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neveralarchSo Far Exceeds Expression, 1/5
(alternate title: Covered in Blood)
Doctor Who, Classic Series AU
Rating: PG-13 as a whole
(this chapter: not much. Kissing.
As a whole: violence, PG rated slash, femslash, and het. Small children.)
Pairing and characters (this chapter): Two/AU!Master, Jamie, Zoe, various historical personages.
Wordcount (this chapter): about 6,000
Summary: The Doctor lands in 1671, and meets an old friend. Unfortunately that old friend has a plan, and he's never been very good at them. Worse, the military is kind of... disappearing.
A/N: This is what might have happened if Two-era had had more historical episodes. Take the War Games, add my obsession with English history in general and the exploits of Colonel Thomas Blood in particular, and there you have it. Huge thanks to my beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
birdsarecalling, who picked out all my weird commas and my issues with fictional relationships. Written for the best_enemies bigbang challenge.
When the TARDIS landed, the Doctor rushed to the doors, Jamie following close behind him. Zoe lingered for a moment, peering suspiciously at the oxygen and radiation gauges.
"What are you doing?" called the Doctor, his hands ready to push the doors open. "Don't waste time looking at all those gadgets. Come and have a look!"
"I'm just making sure you haven't landed us on a completely inhospitable planet, Doctor," said Zoe. "It has been known to happen."
"Well, there was that time when the inhabitants of Carzucon refused to share the lemonade, yes, now that you mention it," said the Doctor. He brought his hands away from the doors, folding them and tapping at his pursed lips. "But I really don't think there's much chance of that happening again, they were such uniquely awful people."
"I meant-" began Zoe, but Jamie cut her off.
"I think she was talking about making sure we can breathe and suchlike, Doctor."
"Oh! Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me. And is there breathable air and suchlike, Zoe?"
"Yes, yes there is," said Zoe, and offered the Doctor and Jamie her arms, giving them a sunny smile. "Shall we go out?"
The Doctor smiled at her in turn, and the trio strode out of the TARDIS, arm in arm, a little awkwardly because the doors weren't really wide enough for three people to walk abreast. Finally they managed to sort themselves out and peered around the dark, dank space in which they had materialized.
"Why, it must be some sort of cave," said Zoe. "Look at the rats!" She pointed to one particularly large example gnawing away at a small pile of rubbish.
"No, there's cobblestones under my feet," said Jamie, looking down and then up. "And hey! The roof's made of thatch. I think we must just be in an alleyway."
"Yes, I rather think you're right," said the Doctor. "Let's get out of here and see where we've really ended up."
They felt their way slowly out of the alley, trying to more or less avoid the slimier patches of road and wall. Eventually they found their way to the end of the thatching, where sunlight began to filter through between the roofs of the adjoining buildings. A bustling street greeted them, its sides lined with stalls, squeezing walkers through in single file.
"Fish! Buy fish here!" screamed a woman. Every inch of her - her long dress, her apron, her cloth cap and hair - was stained with something that smelled unpleasantly like fish guts.
"No! Buy my eels, lovely eels! Get off, you old hag, no one wants your rotten fish." Another woman, this one slightly younger and even bloodier, shoved her way toward the Doctor and his companions.
"You shut your filthy mouth," said the fish-seller, blocking the eel-monger's advance. "These gentlemen and lady have a fine, discerning taste, and you cannot ruin their palates with eels! Milord, these fish were fresh-caught today, on my aunt's grave, and-"
"I don't think-" said the Doctor, but the eel-monger talked over him.
"There's not and never has been an Englishman or woman that would say no to a good bit of eel. It's practically the national dish, eaten here for centuries past! Buy my wares for patriotism, good sirs, good lady."
"Oh, that's a rough line," said the fish-seller, giving her competitor a jaundiced eye.
"We really don't-" began Zoe, but the eel-monger stopped her, waving a hand while staring straight at the fish-seller.
"I think it's fair," she said. "What's wrong with patriotism?"
"It just seems like a bit of a cheat, that's all," said the other, musing. "It's like- it's like, if they don't buy eels, they must be lousy foreigners."
"Aye, exactly. That's the point."
"I don't know. Maybe I'll try it out on the next mark, see how it feels."
Helpless, the Doctor glanced over at Jamie, who frowned, thinking.
"Fish!"
"Eels!"
"Oh no, it's starting again," sighed Zoe.
"Ladies," said Jamie, having an idea. "We don't have any money."
The pair of seafood-purveyors stopped immediately, gaping.
"Tease!" said the fish-seller, bustling away.
"Foreign bastards!" said the eel-monger, hurrying after her.
"Oh, thank you, Jamie," said the Doctor, mopping his brow.
"Och, don't mention it. But look, this must be England! London, even!"
"London again?" asked Zoe, looking a little excited. "I wonder what it's like when it's not filled with Cybermen."
"I suppose you'll find out," said the Doctor, looking around, then up at the sky. He blinked and shielded his eyes against the early-morning sun. "Quite early for England, and I don't just mean the hour," he continued, as he began to walk down the street alongside the docks. "A little before your time, I fancy, Jamie. Perhaps as much as a century or so."
"Oh, aye? I'm from the future now, then! Like you, Zoe."
"I suppose you are," said Zoe, "though you're fitting in much better than I am." She glanced between Jamie's kilt and vest and her own bright white raincoat.
"No, you don't understand," said Jamie, watching the Doctor talk to an elderly lady sitting on a stoop. "I finally know more than all these people! I know about things that haven't been discovered yet. Aye, and the names of people who haven't even been born."
"Really?" said Zoe, "and what will you do with that knowledge?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Jamie. "Lord it over them or such like."
Zoe was about to tell him what she thought of that plan when the Doctor turned back to them, clasping his hands together.
"Come on!"
"Where are we going, Doctor?" asked Zoe, as the three of them began to walk down a side-street, away from the docks.
"Why, the best place to go when you're in London in the seventeenth century." The Doctor paused, looking at them expectantly. They waited patiently, knowing from experience that whatever they guessed would turn out to be wrong - the Doctor liked to change the answer.
"A pub, of course! Do come along."
---
The pub was smoky and ill-lit, and the Doctor exclaimed with delight when he entered. He immediately stepped up to the bar to converse with the barkeep, Zoe following behind. Jamie looked around, before walking determinedly toward a large table with only one occupant eating breakfast; a stark comparison to the small crowded areas with their rollicking companies who looked like they hadn't stopped drinking since the night before.
"Excuse me, sir," said Jamie, sitting down at the lone man's table, "but I don't suppose you'd like to hear of the future?"
Back at the bar, the Doctor was already deep in conversation with a man slumped over the counter, the barkeep having proved to be a bit too busy to put up with a stranger's prattle. The Doctor's replacement conversationalist was proving to be a poor substitute, however. His discourse was largely unintelligible, since he directed his words at the table, his face buried in the cradle of his arms. The Doctor had to expend quite a lot of energy in extracting meaning from the drunkard's mumbling.
"You say that people have been going missing? Oh dear. But surely men and women leave London every day?"
The man mumbled something else into the counter, which the Doctor and Zoe eventually decided meant that these disappearances weren't the normal sort of cases, the ones which involved debts or troubles in love.
"Talking to Zebediah, are you?" The barkeep came by again, carrying a tray of mugs for one of the tables that still had money. He stopped for a moment to lean in and whisper an aside at the Doctor's ear. "Poor man lost his son to the Mist three days ago, and hasn't been sober since."
"The Mist?" said Zoe. "Whatever can that be?"
"Oh, it might just be a coincidence, Lady, but the Mist is said to appear whenever someone disappears," said the barkeep, leaning back again. "Haven't seen it happen, myself. If you're curious, you should talk to Old Lady Heppy. She's the one who told me about the Mist in the first place. I'll come in my own time!" This last comment was to the increasingly raucous table with money, which had noticed that its drinks were apparently stationary.
