Fic: Anonymus mimema

[narwhale-callin.livejournal.com]

Because, comm, I love you all, and I had a terrible, awful idea about how to express this fondness.

Title: Anonymus mimema
Characters, Pairings(?): Theta(One?), Koschei, Theta(One?)/Koschei (preslash?)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 6,217
Summary: In which two perfectly respectable Time Lords go to a disreputable place and meet a disreputable personage. Horrifying crack ensues.
Warnings: Koschei curses like an indignant schoolmarm & so does Theta, tentacles, meta-fiction shenanigans, sudden POV shift, cross-species shenanigans, nagging & snarking, suspiciously Freudian/Jungian imagery, terrible ideas, OOC attacks, all these warnings and it’s still PG…where did I go wrong?
Disclaimer: The BBC owns Doctor Who and all its related characters.

Many thanks to my ever-patient and unshakeable beta, dragonofmemory!



Anonymus mimema

The walls of the Labyrinth of Tropelandia were damp against Koschei’s back as he inched down the passageway, his eyes fixed on the mirror he held in his hand. He could hear Theta shuffling along behind him and the soft scrape of cloth that came from pressing his back against a wall. Theta swung their small lantern out to his side, and the light illuminated a new formation lying ahead of them. Mineralized water poured over calcified flowstone into an underground river, ancient crystals glittering in the incandescent glow. They paused. Cave kisses doused their scalps. Somewhere up ahead, they heard The Creature groan.

Koschei shifted the angle of his mirror to see what lay ahead and whispered, “Theta, there are two tunnels beside that flowstone formation. I think the vocalization came from the one on the left.”

Theta held his own mirror up a little and angled it so that it reflected Koschei’s face—a long, angular affair with sharp honey-brown eyes peering out from beneath thick, dark eyebrows. He tilted the mirror slightly left so that Koschei could then see Theta’s own reflection—a face with cheekbones sharp enough to cut yourself on, a patrician’s nose, and twinkling eyes framed by eyebrows arched in continuous inquiry. Theta huffed impatiently. “Then what are we waiting for? I’m not indulging your mythological obsessions just to have us turn back like a pair of old fusspots.”

“It is not a myth,” Koschei hissed, just as they heard another sonorous moan ahead. “As you can plainly observe.”

As they crept forward a few more metres, Koschei continued, “Remember, Theta, Anonymus mimema is mostly harmless as long as you don’t look directly into its eyes. Do not take your eyes from the mirror.”

“Yes, yes, I know, you insufferable worrier. I’m not some half-wit! Need I remind you who saved whom from the Maltese Kaw-Kaw* two years ago?” Theta countered.

Koschei cringed, the memory of the slimy, grayish, snail-like man-giant’s toothless grin chilling him to the bone. He deigned not to answer his companion’s taunt in favour of guiding them closer to The Creature that was lurking somewhere in the tunnels. His hearts raced as he led the way down the left passage, hearing The Creature’s muffled whisperings bouncing off the walls. A week ago, he’d read about the elusive Anonymus mimema in a dusty section of the library—a creature that had the power to inflict rapturous joy or instantaneous blindness upon its subject. But how did it cause these effects? Why did it cause such immensely different reactions in its victims? And the book had warned that there were other, more serious effects that Anonymus mimema could cause, but the book was mysteriously mum on what those effects were. Nevertheless, that level of power...what man in his right mind wouldn’t seek out a way to harness that sort of ability?

Koschei had scrounged up a personal expedition visa as quick as his easily-bribed, nepotistic relatives could arrange, then dragged Theta away from his rubbish tinkering to come with him.

Speaking of…

Koschei tripped over a stalagmite, hurriedly righted himself, and refocused his vision on the mirror in his hands. Not that that did much good, since the passageway had become darker than the inside of a pupil. Theta had disappeared, taking the light with him.

“Theta,” Koschei hissed. “Theta, you blithering idiot, what did I say about wandering off?!” He called for Theta again, slightly louder than before, but not loud enough for The Creature to hear him, hopefully. He looked back the way he had come, waiting to see if the light would swing into view after a second or two. When it didn’t, Koschei started back, keeping a hand against the wall to guide his way and his eyes still fixed on the mirror, just in case. “And to think he nags me about wandering off, the hypocrite,” he grumbled. He reached the fork in the paths and started down the right passage, figuring that Theta had somehow taken the wrong turn. He resumed his earlier position with his back to the wall, his head tilted away from the direction he was proceeding in, and his eyes fixed on the raised mirror to see the path ahead as best he could.

