shifted_logs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: The Ninth Doctor

charmandsmiles and Irving Braxiatel

trechier
Location: Nine's TARDIS/wherever Brax is
Time: Sometime after Nine gets rejected by his crazy ex-boyfriend. Again. :|
Summary: ...I think I pretty much just summed it up right there. XD Nine is depressed, Brax ~~mocks his pain~~ cheers him up in a brotherly fashion.

The Doctor was in his TARDIS gardens, sitting against one of the Kadenwood trees from Straxus' universe. His gardens seemed to be filled with bits of other universes...Straxus', Omega's, Dorothy's, and a new one he hadn't quite identified yet. But he loved it, because it was a constant reminder that he wasn't alone. Not that he really was, anymore, now that he had Jack, but still. He visited the gardens often when Omega and Dorothy were away. When he needed to brood.

And he did. He didn't know what to make of the Master anymore...not that he had in the first place. He wondered if maybe it really was his fault. If the Master was refusing to be himself because he wasn't good enough.

So just what does a best enemy get you that you can't get anywhere else? Oliver had asked.

What d'you think it gets me?

Hurt.

Oliver was right. But the kind of hurt he was feeling was all wrong, and he didn't know how to fix it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Braxiatel, too, went to his gardens to recover. It was nightfall. Most of the Collection was, if not asleep, getting itself happily inebriated behind closed doors. Everything that mattered to Braxiatel, everything he had given his life to was now safe. The residential areas looked like they had never been struck down because now they had never been struck down. Broderick had no longer died now and was quite confused when Braxiatel went to him with a special request of brochures. (The man had said, "Irving, I have enough work talking the Draconians into giving us that glove you wanted. Do I have to make you brochures for made-up places now as well?" Braxiatel hadn't been able to suppress his smile. "Yes, Broderick, you do.")

Only the time travellers had any inkling of what had happened, and Braxiatel was taking precautions to help them recover from what they could not quite remember. Clarissa was getting on quite well with Ronan. Benny was suitably distracted by her son and the missions Braxiatel was piling onto her. Beverly had been able to transfer her itch to fight to a recovery project he needed her to tackle with some Ice Warrior friends of his.

Only three people on the Collection knew what had happened to them: Braxiatel, Caster, and the Oracle. Braxiatel had just been to visit her. He had told his old friend everything as he could tell no one else, not even the Doctors or Romana or Bernice. And she had answered for him the few questions he had left.

Braxiatel had been overwhelmed by relief for days now. His planet, his home, his collection, his people were safe, all safe. He would never let them be threatened again.

In the Garden of Whispers (his garden), with the wind murmuring through the leaves (his air), he enjoyed the nightfall on his Collection. He knew everything about his home, had memorized every inch of it.

That was why he so quickly spotted the thing that was out of place.

"Doctor," Braxiatel called, deciding to have pity on the Doctor and not sneak up behind him, "it's good to see you. Did you know that if you do that for too long, your face will get stuck that way?"

The Doctor stared, utterly and completely confused. Brax was the last person he was expecting to see just then, and probably the person he wanted to see most. But their universes hadn't merged...not that he was aware of, at any rate. Maybe he was hallucinating...he still wasn't entirely sure those bits of Gallifrey that weren't from Straxus' universe weren't a figment of his imagination.

"Brax? ...How did you get here? We haven't even merged yet." Though he hoped desperately that by some miracle, they had.

"No, fortunately not." Braxiatel walked up to the Doctor, shutting his eyes for a moment as he let the whispers calm him. "I'm in the Garden of Whispers. I assume you're in some sort of garden as well?"

To all appearance, Braxiatel knew exactly what he was doing. He inclined his head towards the Summer House. "The Summer House is that way. If there isn't anything murderous in that direction for you, we could have some tea there and discuss this. I should warn you, if there is anyone around you, you will look quite mad talking into thin air."

The Doctor frowned. "I am, yes, but I only see mine, not yours. And there's no one else here...it's just me. I've got Jack doing repairs on the console." The TARDIS needed those repairs desperately. He'd done a bit of disaster tourism after the Master's rejection, and she wasn't particularly pleased with him for what he put her through.

He got up and followed Brax. "Has this sort of thing happened to you before?" With Brax, it was impossible to tell, as he never seemed surprised by anything.

Braxiatel completely ignored the Doctor's question. He enjoyed being inscrutable with those closest to him as a matter of teasing them; in his own way, he was being affectionate. On his way up the steps to the Summer House, he asked a porter to bring them some tea. "Oh, Thete. What do you favour, this face?"

