Title: Obsessions
Author: Van Donovan
Characters: The Second Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Victoria Waterfield
Pairing: Two/Jamie
Rating: NC-17 overall, this chapter PG.
Word Count this chapter: 4,390
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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“You’re a fool if you think you’ll get away with this.”

Tianna had pinned Reginald to one of the bookshelves in the library, her long fingers wrapped tight around his throat, effectively choking him. Her height wasn’t as impressive over the lordly prince as it was over the Doctor, but what she lacked in size she made up with fierce determination. Her body trembled with wrath, and though the Doctor could only see her from behind, he envisioned the venomous sneer on her face as she spoke.

The Prince tried to speak but the noise came out only as a vague, strangled choking.

“You’ll never win,” Tianna snarled. She lifted her other hand and something silver glinted in it as she raised it.

Afraid he was going to be too late the Doctor burst from behind the shelf and cried, “No!”

Tianna hissed, flinching in distraction and in that moment Reginald upset the balance, hurling her off him. She stumbled backward, crashing against a bookshelf.

“Doctor!” Reginald called in a booming, welcoming voice. “So nice of you to join us!” His eyes flickered to the closed main door. “And how convenient you were able to slip in unnoticed.”

The Doctor stood his ground, keeping an eye on Tianna incase she made any fast moves. “It’s time to put this to an end.”

“And why is that?” Reginald asked, squaring himself to face the Doctor. “You certainly seem to have been enjoying yourself.”

The Doctor bristled, understanding. “I should have guessed you were behind this,” the Doctor said. His face was drawn and serious now, his eyebrows pulled to an angry point. “Using people the way you have! Wasn’t it enough just to incapacitate them?”

Reginald broke into a laugh. “For all your intelligence, Doctor, you’ve a very simple mind.” He looked like he was going to continue speaking, but then he lunged forward, grabbed the slowly recovering Tianna by the shoulders, and bashed her against the bookshelf again.

She slumped to the floor, unconscious, and a small silver vial fell from her hand, rolling away from her body as it did.

“That wasn’t necessary!” the Doctor shouted.

“Wasn’t it?” Reginald replied, dusting his hands off daintily. “She’s been on my back since she arrived. I’ve wanted to get rid of her for a long time now.” He lifted his eyes off her motionless form, raising them to focus on the Doctor. “And now that she’s out of the way, I can deal with you.” He broke into a wide, brilliant smile. “And after you, I can deal with your sweet little friends.”

“Why not just kill the King?” the Doctor asked, forcing himself to stay focused. “Not that I condone killing anyone, but wouldn’t it have been easier than all this?” he asked, waving a hand in frustration.

“Politics, my dear sir,” he answered. “When the King dies the throne goes to a democratic vote. If he’s merely incapacitated, I rule as Regent in his place.”

“He can’t live forever like that,” the Doctor said.

“No,” the Prince replied, advancing slowly. “Which is why, when he finally dies, all those not loyal to me will suddenly, mindlessly, become obsessed with having me as their ruling monarch.”

“Ah. And eagerly vote you in, with no one the wiser,” the Doctor mused. “Except they won’t! The other people won’t let them! It’s clear your drug doesn’t affect everyone!”

“It affects whomever I want it to, Doctor. Those unaffected are so because I must have some semblance of normalcy.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re affected by it yourself!”

The Prince tilted his head, amused. “There are certain unexpected side-effects, to be certain. But I have ultimate control: if I wanted you to be obsessed with dusting, you would have been. If I had wanted the boy to be obsessed with killing, he would have been. Perhaps I should have made the girl obsessed with me. But then, it’s never quite as fun as when they’re obsessed instead of interested of their own accord.” The Prince’s eyes twinkled darkly as he fixed them on the Doctor. “Or is it?”

The Doctor twisted his hands. “It’s a pheromone, isn’t it?” he said, ignoring the jibe. “Some scent you excrete that influences others.”

Reginald laughed. “If you think you’re going to be able to suppress it, you’re gravely mistaken,” he said.

“Then I’m right, aren’t I? It is a pheromone, and not everyone is as affected as you’d hoped they be.”

A vein began to throb on Reginald’s forehead. “I have complete control over it! No one is immune. No one can resist obsessing over what I suggest to them.”

“And Tianna?” the Doctor prodded, sparing the woman a glance. He eyed the small, silver vial absently, before looking back up at the Prince. “If your powers are so great, then why not just control her too?”