It was a slow-going trek. Without a proper light source (aside from a few stray glowworms), Koschei could only proceed foot-by-foot through the tunnel, pausing often to navigate around growing stalagmites on the floor and occasionally bumping his head into draperies or the canine-tooth-sharp stalactites. As the minutes passed, he began to get increasingly worried—both because his friend had disappeared, and because he himself might become lost in the ever-stretching labyrinth. Even when he’d had the lantern’s light, it was hard to pick out solid landmarks to help them find their way back—the flowstone waterfall had been only the third of three markers that they’d agreed on. Somewhere Koschei could hear water dripping, and it sounded like it was both right next to him and coming from four different directions. Steady, steady drops, plunking in the dark, echoing—one-one, two-two, three-three, four-four… Koschei took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was too early to start panicking, too early to start hallucinating drumbeats in his head. Too early for sensory deprivation to riddle his mind and conjure up images of dark-eyed skulls staring back at him, cackling through long-dead vocal cords. He called for Theta again.

Suddenly, he rounded a sharp corner and saw the light ahead through his mirror.

“Theta!” he cried, half a sigh of relief and half a reprimand.

The figure of his friend turned and shouted, “Koschei!” The cry echoed in the tunnels as Theta galloped his way back to Koschei, the lamp swinging wildly in one hand.

“Be quiet!” Koschei shushed. “You’ll reveal our presen—” He was cut off as Theta practically tackled him into a hug. “Blundering fool!” he snarled, elbowing Theta in the gut. It did little good, since Theta seemed determined to stick to him like glue. “With that ruckus, you’re sure to alert The Creature that we’re here! Why did you wander off like that?”

Theta ignored the question and continued nuzzling into Koschei’s hair. “Koschei, your hair.” He inhaled loudly, then sighed. “Your hair is like staaardussst.”

Koschei froze, his eyes widening in panic. This time, he successfully elbowed off his friend, then grabbed him by the shoulders and stared at his face. It was frightfully dreamy-looking.

“Rassilon’s ankles,” Koschei cursed loudly. “You looked into its eyes, didn’t you?!”

Theta giggled. Koschei had never heard Theta giggle in his life. It was mortifying. So these were the ‘serious side effects’ that the book had failed to describe.

Theta reached up a finger and tapped Koschei on the nose. “You’re adorable when you’re angry, Kosch,” he said.

Koschei sighed. “Never mind the Maltese Kaw-Kaw,” he grumbled. “You are going to owe me a favour once I figure a way to get us out of this mess.” Theta leaned toward him, and Koschei impatiently shoved a hand in Theta’s face to hold him back. “This is going to be a headache,” Koschei muttered darkly.

“Koschei,” came a voice—Theta’s voice—but in a deep, thick rumble that should not have struck something in the pit of Koschei’s stomach, but did anyway. The sound of the voice did not alarm him. What alarmed him was that the voice came from directly over his shoulder, and there was a hot breath in his ear that most certainly did not belong to Theta. Koschei gulped, closed his eyes for a moment, then flipped the mirror in his spare hand to look behind him.

At his shoulder was the face of a woman, her paper-pale skin covered in the word “CENSORED” repeated over and over in thick, black pigment. Her hair—it wasn’t hair—it was—Rassilon help him—tentacles. Ink-black tentacles were coiling and uncoiling around her shoulders. He could feel them caressing the back of his neck, and shivered. But it was her eyes—her eyes were two huge, blood-red hearts, staring at him through the mirror. He let out a shuddering, petrified breath. The Creature grinned, an obscenely long tongue flicking over her teeth. “Theta,” she breathed into his ear, in a striking mimicry of his own voice, only ten times lustier.

Koschei squeezed his eyes shut. He reminded himself that The Creature was mostly harmless if he didn’t look directly into her eyes; he hoped The Creature was harmless as long as he didn’t look into those eyes of Certain Doom. He could still feel her be-tentacled hair snaking its way over his ears and his neck, but so far, they didn’t seem to present an immediate threat. Theta pulled away from the hand that Koschei had planted in his face, and Koschei desperately stretched his arm as far as he could to try to get him back. He had lost his idiot friend once in the darkness—he wasn’t going to lose him again if he could help it.