Edited 2010-04-24 18:50 (UTC)

The Doctor wasn't shocked by the lack of response. "I favour not being called Thete, with two sugars," he replied dryly.

"How've you been? Crisis averted and all that?" He wasn't sure how long it had been for Brax since they'd last spoken, but he didn't seem nearly as tense as he was before, so that was a good sign.

Passing the statue of Mandrine, Brax passed on the message to the porter, noting that it should bring his personal blend. The Summer House was the best place to hear the whispers, and from here, he could see every single statue. He knew that if he himself stood still here, he could easily be mistaken for another of the set. 'A statue,' Ash Madai had said.

Braxiatel had only just avoided seeing the Special Interrogator under the Occupation's rule. He did not know what the King of Demons would do now to get his ring back. "Crisis averted. Daleks dead and history back in its proper place." He opted not to say, just yet, what role Caster had had in helping him. Braxiatel liked his secrets.

"I'm glad," the Doctor replied, smiling faintly. At least something was going right. "My self will probably turn up at some point, if he hasn't already." He wondered how long it would be before his previous self turned up on the Plane, and how he would cope, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

"How's everyone adjusting? I imagine it'd be a bit odd for the time travellers," he mused, wondering about Benny in particular.

"Benny is fine," Brax replied, cutting to the Doctor's true question. "She and Peter were separated - well, it was the best way to protect him - and I think that's what she remembers of it the most, so I've been keeping her busy with that."

The robot porter returned with Braxiatel's requests, and Brax put the tea set down on the table, pouring the Doctor the cup and handing it over to him. "It's a new blend of mine, all from China black teas." Braxiatel had found himself devoting the moments he had to himself to creating new tea blends, something he hadn't done since he had lived on Dellah, when he thought he could leave out the rest of his life in peace and ease.

"I'm glad they're both alright," the Doctor murmured, relieved. It was nice to know some events turned out the same way across universes.

He tried the tea warily, but was pleasantly surprised by the taste. "It's fantastic, Brax. Would you mind if I took some for the TARDIS kitchen? I'm sure my companions would appreciate it too." The idea of his companions sitting around and drinking tea together was an amusing one. He wondered if he could trick them into it, because it would never happen otherwise.

Braxiatel tried not to be too offended at the wariness. "I'll have the porter get you a box." Without needing to be told, the porter zipped off to fetch more of the blend. Braxiatel smiled and drank from his tea. "Yes, who do you keep as a travelling assistant these days? I don't think I've asked."

He tried to hide the simple joy that had run through him ever since liberation. He could hear life outside, could feel the wind bringing whispers and change. His confinement had felt like like a suffocation.

The Doctor grinned. "From my own universe? Been travelling on my own since I regenerated, but just recently I picked up Captain Jack Harkness - he's a 51st century bloke. Former Time Agent. My universe has also merged a bit with Dorothy Gale's and Omega's, though he'd probably kill me again if I called him a companion. Straxus' universe too, but he hasn't dropped by yet."

"Ah, someone from the 51st century." Braxiatel let his expression speak for itself. He knew exactly what that meant.

Braxiatel wanted to lecture the Doctor for allowing himself near Omega, but he held back. He knew he would not be listened to. Instead, he said, "Straxus, really? Don't ruin his political career, could you? I had such a headache trying to find an argument to get him out of his trial." He added, musing, "I really ought to ask him how that has gone. Has he gone home yet?"

The Doctor knew exactly what Brax meant, and smirked. "Yes, he's very fond of dancing. Found him in 1941, though. Tried to con me, actually, and nearly turned the whole human race into zombies by mistake," he replied, shaking his head. "Good thing I'd already met an alternate future version of him on the Plane." Though he had the feeling he would've given Jack a chance anyway...he did prove himself, after all.

"And I don't plan on ruining anything, thanks," he added, rolling his eyes. "Haven't even set foot on Gallifrey yet." He wasn't sure he'd be able to, really, even though he had the opportunity now. "I dunno if he's there yet. Last I heard, he was trying to fix a vortex manipulator."

Braxiatel frowned, not at the Doctor's antics and suggestions (he'd have had a lot less tolerance for half of the known universe if that bothered him) but at mention of fixing a vortex manipulator. "I hope he doesn't succeed. It would be such a waste."

