Title: Obsessions
Author: Van Donovan
Characters: The Second Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Victoria Waterfield
Pairing: Two/Jamie
Rating: NC-17 eventually, this chapter PG-13 for innuendo.
Word Count this chapter: 2,799
Notes: Set during the changing period in "Fury From the Deep." Slash warning for Doctor/Jamie.
Summary: Obsessions are hard to ignore.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I made no money, but if you want to hire me, I'm cheap. Betaing provided by the wonderful Starkiller, some story concepts/elements thanks to Maccine. I apologize for the clichéness, it ran away with me. Hope you'll like it anyway.
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“Do you know what would help with that?” asked the Prince Regent in a very cheerful tone. Without waiting for a reply, he sagaciously said, “Sex with Jamie.”
“ ‘Sex with’—what?” the Doctor echoed, growing startled as he mulled over the myriad of implications that presented. It was not helping the frown he was wearing.
The Prince Regent was already moving away from him, heading toward the boy in question. Jamie and Victoria were standing near the balcony railing overlooking the palace gardens. The two Earthlings smiled cheerfully as the man approached, inundating him with questions about the local flora. Victoria held a large basket of colorful flowers, which the Prince had presented her with only a few minutes earlier.
The Doctor had been intending to join them but now stood back away, chewing over the words he’d just been given. “Sex with Jamie indeed,” he thought to himself. Prince Regent, Sir Reginald Stikes had been mouthing off since their introduction almost an hour ago. The Prince Regent seemed to quite enjoy blurting out non-sequiturs and making untoward comments and remarks, gauging the unsettled reactions of his guests with an unusual amount of glee. He’d made Jamie go quite crimson after only ten minutes of knowing the boy by presenting him with a pair of silken underwear once he learned the origin, and nature, of Jamie’s kilt.
The Doctor had considered it all in good humor, until just now. He was frowning when Reginald came upon him, which was probably what had prompted the statement in the first place. He had been staring at his two companions and remembering how long it had been since he’d quite enjoyed nature in the way they were. These days, he always saw dangers and problems instead of the raw beauty of the land.
Reginald’s words had completely unhinged him. That was the intent, of course. Even now, he could hear the Prince suggesting to Victoria a bath in the mud pin, clearly intended as a way to warm her up, as she was rubbing her bare arms. “Sausages,” he muttered, composing himself. “Just ignore him, my dear,” he added, loud enough for her to hear.
“Aye, well, we’re going in, Doctor. It’s getting a wee bit chilly for Victoria out here,” Jamie said, putting an arm around her to lead her inside.
“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” the Doctor agreed, moving further out onto the balcony at last.
“You’ll not be joining us then?” Jamie asked.
“No, you go on. I’ll catch up.”
Jamie shrugged and the two departed, the Prince Regent following.
The Doctor forced his strange thoughts to the back of his mind as best he could. He grasped the balcony railing and made himself stare at the plants in the garden below. They really were extraordinary: brilliant blue leaves grew on most of the foliage, and the water in the large stone fountain in the courtyard burbled a natural, verdant green. It was no wondered Victoria had been so fascinated.
Little red fish swam in the fountain, visible only as bright specks in the water at this distance, and now that the thought was in his mind, the Doctor kept thinking about it: Sex with Jamie.
Well, now, that would be truly extraordinary, wouldn’t it? But it wouldn’t help in the way Reginald said it would. In fact, it’d probably muck things up quite a great deal, and he wasn’t prone to thinking of his companions like that. He wasn’t prone to thinking of anyone like that, in fact. It just wasn’t something he did.
And yet, now that he’d started, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He visualized Jamie’s toned legs, the way the muscles on his calves stood out. He thought about the thighs always hidden beneath the kilt, and even more of the flat expanse of Jamie’s stomach. He realized with a jolt he’d never seen it, and that thought made him feel very warm. Had Victoria really gone inside because she was cold?
He flapped his coat ineffectually and decided he absolutely had to stop thinking about this. He focused on the architecture of the building, admiring the neo-gothic carvings, even though this wasn’t Earth and the gargoyles weren’t remotely like those found on Earth. It was still better than thinking about the way Jamie might look undressed and sprawled on a bed.
“My word, what has gotten into me!” he cried, wringing his hands.
In the effort to escape—from what, he couldn’t say—he left the balcony and hurried inside. There he practically ran into the Prince Regent as he was heading back out. “Ah, Doctor!” he called. “You’re just in time for dinner!”
Food, yes, food would be a good distraction. “Splendid!” he cried, a little too enthusiastically. “That is, I would be delighted. Most kind of you.”
Reginald folded his hands behind his back as he led his way through the halls of the palace. “It’s not often we get to serve guests from other worlds, Doctor. It is our pleasure.”
