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Fic: The Death and Life of Rodageitmososa. Act Four. (5/5)
Here you go, the final act. Hope you've enjoyed! (And if you have, please tell us? Feedback feeds the fannish soul...)
For anyone curious, if you want more info see Cold Open:
Cold Open | Act One | Act Two | Act Three
Title/Summary: The Death and Life of Rodageitmososa.
Summary: Roda knew, at that very moment, that she was going to die.
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luckweaver (aka the_redjay - they changed their name) & ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elisi.
Warnings: Character death, grievous injuries.
Setting: Between 'Day of the Doctor' and 'Time of the Doctor'. AU 'verse. Set post-A Good Day and [immediately] post-Galimaufrey.
Spoilers: Day of the Doctor, A Good Day, Galimaufrey.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Seeker (OC), Roda (OC), the Doctor, Clara, the Master (original/author-created), Jack.
Act Four
“Do you trust me?”
She looked at him for the longest moment, as if seeing him from a great, great distance, then smiled gently.
“Yes.”
What choice did she have?
Roda couldn't help but muse. The Seeker – as always – was almost irritatingly cryptic and nothing about the whole situation made sense. The last thing she remembered was red grass, toclafane, pain. And then... what? She'd heard a TARDIS landing, but at the time, she'd assumed that her dying mind was playing tricks on her. Perhaps she'd just wanted to feel at peace one last time, or her TARDIS had somehow found her...
Looking up at the Seeker now she didn't know what to think, and frankly, she was too exhausted to try. She looked down at the tumbler that her old lover had gently placed in her hands, the smoke from the strange liquid pouring over her fingers as she held it between shaking hands. With the Seeker's hand on the base, she closed her eyes and raised the cup to her lips, hearts somehow, impossibly, racing and swallowed it all.
For a second there was nothing except a numb pain, the Seeker bracing her as she rested the cup on her lap and coughed and choked. Her throat still burned from her accident, and her chest was screaming at her to stop moving. There was a wet sound in her ears and she realised that her lungs were filled up with fluid. As she finally stopped choking – seconds after she started, and not millennia as though it had felt – she glanced up at the Seeker and forced a bitter smile onto her face.
“Well, you tri-”
The tumbler clattered to the floor, bouncing and then rolling to rest against the door. Roda’s eyes widened in pain, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. She was briefly aware of the Seeker leaping forward, shouting something at her through wounded, worried eyes, his arm outstretched. A second later they were both blinded by the golden light from Roda’s face, her hands, every uncovered piece of skin. It… tingled, she realised, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. It was more like a million hot pins digging into her skin and moving around. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and were it not for the familiar glow of regenerative energy flooding the room, she wouldn’t have know what was happening.
The Seeker stood helplessly to the side, wanting to do something but unable to see. This was like no regeneration he had ever seen or heard of before. He had known that the potion, if it worked, would hurt - the book that he had found had stressed as much - but he’d expected it to be like any other change. He certainly hadn’t expected the entire room to fill with light, so hot and bright it was almost white, and though at first he’d planned just to cover his eyes he found himself scrunching them tightly shut instead, brow knitted into a frown, hoping that he hadn’t made a mistake. Before he did, he could just make out the silhouette of Roda’s robed body sitting on the bed.
He could hear her screaming. And it seemed to go on forever.
~~~
“...that was a rough one.”
It was over almost as soon as it started, but to Rodageitmososa, her regeneration seemed to last for hours.
She peeled open her eyes, blinking back little coloured dots that danced in front of her eyes, a wisp of regenerative smoke billowing above her as she took the first long, steady breath that she had managed in hours. As her chest rose and fell as normal, both her hearts hammering pleasantly enough, she almost laughed. A new life, a new face, another chance… it was more than she had dared to hope for when she’d arrived on the Seeker’s planet. And after all the time he was gone, the Seeker had been there when she’d needed him… it was poetic.
“Will you be my someone tonight?”
Still squinting, Roda groped for the edge of the bed she was lying on with both hands, pulling herself up with gloriously pain-free limbs. But before she had straightened up fully, the Seeker had clasped her face in both of his hands and was kissing her. Roda’s eyes widened once more. Had she somehow crossed their timelines and been saved by a Seeker whom she hadn’t broken up with yet? No… his face was wrong, he wasn’t her Seeker, he was the Seeker from the Medusa Cascade. But his features were softer. He was laughing, and crying, and he looked so vulnerable… Roda realised they both needed this. She’d kissed Jack goodbye, and now she was kissing the Seeker because she was alive, Rassilon, she was alive…!
But then the Seeker pulled back from the kiss - all teeth and tongue - and tilted his head onto one side, a confused look on his face. Roda blinked at him and raised an eyebrow, about to ask him what was wrong when the Seeker interrupted with:
“I wasn’t expecting stubble.”
Roda laughed, quietly storing ‘lower voice, interesting’ away for later.
“Yeah, you do kinda need to shave.”
“Not me,” the Seeker spluttered, raising an inquisitive hand to Roda’s jaw once more. “You.”
“That’s ridicu-”
Roda paused, and then lifted her hand to her throat, massaging her throat and then running her hand up to her jaw. Sure enough, her slim fingers found a prominent Adam’s apple, and rough, scratching stubble. She put both hands on her cheeks, her grin fading into a confused scowl. Lower voice, Adam’s apple, an eleven o’clock shadow… Her jaw was more square, she might even have said strong, and she realised that even sitting on the bed, she was taller than the Seeker now. Tearing her gaze from her lover she looked down at her body, tugging at the fabric of the Prydonian robes he had dressed her in - and biting down a snort of disdain - before chuckling with surprise. Her chest was flat, her waist unpronounced. She didn’t have to let her hands trail any further down her body to realise that her new body was very different to her last.
“Would you look at that.”
The Seeker shook himself out of his shock as Roda reached for her fringe, trying to pull her hair in front of her eyes before studying her face with her hands once more.
“This is fascinating.”
Tongue between her lips, Roda snorted again. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I wonder if it was to do with the drink,” the Seeker thought out loud, as Roda swung her legs off the side of the bed and took a few tentative steps on longer, somewhat muscled legs. “Or maybe the trauma, or…” He froze, guilt spreading across his features as he realised what he’d said. Roda watched him carefully, not sure how to respond. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Roda shrugged, and turned to rifle through trays and bowls that stocked the Zero Room, looking for something reflective. She grinned broadly, discarding a scalpel to hold a tray in front of her face. Larger nose, blue eyes… curly dark brown hair - very dark - that fell in front of her eyes and would probably need trimming sooner rather than later. She had less freckles than before, and she would have sworn that this new body seemed younger. Facing the Seeker again, she added: “I’m alive.” Roda paused, then reached for the neck of her robes, stretching it out. “Ooh, I wonder…”
“What are you-”
The Seeker boggled. Roda’s lips spread into a Cheshire grin and she punched the Seeker playfully on the shoulder, averting her gaze. “Isn’t this what you guys do?” Her tone of voice was sickly innocent.
