best_enemies | Like It's 1999 4d/?: Negotiations

Like It’s 1999 Part 4d/?: Negotiation

Wordcount: 5,867 [4c + 4d (Plus the transitiony bit from 4b)]

Rating: R for references to sex, language, and drug use, eventual NC-17

Pairing: Ten/Jip, Ten/Simm!Master

Betaed by piping_hot (and in all seriousness, I could not do this without her!)

Author’s Note: An AU sort of crossover with the movie Human Traffic. Alters the Master’s timeline post Time War and the Doctor’s from the end of Gridlock onward, with references to Torchwood: Day One. Helps to have seen Human Traffic, which is available streaming on Netflix at the mo (yep, still).

Summary: The Face of Boe has different last words for the Doctor which will lead him into the world of a young man in Cardiff at the end of the 20^th Century.
Previous bits: 1, 2, 3, 4a, 4b, 4c

The movement within the egg felt less restless, so Jip took Utherion’s advice and started singing.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…”

As he sang, the side of the egg he was cuddling against grew warmer and felt denser, and he realized that she was pressing closer to him within her shell.

“That’s right, Uncle Jip’s got everything under—”

Jip broke off in mid-sentence as he heard a noise outside the entrance of the cave, the clatter of pebbles falling down the cliffs. That alone wouldn’t have been alarming, but then he heard soft cursing.

Hide, the posh voice ordered.

No, Jip retorted, I promised I’d watch Vereda. He looked around the cave quickly, trying to find cover where they could both hide, but he didn’t think that the egg would survive the cold for too long. No bones to use as clubs, no sharpened sticks he could use.

You have no obligation to protect the child of your kidnapper! the voice snarled. Jip ignored him, still looking for a weapon, and the voice sighed. Twenty feet from the right side of the entrance, there’s a lighter patch of stone. Go find it.

Jip, utterly out of other ideas, got up and found the spot to which he thought the voice had referred, a place where the glassy-green melt of the walls was strangely more opaque and paler.

There’s a flaw in the wall there. Kick it. Raise your leg and drop your heel to the top of the light patch.

Jip did it, placing an amateurish axe kick onto the spot. A glassy shard broke away from the wall and skittered across the floor.

Fetch, puppy. That’s the only weapon on offer, the voice said grimly. Outside the entrance, the slight sounds of scraping and of more stones clattering down the side of the mountain. Jip scrambled over and picked up the shard, a semicircular wedge of glass with one wicked-sharp edge.

Am I going to have to kill someone? Jip asked, trying to swallow down his fear, wishing he’d worn gloves as the rough edges of his makeshift knife dug into his palm.

You might, the voice answered.

I don’t want to kill anyone, Jip thought plaintively. The voice sighed in irritation.

I’m not your mummy dropping you off at your first day of school! it snapped. You should’ve thought of that before you said yes to being the little girlfriend of a madman.

Jip crouched at the top of the divot, Vereda at his back. The drumming, which had been a mere background noise, was now loud and unrelenting, but still being outstripped by his racing heart.

Steady, the voice added. Don’t fight if you don’t have to.

Right, Jip agreed. Better not to harm anyone.

No, because fighting often hurts, stupid! the voice snapped. Jip had no time to retort as a gloved hand scrambled up on the bottom of the cave entrance. Its owner hauled himself in, flopping onto his back, panting.

“Out of the way, moron!” a voice snarled, and the first man half-scooted, half-rolled so that his companion could haul himself in, flinging a large, fur lined bag inside, and then looked straight at Jip. “Velt, you’re really fucking useless, you know that?”

“I’m just catching my breath! You saw him leave, it’s not like there’s a rush!” the first man whined. “Let me rest, we can hide and ambush the dragon when he gets back.”

The second got to his feet and gave the first a half-hearted kick in the hip.

“There’s someone here!” he snapped.

Jip hoped that he looked intimidating, crouching there with his knife and his face hidden.

Take the hood off, the voice demanded. Quickly, do it.

Jip swiped the hood off his head, the voice too adamant for him to argue, though he had rather liked being more shadowed. The second man, the more aggressive one, approached. He was much better dressed for the altitude than Jip, wearing a bulky coat and scarf over his face.