Without waiting for a reply, Braxiatel started up a new subject. "Do you think I should start a university here? On the Collection, I mean. It seems such a waste not to. We already have handfuls of students here on assorted research projects, of course, but there's no full colleges of any sort." The frown was back. Braxiatel was relieved but not yet at peace; he hadn't really been at peace since Dellah was destroyed. He now realized that more than his peace of mind, the Collection had to take precedent. "Students are always so much more irritating in practice. And it would pose something of a security risk to let our doors open to a flood of undergraduates."

"Oi, why don't you want him to succeed? If he doesn't fix it, he won't get home," the Doctor pointed out, not about to let that comment slide. He considered Brax's question, though.

"I think you ought to, yes. Makes sense, when you've got all the resources right there, and you ought to be able to deal with any security risks." He wondered if Brax was planning on doing any teaching himself, but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

Braxiatel stirred some sugar into his tea, watching the crystals dissolve into the liquid before looking up at the Doctor again. "Yes, I imagine I'll be able to scare them off of the lawn with threats of temporal monsters and dangerous ancient artefacts. Or it will make them even more eager to trample all over the gardens."

And then his mind leaped again. "But let's not dwell on the concerns of an old man. What has disturbed you, Thete? You seem quite ill at ease."

The Doctor shrugged. "Doesn't matter, it's not important. I'm just glad to have a bit of a distraction." He knew Brax would get it out of him eventually, but he could stall if he wanted to, damn it.

"Speaking of distractions, you didn't answer my question."

"Anyone who wants good standing in the Capitol should know better than to use unauthorized time technology. It's a quick way to ruin a political career. And while you don't care and I don't have to worry about it any longer, Straxus does."

There were plenty of reasons to miss his old home; he didn't count the politics among them. He had found it at times quite tiresome. It was why he had wanted nothing more than to retire when he had left, why he picked a peaceful academic planet to retreat to, and why, he had always felt, he hadn't seen it coming when that planet was ruined.

"You're wrong, I do care. But I don't see how he has much of a choice," the Doctor sighed, before he frowned. "No, wait, hang on...if his universe is merged with mine, he might be able to access mine via the Plane, and then just cross over to his own." Of course, the Doctor had no idea if the point was moot already, and Straxus was back on Gallifrey.

"'Course, then he would have to explain how he got there." The Doctor doubted that would be any better for his political career than using unauthorized technology.

Edited 2010-04-26 00:09 (UTC)

"'How did he leave' seems a fair enough question." Braxiatel scoffed. "You should never run away from a trial you'll have to attend eventually. It only makes you look more guilty."

Both the Doctor and Braxiatel knew this from experience, of course. Braxiatel had not even had the honour of a trial when he had been exiled. All he had done for them, everything he had given up for them, and they had repaid their debt with an exile and a denouncement.

Brax took a surreptitious sip of his tea. It had been harder to suppress his anger and resentment lately. The Doctor wasn't the only one looking for a good distraction.

The Doctor smiled wryly. "Fair point. But it's not as if he can change it now. We'll just have to hope it goes well for him. And if it doesn't, he's always got a place in my TARDIS. Or my self's, I'm sure, since he was there first."

He focused on his own tea for a moment, trying to stomp out any jealousy he felt toward his selves; it wasn't their fault that they'd gotten to his companions first (except for Jack, of course, though the Doctor didn't feel the version on the Plane was properly his either). And he couldn't fault his Tenth for having a Master, no matter how much he wanted to share him.

The Doctor didn't even realise he was brooding again, making it painfully obvious that whatever was bothering him was more important than he'd admitted earlier.

Braxiatel remembered the Doctor calling him something like 'an talented actor, if a bit melodramatic.' He smiled. Braxiatel wound lies around himself to hide his injuries; this Doctor seemed able only to put thin scabs over them.

"I have a hypothesis about this place," Braxiatel said. "I suspect that it brings you closer to the people you want to be near." That was only half-true. He had many other hypothesis, ones not at all connected to the sociological patterns in it. That, he had conjectured, was one of the inner layers; Braxiatel was working on what he suspected to be the outer ones. "The nice thing about the Garden of Whispers is that everything is said sub rosa. It's all completely confidential."

Braxiatel set down his cup of tea and looked at the Doctor directly. "Thete," he said. "You can tell me whatever you like. You'll feel better. They always do."

"Had that same hypothesis myself," the Doctor murmured, which was as close as he would get to admitting he wanted to be near Brax more than anyone else right then.