Taking a deep breath, the Seeker replied in as deadpan a voice as he could manage.
“'Humans, yes. Although I suppose you've lived on Earth for two hundred years…” He sighed, feigning distaste. “With Jack.”
“You were my lover.” Roda smirked, and without further ado reached out and took the Seeker by the hand. “And come on,” she started to pull him towards the Zero Room door, ignoring his spluttered attempts at convincing her to rest, or sit down, “I bet you’re wondering too…”
~~~
It was the gentlest love that they had ever made to each other.
Not because either was any less passionate. Roda had seemed almost deliriously happy to be alive (and honestly, who could blame him?) and as for the Seeker, he was high on the victory of bringing his lover back from the dead. And besides, how was he supposed to have refused such an offer from a beautiful man, that he desired, standing in front of him and asking him to be his first. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a dream come true. As it was, worried as he was that it was too good to be true, it still came in a close second.
The Seeker had been as gentle as he could be, eager both not to worsen Roda’s condition - it wasn’t as though Jack hadn’t hardened him against stressing over a loved one coming back from the dead, but Roda was a little less immortal than Jack was - or to hurt him more. Roda for his part, though confident and eager, took his time in learning how to make love with a wholly unfamiliar toolset.
He had trusted the Seeker and let him take control, and that in itself spoke volumes. The Seeker had asked her to trust him, and she had replied with more than simply words. She had put her life in his hands, and let go. It was an honour.
He watched Roda now, curled around him and using his chest as a pillow, as he slept off his past two days. Of course it had been many more for the Seeker; time was strange, sometimes. It would probably be the case for a while, the Seeker mused; regeneration would have taken enough out of him without dying first as well. He hadn’t said anything, but the sex had tired him out, and the Seeker had let it. This way, he would finally rest.
Gently, he pushed a few strands of hair out of Roda’s eyes and studied him. He was certainly attractive now, and looked almost as young as he did himself. It was strange seeing Roda so… delicate. Soft hands, no scars other than the one in his shoulder (her/his first regeneration had apparently gone wrong, too). But more than anything else he was whole, a clean slate. He didn’t think he could stand to see her so broken ever again.
Although it would certainly take some getting used to. From what Roda had told him, gender wasn’t something most Time Lords cared much about. Those who spent a lot of time amongst species like humans tended to think otherwise but High Gallifreyan, as a language, didn’t differentiate. The addition of Time Lady to the language was a modern invention, a sort of Gallifreyan suffragette movement, but in a species that no longer bore children naturally and where two (or even three) individuals of the same gender could loom a child, it wasn’t so important. Undressing him, the Seeker had asked Roda what he wanted and Roda had grunted that ‘he’ would do. So he it was.
He was about to close his eyes and catch some sleep of his own - he’d been awake for days, and the potion itself had taken months - when Roda started to stir. Just barely, at first, someone making themselves more comfortable in their sleep, and then more obviously. He stretched, endless legs and arms - Roda was much more lanky in this regeneration – nuzzled into the Seeker, and then opened one eye with a slight smirk. Roda tilted his head to meet the Seeker’s gaze.
“You’re still here.”
“Well,” the Seeker smiled right back, “it is my planet.”
“I suppose it is.”
Despite his playful, if tired tone of voice, it was obvious to the Seeker – who knew him/her so well – that Roda had something on his mind. In his last regeneration Roda had favoured little gestures in venting her thoughts; clenching her fists subconsciously, chewing on her bottom lip until it bled. This time it was simply a look in his eyes, a steady, thoughtful stare that was almost unnerving. He was strangely still, at odds with what the Seeker was better used to, bar for one hand tracing nonsense High Gallifreyan into the Seeker's sweat-soaked skin.
Eventually he had to break the silence, if only for his own peace of mind.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
There was a second's hesitation, just a second – this regeneration of Roda's seemed to be about as subtle as his last had been – before Roda rolled onto his back.
“I need to ask you a favour.”
“Anything.”
“I need to disappear.”
The Seeker sat up on autopilot, and simply… stared at Roda. He had just gotten him/her back, was he supposed to let him go again? Or perhaps Roda meant to hide out on his planet, after all, no one else knew that he’d returned, yet. He studied him, looking for some sort of tell, waiting for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Roda opened his mouth to say more, but the Seeker started to laugh.
“You needn’t have been so thorough.” Roda shot him a sardonic look. “Last time was a lot easier.”
“That was to fool a couple of people. I’m talking a… larger scale.”
“Either way,” the Seeker waved his hand, “if you’d given me a heads up, we could have saved you a lot of pain and me a lot of worrying and hard wor-”
“How did you find me?”
“...what?”
The Seeker tipped his head to one side, and Roda shrugged, sitting up to face him. He had an oddly focused expression on his face.
“How did you find me? You were gone - I looked - and I was in the middle of nowhere.” Roda had the grace to look sheepish. “I’d aimed for the library, but apparently I missed.”
The Seeker pursed his lips. Roda probably wouldn’t like the answer. Saved by the Toclafane? If his glimpse into her thoughts when she was dying were anything to go by that would be her idea of a nightmare. Not that he could blame him, of course, not after The Year That Never Was. And then a thought came to mind. If he could convince him that the Toclafane were not the demons he thought they were, explain to him that they had saved his life, then perhaps he would open his mind to what the Seeker had planned. After all, he’d managed to win over Other World Roda, through continually demonstrating that what she thought he was going to do, and what he actually did, were different things
All the same, he might save mentioning his pet Dalek to him for another time.
“The Toclafane brought me to you.” Roda glared at him, but the Seeker simply raised a hand and continued. “I know you don’t think much of them but they were worried, Roda. My TARDIS took me to them, and they took me to you.”
Roda was still frowning, but it looked more thoughtful than angry. That, at least was a relief.
“How long ago?”
The Seeker shrugged, his face reddening a little. “A few weeks? Maybe a month? I… lost track. The potion - I’ll show you the book I found it in later, really Roda, your library is Aladdin’s cave! - took longer than I thought.” He paused. Something was strange; the string of conversation had come out of nowhere. “Why are you asking?”
“I just… wanted to know before I… explained.”
The Seeker listened carefully to what Roda had to say, giving him his full attention. Roda had rested his forehead against the Seeker’s - for comfort, likely - but he wasn’t using telepathy. He started out quiet, apologetic, but as he launched into his plans, he got more and more passionate, excited, even angry. The Seeker had never seen Roda get so emotional. He told him about Gallifrey - not that he hadn’t heard it from Missy, but it was interesting to hear it from Roda’s lips - and the argument he’d had with the Doctor. He told him exactly why she had had been exiled, and he told the Seeker what he had to do. And why no one, even the Seeker, could know about it.
He’d been silent throughout the entire explanation, just letting Roda talk, but when he was done, and looking at him with such expectant eyes, the Seeker couldn’t keep quiet.
