, but the planet they were on was sure to have more that he could buy. He quickly grabbed for his jacket and was about to rush out of the TARDIS when he remembered the TARDIS key around his neck. If the Doctor woke up too soon, he'd be found before he could get some frelnon. Jothan left the key hanging on the coat rack in the Console Room, but was careful to make sure he closed the door firmly behind him. Taking his credit disk in his hand he left the ship behind and started hunting for some frelnon.
He went through the entire spaceport twice before he conceded defeat; no one else was selling the substance here. Jothan bit his lip and thought furiously for another answer, but finally told himself he had no choice; he would have to leave the spaceport and get some frelnon from one of the locals. He rubbed his hands over his arms again and again telling himself it would be easy; someone out there had to have some frelnon they would sell. He had plenty of credits after all; he'd find a way. He went through customs and finally got a metal disk around his wrist so he could leave the spaceport and return when he was ready. Satisfied that he was doing the right thing he exited the spaceport and started walking.
************
The Doctor woke with a splitting headache and pain in his side, but he thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't been badly injured; frelnon withdrawal could turn the most mild-mannered creatures into frenzied, furious maniacs. He should have been more careful. He looked around at his surroundings after making sure he wasn't seriously hurt. He was in a bathroom, the one in the Med Center if he was correct. He was naked and had nothing to work with in the way of tools, but that wasn't about to get him down. He was a Time Lord, after all.
It took many hours of work to get the door open; he stepped out, almost tripping over the pile of objects that had been in his pockets. The Med Center itself didn't look like it had been searched; the Doctor looked in the medicine cabinet where he had put the frelnon and found it was still there. He dressed and put his sonic screwdriver back in his pocket, then set out to find Jothan.
He went to his lab first, which was a good thing; several of the ruined experiments were mixing with one another and about to explode. He quickly took care of the immediate problem but waited on a proper clean-up for later—finding his husband was the priority now. The workshop had been searched as well, but again the clean-up would have to wait. He checked all of the places Jothan might be in the TARDIS before going to the Console Room. He ran an internal scan which proved his suspicions to be correct; the medic was no longer on board. The Doctor sighed, then happened to glance over at the coat rack. He saw the TARDIS key hanging from it and felt his worry change to outright fear. If the medic didn't have the key he would be harder to trace. He told himself not to borrow trouble; the younger man wouldn't have gone far. The Doctor took the key and put it in a pocket as he left the TARDIS in search of his husband.
************
Jothan tried unsuccessfully to ignore the glares and scowls he got as he hurried through the streets of what seemed to be a small city. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but he figured he'd know it when he found it. He needed a store or shopping center; they had to sell frelnon somewhere, and he would buy some. The itch was maddening now, and he could almost taste the metallic tang of the substance on his lips. Oh, how he wanted some, even just a few drops . . .
At last he saw a window of what looked to be a shop. He couldn't find the entrance at first he was so excited, but at last he found his way in and dashed up to a counter.
“Where's some frelnon?” he asked breathlessly, glancing around for the distinctive blue liquid.
The orange creature behind the counter looked affronted and somewhat appalled. “What are you?” it asked waspishly. “How dare you address me in such a manner! How dare you speak to me at all, you . . . you freak!”
“I just want some frelnon—I have plenty of credits . . .” Jothan began.
The being behind the counter was flapping its wings in agitation as it roared, “Out! Get out of my shop. The nerve of you, disgusting alien scum—out! I'm going to have to decontaminate my whole place because of you, you filth!”
“Just one container of frelnon,” the medic begged.
The creature stepped toward Jothan menacingly. “I'd tear off both wings before I'd sell you a drop. Get out!”
Jothan hurried out the door, desperate. He just had to find some frelnon, and soon. Feverishly he scanned the streets until he found what looked like an eating establishment. Many Selbrinarians were sitting at tables with what looked like wriggling worms in bowls in front of them. Jothan didn't care what they were eating, didn't care what they thought of him. All he could think about was the smell and taste of the frelnon he was hunting for. He braced himself, his heart pumping hard, and went into the restaurant.