"Poor Zeb. His son was a stout soldier, too, home on leave. Not even the King's men can go about their business unmolested, these days." The barkeep sighed and then ambled along to the moneyed table, careful not to seem like he was hurrying to satisfy his customers.
"I rather think we should look into this," said the Doctor, eyeing the mug of beer that he'd managed to barter in exchange for some string and a broken chew toy. "Mysterious disappearances are never a good thing." He picked up the mug and sipped at it cautiously, and then spat the ale delicately out again. "Uch. Watered down, and the glass may not have ever been cleaned. Where's Jamie?"
While the Doctor peered under the bar, as if Jamie might pop out from under the kegs, Zoe pursued the more reliable method of looking around the seating area. She spotted Jamie at once, and tugged on the Doctor's sleeve.
"I think you'll have to go and get him, Doctor."
"Why, what's wrong?" The Doctor turned around, only to see Jamie in conversation with a singularly sober pub inhabitant. "He's just enjoying a chat with that nice man over there, nothing to worry about."
"I don't know that that man looks nice at all. And Jamie looks very annoyed." As if to prove Zoe's point, Jamie suddenly slouched backwards, crossing his arms and kicking the table leg so that the other man had to steady the flimsy construction.
"Oh dear," said the Doctor. "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"
"The future, probably," said Zoe. "You remember how excited Jamie was about having fore-knowledge of events."
"Well, we'll just have to butt in." The Doctor jumped down off his bar stool, abandoning his ale.
Jamie leant in again as the Doctor and Zoe approached the table.
"Fine," he said, "I can see that you're a little better informed than most. But I can tell you when His Majesty will die, aye, and who'll come after him. That's good, isn't it?"
"Charles will pass in 1685, I believe, succeeded by James of the many numerals." Jamie's companion sounded both amused and Irish, which was either a good sign or a very bad one. The Doctor stopped just as he was about to whisk Jamie away.
"You're not supposed to know that," he said, mildly. "Who are you?"
"This is my friend, the Doctor," said Jamie to his companion. "I was telling you about him."
"Aye, I know who he is," said the man. "And frankly, I'm hurt that he doesn't recognize me." It was said jokingly, but the bitter current of truth lurking behind the words made the Doctor take a closer look at the perhaps-not-a-stranger.
The man was on the later side of middle-aged, but still tall and dark, with a beard that was a bit too full and not nearly well-trimmed enough to be fashionable. His clothing and wig were of the same type - nearly up-to-date, but slightly too large and unkempt to look good. He was saved by his face and features, which were strong, made more striking by a rather overlarge hooked nose and clear blue eyes. Overall, the effect was to make him look rugged and tough, rather than simply dirty.
He also looked utterly unfamiliar, but then his face pulled into a smirk, and the Doctor had him.
"Oh, my. Well, you can't really blame me for not marking you at first glance, Ko-"
"Colonel Thomas Blood, at your service." The Colonel stood up, bowing over Zoe's hand, and then shaking Jamie's when he also rose. "The Doctor and I know each other from long ago," he added, looking knowingly at Jamie's confused expression.
"Yes," said the Doctor, a little warily. "It's quite a coincidence, meeting you here."
"You've been to this time and place before?" asked Zoe, looking between the Doctor and the Colonel.
"Not that I recall," said the Doctor, "I'll explain later."
"Perhaps you should accompany me back to my residence," said the Colonel. "Unless you are otherwise engaged?"
"No, we're quite free," said the Doctor. "At least I think so."
"Still," said the Colonel, "better to speak where the ears can be trusted."
"What are they talking about?" said Jamie, stooping down to mutter in Zoe's ear.
"I think it's code or something. It sounds as if they're worried about people overhearing them. Oh, here we go," she added, hurrying to follow as the Colonel strode out of the pub without paying his bill. The Doctor paused for a moment to drop some rubber ducks on the table to cover the tab, and then followed, steadfastly ignoring the barkeep's shouts.
This time, no merchants accosted them on the street, seeming to shy away from the Colonel's presence.
"I hope you haven't done anything to these poor people," said the Doctor, glancing at the Colonel, who laughed.
"Don't jump to conclusions. They just know it would be a waste of time to hawk their wares to me."
"Because you have no money, aye?" said Jamie, butting in. "That's how I got rid of a couple of these hagglers earlier."
"That's one strategy," said the Colonel, smiling at Jamie as the Doctor made a small face behind both of their backs. "So, my boy, would you care to tell me about yourself as we walk? I already know that you're not from around here, aye, and not this time neither."
"No, I'm not," said Jamie, grinning embarrassedly. "I'm right sorry about all of that bother earlier. If I'd known you were a friend of the Doctor's, I wouldn't have tried anything."
"I didn't say we were friends, Jamie," interjected the Doctor.
"No," agreed the Colonel, smiling at the Doctor. "We're much more than mere friends, aren't we, Doctor?" He turned away from the Doctor's frown, and back to Jamie. "You were saying, lad?"
"Well, the Doctor picked me up after battle with the red coats - he says about a century hence. I was a piper for Laird McLaren."
"A Scot, then! I fought with you fellows in the service of the Commonwealth during the war...aye, and in the pubs afterwards as well!"
"Aye, you don't say?" said Jamie, laughing.
"That's such an old joke," muttered the Doctor. "Please don't laugh at it, Jamie, it'll only encourage him."
Jamie ignored him, chattering away at the Colonel, who smiled and lifted a mocking eyebrow at the Doctor. Feeling a little neglected, the Doctor dropped back to talk to Zoe.
"Don't you be charmed by that man calling himself a Colonel," he said. "He's not all that he seems."
"I had gathered that," said Zoe. "You don’t seem very surprised to see him.”
“I’m surprised to see him here,” said the Doctor. “But not necessarily startled to see him at all. Sometimes people turn up in odd places.”
“I see,” said Zoe, though she didn’t. “You will tell me about it?"
"Of course, of course, but I need to talk to him privately before I can give you the whole story in good conscience." The Doctor paused, staring moodily at Jamie and the Colonel speaking animatedly to each other, probably about him. "Oh, let's talk about something else."
"Fine," said Zoe. "Why don't you help me figure out how to explain my strange dress to people?"
"Hm? What's wrong with your clothes?"
"Well, it's not at all what people are wearing here and now," said Zoe. She fiddled with the large zippers on her black leather gloves, frowning. "I suppose I can change, if Colonel Blood has any women's clothing."
"Whyever would he have women's clothing, Zoe? I do hope you're not suggesting anything."
"I meant he might have a sister or a wife," said Zoe.
"Oh, no, not a wife. Not Ko- I mean, not the Colonel."
"Also, I think you're being a bit defensive, Doctor. There's nothing wrong with Colonel Blood choosing to wear women's things, if he likes."
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor. "What was your question again?"
"What shall I tell people when they ask me about my dress? Everyone's staring." Zoe looked uneasily around the street.
"Just do what I do when someone gives me a hard time," said the Doctor.
"Insult them in a very passive-aggressive way? I do wish you wouldn't do that, Doctor, it keeps getting us into trouble."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said the Doctor. "Anyway, just tell them you're from a sideshow. You can juggle, can't you?"
"I suppose. It's just coordination and spatial awareness, isn't it?"
"It's rather more complicated than that, Zoe - ah, we're here."
Here was a somewhat suspicious looking building, with cracked windowpanes, curtains blocking the view into the inside, and a new, heavy-looking door on shining hinges. The Colonel rapped on the door in a complicated rhythm.
"...two pence," said the Doctor, quietly, when the Colonel paused. "Oh dear, he's being anachronistic. That will never do."
His hypocrisy did not immediately tumble him over, and the Doctor watched as the door opened just enough to admit the Colonel and then, after a pause, widened to allow the rest of them to enter.
Inside was dark, sealed off as it was from the light of the outside. Only a few candles illuminated the rooms and the face of the tall woman with unruly blonde hair who had opened the door.