“I…” The Seeker swallowed, and took a deep calming breath, before continuing. “I’m grateful that you’re confiding in me, but let me get this straight. You want me to forget?” He ran a hand through his fringe, gesturing at Roda with the other. “Not just what you’ve told me, but everything I did? You want me to forget that I brought you back? Forget that I - I re-created forgotten knowledge? Literally, the most incredible thing I have ever done!” He put a hand on Roda’s cheek, more hurt than he could find the words for. “Forget… you?” He swallowed again. “How can I live with that? How can I live with thinking that I failed you?”
“You didn’t-”
“But I’ll think I did! Roda, you don’t know what you’re asking. I’ll lose you. Again. You died in my arms, I can’t-” He shook his head. “How can you possibly ask me that?”
"Seeker."
Roda pushed the Seeker’s hand away, and cupped his face in his own like he had so often done to him before. He fidgeted a little, making himself more comfortable so that he was sitting on his knees, the sheets forgotten, half straddling the Seeker’s lap. It felt strange to the Seeker; Roda’s hands were too big, softer, hadn't had time to callous yet. And Roda was so tall… He had to lean down to rest his forehead against the Seeker's and the Seeker could feel his stubble brush against his skin. He would have to lend him a razor - such a strange thought, given the circumstances.
Roda closed his eyes, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet, uncertain.
"Give me this one thing. I never ask for much.” The Seeker snorted despite himself. Roda never asked for anything, but this? This was surely too much. Roda paused at the snort, his lip twitching with something; irritation, or upset. It was impossible to tell. “...I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't need you..." Roda opened his eyes, looking deep into the Seeker’s with an expression that said the unspoken words so clearly. He smirked, but it was almost forced. “I guess my new model is a little more shades of grey, huh?”
The words hit the Seeker like Roda must have known they would… He could still vividly remember her as she had been on the Crucible - lost and utterly defeated - and they both of them clearly still recalled the ways in which he’d betrayed her. But he had taken what he wanted, won the war on his terms, without ever asking, or even considering her. And then he’d left, without so much as a proper goodbye, high on his victory and the promise of future empires...
Pride. It always came down to pride.
But he had learned a lesson a very long time ago, and Roda had been the one who’d taught it to him - although she probably didn’t even know it.
Just because the wonders of the universe happened to be at his fingertips didn’t mean that he had a right to them. And when one of those wonders happened to be somebody that he wanted, someone he loved…
(‘I truly I am a fantastically privileged spoiled arrogant entitled jerk’ - and he still was. Oh he still was.)
He was quiet, for a long time. Roda watched him, his breath held. There was so much to consider, but… who was he to deny Roda this?
"Okay."
"Okay?”
Roda blinked, clearly surprised by the answer. His response stung the Seeker a little bit - did he always expect the worst? People were always too quick to judge, no wonder he’d needed to get away - but he realised he deserved it, deep down. If this was what Roda needed to get closure on the Medusa Cascade, then so be it. And besides; whether he approved of his plan or not, Roda’s cause was… just. And these had been his last thoughts, when she’d thought she was dying. For better or worse, the Seeker wouldn’t stand in his way.
“Just like that?"
"...Just like that. You have my,” the Seeker fished for words, “permission? I'm not sure about my blessing."
"Good thing I don't need it.” Roda grinned, planting a quick, relieved kiss onto the Seeker’s lips. “No offence, I just..." Roda glanced into the distance. "I have to do this."
The Seeker smiled, sadly. "Let me guess; it's not me, it's you?"
Blue eyes crinkled at the corners, studying him candidly.
"Well, it'll certainly be good for your humility," Roda said drily, and the Seeker shot him a piercing glance. Damn him. That was below the belt. (And uncomfortably accurate.) This new regeneration clearly didn’t beat around the bush…
Then he sighed. He was so tired. Had thought the hard work over, except now there was more.
Now he had to fool himself. How the hell was he going to do that? A mindwipe was fairly straightforward, but there could be no tells - not the tiniest hint that he’d succeeded. Roda had used a chameleon arch on herself before, and he wished there was a solution that straightforward available for this issue. The house would have to be as it had been when he went to wake her, not a single item out of place. He’d lost track of time already, so that was good, but it’d be prudent to fudge his mind a little more. And he’d have to create fake memories. Not to mention a copy, perfect in every detail...
Realising that he’d gone completely quiet, he thought he’d better fill Roda in:
“I’ll need to make a copy of you. The dead you,” he clarified, his busy mind already creating new lists, with subheadings and footnotes. (No rest for the wicked…) “Good enough to fool myself. A flesh copy would probably work best… Good thing I have all your details stored, and plenty of DNA.”
“You do like a challenge though, don’t you?” Roda asked innocently, and the Seeker didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Yes, yes I do. My best bloody work, ever, and it’ll all hinge on me not remembering it. I hope you appreciate the perversity of it. However, I think there is a more pressing concern...”
Ruthlessly stomping down on his rapidly expanding new plans, the Seeker kissed Roda on the forehead, and glanced at the door. They had a long way to go, both of them, and he would have liked for them to do it together, but he would content himself with the fact that they were alive. How he would handle losing Roda after everything he had done remained to be seen…but their relationship - as friends, lovers, or whatever they were - would weather it. It always had before. For now, he wanted to enjoy what time he had left. And that could mean only one thing.
“How about waffles?”
Roda rolled his eyes, and absentmindedly rubbed his forearm. Within their little, disjointed family of Time Lords and immortals, there was something of a waffle tradition, and Roda was still sore about the time the Master had dislocated her arm by throwing a waffle iron at her. No matter what was going on in their lives, everything noteable seemed to in some way be punctuated by the presence of waffles, be it celebratory or otherwise. The Seeker couldn’t help but grin at the pout on his lover’s face, letting himself have one small victory.
“If I must.”
The Seeker smiled wryly.
“Waffles. After which I need to create a dead Roda, followed by a mindwipe… Well, parts of today will have been pleasant....”
Roda’s face softened, and gently kissed his lover, prolonging the kiss until he felt the Seeker relax into his touch, letting go. Eventually he pulled away, studying the Seeker’s green eyes, now calm - almost peaceful.
“Waffles it is then.”
~~~~
He sat with her body for a long time, the combination of crushing defeat and bone-deep grief paralysing him. He wasn’t good at this, had deliberately surrounded himself with near-immortals so he would not have to deal with death and loss…
He could see the cup - she had dropped it, and it had clattered to the floor, bouncing and then rolling to rest against the door. He should go pick it up, analyse the remnants - except why bother? She was gone.
‘Well you tried’ hung over him, and it was almost as if a mist had descended at that point. As if he couldn’t believe his own eyes when she gasped as if in pain, and then collapsed, her body almost caving in on itself… At least there was now a peaceful smile on her face.
He wanted to curl up, all alone, and never come out. Wanted to scream his frustration, make someone pay, although her murderer had already been killed. Wanted to go ask his father exactly what dark tricks could be employed to bring a Time Lady back to life. (Except he knew how his father’s mind worked, knew what kind of methods he favoured. And how much Roda would hate and despise being brought back through such means. There would be a price to pay… And if he paid it, he would truly lose her forever.)