He sighed with relief when Theta’s hands wrapped around his outstretched one. But relief jump-started into panic when Theta raised the hand, took two fingers in his mouth, and sucked, his hot tongue caressing at the calluses on Koschei’s fingertips. Koschei yelped and jerked his hand back, his knuckles catching on Theta’s teeth. The Creature behind him hummed appreciatively, her snakelike hair shivering against his skin.

Koschei tried not to hyperventilate. He needed to do something, and fast, if he was going to get out of this Freudian nightmare with his dignity intact—he could feel Theta creeping closer to him, pressing his hands possessively at Koschei’s waist. At his ear, The Creature moaned, “Yes.”

There was only one option left. Quick as lightning, Koschei swung the mirror…

***************
“I am sorry,” Koschei was saying as Theta blearily stirred back into consciousness. “But it was entirely necessary.”

Theta raised a hand to the stinging spot on his head, then brought the hand before his eyes. It was soaked in bright red liquid. “Good gracious, am I bleeding?” he asked, sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

“No,” said Koschei. “At least, not anymore.”

Theta turned his head—he was lying on an infirmary bed, he realized—and saw Koschei sitting in a chair with one leg crossed and arms folded. There was an aging, bespectacled professor standing beside him as well, holding a bucket. Theta held up the bright red hand. “Then what is this, might I ask?” he inquired.

“I’m afraid that was my doing,” the professor said, holding up the bucket. “Red ink—it usually does the trick for lapses in judgment and Sudden Personality Switches. You had a particularly bad bout of it.”

Koschei nodded once toward the professor. “Yes, we are fortunate that Professor Beta specializes in unusual psychological disorders. I called him over when we arrived back at The Citadel.”

“Back?” Theta said, then sat up on the bed with a jolt. He fixed his eyes on his friend. “What’s that you say? Don’t just sit there gawking at me! Haven’t you ever seen someone covered in ink before? Hm? Well, what happened?” he snapped, then felt the sore spot on his head throb. He winced and gingerly raised a hand to it. He could feel rivulets of red ink running down his neck. It was quite a lot of ink.

“I can answer that all in due time, my friend,” Koschei answered, then smirked and pointed at Theta’s hair. “However, I believe it would be more prudent if you washed that out before it stains.”

“Yes, it wouldn’t do to have you become a walking tomato, would it?” Professor Beta chimed in, smiling good-naturedly.

“Thank you, professor, I think we can manage from here,” Koschei said off-handedly, waving the professor away. Professor Beta frowned at the arrogant man, then offered Theta a sympathetic nod before exiting the room.

Theta swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stared earnestly at his friend. “I would much rather like to know what happened in those caverns, Koschei,” he said. “Especially concerning the circumstances behind the nasty bump on my head.” The amused twitch at the corner of Koschei’s mouth spoke volumes, and Theta had no doubt in his mind that his friend was behind the injury somehow. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

Koschei chuckled and waved off the accusation, like shooing away a bothersome child. “All in good time, my dear Theta. You really must work on your patience.” He stood up and lightly pushed at Theta’s shoulder. “Now go, before your hair retains that appalling shade of red.”

Theta stood up, gazed uncertainly down at his friend, then walked out of the infirmary toward his quarters.

Later, as he was furiously trying to scrub the ink out of his hair (careful to avoid irritating the sore spot too much), Theta tried to remember all he could about what had happened in the Labyrinth of Tropelandia. He remembered hearing what sounded like Koschei’s voice calling him, and more or less instinctively following after it. By the time he had realized that Koschei was not in fact somewhere in front of him, he’d turned and—blank. Well, not ‘blank,’ per se—more like red, a flood of red. Everything thereafter was mostly a haze of rose-coloured visions that he sincerely hoped were merely hallucinations and not actual events.

Theta stepped out of the shower and delicately toweled his hair, noticing with some chagrin that it was now an embarrassing strawberry-blond—almost pink, at that. He sighed, figuring that the worst was still ahead of him when he would find out what had happened. He pulled on a bathrobe and stepped out of the bathroom into his living quarters, not entirely surprised to find that Koschei had already invited himself in and was lounging in the comfy chair next to the bookcase, a tome of applied physics resting in his hands.

