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Story: Dancing Lessons
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melindakitty
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler;
Rated: oh, so Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would have been no parting of the ways, Rose would be happy and walking funny, and a love of tech isn't the only thing Nine and Jack would be sharing.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you may be spoilered. I like to mess with canon.
Summary: By popular request: OT3 Nine/Jack/Rose. One of Jack's exes is out for a bit of revenge. Can the Doctor and Rose figure a way to rescue him before he has to pay the piper? Watch for fancy footwork, a bit of intrigue, occasional plot, and a large excuse for love and smut.
LSA will be back tomorrow, but before I hand the reins of control back over to her, I've got one more set of posts to make. MOO HA HA AHA HA!!! *cough* Mine is an evil laugh!! -ophymirage
On with the show:
Allemande: A promenade step in Scottish Country Dancing (among others) in which the man leads the woman by the arms in a tightly choreographed manoeuvre. It’s a firmly male-dominated step, and once he’s got you by the arm, he can lead you where he will.
(Jack and Rose try to cut in. Nine and Jack’s ex are cut down to size.)
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
“NO! NO! NO! NO!” Jack is out the door and halfway down the block before his conscious mind kicks in. (The DOCTOR! They killed the DOCTOR!) Training takes over. He abandons the micro rifle. Reaches for killing weapons. Keeps throwing sentient knives until the personal shields around S’ian’thro bristle with blades like an angry porcupine. The blades burrow their way closer.
The golden light that was the Doctor implodes. Takes bipedal form. Draws a shaking breath. “Jack! Don’t!”
Jack pauses for a split second.
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
S’ian’thro glares at Marilyn.
With an apologetic look to Jack, Marilyn hits the subdermal.
Pain explodes in his body. Sizzles up and down his spine.
The golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor wavers. Gasps painfully for breath.
Jack fights the pain as long as he can. Tries to close his hands. Fingers won’t work right. Blades clatter to the ground. Agony forces the defiant breath from his lungs. Drives him to his knees.
S’ian’thro calmly approaches. Makes a brushing motion. The sentient blades clatter harmlessly to the ground. S’ian’thro snaps the cuffs onto Jack’s wrists. Mag-locks him to the streetlight. His remaining conscious lieutenant (a female Jack’s never met) hot-foots it over to where Rose probably lays, no doubt in equal pain.
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
A very furious Rose is suddenly stuck to the lamppost beside Jack. She fights the wrist cuffs, cursing a blue streak. “DOCTOR!”
The nanogenes shut off. Relief from pain blurs Jack’s vision. He sags, blinking hard.
Golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor is on one knee, panting. His mouth works, silent.
S’ian’thro peers at him. Jack had almost forgot how reptilian each head movement is. Measured. Precise. No glide to it like mammalian bipeds have.
“He said you are his to protect, Harkness’Jack,” says S’ian’thro. “I called him liar.”
“He is mine. They both are.” The Doctor’s rough whisper turns to a scream. He explodes in a burst of golden light.
S’ian’thro has a mesmerizing gaze. “Harkness’Jack?”
He struggles to grin. “Newlyweds.”
S’ian’thro cocks his head, unconvinced. “Time Lords do not mate or marry outside their species. No intimate alliances either. Only recreation, and that is rare.”
Golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor is on hands and knees. He looks like shit.
It’s a good thing Rose is mag-locked to the post or she might get herself seriously hurt in her rage. She kicks at S’ian’thro, who smoothly dodges. “The fuck did you do to him?!”
S’ian’thro holds up a little pistol. Silvery. Shiny. Unassuming. “Quantum pistol. My own design.”
Jack’s jaw drops in spite of himself. “You made the Schrödinger’s Gun?”
S’ian’thro’s silvery eyes glitter again. “Only a fool comes after a Time Lord without a truly unique defence.”
And for one science-geeky moment, Jack would kill just to see the schematics on a hand-held pistol that can cause a continuous series of reactions that will leave a quantum creature like the Doctor both alive and dead at the same time.
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
“STOP IT!” Rose roars.
S’ian’thro’s silver eyes glitter, the only outward sign of amusement. “What price will you pay to stop it, Time Lord pet?”
“’Thro.” (He has to get that fixated gaze off Rose.)
S’ian’thro hisses at the insult. “’Jack,” he snarls.
Golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor collapses to the pavement.