"Allow me to introduce Miss Jenny Blaine," said the Colonel, taking off his cloak and hanging it upon a hook near the door. "Jenny, the Doctor, Jamie, and- I'm sorry, my dear, I never managed to catch your name."
"Oh, that's Zoe," said the Doctor. "And what is your role here, Jenny?"
"I'm sorry?" she said, glancing at the Colonel.
"Don't be rude, Doctor, she's merely a business associate."
"And what sort of business would that be?" the Doctor pressed.
"I see that you won't be put off for a moment longer," sighed the Colonel. "Perhaps if you can just be patient, we can take care of your young friends before we go upstairs. Jenny, if you wouldn't mind, there's refreshment in the kitchen."
"I guess," said Jenny, openly staring at the Doctor. "Anything else I need to know?"
"No, just entertain these young people and make sure no one disturbs us. Thank you, Jenny."
She nodded, and then turned and walked into the front room. Jamie and Zoe followed her willingly enough, and the Doctor and the Colonel walked up the steps to a closed room, which the Colonel opened with a key on a chain around his neck.
Once open, the door revealed a spare bedroom, with nothing marking it as lived in or used. The Doctor paused to reflect that his friend hadn't been staying there long before starting in on his questions.
"What are you doing here, Koschei? Last I knew, you were still wasting your time on Gallifrey. Mission for the CIA, is it?"
"You can't even wait for me to close the door," complained Koschei, doing just that.
"Anyway, I don't know why I should explain anything to you, when you obviously couldn't be bothered to care before. The CIA indeed - I haven't worked for them in nearly a century." He switched easily from English to Gallifreyan, his Irish accent melting away into the accents of his youth. The Doctor ignored the shift and continued speaking in the pidgin of English and Gallifreyan he always used.
"Yes, well. I thought you were fine. And I've been busy."
"Busy wandering around with a pair of aliens young enough to be your great-grandchildren, from what I can tell," said Koschei.
"I'm on the run!"
"Messing around with history isn't the best way to avoid the authority's attentions, Theta. I should know."
"Is that why you're here?" said the Doctor, quietly.
"Yes," said Koschei, walking over to a desk and sitting down. "I've been exiled."
"Oh, I am sorry, Koschei. I didn't know."
"Obviously," said Koschei. "I've been here for nearly twenty-five years. I'd decided you either didn't care or didn't know. Both, probably."
"Don't be like that," said the Doctor. He looked around, and then, for lack of another chair, sat on the bed. "I haven't heard any news from Gallifrey since I left with Susan."
"Yes, how is she?"
"I'm sure she's fine," said the Doctor, and changed the subject. "Tell me how you were exiled."
"I was caught making unauthorized trips to primitive worlds, interacting with the natives. Nothing egregious, but the CIA already had their suspicions about some of my," Koschei coughed, "more experimental activities, especially after I left their employ. The Council seized the opportunity to eliminate a potential threat to the status quo. My House fought for me, but you know how intractable the justice system is. Forcible regeneration, my brain altered to severely diminish my mental capabilities. Then they exiled me here without a TARDIS. No space travel yet, so no chance of escape, or so they reasoned." Koschei looked away from the Doctor, turning to his desk and removing his wig, revealing fine black hair growing back from being shaved. He put the wig on a stand, arranging it more neatly than the shabby creation really deserved.
"Well," said the Doctor, "I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. We both had too much interest in xenosociology for the comfort of our peers."
"I was looking for you, you dolt," said Koschei, with more tiredness than anger. "I was tracking your TARDIS, trying to catch up. I worried about you after a few decades, but I couldn't have cared less for the aliens I had to question in order to find you."
"Oh, I am sorry, Koschei," said the Doctor. He stared for a moment at the back of his friend's head, and then gave into temptation and stood up, stepping close to stroke the soft, short hair. It was meant more as a comfort than anything else, and it seemed to work. Koschei leaned into the motion, some of the tension going out of his frame.
"I didn’t mean to cause you such trouble," said the Doctor.
"You never do,” said Koschei, and twisted around in his chair. He pulled the Doctor's head down and kissed him, gently at first, and then hard and desperate. The Doctor held still, not pulling away, but not pushing back, either.
“What’s wrong?” said Koschei, at last.
“I just don’t really know you anymore,” said the Doctor, carefully. “It’s been a long time. And I didn’t leave under the best of circumstances.”
“Surely that’s all forgotten now,” said Koschei. “How long can you hold on to a grudge?”
“That’s not the issue,” protested the Doctor.
“Reunion after decades of separation, and all you can think about is fights we had years ago. Absolutely typical.”
“You’re twisting my words,” said the Doctor. “I was simply trying to point out that we can’t just kiss and make up.”
“Why not?” said Koschei. “That’s what we always did before.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” The Doctor shook his head, smiling. “The same silly Koschei.”
“Please don’t call me-“ The Doctor kissed Koschei back, lightly.
“Never mind. You can call me whatever you like,” said Koschei, and leaned in again.
---
Downstairs, Jamie and Zoe were poking at plates of eels.
"Did you eat these back in your time, Jamie?" said Zoe, finally getting a particularly sproingy piece on to her knife.
"Not really. My gran always tried to get me to eat them, but I thought they were disgusting. And they are, too." Jamie tried a bit, and made a face.
"I suppose I should be offended," said Jenny, "but I'm not. I've never liked eels."
"Why did you buy them, then?" said Jamie.
"Some merchant told me it was unpatriotic not to." Jenny shrugged. "Still, shouldn't waste food. Big day today." She started to chew.
"What's happening?" said Zoe.
"I'm not sure if I should tell you." Jenny's voice was muffled. Chewing appeared to be difficult. Jamie and Zoe surreptitiously pushed their plates away.
"Oh, go on," said Jamie. "We're friends of the Doctor, who's friends with yon Colonel. Practically mates, aren't we?"
Jenny smiled at him, and swallowed, throat working to get the eel down. She coughed, covering her mouth with her fist. Finally, she recovered, and went back to smiling.
"Don't tell anyone," she said, "but we're going to steal the crown jewels."
Jamie and Zoe looked at each other.
"What, from the King?" said Jamie.
---
After a while, Koschei pushed the Doctor away from him and pulled off his coat, laying it across the back of his chair.
"Do you really think we have time for that?" asked the Doctor. He started to take off his own coat. Koschei laughed.
"Don't get excited," he said. "I just need to get changed. I have an engagement this morning."
"Really," said the Doctor, not even trying to conceal his disappointment. "Why can't you just put it off?"
"My dear, it's important. I can't just drop everything because you've finally turned up."
"Hmph. What is this engagement, then?"
"Doctor, in my time here, I have been many things." Koschei began to undo the buttons on his black, woolen vest.
"Is this really necessary?"
"I've been stuck on Earth for twenty-five years while you've been gallivanting around the universe. Indulge me."
"Sorry."
"As I was saying, I have been many things. For a time, I was a well-respected commander in Cromwell's army, then a landowner under the rule of parliament. After the crown regained power, I was forced into a life of infamy and deceit."
"Oh, forced, were you?"
"Yes," said Koschei, pulling off his vest. "In a daring raid against the supporters of the crown, I attempted the kidnap of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to be held for ransom. The adventure would have surely succeeded if not for treachery that betrayed us revolutionaries to the government. I became once more an outlaw, my lands confiscated, a price on my head. I lived in hiding for years, only emerging once to rescue a fellow rebel."
"What did you do while you were in hiding?" asked the Doctor, an edge of curiosity showing through his air of disinterest.
"Practiced medicine, as it happens," said Koschei. His words were a little muffled as he pulled his shirt off over his head.
"Eventually I was reminded of the blow to my honor dealt by the failure of my plot to kidnap the Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Ormonde, and so I sought to kidnap him once more." Koschei sat down and began to pull of his boots.
"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again," said the Doctor. Koschei looked at him oddly.