A momentary look of anger flashed across the Prince’s face but was quickly replaced by a cool, collected expression. He turned away, continuing to calm himself. “There is some truth. She has proven stubborn and difficult to control,” he admitted. “But, no longer.”

“You’re monstrous,” the Doctor said. “What have you done with the King?”

“He is no longer needed,” Reginald said, smiling brightly.

“Where is he?”

“He’s . . . indisposed at the moment, I’m afraid.” The Prince adjusted the cuffs of his long shirt absently. “Just like you will soon be too.”

“And the study in the dungeon with the electric lamps? What’s the explanation behind that?” he demanded.

Reginald stared at him before laughing. “You certainly find your way around, Doctor.” He moved nonchalantly past him, turning his back to both Tianna and the Doctor. He reached a small desk and slid open a drawer, fiddling with something inside. “It makes me wonder if you ever bothered to learn your proper manners.”

“Says the man ready to murder his own father,” the Doctor retorted.

“Tell me, Doctor,” Reginald said without lifting his eyes from the drawer. “What do you hope to accomplish by defeating me? You don’t seem to want the crown for yourself.”

“What you’re doing is wrong,” the Doctor simply said. “I intend to stop you.”

“Even at the cost of your own life?”

The Doctor squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I hope it won’t come to that.”

A clattering noise came from the hall, but as the main door to the library was locked, nothing came of it. Out of the corner of his eye the Doctor could see Tianna stirring. He kept his attention on the Prince.

“I’m afraid it must,” Reginald said as he drew his hand out of the drawer. In it he held what was clearly some sort of alien handgun. He casually aimed it at the Doctor. “I promise to take very good care of your friends, when you’re gone. I fear you may have spoiled the boy, but the girl seems quite tender yet.”

The Doctor took a step forward in anger, but Reginald waved the ray gun menacingly and he halted. “They haven’t hurt you!” he cried.

“No, and now they won’t get the chance to.” Reginald’s smile broadened even more. “Goodbye, Doctor.”

Just as he fired the ray gun the room seemed to come alive with movement and sound. The discharge cracked, booming and echoing off the stone floor and walls. Someone cried, “No!” and the Doctor leapt backward, too slow to dodge. The door to the library groaned in protest of an outside force, but did not yield. The Doctor soon found himself collapsed on the ground, Tianna’s body pressed against his.

He saw blood and felt pain but it took several seconds for him to realize that it wasn’t his. Tianna had taken the blast for him. “Use this,” she whispered, pressing the silver vial into his hands as she died. “Only . . . hope it works.”

She slumped against him as her life extinguished. The Doctor’s garland hung in his eyes and he pulled it off with a bloody hand, laying it on her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, realizing the graveness of his mistake only now. His grip on the vial tightened as he eased the physician aside, struggling to his feet.

Reginald was already upon him, gun aimed squarely at his chest. “Hand it over, Doctor,” he said, gesturing to the vial with his free hand.

“You must be mad,” the Doctor said.

“Assuredly,” he agreed. “Now hand it over.”

The Doctor hesitated and Reginald’s hand rose a fraction of an inch and pulled the trigger. The ray blast whizzed right past the Doctor’s ear, close enough that it singed his cheek. At the same moment a noise seemed to explode from behind them.

Reginald turned but didn’t take his gun off his target.

“Doctor!”

“Jamie!” the Doctor cried, seeing the boy standing in the room, the main door now sagging on its hinges. “Get down!” He surged forward, doing his best to dodge the gun, in an attempt to knock Reginald down.

“Creag an tuire!” Jamie cried, charging at the Prince as he realized what the situation was. Jamie pounced on the Prince, knocking the ray gun from his hand with a decisive blow. He tackled the larger man to the floor. They wrestled for several moments but Jamie eventually won out, having the element of surprise. He pressed one knee to the Prince’s right arm, pinning it to the floor, and pushed the blade of his dirk to the Prince’s throat.

“Jus’ one word from th’ Doctor and I’ll slit your gullet from ear to ear,” Jamie breathed, his dark eyes fixed on the Prince’s.

“That won’t be necessary, Jamie,” the Doctor said, arranging his rumpled clothes into a slightly more dignified position. He mopped his brow with his handkerchief before stuffing it away. “Thank you, by the way,” he added, looking at the boy with a smile. “I do hope the kitchen plan wasn’t abandoned.”

Jamie didn’t take his eyes off Reginald. “Aye. Victoria’s just seein’ t’ th’ last of it now.”