Koschei looked up and smirked widely. “The colour doesn’t suit you at all,” he offered.

Theta lifted the towel resting across his shoulders and patted it to one of his ears. “And who is responsible for that, I wonder,” he drawled.

“You are,” Koschei said, turning back to his book with a shrug. “It is your own fault for wandering off and neglecting to focus on your mirror.”

“I thought I was still following you,” Theta replied. “But it appears that I was deceived.” He settled himself into a chair across from Koschei and pointed at the injured spot on his head. “Now, would you care to explain this little mishap, or am I to assume that I also somehow brought this on myself?”

“You did bring it on yourself,” Koschei replied curtly, his gaze fixed on the text.

“Hmph! As though I’m expected to believe that.” Theta crossed his arms and stared at his friend until he sighed and snapped the book shut.

“All right, I inflicted it on you, but it was merely self-defense.”

“Self-defense, you say?” Theta said, raising an eyebrow. A twinge in his stomach told him he wasn’t going to enjoy what was coming next.

Koschei scrutinized his friend, choosing not to answer immediately in favour of calculating his words. “As…flattering—” Koschei grimaced slightly. “—as your induced affections were, Theta, they were decidedly unhelpful in making good our escape. I’m afraid I had to incapacitate you.”

Theta blanched, then felt the heat in his face as he blushed. He averted his gaze. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. He sighed, briefly covered his mouth with his hand, then lowered his hand and shook his head helplessly. He still couldn’t remember anything properly, but that did not stop him from putting two and two together—nor from feeling guilty about it. There were years of respect between Koschei and him, a respect forged by mutual admiration for each other’s intelligence; it was an easy companionship wrought by simple affinity. To breach that bond of respect with uninhibited, careless fumbling in the dark was unthinkable, and never what Theta would have wanted should the laws of their natures ever shift to accommodate new horizons. A Time Lord’s duty was to know the time and the place for everything, in all things, and that had certainly not been the time, place, or proper circumstance. He swallowed thickly. “I am…very sorry,” he said again, briefly covering his eyes before lifting his hand to smooth back his hair.

Theta heard Koschei sigh across from him. “It is not your fault,” Koschei said gently, a moment later. “…At least in that regard,” he added helpfully, a light taunt in his voice.

Theta snuck a glance at Koschei, caught the all-is-forgiven smirk dancing on his lips, and returned the smile with a soft one of his own. Nothing had been broken. Relief bubbled up and settled like a warm sedative in his veins. After a pause, Theta rolled his eyes. “At least in that regard,” he mimicked in Koschei’s self-righteous tone, chortling. “Your teachers made a grievous error in not cuffing the cheek out of you as a child.”

Koschei erupted into a full-blown belly laugh, the kind that made his head tilt back and the skin around his eyes crinkle. It was an infectious laugh, and Theta found himself joining in as well, the tension that had run between them airing out with the sound of mirth.

“My teachers adored me,” Koschei protested as his laugh began to die down. “Because I knew who it was safe to challenge, unlike some students.” He arched an eyebrow at Theta.

“Hmph, Teacher’s Pet,” Theta muttered, albeit affectionately. “So.” He gestured vaguely at his pinkish scalp. “You incapacitated me, as we’ve established. What next? I imagine there was quite a daring escape that I missed out on.”

“Oh, we can cover that on the way to my lab,” said Koschei. He set aside the book and stood up, casting a critical look down at Theta even as Theta sent a puzzled look back up at him. “You might want to get dressed.”

“And just why are we going to your lab, dare I ask?” Theta replied. He rose from the chair.

As Theta was heading toward his bedroom to find some proper clothing, Koschei answered him, “Well, I assumed you wanted to meet her properly.”

“Her?” Theta called out as he closed the door between them.

“Anonymus mimema.”

Theta threw open the door again. “What?!”

Koschei waved an impatient hand at him. “Get dressed, for the love of Rassilon. I can’t dawdle all day for you.”

“You brought it back to Gallifrey?! Are you mad?” Theta stormed back over to Koschei and gripped him by the shoulders. “We cannot interfere with history, Koschei; the Council will have your neck for this.”

Koschei huffed and swatted Theta’s hands off. “The Council can be bribed, Theta. What did you expect me to do? Take a photograph and walk away? Think of what we could learn from her!” His eyes gleamed with the long-familiar spark of ambition, like flamelight glinting off amber stones.