The only thing left to do was to give her a fitting send-off. He’d seen something about a requiem in one of her books…
Forcing himself to get on his feet, still feeling as if his head was in a daze and unable to focus properly, he decided he should probably start by sending out hypercubes. That way he’d be committed to taking action.
If only everything didn’t feel so wrong…
~The End~
Next Time Preview
For anyone curious, if you want more info see Cold Open:
Cold Open | Act One | Act Two | Act Three
Title/Summary: The Death and Life of Rodageitmososa.
Summary: Roda knew, at that very moment, that she was going to die.
Authors:
luckweaver (aka the_redjay - they changed their name) & elisi.Warnings: Character death, grievous injuries.
Setting: Between 'Day of the Doctor' and 'Time of the Doctor'. AU 'verse. Set post-A Good Day and [immediately] post-Galimaufrey.
Spoilers: Day of the Doctor, A Good Day, Galimaufrey.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Seeker (OC), Roda (OC), the Doctor, Clara, the Master (original/author-created), Jack.
“Do you trust me?”
She looked at him for the longest moment, as if seeing him from a great, great distance, then smiled gently.
“Yes.”
What choice did she have?
Roda couldn't help but muse. The Seeker – as always – was almost irritatingly cryptic and nothing about the whole situation made sense. The last thing she remembered was red grass, toclafane, pain. And then... what? She'd heard a TARDIS landing, but at the time, she'd assumed that her dying mind was playing tricks on her. Perhaps she'd just wanted to feel at peace one last time, or her TARDIS had somehow found her...
Looking up at the Seeker now she didn't know what to think, and frankly, she was too exhausted to try. She looked down at the tumbler that her old lover had gently placed in her hands, the smoke from the strange liquid pouring over her fingers as she held it between shaking hands. With the Seeker's hand on the base, she closed her eyes and raised the cup to her lips, hearts somehow, impossibly, racing and swallowed it all.
For a second there was nothing except a numb pain, the Seeker bracing her as she rested the cup on her lap and coughed and choked. Her throat still burned from her accident, and her chest was screaming at her to stop moving. There was a wet sound in her ears and she realised that her lungs were filled up with fluid. As she finally stopped choking – seconds after she started, and not millennia as though it had felt – she glanced up at the Seeker and forced a bitter smile onto her face.
“Well, you tri-”
The tumbler clattered to the floor, bouncing and then rolling to rest against the door. Roda’s eyes widened in pain, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. She was briefly aware of the Seeker leaping forward, shouting something at her through wounded, worried eyes, his arm outstretched. A second later they were both blinded by the golden light from Roda’s face, her hands, every uncovered piece of skin. It… tingled, she realised, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. It was more like a million hot pins digging into her skin and moving around. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and were it not for the familiar glow of regenerative energy flooding the room, she wouldn’t have know what was happening.
The Seeker stood helplessly to the side, wanting to do something but unable to see. This was like no regeneration he had ever seen or heard of before. He had known that the potion, if it worked, would hurt - the book that he had found had stressed as much - but he’d expected it to be like any other change. He certainly hadn’t expected the entire room to fill with light, so hot and bright it was almost white, and though at first he’d planned just to cover his eyes he found himself scrunching them tightly shut instead, brow knitted into a frown, hoping that he hadn’t made a mistake. Before he did, he could just make out the silhouette of Roda’s robed body sitting on the bed.
He could hear her screaming. And it seemed to go on forever.
“...that was a rough one.”
It was over almost as soon as it started, but to Rodageitmososa, her regeneration seemed to last for hours.
She peeled open her eyes, blinking back little coloured dots that danced in front of her eyes, a wisp of regenerative smoke billowing above her as she took the first long, steady breath that she had managed in hours. As her chest rose and fell as normal, both her hearts hammering pleasantly enough, she almost laughed. A new life, a new face, another chance… it was more than she had dared to hope for when she’d arrived on the Seeker’s planet. And after all the time he was gone, the Seeker had been there when she’d needed him… it was poetic.
“Will you be my someone tonight?”
Still squinting, Roda groped for the edge of the bed she was lying on with both hands, pulling herself up with gloriously pain-free limbs. But before she had straightened up fully, the Seeker had clasped her face in both of his hands and was kissing her. Roda’s eyes widened once more. Had she somehow crossed their timelines and been saved by a Seeker whom she hadn’t broken up with yet? No… his face was wrong, he wasn’t her Seeker, he was the Seeker from the Medusa Cascade. But his features were softer. He was laughing, and crying, and he looked so vulnerable… Roda realised they both needed this. She’d kissed Jack goodbye, and now she was kissing the Seeker because she was alive, Rassilon, she was alive…!
But then the Seeker pulled back from the kiss - all teeth and tongue - and tilted his head onto one side, a confused look on his face. Roda blinked at him and raised an eyebrow, about to ask him what was wrong when the Seeker interrupted with:
“I wasn’t expecting stubble.”
Roda laughed, quietly storing ‘lower voice, interesting’ away for later.
“Yeah, you do kinda need to shave.”
“Not me,” the Seeker spluttered, raising an inquisitive hand to Roda’s jaw once more. “You.”
“That’s ridicu-”
Roda paused, and then lifted her hand to her throat, massaging her throat and then running her hand up to her jaw. Sure enough, her slim fingers found a prominent Adam’s apple, and rough, scratching stubble. She put both hands on her cheeks, her grin fading into a confused scowl. Lower voice, Adam’s apple, an eleven o’clock shadow… Her jaw was more square, she might even have said strong, and she realised that even sitting on the bed, she was taller than the Seeker now. Tearing her gaze from her lover she looked down at her body, tugging at the fabric of the Prydonian robes he had dressed her in - and biting down a snort of disdain - before chuckling with surprise. Her chest was flat, her waist unpronounced. She didn’t have to let her hands trail any further down her body to realise that her new body was very different to her last.
“Would you look at that.”
The Seeker shook himself out of his shock as Roda reached for her fringe, trying to pull her hair in front of her eyes before studying her face with her hands once more.
“This is fascinating.”
Tongue between her lips, Roda snorted again. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I wonder if it was to do with the drink,” the Seeker thought out loud, as Roda swung her legs off the side of the bed and took a few tentative steps on longer, somewhat muscled legs. “Or maybe the trauma, or…” He froze, guilt spreading across his features as he realised what he’d said. Roda watched him carefully, not sure how to respond. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Roda shrugged, and turned to rifle through trays and bowls that stocked the Zero Room, looking for something reflective. She grinned broadly, discarding a scalpel to hold a tray in front of her face. Larger nose, blue eyes… curly dark brown hair - very dark - that fell in front of her eyes and would probably need trimming sooner rather than later. She had less freckles than before, and she would have sworn that this new body seemed younger. Facing the Seeker again, she added: “I’m alive.” Roda paused, then reached for the neck of her robes, stretching it out. “Ooh, I wonder…”
“What are you-”
The Seeker boggled. Roda’s lips spread into a Cheshire grin and she punched the Seeker playfully on the shoulder, averting her gaze. “Isn’t this what you guys do?” Her tone of voice was sickly innocent.