“Good, good,” the Doctor said. He dusted himself off and pushed back to his feet. Once upright, he studied the silver vial. It screwed shut with a small metal cap, which he unscrewed. He sniffed the liquid inside and wrinkled his nose in reaction. “Oh my,” he said. “Yes, well, I think that will do very nicely.”

“Och, it smells awful,” Jamie muttered. The Prince writhed beneath him, but Jamie just applied pressure until he stilled.

“Yes, but it should render him harmless. Open his mouth for me, Jamie.”

Jamie complied, or tried to. His attempt to force the Prince’s mouth open with his free hand resulted in his fingers being almost bit. “Oh, bite me, will y’?” he muttered. He lifted his knife to stick in the Prince’s mouth, in attempt to pry it open with force, but as soon as he gave the slightly amount of leeway, the Prince twisted beneath him, unseating Jamie and knocked his dirk to the floor.

Jamie fell hard onto his backside as the Prince shoved himself to his feet. Unarmed though he was, he held his hands out in front of himself in defense.

“Jamie,” the Doctor warned, eyes firm on the Prince, “take a deep breath!”

Without another word, the Doctor hurled the vial at the Prince’s feet. It shattered and threw out a thick, misty steam. It almost immediately overwhelmed the Prince and he doubled over and began coughing. Jamie, still on the floor, began suffering similar effects.

“Come on Jamie, hold your breath,” the Doctor instructed. He pulled his handkerchief out, holding it over his own mouth as he reached for Jamie. With the Doctor’s help, the boy was able to stagger to the library door. It hung crooked on its hinges, broken open from Jamie’s attempts to get inside. Once out in the hall together, the Doctor lowered his handkerchief as Jamie drew in deep gasps of fresh air.

“Och, what was that stuff, Doctor!” he cried, clutching to the railing that overlooked the gallery below as though he might be sick.

The Doctor pounded Jamie on the back encouragingly. “Well, I can’t be sure, of course, but I do believe that’s a concentrated form of what I had you and Victoria make in the kitchens.” Jamie held his hand over his mouth and made a gagging noise.

“No, no, ours didn’t smell,” the Doctor mused. He peered into the library thoughtfully. “I wonder where our ingredients differed?”

“Who cares?” Jamie said, coughing one last time. He looked the Doctor over, sobering slightly. “You’re all right, yeah? Though y’ were down for th’ count for a while there.”

The Doctor looked sadly at his hands and brushed flakes of dried blood off them mournfully. “It was very close.” He looked to the boy, straightening. “Thank you, Jamie. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t come.”

“Och, I told you y’ needed me t’ come with y’. Aye, what would y’ have done if I hadn’t shown up when I did?” He crossed his arms, fixing the Doctor with a scolding look.

“I trust Victoria’s safe?” the Doctor said, barely suppressing a smile.

“Aye. Least, she was last I saw.” He turned, peering down to the gallery, though the girl wasn’t in sight. “We didn’t have any trouble with the ingredients, though we don’t know as yet if it works.”

“No, you wouldn’t, not yet,” the Doctor agreed. “Though I trust everything will return to normal here, soon.” As he spoke, two guards came running up the stairs toward them. “Ah, and now we have company.”

“What’s going on here?” the guard asked.

The Doctor reluctantly left Jamie, heading to meet them. “I think you’ll find your Prince has murdered the King’s physician, endangered the King’s health and put most of this city under his diabolical spell. My friends and I have managed to neutralize him and break his powers of persuasion. You ought to find him lying in there, unconscious.” He waved. “It smells terrible, but I assure you, it’s perfectly safe now. I recommend you escort him to the prison before he regains consciousness.”

Once the guards had slipped inside, Jamie sidled up beside the Doctor, touching his arm to draw his attention. “What’s t’ stop him from jus’ startin’ up all over again, Doctor?”

“What indeed,” the Doctor said. He patted Jamie’s hand and moved away from him. “Come, I think we’re done here.”

“Y’ mean we’re leavin’? Jus’ like that?” Jamie followed him to the stairs but remained standing at the top of them as the Doctor started down.

The Doctor turned to look up at him. “We usually do, don’t we?”

Jamie started down slowly. “Aye,” he said. “Only, we’re not sure it’s really working yet. We don’t know what’s going t’ happen t’ the Prince, or what he did with the King, either.”

“Well, we stopped the menace, Jamie. How they sort their government after the fact isn’t really our problem.”

“None of it really was,” Jamie said. “But we interfered anyway.”

The Doctor studied Jamie as he came to a halt on the step just above him, taking a deep breath as he did. “I’m sure they’ll find the King safe and sound, and if they don’t, they’ll be able to elect a new monarch in a couple of days. Once they’ve administered the cure to everyone in the city, things here should return to normal. I’d like to be gone by then.”