Theta hated having to dampen his friend’s spirits, but damn if the man wasn’t stupid enough to need protecting from his own Bad Ideas. “Koschei, you blundering idiot, you’ve brought an invasive species onto Gallifrey with no regard for what damage it could cause. No—you saw the damage it could cause, and you still brought it! You must return it immediately!”

“I’ve neutralized her!” Koschei protested. “Furthermore, she is not some weed or a virus. Despite her somewhat limited vocabulary, she is a highly intelligent alien lifeform with largely benign intentions and capabilities that are more than worth studying.”

Theta crossed his arms. “And how are you so sure this creature is benevolent, hm? If it’s as intelligent as you say it is, perhaps it is making you play into its hands. Have you thought of that?”

Koschei rolled his eyes and pushed past Theta, heading toward the bedroom. “Do you think I would have left her with my lab assistant if I thought she was a serious threat? And, as I’ve said, I’ve neutralized her.” He began opening dresser drawers.

“You did what?” Theta shouted, fearing for the unsuspecting assistant.

Koschei pulled out a pair of trousers from the fourth drawer and threw them at Theta. “Now, I recommend you put these on. Although I’m certain she would prefer it if you came naked, I doubt the casual passerby in the corridors would grant you the same positive reception.” He marched past Theta once more and headed toward the front door.

Theta scrambled into the trousers and crossed the living room, pulling up the zip as he went and tightening the folds of his bathrobe closer to his skin. Koschei was already outside in the Citadel corridors when Theta remembered at the last second to put on shoes. He slammed the door behind him, not even bothering to lock it, and caught up to Koschei.

“Of all the imprudent things you could’ve—!” Theta began.

“After I had safely put you out of action,” Koschei interrupted. “I was left alone with Anonymus mimema breathing down my neck. She was none too pleased that you had become unavailable to her designs.” He paused, likely waiting to see if Theta would continue to berate him. When Theta remained silent, Koschei smirked to himself, no doubt believing he had played into Theta’s main weakness—curiosity—with success. Theta had no intention of openly admitting as such, instead preferring to raise an eyebrow at his friend. They advanced down the corridor, and Koschei continued, “I had closed my eyes. At one point, I could sense that she had moved in front of me, hoping no doubt that I would submit to my natural fear response and open them again to seek out the location of danger. But as you know, I have better mental control over my natural impulses than most.”

Theta rolled his eyes. Koschei’s proclivity for vanity was as indefatigable as ever, which he took as a good sign that his friend had suffered no serious ill effects from the incident in the labyrinth. “Continue,” he said, since Koschei had clearly been waiting for the dramatic cue.

“She and I were at an impasse—you were lying unconscious on the floor, I was refusing to open my eyes, and she was essentially powerless without her ocular influence. I could not leave the labyrinth without opening my eyes, and she would hardly allow me to leave without achieving some measure of her objective. And so, I began talking with her.”

“You were willing to converse with such a being?” Theta interrupted, hardly believing his ears. Koschei was not the type to reason with obstacles standing in his way.

“Bargaining,” Koschei amended. “It was slow-going, at first. As I’ve said before, her vocabulary is somewhat limited to…that of certain circumstances.” He coughed slightly. “But once we struck up a sort of pidgin language to communicate in, we eventually came to a compromise. For her part, she agreed to help me bring you back to our expedition vessel without directing her gaze at me.”

Theta raised an eyebrow. “A pidgin language, you say? Just how exactly did that arrangement work for you, hm?” he asked, greatly amused.

Koschei cleared his throat and found something interesting to look at on the opposite wall as they walked. Theta, on the other hand, found a certain schadenfreudistic pleasure in watching a furious blush spread across his friend’s face.

“Yes, well—well, given enough creative thought, one can create a lot of meaning out a few choice words,” Koschei mumbled. “I seem to remember ‘come’ was of particular use.”

Theta could not stop sniggering if he tried. “It is a pity I was unconscious during this demonstration of your linguistic prowess.”

“More like a blessing,” Koschei muttered darkly. They swung around the corner and nearly ran into a gaggle of female underclassmen, who gave Theta odd-eyed stares as they scrambled to give the right of way to the elder students.