“Green stripes. Fucking hell, Morjamsen,” he grumbled, tugging the scarf down. His skin was the same yellowish color that the other Briedeans Jip had seen seemed to share, though his expression was nowhere near so relaxed or joyful. “Get up and get the egg, Velt.”

“You keep away!” Jip shouted. Velt got to his feet, still huffing and peering at Jip.

“He’s got a knife,” Velt said, frowning. That was promising, at least, Jip thought, recognition that he was armed. The second man rolled his eyes.

“He’s got a rock,” he replied, and turned a nasty smirk on Jip. “He’s a pallid, scrawny slip of a boy, and he’s got a bit of rock. How very scary.”

Hold on. Wait for it. Say nothing, the voice ordered softly. Drop the hand with the rock a few inches, like you’re thinking of putting it down. Widen your eyes. Bite your lower lip.

Jip’s hand wavered, and he bit his lower lip. He almost didn’t have to try, didn’t have to think about it, his eyes widening in apprehension. It didn’t hurt that the posh voice was telling him to express things that he really did feel to some degree: Fear, apprehension, timidity, guilt, cowardice.

“You should put it down,” the thug murmured with a nod. “Velt and I don’t really give a fuck about you, you’d have a fair chance making it down the mountain, maybe lose a couple toes and a finger to the cold, but all in all.”

Let him get closer.

“You see, Velt? He’s just a fawn in bright light. He can’t even move,” the man added, continuing to move slowly but steadily toward Jip. Behind him, Jip could feel Vereda tremble, felt the eggshell get cooler as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the stranger’s voice as she could.

Frightening a little kid… Jip growled in his head, imagining himself tightening his hand again on the shard and fighting these men off, frightening them with his fury.

No! the voice snapped. That isn’t how we do things. Feel the beat, wait…

The thug stepped a little closer, reaching out for the sharp stone Jip held.

Now, the voice said, and Jip’s arm swung without him thinking about it, slicing open the skin of the man’s coat, exposing the tangled woolen material of the lining and cutting into his arm at the end of the stroke.

“Fuck!” he shouted, staggering back, grabbing his sliced arm with the opposite hand.

Grab him by the front of the coat and make him look you in the eye. Quickly, quickly, there’s not much time before the surprise wears off. Look him directly in the eye and do not look away.

Jip obeyed, darting to his feet and grabbing his would-be assailant’s coat with his left hand. The man’s eyes were blue, and the whites were lined with orange, not red. Different blood.

Never mind that. Do not break the stare, and do not blink. Now, repeat after me.

“Turn around and get out,” Jip said. “When you get to the bottom of the mountain, you’re going to start walking.”

Velt ran forward, slipping a few times, and grabbed his companion’s shoulders, trying to tug him free from Jip’s grasp.

“Let him go!” he shouted, and Jip did. Both men tumbled backwards and he stood, looming over them. Both men stared up into Jip’s eyes. Jip stared back, his heart slowing: One (one two) two (three four). One (one two) two (three four). One (one two) two (three four).

“Turn around, leave the cave,” he repeated. “Climb down. When you get to the bottom of the mountain, walk. You will not speak to anyone. You will tell no one where you’ve been.”

“When can we stop?” Velt asked, the expression on his face seeming to indicate that there was no question in his mind that he’d do whatever he was told.

Jip heard himself speaking in unison with the posh voice, like Jip’s mouth was just the amplifier for the voice’s frequency:

“When there’s water a foot above your head, you can stop.”

No! Jip thought. You’ve already told them not to say anything— but when he tried to open his mouth to protest, to correct the order, he found his jaw remained firmly shut.

If neither you nor the Doctor can be bothered to do what is necessary to keep you alive, the posh voice said, well. Aren’t you lucky you can count on me?

The stone clattered to the cave floor out of Jip’s hand, and he watched as the two thugs got to their feet, exited the cave, and began their descent of the side of the mountain. Jip turned back to the divot in the floor and put an arm around Vereda’s eggshell.