“Aye, so would I,” Jamie agreed.

Seeing things were not resolved, the Doctor folded his hands in front of him. “So then, what’s the matter?”

Jamie’s gaze seemed to fall everywhere but upon him. “What if we’re not cured?”

“We will be,” the Doctor said. “And if we’re not, then we’ll figure out a way to.” Spryly, he added, “Besides, I’m already feeling much better, aren’t you?”

Jamie hadn’t felt the urge to touch his silk ascot since leaving Victoria, but the knowledge that he was only potentially cured didn’t fill him with glee. “Oh, aye,” he muttered, displeased with the Doctor’s casual flippancy. He moved to the side, passing the Doctor as he continued down the stairs. “Well then, let’s find Victoria and just move on.”

The Doctor turned, watching him go, and wondered just what all that was about. He glanced behind him at the library, which was full of noise now, and picked up the pace, hurrying after Jamie. It was a long walk back to the TARDIS and he wanted to be out of sight as soon as possible.
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“Och, my feet’re killin’ me,” Jamie said, leaning against the TARDIS door, lifting one of his feet wearily as the Doctor fished the key out of his pocket.

“I feel the same way,” Victoria lamented. She brushed an errant curl from her eyes. “I should think a nice, hot bath is in order to cure all.”

“Aye, and then I’m goin’ t’ sleep for twelve hours straight.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, straightening up as the TARDIS door swung open. “We forgot to get you your silk sheets.”

“Forget it,” Jamie said, pushing past him to get inside. “I think I’ve had enough silk for a year. Soft linen sounds just fine t’ me.”

Victoria followed him in. “I know what you mean—if I should never have to pick another flower again, it will be too soon.”

The Doctor closed the doors behind him, watching as his companions spoke and moved about the console. Jamie flopped exhaustedly into the chair and Victoria removed the coat she’d been wearing, draping it over her arm.

“Well, I suppose we’d better get underway,” he said, forcing down the strange feeling of desperation he felt inside at their words. He played with controls of the console for several moments, not really paying attention at all to what he was doing. He just wanted to hear the comforting whining of the TARDIS as she took flight.

Ah, there it was. He spread his hand on the console, sighing deeply as he let the comforting noise wash over him. He patted the ship lovingly, losing himself for several minutes in the familiarity of the TARDIS. When he finally looked up, he saw both Jamie and Victoria had gone. He sighed in sad relief.

“We need t’ talk.”

The Doctor nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. Jamie was standing just to his right. He hadn’t left at all, merely walked around the console out of his immediate field of vision. The Doctor tweaked some knobs on the console errantly, glancing to see that Victoria was well and truly gone. “Oh?” he airily replied, not looking at Jamie, “what about?”

“Y’ know full well what I’m talking about, Doctor,” Jamie said, his voice low and intense.

“I wish you wouldn’t use that tone with me, Jamie,” the Doctor wearily said.

Jamie reached out and gripped his arm. It wasn’t the usual sort of soft touch, but firm and strong, dangerous. It was a little frightening. The Doctor gave the boy his attention and tried not to get drawn into his eyes.

“I need to know what happened back there,” Jamie said. They were alone in the Console Room, but he was whispering.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” the Doctor replied, lowering his eyes. If there was one thing he’d never had problems with, it was apologizing for when he’d done something wrong, or when he felt an injustice had been served. He lifted his eyes again, meeting Jamie’s, because he meant this. “I truly am sorry. I can never apologize enough for it.”

Jamie held his gaze, his eyes searching. The hand on his arm still gripped. “How do y’ feel now?” he asked.

The Doctor shrugged self depreciatingly, averting his gaze. One of his hands twisted at a knob on the console absently, needing something to do. “I assure you, the toxin has been worked out of my system by now.”

Slowly, almost sadly, Jamie’s hand dropped from his arm, flopping to the boy’s side limply. “I see.”

The Doctor was not very perceptive when it came to picking up on human emotions and at times he was rather dense when it came to intuition, but he thought he knew Jamie well enough to parse some meaning out of that. His ears began burning. “How are you feeling?”

“Jus’ fine,” he practically snapped.

The Doctor looked sharply up at him. He felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him, along with the overwhelming need to protect this boy. That was a familiar, constant thrum he always felt for anyone he cared about, but for Jamie, in that moment, it was stronger. “I meant what I said, last night,” the Doctor said. “All of it, any bit you can remember. All right?”