"Yes. Unfortunately I was once again foiled, this time after I had won his capture and was en route to the gallows, there to hang the unlucky duke." Koschei peeled off his hose and started on his breeches. "Once more I escaped, to be with you today. And I have another great adventure in mind, one which will shake the monarchy to its core." He stood up and shucked his breeches, standing naked. "Are you listening, Doctor?"
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor. "Kidnapping, attempted murder, great adventure. I was just thinking that we could have been doing something much more fun in the time it took for you to explain all that."
"Perhaps later," Koschei promised. "As I said, I have something important to do tonight."
"Yes, and I asked what that was, and you still haven't explained. I know you're just dying to tell me."
Koschei turned away and opened the wardrobe, and the Doctor was immediately distracted again.
"I intend," said Koschei, drawing a long black robe from its hook, "to steal the crown jewels."
---
"What are you going to do with the jewels, if you get them?" asked Jamie.
"Sell them, I expect. Not in England, but there are bankers in France and Spain that'd give you a good price, and we'll get across the channel, no problem." Jenny beamed at the both of them, looking altogether unlike a dastardly criminal.
"Well, it's a grand scheme, no doubt of that," allowed Jamie.
"I hope no one's hurt in the course of this 'grand scheme,'" said Zoe, but her attention was elsewhere. She was looking between her own raincoat and Jenny's understandably more period clothing. "Jenny, you wouldn't have an extra dress or something I can borrow?"
"Maybe," said Jenny, looking Zoe up and down. "You shouldn't go out like that, for sure. Just come from an entertainment or something?"
"A sideshow," said Zoe, firmly. "Anything you can spare would probably be better."
"You can have my other dress," Jenny decided. "It's very nearly clean."
The two women walked out of the room together, leaving Jamie to stare morosely at his eel.
"Ah, being from the future hasn't done me any good tonight, has it?" he said. "The Doctor's upstairs with yon Colonel, Zoe's getting dressed up, and it's just you and me now. I haven't even impressed anyone."
The eel said nothing, but somebody knocked on the door in the same pattern the Colonel had used earlier. Jamie stood up, startled.
"Jenny, should I open the door?"
"No, wait a moment!" called Jenny, coming back to the front room. "No one knows who you are." She paused, brushing her hair back in a way that made it even more tangled, and opened the door. "Thomas!" she said, smiling widely for a moment before her face fell. "Oh, it's you two."
"Sorry, love," said one of the new men. "Your boy won't be along for a few minutes yet, as he's tending the horses. I see you've got a new lad, though."
"He's not mine," sniffed Jenny. "He's a friend of the Colonel's." She stepped back to let the two men into the house. "Jamie, this is Richard Halliwell, and the quiet one is Robert Perrott."
"I didn't think Blood had any friends I didn't know about," said Halliwell. "Hallo, boy."
Both of the men were rough, a little more so than the Colonel. Halliwell was slighter and redder, with a fleeting grin. Perrott was tall and lean, with an awkward leer fixed permanently on his face.
"Jamie's not all, Halliwell. There's a girl, too, Zoe, and some man called the Doctor."
"Eh? Probably something Blood's got cooking then. Well, I need to talk to him." Halliwell started up the stairs, Perrott shadowing him.
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Jenny. "The Colonel didn't want to be disturbed."
"I wasn't here then, was I? And stop calling him that, that's just a rank he made up for himself because lieutenant in Cromwell's army wasn't good enough. I never tried to advance myself in people's esteem, even though I was only a cornet. No, and I don't even go around telling people I was that, neither."
"Well, I wouldn't either, if I had been a trumpet," sniggered Perrott.
"Shut up," said Halliwell, swinging an arm to cuff Perrott's head. The ensuing blows tumbled them both off the stairs, where they lay, Halliwell complaining, Perrott sniggering some more.
"I just go to change into some era-appropriate clothing, and the whole place falls down," said Zoe, peering back into the front room.
---
"This is ridiculous," said the Doctor. "You're just going to get caught."
"My plan is perfect," said Koschei, bristling a little. His affected ease was rapidly diminishing. Unfortunately he still hadn't gotten dressed, and the Doctor had always thought Koschei was a bit of alright when he was annoyed.
"All I'm saying- all I'm saying is that you seem to be oh for two in terms of your grand schemes so far. That whole business with the Duke of Ormonde that you were talking about." The Doctor smiled as Koschei turned red and swirled around, still clutching his new clothing but not yet moving to put it on.
"That would have worked at the first if I had not been betrayed," he hissed. "Every detail had been described to perfection."
"Oh yes?" said the Doctor, goading him. "I suppose you expected that the guards would have just melted away, allowing you to snatch the Duke without a fight."
"I had planned for that," said Koschei, triumphantly. "The guards would have been distracted by an associate posing as a clumsy baker, who had spilled his burden of bread!"
"Bread? You've gone stir-crazy. You've lost your senses."
"I have done no such thing! I've studied this period, Doctor, lived in it for decades. I know that those unfortunate enough not to have been born in the echelons of privilege are malnourished and hungry. They would have scrambled for the delicious, fresh-baked loaves!"
The Doctor really couldn't bring himself to say anything. Koschei ranted on into his silence.
"This is set to succeed, Doctor! No one will give us away this time. The jewels are only protected by a near octogenarian, whom I have lulled with gifts of gloves and promises that my nephew will marry his daughter."
"Gloves?" said the Doctor, weakly. "And your nephews aren't even on this planet."
"It was a ruse," said Koschei. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You never did care about my hobbies."
The Doctor covered his eyes with both hands, scrubbing wearily at his face.
"Let's not retread that old argument again. Tell me, aren't there any weapons to defend the jewels? Even an elderly Human can do a lot of damage with the right tools, trust me."
"There were pistols," agreed Koschei, but a triumphant light was shining in his eyes. "But I have bought them. Nothing will stop my theft!"
"You did what?" The Doctor stared as Koschei finally pulled his new clothing over his head. "I can't believe this. Oh, and what's this?" He pulled an exaggerated double-take as Koschei let his hem fall to the floor. "My dear, I told Zoe that I was sure you wouldn't start wearing women's clothing, and now look at you."
"This isn't a dress, Doctor. This is a cassock; a clergyman's robe."
"Well, dressing up as a priest is nearly as bad. You're not even wearing anything underneath. What are you doing?" The Doctor had to admit, black did suit Koschei, but really.
"The lack of underwear was intended to be an enticement to someone, but I've gone off the idea, somehow," said Koschei. "In any case, this is my disguise. I've been pretending to be a reverend, with Jenny posing as my wife." He turned back to the closet, plucking out a black cap with ears that matched his spartan, dusty-black robe.
"How could anyone believe you were married?"
"Quite easily, Doctor." Koschei pulled on short socks and slipped on a pair of shoes. He seemed to be getting a little calmer, but just then someone knocked on the door. "Go away!" he snapped, not even bothering to switch to English. The knocking stopped regardless.
"Look, why do you even want the crown jewels?" asked the Doctor.
"They'll buy me safe passage off this rock," sniffed Koschei. "Some tourists will pay a lot for a piece of quaint native craftwork, and they might pick up a hitchhiker as part of the bargain for a particularly storied piece."
"But, if that's all." The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Why not just give it up and come away with me?"
"It had occurred to me," said Koschei. "But it seems like such a waste of a good plan..." he hesitated, straightening his hat and combing his fingers through his beard.
"Don't you see that it's for the best? Oh, you might have people fooled for now, Koschei, but it'll all fall apart, just you wait. You'll be found out - you're not a priest-"
"Reverend," muttered Koschei.
"-Or a married man or any of it. Stop embarrassing yourself."
Koschei scowled, but the Doctor could see that he was cowed. Then a knock came at the door again, and Koschei yanked it open, forcefully.
"Oh," said a young man, his hand still raised to knock. "Um. Are you ready, Father?"