“It’s okay,” he whimpered, trying to convince himself as much as her. “They’re gone. It’s okay.”

Vereda curled back up against the side closest to him, warm against his stomach and chest, and they waited. A few minutes later, he gently lifted and rotated the egg, all the while telling her stories about his friends, editing out the sex, drugs, and alcohol bits, and sang her every song he could think of, editing out the same. He didn’t have a watch, so he’d just sing about five songs and then turn her again.

Jip hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he startled awake to a rushing sound. Utherion slunk in through the entrance.

“Did you get your son back?” Jip asked, petting Vereda’s shell. Utherion’s face wasn’t very visible now that the sun had set. His voice, however, was broken and ashen.

“No,” he replied. “When I arrived, Morjamsen was already imprisoned. I explained the situation to the townspeople- sweet folk, really- but the egg wasn’t where he claimed he’d left it. The villagers, bless them, are searching now. I wanted to continue looking myself, but it’s not as if I can get my head in their doorways to peer around, and I didn’t want to worry Vereda. It’s just...”

The dragon’s voice quavered with sorrow, and Jip held his breath.

“...if Prymic isn’t kept warm, he could hatch sickly, have brain damage, or... he might not survive.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jip said. “I’m sure that he’ll be found soon, it’s not that big a village, and with everyone looking...”

Jip trailed off. It didn’t address the question of warmth. Utherion rested his head close to the egg, exhaling in sorrow and worry. God, had Jip ever been there. When he was younger, he’d hung around in his mother’s house while she turned tricks, feeling powerless to protect her, having to rely on plain hope that she would be okay. He reckoned it felt a lot like whatever Utherion was feeling right now. Tentatively, Jip reached out to gently touch the dragon’s nose.

“Thank you,” Utherion said. “You’ve been tremendously kind considering–”

Utherion paused, mid-sentence.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, raising his head and squinting as the cavern slowly filled with blue light. It faded back out into darkness again, back up, back out, brighter every time it reappeared. Jip’s head whipped around at the familiar sound, looking deeper into the cave himself. The TARDIS slowly strobed into the cave, a little more solid with each passing second. Once it was still and opaque and before the noise of the engines even stopped, the Doctor came tumbling out through the doors.

“Utherion!” he cried out, a big duffle bag clutched against his chest extremely carefully. The dragon and Jip both stared for a moment. “We can work this out, just don’t hurt him. He’s not who you think.”

Utherion looked from Jip to the Doctor and back.

“This is my friend, the Doctor,” Jip sighed. “He’s the one who brought me here.”

Utherion gave Jip a perplexed look.

“Here the planet, not here the cave. God, you have had a long day,” Jip clarified, then looked at the Doctor. “What’s in the bag?”

The Doctor looked between Utherion and Jip and then slowly set the bag down.

“My bargaining chip,” he said, carefully unzipping it. It was filled with little hand warmers, the sort that people take on camping trips, which the Doctor started shoveling out onto the floor. Jip put two and two together.

“Is that the egg?!” he exclaimed, darting over and helping to remove the little packets.

“Prymic?” Utherion murmured hopefully, stretching his head closer to the two of them. Jip and the Doctor got the last of the hand warmers clear, the top of the egg now visible. Jip reached in carefully and scooped Prymic’s egg out, gently settling him into the indentation in the floor with his sister.

“He’s moving; I can hear him!” Jip crowed. “Feel!”

The Doctor watched as the large dragon and the little human listened closely to the egg, joy breaking out on both their faces. Utherion’s great faceted eyes welled up with tears, and he leaned over to lick both eggs and Jip’s head as well. Laughing, Jip wiped his face on his sleeve, got up and bounded to the Doctor.

“You’re brilliant! Where did you find him?” Jip crowed, grabbing the Doctor’s face and kissing his forehead. The Doctor hesitated.

“He was in a little nest by the fireplace in the senate building,” he said. “So you’re not—you don’t seem like you need a great deal of rescuing…?”

“Exactly where Morjamsen said he would be,” Utherion sighed. “He was telling the truth after all. You must have moved him before we arrived.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows went up, watching the exceedingly relieved father nuzzling his two children, and realized his misstep.