Instead of being stunned into silence, Jamie’s eyes narrowed and he jabbed at finger at the Doctor. “You want t’ bugger me,” he pointedly said.

“Jamie!”

“We interviewed a lot of people, Doctor,” he pressed on without pause. “Old servants, new servants, ones afflicted with the sickness, others not. Lots had stories to tell about their friends and families. D’ y’ know what we found out?” The Doctor couldn’t speak, so Jamie continued. “Not a one of them as was afflicted was doin’ something again their nature. Victoria loves flowers, and aye, I’ll give it t’ y’ that I’d never seen silk before, but I’m quite fond of it now. The castle butcher, he’s off cutting wood and things, and the stable master, he’s out ridin’ all day. There was one wee lassie obsessed with carrots. She weren’t a gardener, but it’s not too strange t’ love your vegetables.

“Fact of the matter is, not a one was doin’ something they might not do on a regular day. They just had inhibition taken away. That drug, it could make a married man obsessed with someone else’s wife, but it couldn’t make a mother kill her bairn, am I right? That’s why it worked on most, but not all?”

The Doctor wondered if his cheeks were burning now too, or just his ears. This was not at all the conversation he’d expected to be having. “I swear to you, Jamie,” he said, staring at the floor. “Before we arrived at that castle, I never entertained a single untoward though about you. That’s the solemn truth.”

Jamie leaned against the console, arms crossed as he studied the Doctor. “And now?” he asked.

“This isn’t really a fair line of questioning,” the Doctor pouted.

“Y’ said y’ meant what you said last night, aye?” The Doctor didn’t nod, or look at him, but Jamie continued anyway. His voice was lower. “Even about showin’ me a better way of goin’ about all that? Or was that more of th’ sickness talking?”

The Doctor forced himself to look up at Jamie, studying the expression in the boy’s eyes as if he’d find the right answer there. At last he turned away from him, presenting his back to the boy whilst wringing his hands. “I don’t know what answer you want, Jamie. The last two nights have been extremely stressful for me.” He bowed his head, picking at a fingernail on one hand. “Extremely nice, of course. I don’t deny that I enjoyed what we did, but it’s certainly not something that I’d wish would jeopardize our friendship.”

“Aye, not a sickness, y’ said, but you’re acting like I’ve the plague. Y’ won’t answer me proper, you’re speaking in riddles, and you’ll hardly look at me.” The boy’s voice cracked at the end and he was silent for several seconds as he reigned in his emotions. He reached a hand out to touch the Doctor’s back, gripping a fistful of his coat as though offering a clue. “Last night, part of the reason I came to you was—” He trailed off, unable to finish. His hand dropped away weakly. “I like it,” he confessed in a whisper. He took a deep, shuddery breath and said, “All of it and I reckoned I would for a long time now, only I was too afraid to say as much. But I think y’ liked it too, and if you’d jus’ admit it, we could stop standin’ here like two oafs and do something about it.”

The Doctor turned around rather quickly, focusing hard on Jamie. There was no cloudiness in the boy’s eyes, no lingering effects of mind-altering drugs or sign of fever on his brow. His eyes were dark brown and bright and they were looking right back at him. “Jamie,” he breathed.

“Aye, we’ve established my name by now.”

Jamie was standing strong and proud, but the Doctor could see the telltale shiver of the boy’s hand and taste the nervousness rolling off of him. It was taking a considerable amount of strength and courage for him to confess this, and all Jamie had to show for it was a slight tremble in his hand. “You’re quite serious, aren’t you?”

Jamie took a step closer to him. “You wanted t’ bugger me last night, I know y’ did. Fact is, I wanted y’ to then, and I’d still like y’ t’ now.” He raised his hand to his mouth and bit self-consciously on his thumbnail. Shy eyes focused on the Doctor. “Can we?” he asked quietly. “Can we at least try?”

“My word,” the Doctor breathed. He found it utterly unfathomable that Jamie felt this way—had felt this way—and he’d never picked up on it. Or perhaps he had and the boy was right about the sickness—Reginald had clearly sensed something considering his first comment to him, and the sickness had taken affect on him. He couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed the last two nights, and even now, without the toxin coursing through his veins, he found Jamie’s closeness alluring, the memory of his mouth and soft skin enticing, and the thought of actually, finally doing what Jamie wanted—well, it was properly stirring him.

With a warm grin, the Doctor said, “I should like that.”

The brilliant smile Jamie rewarded him with flooded a sense of rightness and well-being through him and he knew it was all worth it.

..The end.
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