“How long will it go on, Harkness’Jack?” S’ian’thro’s cool breath hisses past his ear. “Five minutes or five years? The Time Lord can endure much, but in the end, he’s merely a walking, talking isotope. Too many reactions will drain him, bit by bit, until there is no energy left to take physical form.”
With an agonized look at Jack, the Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
Cool breath past his ear. “Wait too long and he’ll be Loomed for sure.”
Jack’s mouth is suddenly, painfully dry. “You can’t just leave him here.” Think. He needs to think. There are ways out of this. “People will see.”
S’ian’thro hisses in the back of his throat. (God, he even laughs like an iguana.) He hits the button on a little box on his belt.
Something shimmers into place around the golden light that was the Doctor. Try though he might, Jack can’t see it even though he knows the Doctor must be there. He looks to S’ian’thro for explanation.
“Before I killed him,” says S’ian’thro calmly, “the stowaway called it the ‘SEP’ filter.”
“Doctor?” Rose looks around, desperate. “DOCTOR?!” She glares. “Where’d the Doctor go? What have you done with the Doctor?”
“The Time Lord is still there.” S’ian’thro’s looking at Rose again. That’s bad. “Still suffering. The so-called hitchhiker said the device made anything contained by it Someone Else’s Problem, and therefore easier to ignore.”
“Name your price, S’ian’thro.” Defeat is bitter, but he’s not completely down for the count yet. “I’ll see you get it.”
“House’Marilyn.” S’ian’thro’s voice is dangerously polite.
Marilyn reluctantly steps forward. “S’ian’thro.”
“Hold out your right arm,” says S’ian’thro.
Jack’s seen that look before. “Don’t.” God, he wouldn’t... “Marilyn, don’t.”
Marilyn hesitates, then holds out her arm.
S’ian’thro draws the blade-laser in a flash of silver. Cuts off Marilyn’s arm below the elbow.
The severed limb falls to the pavement.
Rose screams, a harsh sound of disbelief.
The sharp reek of cauterized flesh assaults Jack. He reels.
Marilyn, eyes dilated, holds the stump of her arm. Gasps in shock.
Before anyone can speak, her arm begins to regrow. Pink flesh creeps out. Bones extend, pushing out to form forearm. Wrist. Palm. Fingers. Thumb.
Rose is breathing hard. For a moment, he’s afraid she might throw up. He catches her eyes with a level gaze. Wills her not to lose her cool, her head, or her consciousness. (Or the contents of her stomach.)
S’ian’thro grabs Marilyn by the elbow. Holds up her regrown arm with its pinkish skin. (And it’s really disturbing to watch it appear more and more normal by the second.) “See, Harkness’Jack?” says S’ian’thro. “I will not even leave you maimed.”
He releases Marilyn. She cradles her regrown arm, eyes still dilated in shock. Wiggles her fingers as if to assure herself the new limb actually works.
S’ian’thro’s glare is calm in its triumph. “You remain with me until my shame is lifted, my name restored, and your debt is paid, Harkness’Jack. Then you will live and remember the harm you caused. I will leave you as a warning to those who would slander me and House S’ian.”
“Jack,” says Rose quietly. “He’s completely off his fucking rocker.”
(Rose. He can’t let S’ian’thro have Rose.) “Leave the pet here,” says Jack.
S’ian’thro snorts derision. “My House has treated with Time Lords for millennia.” He brings the blade-laser to rest just below Rose’s throat. “We’ve learnt through painful folly never to underestimate their pets.” A sharp movement as he cocks his head. He gives an expression like a disturbing facsimile of a smile. “Especially the pretty ones.”
Rose’s eyes narrow in defiance.
“Touch her.” He’s not sure how his voice can be so calm. “And you will die.”
S’ian’thro holsters the blade-laser. “She is worthless to me, Harkness’Jack. But I am not fool enough to leave her here.” His gaze is silver poison. “Submit and I will spare the pet and her Time Lord.” He bends to retrieve Marilyn’s severed arm. “Resist...”
The hand flops limply on the severed arm. Marilyn looks at her regrown arm again. Faints. The female lieutenant picks her up. Throws her over her shoulder.
Cold dread pours through Jack. “All right. All right. You win.” The cocky smile feels false. “If I’d known you wanted me back this badly...”
Rose kicks him soundly in the shin. He glares at her. She glares back.
S’ian’thro bends close again. “Do we have an alliance, Harkness’Jack?”
Jack nods. “We can dance.” He sighs bitterly. “You lead.”