“Oops,” he said, pulling out of Jip’s hands and walking sheepishly to Utherion. “I… sorry about that, when you came back to town without him, I thought…”

There was a scraping noise as the Doctor’s foot kicked the impromptu stone blade, still resting where Jip had dropped it on the floor. The Doctor picked it up, examining the edge, the orange of the blood almost completely indistinguishable in the blue light from the lantern atop the TARDIS. He brought it closer to his nose and smelled it, and Jip’s stomach dropped like a stone.

Oh dear me, the voice said blandly, you’re in for the stick.

All of Jip’s relief and joy at being both Prymic and himself being found collapsed in on itself, and all he could think about was those two idiot men, climbing out of the mountain, climbing down, to who knew where. They might be dead.

“Well,” the Doctor said, putting the stone shard in the pocket of his overcoat. “We should get out of your scales then and let you spend time with your children. I’m so sorry you got dragged into all this, but Morjamsen’s in prison now.”

“Thank you,” Utherion said, directing it more at Jip. “Say goodbye to Jip, children.”

Jip swallowed and reached out and laid a hand on each eggshell, feeling the motion under the surfaces.

“Bye kids,” he said. “Not a bit of bother, either of you.”

The Doctor opened the door of the TARDIS and stood in its frame, waiting.

“Take care of yourself, ‘senator,’” Utherion called after him as Jip entered the ship. The Doctor pulled the door shut behind them, and Jip immediately went over to the little red-outlined panel with all the buttons he was allowed to press. The Doctor walked past him silently, letting Jip prod away at them as he started up the TARDIS’ engines, glancing over at Jip across the console.

“Where are we going?” Jip asked quietly, switching from song to song, barely listening to each.

“Just going to hover in the vortex for a bit,” the Doctor answered him. “No need to rush off to another adventure immediately. Besides, I think we should talk, don’t you?”

Jip swallowed, the Doctor stabilizing the TARDIS in the vortex and stepping away from the controls, going to the coat rack and hanging up his overcoat. Jip jabbed at a button, and a low drone came through the speakers, occasionally broken up by static. The Doctor sighed, coming up behind him at his side of the console.

“Jip,” the Doctor said, setting down the stone shard, almost clear in full spectrum light with just a slight wash of green, like an old pop bottle, stained along one edge with dried orange blood. Jip looked at it momentarily and then went back to pressing buttons. The Doctor sighed and tried again.

“Jip. Won’t you tell me what happened?” he asked. “Who got hurt?”

Jip shrugged, swallowing hard.

“Did someone get killed?” the Doctor pressed softly.

Depends on how far that cave is from the sea… might still be a while yet, the fat one didn’t look like he could walk very fast.

“Shut up,” Jip whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tight, the words just eking out past his clenched teeth. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry, Jip, but I can’t,” the Doctor apologized, positioning himself between Jip and the radio controls. “I worked it out pretty quickly. You were in green stripes, so was Haufstadder, Morjamsen benefits if Haufstadder disappears, and… well, you know the rest. Turns out the head of the nutters with the signs—oh, that’s not fair, I s’pose, I mean, wrong about the apocalypse, but right about the dragons—is actually Morjamsen’s brother…”

The Doctor trailed off.

“Jip, these two frost-bitten blokes walked through the center of town. Their feet were bleeding, like they’d been walking forever,” the Doctor said. “They wouldn’t speak, but… I took a look, did a little prying.”

Do not stand here for this; this is his fault. His carelessness nearly killed you, and by proxy me. He doesn’t get to whine about the collateral damage of survival!

Jip started to back up, and the Doctor reached out. The Doctor grabbed his sleeve when he tried to twist away, pulling him back. The more he insisted, the more he pressed, the louder the drums in Jip’s head became.

“Jip,” the Doctor demanded, more harshly now. “I saw you. Tell me what you did.”

Jip yanked his arm free, shaking.

“I didn’t do anything!” he screamed, turning and running out.

Inside the Doctor’s pocket, the paper in the wallet changed.

I am not alone, it said.