Taking a deep breath, the Seeker replied in as deadpan a voice as he could manage.
“'Humans, yes. Although I suppose you've lived on Earth for two hundred years…” He sighed, feigning distaste. “With Jack.”
“You were my lover.” Roda smirked, and without further ado reached out and took the Seeker by the hand. “And come on,” she started to pull him towards the Zero Room door, ignoring his spluttered attempts at convincing her to rest, or sit down, “I bet you’re wondering too…”
It was the gentlest love that they had ever made to each other.
Not because either was any less passionate. Roda had seemed almost deliriously happy to be alive (and honestly, who could blame him?) and as for the Seeker, he was high on the victory of bringing his lover back from the dead. And besides, how was he supposed to have refused such an offer from a beautiful man, that he desired, standing in front of him and asking him to be his first. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a dream come true. As it was, worried as he was that it was too good to be true, it still came in a close second.
The Seeker had been as gentle as he could be, eager both not to worsen Roda’s condition - it wasn’t as though Jack hadn’t hardened him against stressing over a loved one coming back from the dead, but Roda was a little less immortal than Jack was - or to hurt him more. Roda for his part, though confident and eager, took his time in learning how to make love with a wholly unfamiliar toolset.
He had trusted the Seeker and let him take control, and that in itself spoke volumes. The Seeker had asked her to trust him, and she had replied with more than simply words. She had put her life in his hands, and let go. It was an honour.
He watched Roda now, curled around him and using his chest as a pillow, as he slept off his past two days. Of course it had been many more for the Seeker; time was strange, sometimes. It would probably be the case for a while, the Seeker mused; regeneration would have taken enough out of him without dying first as well. He hadn’t said anything, but the sex had tired him out, and the Seeker had let it. This way, he would finally rest.
Gently, he pushed a few strands of hair out of Roda’s eyes and studied him. He was certainly attractive now, and looked almost as young as he did himself. It was strange seeing Roda so… delicate. Soft hands, no scars other than the one in his shoulder (her/his first regeneration had apparently gone wrong, too). But more than anything else he was whole, a clean slate. He didn’t think he could stand to see her so broken ever again.
Although it would certainly take some getting used to. From what Roda had told him, gender wasn’t something most Time Lords cared much about. Those who spent a lot of time amongst species like humans tended to think otherwise but High Gallifreyan, as a language, didn’t differentiate. The addition of Time Lady to the language was a modern invention, a sort of Gallifreyan suffragette movement, but in a species that no longer bore children naturally and where two (or even three) individuals of the same gender could loom a child, it wasn’t so important. Undressing him, the Seeker had asked Roda what he wanted and Roda had grunted that ‘he’ would do. So he it was.
He was about to close his eyes and catch some sleep of his own - he’d been awake for days, and the potion itself had taken months - when Roda started to stir. Just barely, at first, someone making themselves more comfortable in their sleep, and then more obviously. He stretched, endless legs and arms - Roda was much more lanky in this regeneration – nuzzled into the Seeker, and then opened one eye with a slight smirk. Roda tilted his head to meet the Seeker’s gaze.
“You’re still here.”
“Well,” the Seeker smiled right back, “it is my planet.”
“I suppose it is.”
Despite his playful, if tired tone of voice, it was obvious to the Seeker – who knew him/her so well – that Roda had something on his mind. In his last regeneration Roda had favoured little gestures in venting her thoughts; clenching her fists subconsciously, chewing on her bottom lip until it bled. This time it was simply a look in his eyes, a steady, thoughtful stare that was almost unnerving. He was strangely still, at odds with what the Seeker was better used to, bar for one hand tracing nonsense High Gallifreyan into the Seeker's sweat-soaked skin.
Eventually he had to break the silence, if only for his own peace of mind.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
There was a second's hesitation, just a second – this regeneration of Roda's seemed to be about as subtle as his last had been – before Roda rolled onto his back.
“I need to ask you a favour.”
“Anything.”
“I need to disappear.”
The Seeker sat up on autopilot, and simply… stared at Roda. He had just gotten him/her back, was he supposed to let him go again? Or perhaps Roda meant to hide out on his planet, after all, no one else knew that he’d returned, yet. He studied him, looking for some sort of tell, waiting for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Roda opened his mouth to say more, but the Seeker started to laugh.
“You needn’t have been so thorough.” Roda shot him a sardonic look. “Last time was a lot easier.”
“That was to fool a couple of people. I’m talking a… larger scale.”
“Either way,” the Seeker waved his hand, “if you’d given me a heads up, we could have saved you a lot of pain and me a lot of worrying and hard wor-”
“How did you find me?”
“...what?”
The Seeker tipped his head to one side, and Roda shrugged, sitting up to face him. He had an oddly focused expression on his face.
“How did you find me? You were gone - I looked - and I was in the middle of nowhere.” Roda had the grace to look sheepish. “I’d aimed for the library, but apparently I missed.”
The Seeker pursed his lips. Roda probably wouldn’t like the answer. Saved by the Toclafane? If his glimpse into her thoughts when she was dying were anything to go by that would be her idea of a nightmare. Not that he could blame him, of course, not after The Year That Never Was. And then a thought came to mind. If he could convince him that the Toclafane were not the demons he thought they were, explain to him that they had saved his life, then perhaps he would open his mind to what the Seeker had planned. After all, he’d managed to win over Other World Roda, through continually demonstrating that what she thought he was going to do, and what he actually did, were different things
All the same, he might save mentioning his pet Dalek to him for another time.
“The Toclafane brought me to you.” Roda glared at him, but the Seeker simply raised a hand and continued. “I know you don’t think much of them but they were worried, Roda. My TARDIS took me to them, and they took me to you.”
Roda was still frowning, but it looked more thoughtful than angry. That, at least was a relief.
“How long ago?”
The Seeker shrugged, his face reddening a little. “A few weeks? Maybe a month? I… lost track. The potion - I’ll show you the book I found it in later, really Roda, your library is Aladdin’s cave! - took longer than I thought.” He paused. Something was strange; the string of conversation had come out of nowhere. “Why are you asking?”
“I just… wanted to know before I… explained.”
The Seeker listened carefully to what Roda had to say, giving him his full attention. Roda had rested his forehead against the Seeker’s - for comfort, likely - but he wasn’t using telepathy. He started out quiet, apologetic, but as he launched into his plans, he got more and more passionate, excited, even angry. The Seeker had never seen Roda get so emotional. He told him about Gallifrey - not that he hadn’t heard it from Missy, but it was interesting to hear it from Roda’s lips - and the argument he’d had with the Doctor. He told him exactly why she had had been exiled, and he told the Seeker what he had to do. And why no one, even the Seeker, could know about it.