(alternate title: Covered in Blood)
Doctor Who, Classic Series AU
Rating: PG-13 as a whole
(this chapter: not much. Kissing.
As a whole: violence, PG rated slash, femslash, and het. Small children.)
Pairing and characters (this chapter): Two/AU!Master, Jamie, Zoe, various historical personages.
Wordcount (this chapter): about 6,000
Summary: The Doctor lands in 1671, and meets an old friend. Unfortunately that old friend has a plan, and he's never been very good at them. Worse, the military is kind of... disappearing.
A/N: This is what might have happened if Two-era had had more historical episodes. Take the War Games, add my obsession with English history in general and the exploits of Colonel Thomas Blood in particular, and there you have it. Huge thanks to my beta,
birdsarecalling, who picked out all my weird commas and my issues with fictional relationships. Written for the best_enemies bigbang challenge.When the TARDIS landed, the Doctor rushed to the doors, Jamie following close behind him. Zoe lingered for a moment, peering suspiciously at the oxygen and radiation gauges.
"What are you doing?" called the Doctor, his hands ready to push the doors open. "Don't waste time looking at all those gadgets. Come and have a look!"
"I'm just making sure you haven't landed us on a completely inhospitable planet, Doctor," said Zoe. "It has been known to happen."
"Well, there was that time when the inhabitants of Carzucon refused to share the lemonade, yes, now that you mention it," said the Doctor. He brought his hands away from the doors, folding them and tapping at his pursed lips. "But I really don't think there's much chance of that happening again, they were such uniquely awful people."
"I meant-" began Zoe, but Jamie cut her off.
"I think she was talking about making sure we can breathe and suchlike, Doctor."
"Oh! Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me. And is there breathable air and suchlike, Zoe?"
"Yes, yes there is," said Zoe, and offered the Doctor and Jamie her arms, giving them a sunny smile. "Shall we go out?"
The Doctor smiled at her in turn, and the trio strode out of the TARDIS, arm in arm, a little awkwardly because the doors weren't really wide enough for three people to walk abreast. Finally they managed to sort themselves out and peered around the dark, dank space in which they had materialized.
"Why, it must be some sort of cave," said Zoe. "Look at the rats!" She pointed to one particularly large example gnawing away at a small pile of rubbish.
"No, there's cobblestones under my feet," said Jamie, looking down and then up. "And hey! The roof's made of thatch. I think we must just be in an alleyway."
"Yes, I rather think you're right," said the Doctor. "Let's get out of here and see where we've really ended up."
They felt their way slowly out of the alley, trying to more or less avoid the slimier patches of road and wall. Eventually they found their way to the end of the thatching, where sunlight began to filter through between the roofs of the adjoining buildings. A bustling street greeted them, its sides lined with stalls, squeezing walkers through in single file.
"Fish! Buy fish here!" screamed a woman. Every inch of her - her long dress, her apron, her cloth cap and hair - was stained with something that smelled unpleasantly like fish guts.
"No! Buy my eels, lovely eels! Get off, you old hag, no one wants your rotten fish." Another woman, this one slightly younger and even bloodier, shoved her way toward the Doctor and his companions.
"You shut your filthy mouth," said the fish-seller, blocking the eel-monger's advance. "These gentlemen and lady have a fine, discerning taste, and you cannot ruin their palates with eels! Milord, these fish were fresh-caught today, on my aunt's grave, and-"
"I don't think-" said the Doctor, but the eel-monger talked over him.
"There's not and never has been an Englishman or woman that would say no to a good bit of eel. It's practically the national dish, eaten here for centuries past! Buy my wares for patriotism, good sirs, good lady."
"Oh, that's a rough line," said the fish-seller, giving her competitor a jaundiced eye.
"We really don't-" began Zoe, but the eel-monger stopped her, waving a hand while staring straight at the fish-seller.
"I think it's fair," she said. "What's wrong with patriotism?"
"It just seems like a bit of a cheat, that's all," said the other, musing. "It's like- it's like, if they don't buy eels, they must be lousy foreigners."
"Aye, exactly. That's the point."
"I don't know. Maybe I'll try it out on the next mark, see how it feels."
Helpless, the Doctor glanced over at Jamie, who frowned, thinking.
"Fish!"
"Eels!"
"Oh no, it's starting again," sighed Zoe.
"Ladies," said Jamie, having an idea. "We don't have any money."
The pair of seafood-purveyors stopped immediately, gaping.
"Tease!" said the fish-seller, bustling away.
"Foreign bastards!" said the eel-monger, hurrying after her.
"Oh, thank you, Jamie," said the Doctor, mopping his brow.
"Och, don't mention it. But look, this must be England! London, even!"
"London again?" asked Zoe, looking a little excited. "I wonder what it's like when it's not filled with Cybermen."
"I suppose you'll find out," said the Doctor, looking around, then up at the sky. He blinked and shielded his eyes against the early-morning sun. "Quite early for England, and I don't just mean the hour," he continued, as he began to walk down the street alongside the docks. "A little before your time, I fancy, Jamie. Perhaps as much as a century or so."
"Oh, aye? I'm from the future now, then! Like you, Zoe."
"I suppose you are," said Zoe, "though you're fitting in much better than I am." She glanced between Jamie's kilt and vest and her own bright white raincoat.
"No, you don't understand," said Jamie, watching the Doctor talk to an elderly lady sitting on a stoop. "I finally know more than all these people! I know about things that haven't been discovered yet. Aye, and the names of people who haven't even been born."
"Really?" said Zoe, "and what will you do with that knowledge?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Jamie. "Lord it over them or such like."
Zoe was about to tell him what she thought of that plan when the Doctor turned back to them, clasping his hands together.
"Come on!"
"Where are we going, Doctor?" asked Zoe, as the three of them began to walk down a side-street, away from the docks.
"Why, the best place to go when you're in London in the seventeenth century." The Doctor paused, looking at them expectantly. They waited patiently, knowing from experience that whatever they guessed would turn out to be wrong - the Doctor liked to change the answer.
"A pub, of course! Do come along."
---
The pub was smoky and ill-lit, and the Doctor exclaimed with delight when he entered. He immediately stepped up to the bar to converse with the barkeep, Zoe following behind. Jamie looked around, before walking determinedly toward a large table with only one occupant eating breakfast; a stark comparison to the small crowded areas with their rollicking companies who looked like they hadn't stopped drinking since the night before.
"Excuse me, sir," said Jamie, sitting down at the lone man's table, "but I don't suppose you'd like to hear of the future?"
Back at the bar, the Doctor was already deep in conversation with a man slumped over the counter, the barkeep having proved to be a bit too busy to put up with a stranger's prattle. The Doctor's replacement conversationalist was proving to be a poor substitute, however. His discourse was largely unintelligible, since he directed his words at the table, his face buried in the cradle of his arms. The Doctor had to expend quite a lot of energy in extracting meaning from the drunkard's mumbling.
"You say that people have been going missing? Oh dear. But surely men and women leave London every day?"
The man mumbled something else into the counter, which the Doctor and Zoe eventually decided meant that these disappearances weren't the normal sort of cases, the ones which involved debts or troubles in love.
"Talking to Zebediah, are you?" The barkeep came by again, carrying a tray of mugs for one of the tables that still had money. He stopped for a moment to lean in and whisper an aside at the Doctor's ear. "Poor man lost his son to the Mist three days ago, and hasn't been sober since."
"The Mist?" said Zoe. "Whatever can that be?"
"Oh, it might just be a coincidence, Lady, but the Mist is said to appear whenever someone disappears," said the barkeep, leaning back again. "Haven't seen it happen, myself. If you're curious, you should talk to Old Lady Heppy. She's the one who told me about the Mist in the first place. I'll come in my own time!" This last comment was to the increasingly raucous table with money, which had noticed that its drinks were apparently stationary.