There were small screams from some of the orange creatures as he rushed inside, but then everything went dead silent. He stepped into the middle of the room and tried to sound like he was in control of the situation. “I don't mean you any harm; I just want to buy some frelnon. Would you be able to direct me to the nearest shop that sells some?”
A burly Selbrinarian with a high crest of feathers stood up and said angrily, “We don't want anything to do with your kind. Go back to the spaceport where you belong, you mongrel.”
Jothan addressed the creature, ready to beg if need be. “I will, I promise, just as soon as I get some frelnon. I have credits, lots of credits . . .”
“Your kind doesn't deserve frelnon,” a female said. “It would be wasted on you.”
“Someone must have some,” the young man whimpered. “Even a taste would—”
“Get out before you regret being here,” the burly alien said flatly.
Jothan was afraid, but stood his ground. He had to have some frelnon, and someone here would know where to find it. “I have credits. I'm willing to pay . . .”
Just then, three Selbrinarians from somewhere in the back rushed up to him and grabbed him, pulling him toward the rear of the building. Jothan cried out and tried to break free, but he was no match for all of them. He was dragged through what looked like a kitchen and out a back door into an alley where several large dumpsters sat. The Selbrinarians lifted him bodily and threw him into one of the dumpsters. Jothan hit his head on the metal side and slumped over, unconscious.
************
The first place the Doctor went was the area where the alien had been selling the frelnon at first but it was empty, just as he expected. His next course of action was to head back to the TARDIS and get a photo of Jothan to show around, hoping someone had seen him. By the time he had done that it was night and the spaceport was shutting down for the evening. “Back to your ship,” a Selbrinarian told him sourly. “Curfew starts in five minutes.”
“I'm looking for my husband,” the Doctor said, taking out the picture. “He's not back yet, and I don't want him to miss curfew.”
The creature studied the photo, then shook its head. “Haven't seen one of those today. I'll put the word out, but you'll have to go back to your ship. Can't have two unregistered aliens on the loose.”
“I have to find him . . .” the Doctor began.
The Selbrinarian was already herding him back toward the TARDIS. “I'll put the word out, as I said. You have to go back to your ship.”
The Doctor wanted to protest, but he knew it would do no good; he would have to wait. He went back to his ship, hoping that Jothan was all right. He sat in the Console Room with the TARDIS door cracked, waiting for his husband to return.
In the morning the Time Lord spent over an hour agonizing over what to do. If he went to search and Jothan came back the young man would be unable to enter the TARDIS; it was too precious to be left unlocked. If he stayed and waited for the medic to come back, however, Jothan could be in grave danger without aid. He finally decided he couldn't wait any longer; he would have to go out and look for his husband. He attached a note for Jothan on the outside of the TARDIS, telling him to wait for the Time Lord's return. Armed with the picture, he went through the whole spaceport asking questions and showing the snapshot. Every hour he headed back to the TARDIS to see if Jothan had returned. Each time, the note was still on the TARDIS and there was no sign of the younger man. At last it was late, and the announcement was made that curfew was in 15 minutes. The Doctor was frantic. He still hadn't gotten to search the whole spaceport, but he knew if he was caught outside of his ship after curfew he would be arrested. Just then he saw the guard who had stopped him the night before. The guard saw him and came over.
“Is there any news?” he asked the guard anxiously.
The sentry replied soberly, “A person close to his description was seen leaving the spaceport yesterday. You'd have to ask the customs agent yourself to know for sure, though. He isn't back yet?”
“No,” the Doctor answered, his hearts in his throat. Now he was sure Jothan was in trouble.
“If he's caught roaming around planet-side after curfew he'll be put in jail,” the sentry told him. “Depending on what he was doing when he was found they'll hold him for anywhere between one day and five days. I'd look there tomorrow, after you check with the customs agent, of course. Back to your ship for now, though.”