He’d been silent throughout the entire explanation, just letting Roda talk, but when he was done, and looking at him with such expectant eyes, the Seeker couldn’t keep quiet.
“I…” The Seeker swallowed, and took a deep calming breath, before continuing. “I’m grateful that you’re confiding in me, but let me get this straight. You want me to forget?” He ran a hand through his fringe, gesturing at Roda with the other. “Not just what you’ve told me, but everything I did? You want me to forget that I brought you back? Forget that I - I re-created forgotten knowledge? Literally, the most incredible thing I have ever done!” He put a hand on Roda’s cheek, more hurt than he could find the words for. “Forget… you?” He swallowed again. “How can I live with that? How can I live with thinking that I failed you?”
“You didn’t-”
“But I’ll think I did! Roda, you don’t know what you’re asking. I’ll lose you. Again. You died in my arms, I can’t-” He shook his head. “How can you possibly ask me that?”
"Seeker."
Roda pushed the Seeker’s hand away, and cupped his face in his own like he had so often done to him before. He fidgeted a little, making himself more comfortable so that he was sitting on his knees, the sheets forgotten, half straddling the Seeker’s lap. It felt strange to the Seeker; Roda’s hands were too big, softer, hadn't had time to callous yet. And Roda was so tall… He had to lean down to rest his forehead against the Seeker's and the Seeker could feel his stubble brush against his skin. He would have to lend him a razor - such a strange thought, given the circumstances.
Roda closed his eyes, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet, uncertain.
"Give me this one thing. I never ask for much.” The Seeker snorted despite himself. Roda never asked for anything, but this? This was surely too much. Roda paused at the snort, his lip twitching with something; irritation, or upset. It was impossible to tell. “...I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't need you..." Roda opened his eyes, looking deep into the Seeker’s with an expression that said the unspoken words so clearly. He smirked, but it was almost forced. “I guess my new model is a little more shades of grey, huh?”
“The new face was a bit of a surprise,” Roda said, studying him. “How recent?”
“I’m from the future - relative to you and Jack at least. Been a bit of a hermit for the past few years - more so than usual. Busy with new projects.”
“So I see,” she said, shooting the Toclafane a piercing glance. “This new model is a bit more shades of grey, huh?”
The words hit the Seeker like Roda must have known they would… He could still vividly remember her as she had been on the Crucible - lost and utterly defeated - and they both of them clearly still recalled the ways in which he’d betrayed her. But he had taken what he wanted, won the war on his terms, without ever asking, or even considering her. And then he’d left, without so much as a proper goodbye, high on his victory and the promise of future empires...
Pride. It always came down to pride.
But he had learned a lesson a very long time ago, and Roda had been the one who’d taught it to him - although she probably didn’t even know it.
Just because the wonders of the universe happened to be at his fingertips didn’t mean that he had a right to them. And when one of those wonders happened to be somebody that he wanted, someone he loved…
(‘I truly I am a fantastically privileged spoiled arrogant entitled jerk’ - and he still was. Oh he still was.)
He was quiet, for a long time. Roda watched him, his breath held. There was so much to consider, but… who was he to deny Roda this?
"Okay."
"Okay?”
Roda blinked, clearly surprised by the answer. His response stung the Seeker a little bit - did he always expect the worst? People were always too quick to judge, no wonder he’d needed to get away - but he realised he deserved it, deep down. If this was what Roda needed to get closure on the Medusa Cascade, then so be it. And besides; whether he approved of his plan or not, Roda’s cause was… just. And these had been his last thoughts, when she’d thought she was dying. For better or worse, the Seeker wouldn’t stand in his way.
“Just like that?"
"...Just like that. You have my,” the Seeker fished for words, “permission? I'm not sure about my blessing."
"Good thing I don't need it.” Roda grinned, planting a quick, relieved kiss onto the Seeker’s lips. “No offence, I just..." Roda glanced into the distance. "I have to do this."
The Seeker smiled, sadly. "Let me guess; it's not me, it's you?"
Blue eyes crinkled at the corners, studying him candidly.
"Well, it'll certainly be good for your humility," Roda said drily, and the Seeker shot him a piercing glance. Damn him. That was below the belt. (And uncomfortably accurate.) This new regeneration clearly didn’t beat around the bush…
Then he sighed. He was so tired. Had thought the hard work over, except now there was more.
Now he had to fool himself. How the hell was he going to do that? A mindwipe was fairly straightforward, but there could be no tells - not the tiniest hint that he’d succeeded. Roda had used a chameleon arch on herself before, and he wished there was a solution that straightforward available for this issue. The house would have to be as it had been when he went to wake her, not a single item out of place. He’d lost track of time already, so that was good, but it’d be prudent to fudge his mind a little more. And he’d have to create fake memories. Not to mention a copy, perfect in every detail...
Realising that he’d gone completely quiet, he thought he’d better fill Roda in:
“I’ll need to make a copy of you. The dead you,” he clarified, his busy mind already creating new lists, with subheadings and footnotes. (No rest for the wicked…) “Good enough to fool myself. A flesh copy would probably work best… Good thing I have all your details stored, and plenty of DNA.”
“You do like a challenge though, don’t you?” Roda asked innocently, and the Seeker didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Yes, yes I do. My best bloody work, ever, and it’ll all hinge on me not remembering it. I hope you appreciate the perversity of it. However, I think there is a more pressing concern...”
Ruthlessly stomping down on his rapidly expanding new plans, the Seeker kissed Roda on the forehead, and glanced at the door. They had a long way to go, both of them, and he would have liked for them to do it together, but he would content himself with the fact that they were alive. How he would handle losing Roda after everything he had done remained to be seen…but their relationship - as friends, lovers, or whatever they were - would weather it. It always had before. For now, he wanted to enjoy what time he had left. And that could mean only one thing.
“How about waffles?”
Roda rolled his eyes, and absentmindedly rubbed his forearm. Within their little, disjointed family of Time Lords and immortals, there was something of a waffle tradition, and Roda was still sore about the time the Master had dislocated her arm by throwing a waffle iron at her. No matter what was going on in their lives, everything noteable seemed to in some way be punctuated by the presence of waffles, be it celebratory or otherwise. The Seeker couldn’t help but grin at the pout on his lover’s face, letting himself have one small victory.
“If I must.”
The Seeker smiled wryly.
“Waffles. After which I need to create a dead Roda, followed by a mindwipe… Well, parts of today will have been pleasant....”
Roda’s face softened, and gently kissed his lover, prolonging the kiss until he felt the Seeker relax into his touch, letting go. Eventually he pulled away, studying the Seeker’s green eyes, now calm - almost peaceful.
“Waffles it is then.”
He sat with her body for a long time, the combination of crushing defeat and bone-deep grief paralysing him. He wasn’t good at this, had deliberately surrounded himself with near-immortals so he would not have to deal with death and loss…
He could see the cup - she had dropped it, and it had clattered to the floor, bouncing and then rolling to rest against the door. He should go pick it up, analyse the remnants - except why bother? She was gone.