The Doctor was led into a large dining room. Victoria was already seated, quite engrossed with rearranging the flowers in her basket. She wore a shawl over her shoulders now, and seemed quite content. Jamie was nowhere to be seen, which relieved the Doctor more than he cared to admit. “Thank you. I hope it’s no trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Reginald said. One of the servants came and led the Doctor to a chair while the Prince himself took a seat at the head of the table.
There were seats enough for twenty guests, but only three were filled. Four places were set for dinner, but although the food arrived, Jamie never did.
“Victoria,” the Doctor said from across the table. The girl didn’t look up, and hadn’t touched her food. “Victoria!” At the Doctor’s more insistant tone, she finally pried her eyes off her arrangement.
“Yes, Doctor? No need to be so loud.”
“Where is Jamie?”
Victoria glanced around, as though noticing for the first time that Jamie was missing. “I haven’t the foggiest,” she said before returning to stroke her flowers.
“Ah, perhaps he went to rest for a while?” Reginald suggested. “I had the servants show your companions to their chambers. I was told Jamie was quite fond of his.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure they’re very nice rooms, but he really ought to eat something.” Turning back to Victoria he said, “And so should you, young lady. Victoria!”
“Hmm?” She looked up again, a dreamy expression in her eyes.
“You should eat something.”
“Oh, I’m really not very hungry, Doctor.”
The Doctor found he really wasn’t either—but he forced himself to shovel down food to keep himself from getting up and finding Jamie. As he chewed viciously on some very bright blue lettuce, he tried to think about why he was feeling the way he was. It had been a long time indeed since he’d pondered the finer aspects of intimacy, but even last time he had, he’d not been consumed with this sort of feeling.
Then again, he’d never had quite the same relationship with any of his other companions as he had with Jamie. Not that he thought Jamie was remotely interested in him—in fact, he was relatively certain the boy had a crush on Victoria. So entertaining this line of thought was even more absurd! He was an 18th century Scotsman, after all!
The Doctor’s fork clattered to the table loudly as he forced his thoughts off of the boy again, but neither Victoria nor the Prince seemed to bear him any mind.
“Your father!” the Doctor shouted.
His voice was so loud and commanding that finally attention was drawn to him.
“Where is your father!” he shouted at the Prince.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his clouded eyes seeming to clear.
“Prince Regent, yes?” the Doctor said, forcing his words to be articulate. “Where is your father, the King?”
“Ah, yes,” Reginald said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, my father. My father is sick, Doctor. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“I’m a Doctor!” he announced, pushing his chair back to get to his feet. “I should like to examine him.”
A look of alarm skirted across Reginald’s eyes. “We have a very skilled physician with him at all times, Doctor. It’s really not necessary.”
“Sit down, Doctor,” Victoria hissed. Whatever interest she had in her flowers was dampened by the embarrassment she felt over the Doctor’s outburst.
“I simply insist!” the Doctor demanded, stamping a foot. He wrung his hands again. “I’m from another world, aren’t I? Perhaps I can help better than your physician can.”
“Surely it can wait until after dinner,” Reginald said, gesturing to the food.
“No, it cannot wait. I fear there is something dreadfully wrong here.”
“Very well,” Reginald said. With a clap of his hands, two servants arrived. He whispered to one, and then nodded. “He will escort you to my father. When you’re finished, you may either return here or ask him to send you to your chambers.”
“Thank you very much.” The Doctor picked his napkin off from where it was stuck in his lap and set it on the table. “Victoria, you’ll be coming with me.”
“Oh, don’t be absurd Doctor,” she protested. “I’d much rather stay here than visit a sick old man.”
“If you’re not eating your dinner, then I want you close by me,” he instructed.
Almost angrily, Victoria set her basket on the table, picked up her fork, and began to eat.
“Very well then,” the Doctor muttered. He turned to his escort. “Lead on, I suppose.”
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The palace was very large, but very quiet. The Doctor paid very close attention to everything, focusing on the most minute details in ways he never did anymore, as though he was expecting an exam on the contents of the castle later—it was the only way he could keep his mind off of Jamie. He counted not only the stone steps they mounted, but how many cracks were in each one and had a splendid time trying to guess the chemical composition of them without actually touching the stone itself.
He expected to be taken to some lofty turret and shown a craggy old King locked in a tower, but the journey was over very quickly. He found himself standing in the archway leading into the library.
It was a large library and very well maintained. After assessing the room for several moments, the Doctor entered, glancing down the aisles as he did. At last he came to the center of the room, which was cleared of shelves. Three large couches were arranged facing each other in the center of the empty space. On one couch sat an older man, a tome perched neatly on his knee. The other two couches were stacked full with books.
“The King, sir,” the Doctor’s escort said.