Even if he was more likely to mock his problems than sympathise with them...maybe that was what he needed. He didn't know. "It's the Master," he admitted finally. "He's always been hot and cold, but..." he trailed off, not really knowing where to start.

To Braxiatel's credit, he didn't laugh yet. He retreated behind a bland, mild, completely blank expression, the sort he would often use to irritate his friends and vex his enemies. "As I recall, Koschei was less 'hot' and more 'flaming,' and never particularly frigid." He punctuated the remark with a drink from his tea.

To Braxiatel, the Master was wasted potential. All he could have been was self-destroying, consumed by his own insanity.

"Frigid is exactly what he is now. At least to me, anyway. He's not even trying to kill me anymore." The Doctor tried not to sound too put-out by that, and failed miserably.

"I know I'm not his Doctor, but you'd think it wouldn't make a difference." Or at least, he wished it didn't make a difference.

"It's always a sad thing when someone doesn't want to kill you any longer," Braxiatel agreed. He prayed quietly to any higher powers that the Doctor would acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. In this case, however, he felt hope was to be left unfulfilled. Even if the Doctor did acknowledge its absurdity, Braxiatel was willing to believe he would continue to feel the pain sincerely.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Wasn't exactly what I meant." Except that it was exactly what he meant. "It's just...he won't even give it a shot. As if I'm not worth the effort. He called me an accident of confused histories. Inconsequential." He still hoped the Master was lying, but it was a very small hope.

"You realize that you are ideological opponents, not on-again, off-again lovers, I hope?" It pained Braxiatel that this needed saying. It did not, unfortunately, surprise him. "He is hardly the height of choices in partners. If you have to involve yourself with someone who wants to kill you, why not pick Omega? At least he rarely acts out of pure maliciousness."

If Benny and her extended family had taught Braxiatel one thing about romantic relationships, it was that he never wanted anything to do with them. The other thing it had taught him, however, was the need to be direct in giving advice. It was difficult for Braxiatel to be direct about anything, but he thought he was making a good effort.

But of course, the direct barbs were just a winding way of getting to the core of the problem. Perhaps Braxiatel couldn't be direct after all.

"But that's the point. The Master doesn't want to kill me. And I'm not involved with him. He made it clear enough he wasn't interested after I snogged him in the onsen," the Doctor muttered, a faint blush creeping its way up to the tips of his ears.

"And you have got to be kidding. Omega wouldn't look twice at me." He wouldn't look twice at anyone who wasn't Rassilon, really, but the Doctor didn't particularly feel like talking about him.

Edited 2010-04-27 02:53 (UTC)

Braxiatel couldn't hold back his grimace for any longer. "Oh, Thete, must you?" He got to his feet and stepped away from the Doctor so he could turn his face from him. "Thete, Thete, Thete. What will we do with you?"

Braxiatel decided that if genocide made a Time Lord into this, he would never, ever commit it.

Then he paused and remembered how he had been forced to correct Minyos's timeline. He promised to check himself over for any psychological weaknesses the second he got back.

His fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, Braxiatel said, "Of course, you realize this isn't really about Omega or the Master. You've always been a bit..." He waved a hand vaguely. "Unwilling to let him go. Which I understand, even if I don't approve of it. What was, was, and hope will persist for the future. But I like to think he was never the measure of your self-worth as a... a whatever this is about. Oh, give me Bernice and a bottle of brandy, but spare me from the relationships of my own kind."

The Doctor blinked...he hadn't actually realised it. Not until Brax mentioned it, anyway, and then it made sense. He wasn't feeling worthy of...well, being himself, because the Master didn't think he was. Or maybe the Master didn't think he was worthy because his own self-worth was so low in the first place.

I'm not here to fulfill your deathwish, Doctor.

He really had meant it when he said he didn't have one, though. He didn't want to die, he just wanted the Master to think he was worth the effort.

"I could do with some brandy myself, if you've got some," he replied, looking a bit sheepish.

"I live with Bernice; of course I have some." He sent the robot porter off with yet another command, walking back around to the table and placing his hands on the back of his own chair. "She's been doing rather well not drinking lately. I'm quite proud of her."

He thought he might have accomplished something with his outburst, so he looked the Doctor over, measuring his expression. "If you get drunk on me and I'm forced to clean up after you, I can't promise to ever forgive you."

"Point. Glad to hear she's improving, though. Hope she never finds her way to the Astral Bar." That was sort of a terrifying thought. Not that he was one to talk, really, and he laughed at the last statement. "If you think a bit of brandy's enough to make me sick, you don't know me as well as I thought."