‘Well you tried’ hung over him, and it was almost as if a mist had descended at that point. As if he couldn’t believe his own eyes when she gasped as if in pain, and then collapsed, her body almost caving in on itself… At least there was now a peaceful smile on her face.
He wanted to curl up, all alone, and never come out. Wanted to scream his frustration, make someone pay, although her murderer had already been killed. Wanted to go ask his father exactly what dark tricks could be employed to bring a Time Lady back to life. (Except he knew how his father’s mind worked, knew what kind of methods he favoured. And how much Roda would hate and despise being brought back through such means. There would be a price to pay… And if he paid it, he would truly lose her forever.)
The only thing left to do was to give her a fitting send-off. He’d seen something about a requiem in one of her books…
Forcing himself to get on his feet, still feeling as if his head was in a daze and unable to focus properly, he decided he should probably start by sending out hypercubes. That way he’d be committed to taking action.
If only everything didn’t feel so wrong…
Next Time Preview
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– Which is okay for Eight, who wanted to suffer, but hard on Roda...
she glanced up at the Seeker and forced a bitter smile onto her face.
– it totally makes sense, but it hurts quite a lot that it’s a bitter smile.
“Will you be my someone tonight?”
– love the symmetry.
the Seeker pulled back from the kiss - all teeth and tongue -
– rightly or wrongly, this brings back Three’s description of Four: “all teeth and curls?”
“That’s ridicu-”
– Now a canonical occupational hazard, thanks to Missy.
Roda reached for her fringe, trying to pull her hair in front of her eyes
– Oh, Eleven. We miss you.
Larger nose, blue eyes… curly dark brown hair - very dark -
– Hang on, did Roda just generate into Tom Baker??
but Roda was a little less immortal than Jack was
– !!!
the Seeker had asked Roda what he wanted and Roda had grunted that ‘he’ would do.
– once again admiring the Seeker’s fine grasp of the essentials...
bar for one hand tracing nonsense High Gallifreyan into the Seeker's sweat-soaked skin.
– !!!
He studied him, looking for some sort of tell, waiting for an explanation, but none was forthcoming.
– The Seeker at work with a new problem where he has no data and hasn’t had the opportunity to pop off and research the answer yet, as with Clara’s Marcus Aurelius fandom. Neat.
“Last time was a lot easier.”
– Should we remember "last time"?
through continually demonstrating that what she thought he was going to do, and what he actually did, were different things
– Another universally recognizable solution to a problem...
All the same, he might save mentioning his pet Dalek to him for another time.
– !!! Probably best, Seeker.
He told him exactly why she had had been exiled, and he told the Seeker what he had to do. And why no one, even the Seeker, could know about it.
– We get some explanation of this at some undetermined future point, yes?
“Not just what you’ve told me, but everything I did? You want me to forget that I brought you back? Forget that I - I re-created forgotten knowledge? Literally, the most incredible thing I have ever done!” He put a hand on Roda’s cheek, more hurt than he could find the words for. “Forget… you?” He swallowed again. “How can I live with that? How can I live with thinking that I failed you?”
– So perfectly the Seeker, both the good and the bad, the loyal relieved friend and lover and the “God I’m good!” insufferable genius...
– Let alone the end of the Day of the Doctor echoes, or Donna in End of Time either.
Pride. It always came down to pride.
– !!!
Just because the wonders of the universe happened to be at his fingertips didn’t mean that he had a right to them. And when one of those wonders happened to be somebody that he wanted, someone he loved…
(‘I truly I am a fantastically privileged spoiled arrogant entitled jerk’ - and he still was. Oh he still was.)
– If he hadn’t said that Roda had been the one who taught it to him, I would have gone back through Dating looking for where he said this in apology to Allison...
There was so much to consider, but… who was he to deny Roda this?
"Okay."
"Okay?”
Roda blinked, clearly surprised by the answer. His response stung the Seeker a little bit - did he always expect the worst? People were always too quick to judge, no wonder he’d needed to get away - but he realised he deserved it, deep down. If this was what Roda needed to get closure on the Medusa Cascade, then so be it. And besides; whether he approved of his plan or not, Roda’s cause was… just
– pets the Seeker, gently.
[1/2 because LJ]
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Oh, Roda has done her wanting to suffer. At... around the same time in Gallifreyan history that Eight did too, actually. But now her mistakes have made her realise she really doesn't want to die.
Love the symmetry.
Oh yes, I thought so too.
Now a canonical occupational hazard, thanks to Missy.
Would you believe I've had this idea since the Corsair was first mentioned? Elisi helped me work out how it was going to happen, though. Went Missy got introduced I may have, uh, sulked a little that canon did it first :P
Hang on, did Roda just generate into Tom Baker??
I'm planning on sketching up all of Roda's past regenerations at some point, but if her last face looked... passably like Keira Knightly, imagine that this one looks like this (George Blagden):
Should we remember "last time"?
I wasn't sure if I should go into detail or not, but it's all explained in another of my stories, Last One Standing. It's pre-ship days, though:
Probably best, Seeker.
Roda = ex. Time War soldier, particularly: regenerated from Dalek-induced wounds. She had survivor's guilt and PTSD at first, too (re: my 'Roda has done her wanting to suffer' earlier).
We get some explanation of this at some undetermined future point, yes?
When I work it out, yes.Serious answer: I'm waiting to see how canon handles a particular plot point before I deal with it myself, because though elisi's verse tends to diverge from canon a bit more than mine (we shoehorn Roda in), I try to follow show canon (as much as possible, while also fitting into elisi's verse).If he hadn’t said that Roda had been the one who taught it to him, I would have gone back through Dating looking for where he said this in apology to Allison...
Well, Roda was involved in the epiphany (I think he went to her for advice, at the time) but that was a quote from his apology letter to Alison after he told her he slept with Josh and Jamie.
... Josh and Jamie? Elisi, confirm, it's late here and I may have the wrong names.
(also, oh, but I have hoarded these photoshopped/drawn icons...)
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she glanced up at the Seeker and forced a bitter smile onto her face.
I know... Poor Seeker.
– rightly or wrongly, this brings back Three’s description of Four: “all teeth and curls?”
I am leaving that at luckweaver's door. She wrote it. >:)
– Now a canonical occupational hazard, thanks to Missy.
As luckweaver said - just because Missy got there first doesn't mean we didn't THINK of it.
– Oh, Eleven. We miss you.
We doooooo. :(
– once again admiring the Seeker’s fine grasp of the essentials...
Well he had a gender-neutral friend (Jamie) at uni, plus this is new and therefore very very interesting. He wants to know everything.
– !!!
The very idea of 'nonsense High Gallifreyan' is one of my favourite things from this chapter.
– The Seeker at work with a new problem where he has no data and hasn’t had the opportunity to pop off and research the answer yet, as with Clara’s Marcus Aurelius fandom. Neat.
That is an excellent parallel!
– So perfectly the Seeker, both the good and the bad, the loyal relieved friend and lover and the “God I’m good!” insufferable genius...