“Yes, thank you,” the Doctor said. He presented himself a bit neater, smoothing his coat down somewhat self-consciously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” he said.
The King did not reply.
“I’m sorry if I’ve caught you at an inopportune moment?” he tried again.
The King turned a page of his book, but did not look up or otherwise acknowledge the Doctor in any way. “Excuse me,” the Doctor began again, a little louder. Perhaps the man was hard of hearing? “Your Majesty?”
“The King is very sick,” a velvety smooth voice said from behind him.
The Doctor spun around to find a tall woman shrouded in long black robes approaching. Her skin was pale, her hair as black as her robes and her eyes a piercing blue. “I am Tianna,” she said. “Physician to the King.”
The woman’s voice rather made the Doctor’s skin crawl, but he didn’t back down. “I’m the Doctor,” he said, raising his chin, determined not to feel belittled by this taller woman. “I thought perhaps I could offer my assistance in finding a cure for him.” He turned back to the King. “He doesn’t look ill.”
Tianna approached him from behind, casually slipping her arm around his shoulder. She turned, very neatly spinning him about so he was facing the exit. “While I do appreciate your offer, I’m sure you realize, due to royal security measures, I cannot let you have access to the King in his altered, incapacitated state.”
The Doctor furrowed his brows. “I’d only like to examine him!”
“You need to rest, Doctor,” she smoothly said. “The baths are prepared for you. You should go to them. Let me handle the King—it is, after all, my job.”
The escort met the Doctor as he was gently walked out the doors of the library and back into the hall. “Yes, yes,” he mused to himself, his thoughts scattering. “A bath would be lovely. I wonder if I could find Jamie—”
He snapped out of it as the library doors behind him closed. Spinning around he slammed his fist against the door, but caused no effect but to hurt his hands. “Vile woman!” he shouted. Then he whined a bit, as he cradled his bruised hand. At least the pain had gotten his mind off the idea of Jamie in a bathtub. “There is something very wrong here,” he stated to the empty hall.
“It’s true,” his escort said.
“Pardon?” He turned to the man in question.
“People get . . . obsessed . . . with things when they come here,” the escort said. He was a young man with bright brown eyes and fluffy blond hair.
“You don’t seem to be affected,” the Doctor noted.
“Some of us are lucky,” he admitted. “Don’t know why or how it works. Some people get it worse than the others, too. The King’s been locked in that library for months now, reading all them books.”
“And Tianna?”
“Don’t seem to affect her none, neither. Did the other physician though. He went on and on about germs and things.”
“Did he now?” the Doctor said, suddenly very interested.
The escort nodded. “Had to send him away, we did. Some of them are right quiet types; just as soon lock themselves up in their rooms and pet cats all day, but the crazy ones we got to do something about.”
“And there’s been no cure for it?”
“Not as yet, no. Wish they’d hurry it up, though. My missus’ got it. She’s obsessed with cleaning. Cleaned the house right out.” He laughed softly. “They put her to work in the basements—she’s all right there, I suppose, the basement needs the cleaning but the work’s exhausting and she don’t care to take breaks like she ought to.”
Contemplating, the Doctor began to walk. “Tell me, what did your missus do before she got obsessed with cleaning?”
“She was head cook, she was. Makes the nicest Redoux soup you ever tasted. They got some talentless bloke in there now. Can’t hardly eat the stuff.”
“I see. That’s very interesting. What did you say your name was?” The Doctor stopped walking so he could turn and offer a hand to shake.
“Milyan, that’s me.” He shook the Doctor’s hand. “Listen, you think you can really help the King and them? Prince Reginald’s grand and all, but we suspect it’s starting to affect his head too. He talks funny these days.”
“Yes, so I’ve noticed. Well, Milyan, I’m the Doctor. I’m going to try very hard to get to the bottom of this, and I’d appreciate your help.”
“Anyway I can, sir. So long as it don’t interfere with my duties like.”
“Splendid. Listen, can you write?”
“Course I can, man.”
“Wonderful! I’d like you to get a list of all the people you know who are, or have been, affected by this obsession sickness, as well as those who you definitely know are not. I’m going to try to figure out if there’s some common denominator.”
“Oh well, I’m not good with maths, sir.”
“Never you mind that. You just make up the lists, all right? Can you do that?”
“Why yes, sir.”
“Good, you do that then.” A few moments passed and Milyan didn’t yet take off to do as asked. “What are you waiting for?”
“Said I’d do it when it don’t interfere with my duties, sir. I’m to take you either to your chambers or back to the dining hall now as you’re done with the King.”
“Oh, right, yes,” the Doctor said, back to wringing his hands again. “Well, I’d better go and make sure Victoria’s all right. I’m beginning to think this sickness is affecting her too.”
“As you like,” Milyan said and promptly started back down the hall toward the stairwell.
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