Theta grasped the edge of his bathrobe in a dignified manner and nodded politely at them as he and Koschei passed by. He heard them titter slightly and smiled to himself, raising a finger over his lips as if to lock in a chuckle; there would no doubt be peculiar rumours circulating by tomorrow morning. He glanced over at Koschei, then remembered that there was still a clear and present hazard awaiting them in the lab. His smile fled from his lips and settled back into a frown. He waited until Koschei looked back at him and saw his scowl, then asked gravely, “And what was your end of the bargain with this creature?”

“Simple: I offered her a new environment in which to carry out her objectives on many new subjects, which I would then release her upon once I had satisfied my own curiosity about the source of her abilities, of course.” Koschei placed a hand on a bioprint scanner, which blipped pleasantly on recognizing him, and allowed them to enter the private lab sector of the science wing.

“And so you brought it here?” Theta hissed.

“Certainly. I was going to bring her back with us in any case.”

Just as Koschei lifted his hand to the second bioprint scanner that would gain them access to Koschei’s private lab, Theta gripped his wrist fiercely, stopping him. “And you were going to let such a manipulative being loose on this unsuspecting planet? Our home, Koschei?”

At that, Koschei gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. “My dear Theta,” he said, turning to give his friend a sardonic gaze. “Of course not. I was lying.” He settled his hand on the bioprint scanner, and the door opened.

A twitchy, roly-poly young man near the glass window looking into the observation room started, looked over his shoulder, and then sprinted toward them. “Sir! Sir, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for an hour!” the assistant said. “Why weren’t you answering my call?”

Koschei’s eyes flicked in Theta’s direction. “I had more important matters to attend to. What’s wrong? Did she injure herself?” He marched briskly to the observation window.

“No, sir, it’s the cybearshark! It got out of its cage and—”

“What?!” Koschei snapped.

“How many dangerous specimens do you have in here?!” Theta shouted.

By this point, all three of them were back at the observation window, looking in at the battlefield that was unfolding. At one end of the room, it looked like the wall had been violently chewed through with metallic teeth, and a large, cyber-bionic, half-bear-half-shark was prowling along the wall, its tail flipper wildly thrashing and a snarl in its bear-face. At the other end of the room was Anonymus mimema, her heart-eyes obscured—‘neutralized’—by a pair of oversized sunglasses, her tentacle hair writhing in agitation. The creatures circled each other slowly, occasionally lashing out a hand or a paw to try to goad the other into making the first move.

“How long have they been like this?” Koschei whispered, not daring to take his eyes off his prized acquisitions.

“An hour, sir, like I said—since the cybearshark got out. Sir, I didn’t know what to do!”

Koschei inhaled sharply through his nose. “Right. We must separate them before they injure each other. I haven’t even begun my studies on her.” He rushed to the door and got a hand on the knob before Theta pulled him back by the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t you think you’ve been enough of a reckless fool for one day?” Theta snapped. “I won’t let you go in there!”

“Theta,” Koschei snarled. He forcibly pulled Theta’s hand from his clothing, and through clenched teeth, said, “I’m not about to let my specimens slaughter each other, do you understand? I’ve worked too hard to bring them here.” He took a breath, exhaled. “Now, I can handle the cybearshark if you and Virnalotrunadar placate Anonymus mimema. She’s neutralized and largely benign. It should hardly be a problem.” And, without giving Theta the chance to protest, Koschei opened the door and stepped inside.

“Aaaaaaagggghhhhhh!” Anonymus mimema shrieked at the cybearshark.

“GGGRRROOAARR!” roared the cybearshark, claws scratching at the floor.

Koschei slowly began maneuvering himself toward the cybearshark, his arms raised high in an ‘I’m taller than you and therefore intimidating’ posture, murmuring, “Easy, boy. Easy, easy.”

Theta somehow found himself edging along the wall toward Anonymus mimema with a whimpering Virnalotrunadar at his side, eyeing the two creatures with considerable anxiety and fleetingly reminding himself to throttle Koschei for all of this if they got out of it unscathed.

“You,” Theta snapped at the Gorgonian monster. “You, come here.”

Anonymus mimema turned to him and uttered a breathy “You?” in surprise, her mouth breaking into a kind smile. Suddenly, the cybearshark let out a mighty roar and charged at her, dodging Koschei’s frantic lunge toward it.

“Damn it!” Koschei growled.