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Crossposted to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
time_and_chips, better_with_3
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!
melindakittyCharacters: Ninth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler;
Rated: oh, so Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would have been no parting of the ways, Rose would be happy and walking funny, and a love of tech isn't the only thing Nine and Jack would be sharing.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you may be spoilered. I like to mess with canon.
Summary: By popular request: OT3 Nine/Jack/Rose. One of Jack's exes is out for a bit of revenge. Can the Doctor and Rose figure a way to rescue him before he has to pay the piper? Watch for fancy footwork, a bit of intrigue, occasional plot, and a large excuse for love and smut.
LSA will be back tomorrow, but before I hand the reins of control back over to her, I've got one more set of posts to make. MOO HA HA AHA HA!!! *cough* Mine is an evil laugh!! -ophymirage
On with the show:
Allemande: A promenade step in Scottish Country Dancing (among others) in which the man leads the woman by the arms in a tightly choreographed manoeuvre. It’s a firmly male-dominated step, and once he’s got you by the arm, he can lead you where he will.
(Jack and Rose try to cut in. Nine and Jack’s ex are cut down to size.)
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
“NO! NO! NO! NO!” Jack is out the door and halfway down the block before his conscious mind kicks in. (The DOCTOR! They killed the DOCTOR!) Training takes over. He abandons the micro rifle. Reaches for killing weapons. Keeps throwing sentient knives until the personal shields around S’ian’thro bristle with blades like an angry porcupine. The blades burrow their way closer.
The golden light that was the Doctor implodes. Takes bipedal form. Draws a shaking breath. “Jack! Don’t!”
Jack pauses for a split second.
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
S’ian’thro glares at Marilyn.
With an apologetic look to Jack, Marilyn hits the subdermal.
Pain explodes in his body. Sizzles up and down his spine.
The golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor wavers. Gasps painfully for breath.
Jack fights the pain as long as he can. Tries to close his hands. Fingers won’t work right. Blades clatter to the ground. Agony forces the defiant breath from his lungs. Drives him to his knees.
S’ian’thro calmly approaches. Makes a brushing motion. The sentient blades clatter harmlessly to the ground. S’ian’thro snaps the cuffs onto Jack’s wrists. Mag-locks him to the streetlight. His remaining conscious lieutenant (a female Jack’s never met) hot-foots it over to where Rose probably lays, no doubt in equal pain.
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
A very furious Rose is suddenly stuck to the lamppost beside Jack. She fights the wrist cuffs, cursing a blue streak. “DOCTOR!”
The nanogenes shut off. Relief from pain blurs Jack’s vision. He sags, blinking hard.
Golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor is on one knee, panting. His mouth works, silent.
S’ian’thro peers at him. Jack had almost forgot how reptilian each head movement is. Measured. Precise. No glide to it like mammalian bipeds have.
“He said you are his to protect, Harkness’Jack,” says S’ian’thro. “I called him liar.”
“He is mine. They both are.” The Doctor’s rough whisper turns to a scream. He explodes in a burst of golden light.
S’ian’thro has a mesmerizing gaze. “Harkness’Jack?”
He struggles to grin. “Newlyweds.”
S’ian’thro cocks his head, unconvinced. “Time Lords do not mate or marry outside their species. No intimate alliances either. Only recreation, and that is rare.”
Golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor is on hands and knees. He looks like shit.
It’s a good thing Rose is mag-locked to the post or she might get herself seriously hurt in her rage. She kicks at S’ian’thro, who smoothly dodges. “The fuck did you do to him?!”
S’ian’thro holds up a little pistol. Silvery. Shiny. Unassuming. “Quantum pistol. My own design.”
Jack’s jaw drops in spite of himself. “You made the Schrödinger’s Gun?”
S’ian’thro’s silvery eyes glitter again. “Only a fool comes after a Time Lord without a truly unique defence.”
And for one science-geeky moment, Jack would kill just to see the schematics on a hand-held pistol that can cause a continuous series of reactions that will leave a quantum creature like the Doctor both alive and dead at the same time.
The Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
“STOP IT!” Rose roars.
S’ian’thro’s silver eyes glitter, the only outward sign of amusement. “What price will you pay to stop it, Time Lord pet?”
“’Thro.” (He has to get that fixated gaze off Rose.)
S’ian’thro hisses at the insult. “’Jack,” he snarls.
Golden light implodes. Takes bipedal form. The Doctor collapses to the pavement.