"Poor Zeb. His son was a stout soldier, too, home on leave. Not even the King's men can go about their business unmolested, these days." The barkeep sighed and then ambled along to the moneyed table, careful not to seem like he was hurrying to satisfy his customers.
"I rather think we should look into this," said the Doctor, eyeing the mug of beer that he'd managed to barter in exchange for some string and a broken chew toy. "Mysterious disappearances are never a good thing." He picked up the mug and sipped at it cautiously, and then spat the ale delicately out again. "Uch. Watered down, and the glass may not have ever been cleaned. Where's Jamie?"
While the Doctor peered under the bar, as if Jamie might pop out from under the kegs, Zoe pursued the more reliable method of looking around the seating area. She spotted Jamie at once, and tugged on the Doctor's sleeve.
"I think you'll have to go and get him, Doctor."
"Why, what's wrong?" The Doctor turned around, only to see Jamie in conversation with a singularly sober pub inhabitant. "He's just enjoying a chat with that nice man over there, nothing to worry about."
"I don't know that that man looks nice at all. And Jamie looks very annoyed." As if to prove Zoe's point, Jamie suddenly slouched backwards, crossing his arms and kicking the table leg so that the other man had to steady the flimsy construction.
"Oh dear," said the Doctor. "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"
"The future, probably," said Zoe. "You remember how excited Jamie was about having fore-knowledge of events."
"Well, we'll just have to butt in." The Doctor jumped down off his bar stool, abandoning his ale.
Jamie leant in again as the Doctor and Zoe approached the table.
"Fine," he said, "I can see that you're a little better informed than most. But I can tell you when His Majesty will die, aye, and who'll come after him. That's good, isn't it?"
"Charles will pass in 1685, I believe, succeeded by James of the many numerals." Jamie's companion sounded both amused and Irish, which was either a good sign or a very bad one. The Doctor stopped just as he was about to whisk Jamie away.
"You're not supposed to know that," he said, mildly. "Who are you?"
"This is my friend, the Doctor," said Jamie to his companion. "I was telling you about him."
"Aye, I know who he is," said the man. "And frankly, I'm hurt that he doesn't recognize me." It was said jokingly, but the bitter current of truth lurking behind the words made the Doctor take a closer look at the perhaps-not-a-stranger.
The man was on the later side of middle-aged, but still tall and dark, with a beard that was a bit too full and not nearly well-trimmed enough to be fashionable. His clothing and wig were of the same type - nearly up-to-date, but slightly too large and unkempt to look good. He was saved by his face and features, which were strong, made more striking by a rather overlarge hooked nose and clear blue eyes. Overall, the effect was to make him look rugged and tough, rather than simply dirty.
He also looked utterly unfamiliar, but then his face pulled into a smirk, and the Doctor had him.
"Oh, my. Well, you can't really blame me for not marking you at first glance, Ko-"
"Colonel Thomas Blood, at your service." The Colonel stood up, bowing over Zoe's hand, and then shaking Jamie's when he also rose. "The Doctor and I know each other from long ago," he added, looking knowingly at Jamie's confused expression.
"Yes," said the Doctor, a little warily. "It's quite a coincidence, meeting you here."
"You've been to this time and place before?" asked Zoe, looking between the Doctor and the Colonel.
"Not that I recall," said the Doctor, "I'll explain later."
"Perhaps you should accompany me back to my residence," said the Colonel. "Unless you are otherwise engaged?"
"No, we're quite free," said the Doctor. "At least I think so."
"Still," said the Colonel, "better to speak where the ears can be trusted."
"What are they talking about?" said Jamie, stooping down to mutter in Zoe's ear.
"I think it's code or something. It sounds as if they're worried about people overhearing them. Oh, here we go," she added, hurrying to follow as the Colonel strode out of the pub without paying his bill. The Doctor paused for a moment to drop some rubber ducks on the table to cover the tab, and then followed, steadfastly ignoring the barkeep's shouts.
This time, no merchants accosted them on the street, seeming to shy away from the Colonel's presence.
"I hope you haven't done anything to these poor people," said the Doctor, glancing at the Colonel, who laughed.
"Don't jump to conclusions. They just know it would be a waste of time to hawk their wares to me."
"Because you have no money, aye?" said Jamie, butting in. "That's how I got rid of a couple of these hagglers earlier."
"That's one strategy," said the Colonel, smiling at Jamie as the Doctor made a small face behind both of their backs. "So, my boy, would you care to tell me about yourself as we walk? I already know that you're not from around here, aye, and not this time neither."
"No, I'm not," said Jamie, grinning embarrassedly. "I'm right sorry about all of that bother earlier. If I'd known you were a friend of the Doctor's, I wouldn't have tried anything."
"I didn't say we were friends, Jamie," interjected the Doctor.
"No," agreed the Colonel, smiling at the Doctor. "We're much more than mere friends, aren't we, Doctor?" He turned away from the Doctor's frown, and back to Jamie. "You were saying, lad?"
"Well, the Doctor picked me up after battle with the red coats - he says about a century hence. I was a piper for Laird McLaren."
"A Scot, then! I fought with you fellows in the service of the Commonwealth during the war...aye, and in the pubs afterwards as well!"
"Aye, you don't say?" said Jamie, laughing.
"That's such an old joke," muttered the Doctor. "Please don't laugh at it, Jamie, it'll only encourage him."
Jamie ignored him, chattering away at the Colonel, who smiled and lifted a mocking eyebrow at the Doctor. Feeling a little neglected, the Doctor dropped back to talk to Zoe.
"Don't you be charmed by that man calling himself a Colonel," he said. "He's not all that he seems."
"I had gathered that," said Zoe. "You don’t seem very surprised to see him.”
“I’m surprised to see him here,” said the Doctor. “But not necessarily startled to see him at all. Sometimes people turn up in odd places.”
“I see,” said Zoe, though she didn’t. “You will tell me about it?"
"Of course, of course, but I need to talk to him privately before I can give you the whole story in good conscience." The Doctor paused, staring moodily at Jamie and the Colonel speaking animatedly to each other, probably about him. "Oh, let's talk about something else."
"Fine," said Zoe. "Why don't you help me figure out how to explain my strange dress to people?"
"Hm? What's wrong with your clothes?"
"Well, it's not at all what people are wearing here and now," said Zoe. She fiddled with the large zippers on her black leather gloves, frowning. "I suppose I can change, if Colonel Blood has any women's clothing."
"Whyever would he have women's clothing, Zoe? I do hope you're not suggesting anything."
"I meant he might have a sister or a wife," said Zoe.
"Oh, no, not a wife. Not Ko- I mean, not the Colonel."
"Also, I think you're being a bit defensive, Doctor. There's nothing wrong with Colonel Blood choosing to wear women's things, if he likes."
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor. "What was your question again?"
"What shall I tell people when they ask me about my dress? Everyone's staring." Zoe looked uneasily around the street.
"Just do what I do when someone gives me a hard time," said the Doctor.
"Insult them in a very passive-aggressive way? I do wish you wouldn't do that, Doctor, it keeps getting us into trouble."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said the Doctor. "Anyway, just tell them you're from a sideshow. You can juggle, can't you?"
"I suppose. It's just coordination and spatial awareness, isn't it?"
"It's rather more complicated than that, Zoe - ah, we're here."
Here was a somewhat suspicious looking building, with cracked windowpanes, curtains blocking the view into the inside, and a new, heavy-looking door on shining hinges. The Colonel rapped on the door in a complicated rhythm.
"...two pence," said the Doctor, quietly, when the Colonel paused. "Oh dear, he's being anachronistic. That will never do."
His hypocrisy did not immediately tumble him over, and the Doctor watched as the door opened just enough to admit the Colonel and then, after a pause, widened to allow the rest of them to enter.
Inside was dark, sealed off as it was from the light of the outside. Only a few candles illuminated the rooms and the face of the tall woman with unruly blonde hair who had opened the door.