The monsters collided with the ferocity of Tasmanian Devils—a mess of tooth, claw, and tentacle, shrieking bloody murder. “Stop them!” Koschei hollered, throwing himself on the back of the cybearshark and attempting to put it in a chokehold. Theta and Virnalotrunadar each pulled back on a “CENSORED” arm, but their combined efforts did little good; the cybearshark and the Medusan maiden were still scrabbling at every inch of the other they could reach, and then the worst happened—the cybearshark knocked the sunglasses off.

At the very last second, Theta and Koschei both looked away from her face, but the poor lab assistant was not so fortunate. “I’ve gone blind!” he cried, immediately backpedaling from the monsters, his hands over his eyes.

“Get him out of here!” Koschei yelped, still trying to strangle the cybearshark into submission, but with his face pressed into the beast’s cyber-fur to avoid the perilous gaze.

Theta jumped back from the brawl, eyes steeled to the floor, and rushed as best he could to the young man, who was practically sobbing with terror. Theta caught his arm in a vicegrip and dragged him out of the observation room back into the general lab space. He sat the assistant down in the nearest chair he could find, shouted a “Stay there!” at him, and hurried back to the doorway between the two rooms. “Koschei, get out of there! There’s nothing we can do now!”

The command was almost unnecessary, since at that moment the cybearshark turned its head, chomped down on Koschei’s arm, and threw him across the room towards the entrance. Koschei landed hard but scrambled to his feet and fled to the door, getting through it and slamming it behind him. He leaned back against the door and hissed, clutching at his arm. Theta was at his side in less than a second.

“Koschei, you are the most incorrigible fool I’ve ever met!” he shouted, gripping Koschei’s uninjured arm tightly. “It’s a wonder I haven’t done away with you myself for all the grief you put me through!” His glare shifted from Koschei’s face to the bleeding arm. “Now give me your arm before I change my mind and decide you need to learn from your own idiotic mistakes.”

Koschei offered up the wounded arm with no resistance. “I don’t think it’s as serious as it appears,” he suggested weakly.

“I will be the judge of that,” Theta snapped at him. He grasped the lower part of the arm and peered closely at the lacerations near the shoulder, which were bleeding rather impressively. “Hm, it looks like it will need stitches,” he murmured. “And we’ll need something to stop the bleeding.” He glanced down at the shredded remains of his bathrobe and decided that the material would work well enough. It was a simple matter of tearing off the pre-sliced sections and wrapping them tightly enough around the wound. “You’re a wretchedly irresponsible half-wit, you know that?” Theta muttered angrily, coiling the makeshift bandages around the arm. “You’ve gone and blinded your assistant, you’re hording illegal and dangerous creatures that are currently trying to kill each other, you’ve inflicted me with pink hair, and you’ve nearly gotten yourself killed.” He secured the wrap and glared at his friend. Koschei was wincing, silent with pain, and Theta felt an overwhelming bubble of concern push through in the midst of his anger. He placed his fingertips lightly on Koschei’s good shoulder, and his voice came out steady, stern, but gentle: “You will kill me with worry, Koschei. I swear you will.”

“Thank you,” Koschei murmured, gaze downcast. He placed a hand from the good arm across his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

Theta felt the vestiges of his anger reduce to a simmer. “Are you hurt elsewhere?” he asked. “Do you think you might have a concussion?”

“I don’t think—perhaps,” Koschei said. “A touch of dizziness.”

“Sit down for now and rest,” Theta said, guiding him to a chair. “I need to check on your assistant.” Once Koschei was seated, Theta veered to the unfortunate young man, who seemed to be getting a grip on his hysterics, though he was still visibly distressed. “And you, young man?” Theta asked. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” moaned the assistant. “No, I’m just completely blind. Rassilon, is it permanent?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Theta replied. “Hold still, young man, and let me see your eyes. Perhaps there is some hope yet.”

He looked into the assistant’s eyes; the pupils were blown wide open. “Can you follow my finger?” he asked, holding up his index finger and moving it from side to side. Amazingly, the man’s eyes followed.

“Why are my eyes moving?” Virnalotrunadar squeaked. “I can’t even see it!”

“It’s probably only temporary, my boy. Your brain can still register the sight of an object, but for the moment, it refuses to present an actual picture of what you’re seeing. Most likely it is a self-defense mechanism.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll recover.” Theta quirked a small smile at the assistant’s relieved sigh.