"I don't just mean that part of inebriation." Benny may have reformed, but she and Braxiatel had known each other for a long time. There were very few faces of drunkenness he hadn't become familiar with over the years.

The porter brought the brandy glass to Braxiatel's hand, and he held it out to the Doctor. Though he didn't smile, he could not help but notice the moonlight captured in the glass. He really had missed everything outside of his quarters.

The Doctor did smile, before helping himself to the brandy, and blatantly ignoring Brax's comment. After a few moments, an idea occurred to him. He frowned again, mulling it over for a moment. "You haven't run into a bloke who calls himself Dr. Horrible lately, have you?" he asked, completely changing the subject. Maybe it was on purpose, maybe it wasn't.

Braxiatel allowed the subject change, a look of mild interest on his expression, but nothing more. If the Doctor had introduced himself to Dr Horrible, then he had been subject to Brax's punchline. "I have, actually. Not exactly a good match for your archenemy though, Thete. You should wait for someone better to come along."

Braxiatel could deliberately miss a point, too. He had, in his time, had whole conversations where he and whomever he was speaking with pointedly missed the aim of the other's conversation.

"I'd almost take him up on it if he offered, but I have got some standards left," the Doctor agreed. Said standards had very clearly been outlined in flashy lights and everything.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't introduce me as 'The Bringer of Darkness' to every new bloke on the Plane, though," he added, irritated.

As he poured brandy into his teacup, Braxiatel said, "It was that or 'Thete.'"

The Doctor scowled. "You think I want to be reminded of either of them? I don't. Especially not the one I got from the Daleks." He downed the rest of his brandy. It didn't help.

Braxiatel pointedly ignored the Doctor's bad humour, displaying only the dispassion that had served him so well for centuries. "I also gave him your Draconian name, if it helps."

The Doctor was not the only one of them who had come to loathe the Daleks. Braxiatel had responded to his most recent trials by equipping his ship with as much anti-Dalek technology as he could find. As acquisition was Braxiatel's speciality, he was now well-prepared for the next Dalek attack. And he would build other defences, holding time to its promises, until he was satisfied that his concerns were safe.

But his expression showed none of that as he sipped from his tea.

The Doctor poured himself another cup of brandy, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I'll show you an Oncoming Storm."

Not that he would, really. Brax was an irritating prat of an older brother, but he didn't deserve that. Of course, the Doctor doubted it would phase him, but that was beside the point.

After finishing off his second cup, he replied a bit more rationally. "My name's the Doctor, Brax. Just 'the Doctor.' I'd rather be known as the bloke who makes people better than the bloke who destroys worlds and brings destruction everywhere he goes. Wouldn't you?"

Braxiatel smiled into his teacup, impassive and untouched. "Whether as a saviour or a monster, I've never been the one people tell legends about. I'd never have that choice."

Then he lowered his tea so he could look the Doctor in the eye. "But I understand. You'll always be Thete to me, but I'll use your preferred moniker with the rest. I'm afraid I let myself get carried away with the joke. Wish I could have seen his face when he realized."

"You could if you wanted to," the Doctor pointed out, before smiling a bit himself. In a rather smug fashion, because hah, he won, and he has all the maturity of a 900ish-year-old teenager.

"Thanks, it's appreciated. And I think Dr. Horrible was a bit disappointed I wasn't as horrible as he was hoping," he replied, rolling his eyes.

If one asked Braxiatel where he got so good at ignoring what someone else was saying, he might perhaps choose to tell that one that when family is involved, a person can learn to do anything. Brax gave as much response to the smugness as he had to the threats, only just stopping himself from saying 'sound and fury signifying nothing' to counter it. He'd try to avoid the Shakespeare for a bit longer if he could. He could never quite forgive the Doctor for having his handwriting in so many significant manuscripts Braxiatel now owned.

"He's young and misguided, wanting social change and not knowing how to go about it. Reminds me of some people I used to know. Of course, he'd be even more irresponsible with a time machine..."

"Good thing he's not gonna get one, then. It's bad enough he wants my sonic screwdriver," the Doctor muttered, completely missing the point of Brax's statement. "Prolly shouldn't have pulled it out, but it did the trick." Sort of, anyway.

Braxiatel let out a soft tut to make note of the Doctor missing what he'd said. "With your record for keeping track of things, I'm surprised he doesn't have it already."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only