"Allow me to introduce Miss Jenny Blaine," said the Colonel, taking off his cloak and hanging it upon a hook near the door. "Jenny, the Doctor, Jamie, and- I'm sorry, my dear, I never managed to catch your name."
"Oh, that's Zoe," said the Doctor. "And what is your role here, Jenny?"
"I'm sorry?" she said, glancing at the Colonel.
"Don't be rude, Doctor, she's merely a business associate."
"And what sort of business would that be?" the Doctor pressed.
"I see that you won't be put off for a moment longer," sighed the Colonel. "Perhaps if you can just be patient, we can take care of your young friends before we go upstairs. Jenny, if you wouldn't mind, there's refreshment in the kitchen."
"I guess," said Jenny, openly staring at the Doctor. "Anything else I need to know?"
"No, just entertain these young people and make sure no one disturbs us. Thank you, Jenny."
She nodded, and then turned and walked into the front room. Jamie and Zoe followed her willingly enough, and the Doctor and the Colonel walked up the steps to a closed room, which the Colonel opened with a key on a chain around his neck.
Once open, the door revealed a spare bedroom, with nothing marking it as lived in or used. The Doctor paused to reflect that his friend hadn't been staying there long before starting in on his questions.
"What are you doing here, Koschei? Last I knew, you were still wasting your time on Gallifrey. Mission for the CIA, is it?"
"You can't even wait for me to close the door," complained Koschei, doing just that.
"Anyway, I don't know why I should explain anything to you, when you obviously couldn't be bothered to care before. The CIA indeed - I haven't worked for them in nearly a century." He switched easily from English to Gallifreyan, his Irish accent melting away into the accents of his youth. The Doctor ignored the shift and continued speaking in the pidgin of English and Gallifreyan he always used.
"Yes, well. I thought you were fine. And I've been busy."
"Busy wandering around with a pair of aliens young enough to be your great-grandchildren, from what I can tell," said Koschei.
"I'm on the run!"
"Messing around with history isn't the best way to avoid the authority's attentions, Theta. I should know."
"Is that why you're here?" said the Doctor, quietly.
"Yes," said Koschei, walking over to a desk and sitting down. "I've been exiled."
"Oh, I am sorry, Koschei. I didn't know."
"Obviously," said Koschei. "I've been here for nearly twenty-five years. I'd decided you either didn't care or didn't know. Both, probably."
"Don't be like that," said the Doctor. He looked around, and then, for lack of another chair, sat on the bed. "I haven't heard any news from Gallifrey since I left with Susan."
"Yes, how is she?"
"I'm sure she's fine," said the Doctor, and changed the subject. "Tell me how you were exiled."
"I was caught making unauthorized trips to primitive worlds, interacting with the natives. Nothing egregious, but the CIA already had their suspicions about some of my," Koschei coughed, "more experimental activities, especially after I left their employ. The Council seized the opportunity to eliminate a potential threat to the status quo. My House fought for me, but you know how intractable the justice system is. Forcible regeneration, my brain altered to severely diminish my mental capabilities. Then they exiled me here without a TARDIS. No space travel yet, so no chance of escape, or so they reasoned." Koschei looked away from the Doctor, turning to his desk and removing his wig, revealing fine black hair growing back from being shaved. He put the wig on a stand, arranging it more neatly than the shabby creation really deserved.
"Well," said the Doctor, "I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. We both had too much interest in xenosociology for the comfort of our peers."
"I was looking for you, you dolt," said Koschei, with more tiredness than anger. "I was tracking your TARDIS, trying to catch up. I worried about you after a few decades, but I couldn't have cared less for the aliens I had to question in order to find you."
"Oh, I am sorry, Koschei," said the Doctor. He stared for a moment at the back of his friend's head, and then gave into temptation and stood up, stepping close to stroke the soft, short hair. It was meant more as a comfort than anything else, and it seemed to work. Koschei leaned into the motion, some of the tension going out of his frame.
"I didn’t mean to cause you such trouble," said the Doctor.
"You never do,” said Koschei, and twisted around in his chair. He pulled the Doctor's head down and kissed him, gently at first, and then hard and desperate. The Doctor held still, not pulling away, but not pushing back, either.
“What’s wrong?” said Koschei, at last.
“I just don’t really know you anymore,” said the Doctor, carefully. “It’s been a long time. And I didn’t leave under the best of circumstances.”
“Surely that’s all forgotten now,” said Koschei. “How long can you hold on to a grudge?”
“That’s not the issue,” protested the Doctor.
“Reunion after decades of separation, and all you can think about is fights we had years ago. Absolutely typical.”
“You’re twisting my words,” said the Doctor. “I was simply trying to point out that we can’t just kiss and make up.”
“Why not?” said Koschei. “That’s what we always did before.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” The Doctor shook his head, smiling. “The same silly Koschei.”
“Please don’t call me-“ The Doctor kissed Koschei back, lightly.
“Never mind. You can call me whatever you like,” said Koschei, and leaned in again.
---
Downstairs, Jamie and Zoe were poking at plates of eels.
"Did you eat these back in your time, Jamie?" said Zoe, finally getting a particularly sproingy piece on to her knife.
"Not really. My gran always tried to get me to eat them, but I thought they were disgusting. And they are, too." Jamie tried a bit, and made a face.
"I suppose I should be offended," said Jenny, "but I'm not. I've never liked eels."
"Why did you buy them, then?" said Jamie.
"Some merchant told me it was unpatriotic not to." Jenny shrugged. "Still, shouldn't waste food. Big day today." She started to chew.
"What's happening?" said Zoe.
"I'm not sure if I should tell you." Jenny's voice was muffled. Chewing appeared to be difficult. Jamie and Zoe surreptitiously pushed their plates away.
"Oh, go on," said Jamie. "We're friends of the Doctor, who's friends with yon Colonel. Practically mates, aren't we?"
Jenny smiled at him, and swallowed, throat working to get the eel down. She coughed, covering her mouth with her fist. Finally, she recovered, and went back to smiling.
"Don't tell anyone," she said, "but we're going to steal the crown jewels."
Jamie and Zoe looked at each other.
"What, from the King?" said Jamie.
---
After a while, Koschei pushed the Doctor away from him and pulled off his coat, laying it across the back of his chair.
"Do you really think we have time for that?" asked the Doctor. He started to take off his own coat. Koschei laughed.
"Don't get excited," he said. "I just need to get changed. I have an engagement this morning."
"Really," said the Doctor, not even trying to conceal his disappointment. "Why can't you just put it off?"
"My dear, it's important. I can't just drop everything because you've finally turned up."
"Hmph. What is this engagement, then?"
"Doctor, in my time here, I have been many things." Koschei began to undo the buttons on his black, woolen vest.
"Is this really necessary?"
"I've been stuck on Earth for twenty-five years while you've been gallivanting around the universe. Indulge me."
"Sorry."
"As I was saying, I have been many things. For a time, I was a well-respected commander in Cromwell's army, then a landowner under the rule of parliament. After the crown regained power, I was forced into a life of infamy and deceit."
"Oh, forced, were you?"
"Yes," said Koschei, pulling off his vest. "In a daring raid against the supporters of the crown, I attempted the kidnap of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to be held for ransom. The adventure would have surely succeeded if not for treachery that betrayed us revolutionaries to the government. I became once more an outlaw, my lands confiscated, a price on my head. I lived in hiding for years, only emerging once to rescue a fellow rebel."
"What did you do while you were in hiding?" asked the Doctor, an edge of curiosity showing through his air of disinterest.
"Practiced medicine, as it happens," said Koschei. His words were a little muffled as he pulled his shirt off over his head.
"Eventually I was reminded of the blow to my honor dealt by the failure of my plot to kidnap the Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Ormonde, and so I sought to kidnap him once more." Koschei sat down and began to pull of his boots.
"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again," said the Doctor. Koschei looked at him oddly.