Theta then looked to the observation window, prepared to see a massacre of shredded monster within. Except that wasn’t what he saw at all. His mouth dropped open a little. Anonymus mimema and the cybearshark were—there was no other word for it—cuddling. Her arms were buried in the cybearshark’s fur, and her tentacled hair was lightly caressing at the beast’s ears. The cybearshark had its muzzle resting on her shoulder, pressing into her neck. Theta snuck over to the door and cracked it open for a moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” Anonymus mimema murmured, a light laugh in her tone.

“Grroarr,” the cybearshark said contentedly.

Theta shut the door again. “I never would have guessed,” he said to himself quietly. “Koschei, you wouldn’t believe—”

“Theta,” Koschei breathed into his ear.

Theta jumped, spinning around and staggering away from Koschei, who had suddenly appeared at his shoulder. “Rassilon, Koschei. Just what are you trying to do, hm, give me a hearts attack? Don’t sneak up on me like that. You should be resting.” Once he set his eyes on his friend, though, he realized that something was horribly wrong. There was a dazed unfocusedness in Koschei’s eyes that hinted at something more worrisome than a concussion. In addition, Koschei’s shirt had mysteriously vanished, and Theta could see a number of new bruises forming across his torso—he might even have a bruised rib. “Koschei,” he said slowly, backing away even as his friend stepped forward. “Koschei, what—”

Koschei suddenly lunged forward and gripped Theta by the shoulders. “Theta, I’ll protect you from everything. Everything. Forever. I would take down a mountain of cybearsharks for you, Theta. You understand? A mountain. For you. All for you, Theta. An entire mountain. I will take them down with my bare hands and we will make beautiful love over their festering metallic corpses.”

Theta flailed out of Koschei’s grip and kept stumbling backwards, away from the ever-advancing Koschei. “Young man,” he called to the lab assistant, in a voice he pretended sounded calm. “Young man, go get Professor Beta. Immediately.”

“I can’t, sir, I’m blind!” Virnalotrunadar answered, sounding panicked.

“Rassilon’s navel,” Theta swore under his breath. “It was the cybearshark’s bite, wasn’t it? It’s affecting you like this. Rassilon, Koschei, you blundering idiot, why do you even have these things?”

“Thetaaa.” Koschei made another fervent lunge forward. “Let me protect youuu!”

Theta leapt backwards, sprinted to the emergency intercom button on the far wall, and slammed his hand down on it. “PROFESSOR BETA!!! COME TO P-LAB 314 IMMEDIATELY!!”

****************

As the cry for help rang throughout the Citadel, Professor Beta folded his copy of The Gallifrey Times with a sigh. He got up from his desk and selected a tremendous jar sloshing with red ink from the cabinet. As he clicked out the light in his office, Professor Beta reminded himself that although his job could be difficult at times, somebody had to be the hero around here, and it may as well be him.

END


Author’s Notes:

*The Maltese Kaw-Kaw is actually a real thing. Well, not a real real thing, but real in the sense that I didn’t invent it. Hurray for obscure mythological creatures!

1. Remember, folks, betas are the unsung heroes of fandom. Did you hug a beta today? *sends hugs to dragonofmemory and evilawyer_fic: You’re both incredibly awesome!*

2. I ship Nonnie/Cybearshark and I don’t care who knows it or how crazy that makes me. The only thing that could come between their love is Mr. Captcha, Nonnie’s stalwart guardian, who goes around shooting down unworthy suitors and shouts two-word threats at them like “NOT wORthy” and “g0 aWaY” and “No t0Uch.”

3. Join me in my “Save the Cybearshark” Campaign! The last confirmed sighting of a Cybearshark was two years ago, and Scientists believed that the noble meme-creature had gone extinct. But this is not so! Recently, a new specimen has been sighted, and there is a possibility that there are many more Cybearsharks lurking in hidden hide-outs. If you spot a Cybearshark, tag it so that it may be tracked for further research and study! This has been a message brought to you by Your Friendly Neighbourhood Demi-Lurker.

4. Did you know that William Hartnell looked like some kind action hero-teenage heartthrob in the 1930s/40s? Behold! It is action-hero Theta!

5. Any and all gross overexaggeration has been done in the name of parody and affection, not malice or criticism. Hope it amused!