The Time Lord nodded miserably. He headed back to the TARDIS and again sat in the Console Room with the door open, waiting and hoping. He shut the door an hour past curfew; there was no point, and he had to sleep if he could. He went quietly to his bedroom to lie down; he knew he wouldn't sleep if he were in his usual place in Jothan's bed. He tried and tried, but sleep would not come. Finally he gave up and started on repairs. It was all he could do until morning came.
************
Jothan woke up with a horrible smell in his nostrils and a huge weight on his back. He tried to get up, but found he was buried under a pile of garbage. The medic dug himself out with difficulty and finally got free. He then took stock of his situation. His head ached badly and the furious itching was still there; he was thirsty and hungry and smelly from the garbage, and he could barely think of anything other than frelnon. Other than those things, he was fine.
Jothan explored his surroundings carefully. He seemed to be at a garbage dump; there were loads and loads of trash piled high around him. He picked his way through the stuff carefully, hoping he could find his way out. After several hours of walking he came to a fence and started following it to his left, hoping to get to an exit. He soon was too tired to keep going and he stopped, leaning up against the fence and sliding down it in exhaustion.
Five minutes later it started to rain hard. A few minutes after that it was a deluge. Jothan cupped his hands and rubbed them together to try to clean them, then cupped his hands again to get water enough to drink. He dug into a bag of trash next to his right foot, looking for something he could use to collect the water. He found a wide brown vase with chipped edges that looked serviceable, and he left it next to him so it could fill.
It rained for hours. As soon as the brown vase was filled he drank it off, trying to ignore the nasty taste. It was water, and that was all that mattered. He rubbed his back up against the fence and rubbed his hands over his arms in a vain attempt to quell the intense itching. Even his toes itched, and he wiggled them around in his boots. He had never felt so miserable in his life.
Night came on slowly. Jothan rooted through the garbage trying to find something he could use for a covering; it was getting cold. At last he discovered a smelly, scratchy rug that was just big enough to cover him. He lay under it wishing the rain would stop, wishing he was home, but most of all wishing he had some frelnon to sip.
He barely slept; the itching continued and he was very cold. When morning came the rain stopped. The medic drank the rest of his water and took the vase with him as he walked, following the fence and hoping to find an exit. Every now and then he would stop and rest, but the maddening itching forced him back to his feet again.
Around mid-day he came to a corner of the fence and turned with it, still seeking an entrance. He was taking a break when he heard a loud noise from up above him. He looked up, and saw some sort of flying vehicle a little way off to the left. It hovered for a bit as garbage spewed from it, then whirred off. Jothan felt a little worse; if garbage was flown in there was a possibility the fence didn't end at all. Still, he had to keep trying. He thought for a moment, then decided to go over and search through the trash that had just been dumped; perhaps he would find something useful. He made his way over and started sifting through the junk. To his disappointment he found no frelnon containers, but he did find what looked like half a loaf of bread in a plastic bag. He scanned it with his sonic screwdriver and found that it wouldn't poison him. The medic stared at it for quite a while before he broke down and tried a bite. It tasted pretty bad, but was edible. He ate a few more bites, then took the rest and headed back for the fence, determined to find a way out—if there was one. He continued following the fence. Every once in a while a flying vehicle would drop off more trash, and Jothan would leave the fence and head for the newest arrivals. Sometimes he found useable items and sometimes he found nothing, but he always searched. In the afternoon the rain returned. He collected it in the vase and drank when it was full. When night came he huddled under his rug and dropped off, finally able to sleep a little.
************
As soon as he possibly could the Doctor set out to the customs office. He was both delighted and dismayed when one of the workers told him, “Yeah, that's the one. Rude as anything, and in a hurry, too. Two days back, now.” The Doctor thanked him, then went through the checkpoint himself, and exited the spaceport.
The Time Lord headed for the government offices first. He got a lot of black looks but ignored them; he had no time to waste. The surly official he spoke to gave him directions to the city jail, and he hurried along. Once he got there, he asked anxiously, “Excuse me, have you arrested any aliens in the past three days? My husband is missing; he would have looked like this,” he said, pulling out the photograph.