"Yes. Unfortunately I was once again foiled, this time after I had won his capture and was en route to the gallows, there to hang the unlucky duke." Koschei peeled off his hose and started on his breeches. "Once more I escaped, to be with you today. And I have another great adventure in mind, one which will shake the monarchy to its core." He stood up and shucked his breeches, standing naked. "Are you listening, Doctor?"
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor. "Kidnapping, attempted murder, great adventure. I was just thinking that we could have been doing something much more fun in the time it took for you to explain all that."
"Perhaps later," Koschei promised. "As I said, I have something important to do tonight."
"Yes, and I asked what that was, and you still haven't explained. I know you're just dying to tell me."
Koschei turned away and opened the wardrobe, and the Doctor was immediately distracted again.
"I intend," said Koschei, drawing a long black robe from its hook, "to steal the crown jewels."
---
"What are you going to do with the jewels, if you get them?" asked Jamie.
"Sell them, I expect. Not in England, but there are bankers in France and Spain that'd give you a good price, and we'll get across the channel, no problem." Jenny beamed at the both of them, looking altogether unlike a dastardly criminal.
"Well, it's a grand scheme, no doubt of that," allowed Jamie.
"I hope no one's hurt in the course of this 'grand scheme,'" said Zoe, but her attention was elsewhere. She was looking between her own raincoat and Jenny's understandably more period clothing. "Jenny, you wouldn't have an extra dress or something I can borrow?"
"Maybe," said Jenny, looking Zoe up and down. "You shouldn't go out like that, for sure. Just come from an entertainment or something?"
"A sideshow," said Zoe, firmly. "Anything you can spare would probably be better."
"You can have my other dress," Jenny decided. "It's very nearly clean."
The two women walked out of the room together, leaving Jamie to stare morosely at his eel.
"Ah, being from the future hasn't done me any good tonight, has it?" he said. "The Doctor's upstairs with yon Colonel, Zoe's getting dressed up, and it's just you and me now. I haven't even impressed anyone."
The eel said nothing, but somebody knocked on the door in the same pattern the Colonel had used earlier. Jamie stood up, startled.
"Jenny, should I open the door?"
"No, wait a moment!" called Jenny, coming back to the front room. "No one knows who you are." She paused, brushing her hair back in a way that made it even more tangled, and opened the door. "Thomas!" she said, smiling widely for a moment before her face fell. "Oh, it's you two."
"Sorry, love," said one of the new men. "Your boy won't be along for a few minutes yet, as he's tending the horses. I see you've got a new lad, though."
"He's not mine," sniffed Jenny. "He's a friend of the Colonel's." She stepped back to let the two men into the house. "Jamie, this is Richard Halliwell, and the quiet one is Robert Perrott."
"I didn't think Blood had any friends I didn't know about," said Halliwell. "Hallo, boy."
Both of the men were rough, a little more so than the Colonel. Halliwell was slighter and redder, with a fleeting grin. Perrott was tall and lean, with an awkward leer fixed permanently on his face.
"Jamie's not all, Halliwell. There's a girl, too, Zoe, and some man called the Doctor."
"Eh? Probably something Blood's got cooking then. Well, I need to talk to him." Halliwell started up the stairs, Perrott shadowing him.
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Jenny. "The Colonel didn't want to be disturbed."
"I wasn't here then, was I? And stop calling him that, that's just a rank he made up for himself because lieutenant in Cromwell's army wasn't good enough. I never tried to advance myself in people's esteem, even though I was only a cornet. No, and I don't even go around telling people I was that, neither."
"Well, I wouldn't either, if I had been a trumpet," sniggered Perrott.
"Shut up," said Halliwell, swinging an arm to cuff Perrott's head. The ensuing blows tumbled them both off the stairs, where they lay, Halliwell complaining, Perrott sniggering some more.
"I just go to change into some era-appropriate clothing, and the whole place falls down," said Zoe, peering back into the front room.
---
"This is ridiculous," said the Doctor. "You're just going to get caught."
"My plan is perfect," said Koschei, bristling a little. His affected ease was rapidly diminishing. Unfortunately he still hadn't gotten dressed, and the Doctor had always thought Koschei was a bit of alright when he was annoyed.
"All I'm saying- all I'm saying is that you seem to be oh for two in terms of your grand schemes so far. That whole business with the Duke of Ormonde that you were talking about." The Doctor smiled as Koschei turned red and swirled around, still clutching his new clothing but not yet moving to put it on.
"That would have worked at the first if I had not been betrayed," he hissed. "Every detail had been described to perfection."
"Oh yes?" said the Doctor, goading him. "I suppose you expected that the guards would have just melted away, allowing you to snatch the Duke without a fight."
"I had planned for that," said Koschei, triumphantly. "The guards would have been distracted by an associate posing as a clumsy baker, who had spilled his burden of bread!"
"Bread? You've gone stir-crazy. You've lost your senses."
"I have done no such thing! I've studied this period, Doctor, lived in it for decades. I know that those unfortunate enough not to have been born in the echelons of privilege are malnourished and hungry. They would have scrambled for the delicious, fresh-baked loaves!"
The Doctor really couldn't bring himself to say anything. Koschei ranted on into his silence.
"This is set to succeed, Doctor! No one will give us away this time. The jewels are only protected by a near octogenarian, whom I have lulled with gifts of gloves and promises that my nephew will marry his daughter."
"Gloves?" said the Doctor, weakly. "And your nephews aren't even on this planet."
"It was a ruse," said Koschei. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You never did care about my hobbies."
The Doctor covered his eyes with both hands, scrubbing wearily at his face.
"Let's not retread that old argument again. Tell me, aren't there any weapons to defend the jewels? Even an elderly Human can do a lot of damage with the right tools, trust me."
"There were pistols," agreed Koschei, but a triumphant light was shining in his eyes. "But I have bought them. Nothing will stop my theft!"
"You did what?" The Doctor stared as Koschei finally pulled his new clothing over his head. "I can't believe this. Oh, and what's this?" He pulled an exaggerated double-take as Koschei let his hem fall to the floor. "My dear, I told Zoe that I was sure you wouldn't start wearing women's clothing, and now look at you."
"This isn't a dress, Doctor. This is a cassock; a clergyman's robe."
"Well, dressing up as a priest is nearly as bad. You're not even wearing anything underneath. What are you doing?" The Doctor had to admit, black did suit Koschei, but really.
"The lack of underwear was intended to be an enticement to someone, but I've gone off the idea, somehow," said Koschei. "In any case, this is my disguise. I've been pretending to be a reverend, with Jenny posing as my wife." He turned back to the closet, plucking out a black cap with ears that matched his spartan, dusty-black robe.
"How could anyone believe you were married?"
"Quite easily, Doctor." Koschei pulled on short socks and slipped on a pair of shoes. He seemed to be getting a little calmer, but just then someone knocked on the door. "Go away!" he snapped, not even bothering to switch to English. The knocking stopped regardless.
"Look, why do you even want the crown jewels?" asked the Doctor.
"They'll buy me safe passage off this rock," sniffed Koschei. "Some tourists will pay a lot for a piece of quaint native craftwork, and they might pick up a hitchhiker as part of the bargain for a particularly storied piece."
"But, if that's all." The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Why not just give it up and come away with me?"
"It had occurred to me," said Koschei. "But it seems like such a waste of a good plan..." he hesitated, straightening his hat and combing his fingers through his beard.
"Don't you see that it's for the best? Oh, you might have people fooled for now, Koschei, but it'll all fall apart, just you wait. You'll be found out - you're not a priest-"
"Reverend," muttered Koschei.
"-Or a married man or any of it. Stop embarrassing yourself."
Koschei scowled, but the Doctor could see that he was cowed. Then a knock came at the door again, and Koschei yanked it open, forcefully.
"Oh," said a young man, his hand still raised to knock. "Um. Are you ready, Father?"
no subject
Date: 2010-07-15 05:36 pm (UTC)