“How long will it go on, Harkness’Jack?” S’ian’thro’s cool breath hisses past his ear. “Five minutes or five years? The Time Lord can endure much, but in the end, he’s merely a walking, talking isotope. Too many reactions will drain him, bit by bit, until there is no energy left to take physical form.”
With an agonized look at Jack, the Doctor explodes in a burst of golden light.
Cool breath past his ear. “Wait too long and he’ll be Loomed for sure.”
Jack’s mouth is suddenly, painfully dry. “You can’t just leave him here.” Think. He needs to think. There are ways out of this. “People will see.”
S’ian’thro hisses in the back of his throat. (God, he even laughs like an iguana.) He hits the button on a little box on his belt.
Something shimmers into place around the golden light that was the Doctor. Try though he might, Jack can’t see it even though he knows the Doctor must be there. He looks to S’ian’thro for explanation.
“Before I killed him,” says S’ian’thro calmly, “the stowaway called it the ‘SEP’ filter.”
“Doctor?” Rose looks around, desperate. “DOCTOR?!” She glares. “Where’d the Doctor go? What have you done with the Doctor?”
“The Time Lord is still there.” S’ian’thro’s looking at Rose again. That’s bad. “Still suffering. The so-called hitchhiker said the device made anything contained by it Someone Else’s Problem, and therefore easier to ignore.”
“Name your price, S’ian’thro.” Defeat is bitter, but he’s not completely down for the count yet. “I’ll see you get it.”
“House’Marilyn.” S’ian’thro’s voice is dangerously polite.
Marilyn reluctantly steps forward. “S’ian’thro.”
“Hold out your right arm,” says S’ian’thro.
Jack’s seen that look before. “Don’t.” God, he wouldn’t... “Marilyn, don’t.”
Marilyn hesitates, then holds out her arm.
S’ian’thro draws the blade-laser in a flash of silver. Cuts off Marilyn’s arm below the elbow.
The severed limb falls to the pavement.
Rose screams, a harsh sound of disbelief.
The sharp reek of cauterized flesh assaults Jack. He reels.
Marilyn, eyes dilated, holds the stump of her arm. Gasps in shock.
Before anyone can speak, her arm begins to regrow. Pink flesh creeps out. Bones extend, pushing out to form forearm. Wrist. Palm. Fingers. Thumb.
Rose is breathing hard. For a moment, he’s afraid she might throw up. He catches her eyes with a level gaze. Wills her not to lose her cool, her head, or her consciousness. (Or the contents of her stomach.)
S’ian’thro grabs Marilyn by the elbow. Holds up her regrown arm with its pinkish skin. (And it’s really disturbing to watch it appear more and more normal by the second.) “See, Harkness’Jack?” says S’ian’thro. “I will not even leave you maimed.”
He releases Marilyn. She cradles her regrown arm, eyes still dilated in shock. Wiggles her fingers as if to assure herself the new limb actually works.
S’ian’thro’s glare is calm in its triumph. “You remain with me until my shame is lifted, my name restored, and your debt is paid, Harkness’Jack. Then you will live and remember the harm you caused. I will leave you as a warning to those who would slander me and House S’ian.”
“Jack,” says Rose quietly. “He’s completely off his fucking rocker.”
(Rose. He can’t let S’ian’thro have Rose.) “Leave the pet here,” says Jack.
S’ian’thro snorts derision. “My House has treated with Time Lords for millennia.” He brings the blade-laser to rest just below Rose’s throat. “We’ve learnt through painful folly never to underestimate their pets.” A sharp movement as he cocks his head. He gives an expression like a disturbing facsimile of a smile. “Especially the pretty ones.”
Rose’s eyes narrow in defiance.
“Touch her.” He’s not sure how his voice can be so calm. “And you will die.”
S’ian’thro holsters the blade-laser. “She is worthless to me, Harkness’Jack. But I am not fool enough to leave her here.” His gaze is silver poison. “Submit and I will spare the pet and her Time Lord.” He bends to retrieve Marilyn’s severed arm. “Resist...”
The hand flops limply on the severed arm. Marilyn looks at her regrown arm again. Faints. The female lieutenant picks her up. Throws her over her shoulder.
Cold dread pours through Jack. “All right. All right. You win.” The cocky smile feels false. “If I’d known you wanted me back this badly...”
Rose kicks him soundly in the shin. He glares at her. She glares back.
S’ian’thro bends close again. “Do we have an alliance, Harkness’Jack?”
Jack nods. “We can dance.” He sighs bitterly. “You lead.”
Previous | Next
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