The officer at the desk glanced at the picture but told him, “No aliens have been arrested in the past three years, let alone three days. Usually your kind know what's good for you and you stay at the spaceport like you're supposed to. But hang on a moment . . . I think Officer Chichim heard something about an alien in the city very recently. Wait over there, but don't sit—I don't want to have to scrub up after you.”
The Doctor stood waiting while the desk clerk called another officer over and conversed with him a while. The clerk then motioned for the Doctor to come back to the desk. “You're in luck, sort of,” the clerk told him. “According to Officer Chichim there's a rumor flying around the western block of his beat; two days ago some alien walked right into a local restaurant, looking for frelnon, of all things. The cooks got a hold of him and tipped him into a dumpster.”
“If the rumors are true, where would he have ended up?” the Doctor asked, worried.
The clerk shrugged. “If it's true, your husband would have ended up at the trash site. Garbage is flown in from the spaceport, the city, and all the outlying regions nearby. Once a year the site is blasted by small magnetron bombs and cleared out, and we start again.”
The Doctor was gripped with fear. “When was the last time it got 'cleared out'? How much time do I have?”
The clerk looked at the Time Lord disgustedly. “Do I look like a trashman? How would I know when they clear the site?”
The Doctor was desperate. “Isn't there anyone you can ask and find out?” he begged.
A Selbrinarian officer at another desk said doubtfully, “My nephew works down there—I suppose I could give him a call and see what he can tell me . . .”
“Why go out of your way for a stupid alien who obviously doesn't know his arse from a hole in the ground?” the clerk asked roughly.
The other officer said low, “My mate had a frelnon problem; some people do. I remember how I felt when he'd go on a binge.” He stepped back further into the office and picked up a phone.
The Doctor waited, almost dancing with impatience as the officer made the call. The creature returned quickly and told him soberly, “It's not your day. You have less than two hours to find him and get him out of there, and the place is large. I wish I could do something more . . .”
“Tell me the exact location of the site—I need grid references!” the Doctor said urgently.
The officer gave him the information, and the Doctor ran out, not even stopping to thank him.
The Time Lord dashed back to the spaceport and pushed past others to get to customs. The customs agent was a fat, sullen Selbrinarian who decided he was going to show his authority by taking his time. The Doctor didn't dare to say anything, but he felt each second ticking by as a huge weight pressing down on him. Would he be able to get to his husband in time? He debated just jumping over the checkpoint and making a run for it, but he doubted he would actually make it to the TARDIS without being arrested. At long last he was allowed back into the spaceport. The Time Lord practically flew to the TARDIS. He rushed over to the console and fed the grid references into the TARDIS navigation controls. Once that was done, he hovered over the area and had the craft lock on to heat sources that were close to normal human body temperature. As he made the adjustments to land at the first site he checked his internal time sense. He had twenty minutes in which to find Jothan and get him on board.
************
Jothan woke late to an overcast day. He still had a little water left; he drank it down and thought over his situation. He still itched, though that was getting more manageable as the days went by; he wasn't thinking of frelnon every minute, either. He hadn't found any more food but he was hopeful he would find something today. He would have done anything to be warm and clean, but there was nothing he could do about it.
The medic's thoughts turned toward the past few days and what he had done to get into his current situation. He felt a stab of guilt as he replayed what he had done to his husband. He had hurt the Doctor and locked him up, all over some stupid drug. He felt horrible, and hoped that the Time Lord was all right. What if he had serious injuries? What if he was still locked in the bathroom? He couldn't even go back and check on the older man, not without his TARDIS key. His head ached as he thought of the poor Doctor, trapped and hurt and alone. He would never forgive himself.
Hours later he heard a transport up above, delivering more garbage. He hiked through the mess until he got to the newest trash and started looking. He hunted through the refuse and found what he had been looking for all along—a container of frelnon. It was half-full.
Jothan froze. His thoughts twisted and knotted around each other. He thought of what he had done and how terrible he had been. He thought of how good the frelnon would taste, how good it would make him feel. He thought of getting out of this nasty garbage dump and being warm and clean again, being somewhere out of the weather and safe. Over and over he thought of the Doctor, who would never allow him on board as long as he still had some frelnon. Suddenly he heard a familiar whining wheeze of noise behind him, and turned to see the TARDIS materializing, becoming more solid each moment.
Jothan felt awful. He knew that the Time Lord had gotten free and come for him, that much was certain. He also knew that he didn't deserve to be rescued. What he had done was disgusting and selfish and wrong. He wasn't sure he had the courage to face his husband, not like this. He started backing away from the ship. He'd take a few minutes to think before he got on board, he told himself. He had to think what to say, how to apologize . . . and what to do about the frelnon container in his hand.
The door to the TARDIS flew open, and the Doctor appeared, looking wild-eyed and clearly distraught. Jothan backed away further and decided he didn't want to talk to the Time Lord until the older man had calmed down; he looked absolutely frightful. He was just starting to run when he heard the Doctor's agonized voice calling, “Jothan! Jothan, stop!”
Jothan's heart sank as he heard that cry; the Time Lord had obviously suffered terribly to sound like that. He turned his head a little to see if the Time Lord was following him and slipped, falling down into a heap. Before he could get up again the Doctor had him by the arm and was hauling him back to the ship. The medic went along with him for a few steps, then remembered the frelnon in his hands. The Time Lord would never let him keep it. He started struggling. He'd go with the Time Lord in the end, but he wanted this last taste of frelnon first.
The Doctor wasn't having any of it; he wrestled Jothan down to the ground, got his arms behind his back and quickly cuffed them there. Jothan stopped fighting; he knew he didn't stand a chance against an obviously furious Time Lord. The Doctor hauled the medic up and threw him over his shoulder, legging it back to the TARDIS at high speed. Just as they got to the door there was the sound of many transports overhead. Jothan looked down as orange globes the size of bowling balls dropped to the ground. The Doctor was fighting with the TARDIS door, trying frantically to get it open. At last he entered the ship and threw the door closed behind them. He dropped Jothan on the ground by the door and dashed over to the console, feverishly punching buttons and pulling levers. The medic got himself in a sitting position as the TARDIS dematerialized.
Panting, the Doctor sat down on the jump seat for a moment, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief and wiping his brow. He then glanced over at the door where the medic was sitting and approached him, squatting down so he could look the younger man in the face. Jothan looked at the floor, ashamed.
“Jothan, look at me,” the Doctor said anxiously.
The young man did not move.
The Time Lord put a hand under Jothan's chin and lifted his head. “Look at me, Jothan,” he coaxed gently.
The medic looked into the Time Lord's blue eyes. He didn't look angry; he looked concerned and even fearful. The medic didn't know what to say and quickly looked away.
The older man got out his sonic screwdriver and scanned Jothan's forehead with it. “You're not drugged, not at the moment,” he sighed, relief in his voice. He helped the medic to his feet and turned him around to remove the cuffs. “I didn't think I was going to find you in time,” he remarked.
“In time for what?” the younger man asked. “I thought you were just angry.”
“The trash site was just about to be blown up by magnetron bombs—there wouldn't have been anything left,” the Doctor told him. “I didn't think I'd be able to get you on board . . .”
Jothan shivered at the thought of being blown to bits. Then he remembered everything and shrank away from the Doctor's impending embrace. “You don't want to touch me,” he warned. I'm smelly and disgusting and horribly selfish . . .”
The Doctor pulled him in anyway. “You're alive and safe. The rest doesn't matter.”
“But I hurt you!” the medic protested.
The Doctor was still holding Jothan in his arms. “We'll sort it,” he promised.
Jothan wouldn't give it up. “I was terrible to you and—”
“We'll sort it,” the Doctor repeated. “We'll talk, and I'll remind you about never eating or drinking anything without checking with me first and you can apologize to your heart's content, but not now. You're alive and safe, and that's all that matters.” He started stroking Jothan's hair.
Jothan stopped trying to pull away, resting his head against the Doctor's shoulder. Things were far from over, but he had to admit he felt better already.
************ Story to follow: Healing Harms ************