Indeed. (You can't separate the two...)
– Let alone the end of the Day of the Doctor echoes, or Donna in End of Time either.
It is only temporary - and voluntary - so not as bad as Donna. But DotD is a good comparison.
– If he hadn’t said that Roda had been the one who taught it to him, I would have gone back through Dating looking for where he said this in apology to Allison...
It's the very beginning of <a href="http://elisi.livejournal.com/791891.html'>Chapter 21</a>. Roda doesn't literally used those words, but helps him see himself in a new light. (It was after Allison - quite rightly - was furious when he told her about the mindsex with Jamie, and was utterly unapologetic.) <i>– pets the Seeker, gently.</i> When he makes up his mind - that's it. He'll take whatever comes.
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– indeed.
Indeed. (You can't separate the two...)
– One of the things I’m doing as part of trying to figure out this whole “career” idea is reading out-of-character business-y books. And in “18 Minutes”, Peter Bregman notes:
to which I can only say, he is guilty as charged on both counts. :)
It is only temporary - and voluntary - so not as bad as Donna.
– Very good distinction re: Donna, but to it being only temporary, you as the authors might know that, but we as the readers don’t. Yes, I see “but their relationship - as friends, lovers, or whatever they were - would weather it. It always had before.” is in the text, but as these two chapters have just hammered home in a recursive loop of cleverness, the Seeker doesn’t always get it right. (Yes, I know, Moffat, eventual triumph of love, I’ve watched the clip, but I’m still trying to work out, since . . . do we need spoiler markers for the Christmas special? Can’t do lj-cut in a comment anyway. Bother. . .
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Santa appeared at the end of Death in Heaven and not only in the Christmas Special, how much of season 8 is going to turn out not to have happened at all...)
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to which I can only say, he is guilty as charged on both counts. :)
Ah yes. And he's always aware of his faults. He just tries to turn them into virtues. ;)
– Very good distinction re: Donna, but to it being only temporary, you as the authors might know that, but we as the readers don’t. Yes, I see “but their relationship - as friends, lovers, or whatever they were - would weather it. It always had before.” is in the text, but as these two chapters have just hammered home in a recursive loop of cleverness, the Seeker doesn’t always get it right.
Ah, I hadn't even thought of it like that. I don't know what's planned out for Roda (completely in the dark!), but I always presumed he'd return once he'd done what needed doing. Although I supposed he might never come back... Hm. Also I love 'recursive loop of cleverness'. :D
And let's see if a spoiler-cut will work?
Santa appeared at the end of Death in Heaven and not only in the Christmas Special, how much of season 8 is going to turn out not to have happened at all...)
Ah yes, I am alllll over that. Haven't written anything yet, but... Am thinking.
SPOILER-CUT IS GO! The code is this:
{lj-spoiler}{/lj-spoiler} but with < and > instead of { and }
ETA: Also, I'm guessing you're appreciating the fic title more now? ;)
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What, you mean after the total fake-out of Act Three left us thinking, “Hang on, this is ‘The Death and Funeral of Roda’, not ‘Death and Life’, title was clearly authorial misdirection, and then the redoubled fake-out of Act Four left us aware that it was a double authorial misdirection, and the realization of misdirection at the end of Act Three was itself another misdirection? I’m not sure "appreciating” is the right word, but “respecting”, absolutely. ;)
Though come to think of it, this is the third Time Lord burning funeral we’ve seen in recent times (Simm!Master, Eleven, Roda), and none of them stayed dead. Although the Doctor might be the only one aware of all three. I wonder if he’ll twig, or at least suspect...
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LOL. It was just extremely literal. She died (and she did died), and then she lived. *innocent smile* Mostly then writing timey-wimey Moffat-y fic is extremely rewarding!
Though come to think of it, this is the third Time Lord burning funeral we’ve seen in recent times (Simm!Master, Eleven, Roda), and none of them stayed dead. Although the Doctor might be the only one aware of all three. I wonder if he’ll twig, or at least suspect...
Well in this 'verse, there have only been two, as the Master of course didn't die at the end of LotT. The Seeker knows of the Doctor's faked death (which is a little short stand-alone that I have been planning to write... Might get to that next), but the methods of escape are of course different. And I don't think the Doctor would suspect, to be honest. Sneakiness isn't something Roda generally goes in for, not in that sense, at least. (The Seeker was the one who came up with the other fake-out - but you'll get to that in Last One Standing.)
/rambling
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Well if you ever feel like it just leave a comment a week - or a month - and that'd do me. It takes time to reply anyway... (And I go back to work tomorrow, sigh. Not that work is horrible, but compared to being at home & lazy & having time to write... Being at home is better.) (Can you tell I love feedback? Esp when it's as insightful as yours...)
(particularly after getting to “Although if that certain someone doesn’t stop referring to me as a ‘Tot’ I’m- Oh great, now she’s laughing! Why do I have a feeling she’ll be thinking up far worse monikers in no time at all...”)
Incorporating Roda (which took some doing on both our parts - our 'verses didn't match up very well) has been a pure delight.
I did mention at some point how much I liked Alex putting down the hecklers in the Senate House with Latin, though, right? “Non placet”, indeed...
That is almost the entire extent of my Latin knowledge... (Although being Catholic I have absorbed a fair bit by osmosis.)
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Damn him. That was below the belt. (And uncomfortably accurate.)
– !!!
his busy mind already creating new lists, with subheadings and footnotes. (No rest for the wicked…)
– So at least the Master’s son got the regeneration with the really excellent long-term planner trait...
“You do like a challenge though, don’t you?” Roda asked innocently, and the Seeker didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
– These two know each other far too well. :)
They had a long way to go, both of them, and he would have liked for them to do it together, but he would content himself with the fact that they were alive.
– !!! Four probably told himself something quite similar after leaving Romana in E-Space...
Waffles?? The sheer normality of waffles in the midst of concealed High Gallifreyan drama is lovely.
‘Well you tried’ hung over him, and it was almost as if a mist had descended at that point.
– Not stupid, our boy. Feels like the Seeker is almost too clever not to see through his own plan at this point...
If only everything didn’t feel so wrong…
– Deliciously turning the bits in Act Three into foreshadowing except that while we thought then that the wrongness was external, he actually engineered the wrongness himself. Wonderful.
Looking forward to the next time preview!
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So has this new one of Roda's too, actually. Or at least, where Roda is concerned, this is very much new for him; she was always a bit of a soldier of fortune (oh gods, pronouns... (do you know the Deep Purple song?)).
These two know each other far too well. :)
*waves hand* MBTI types. Very helpful. But in all seriousness, yes; their stark differences really help them get a handle on how the other things. That, and the fact that - as I hope we demonstrated - they know that even when they have their differences, they can still trust each other.
Really Roda and Jack get along better, and are closer, just because they are more alike. ETA: semi-canon OT3 of both mine and elisi's, actually.Waffles?? The sheer normality of waffles in the midst of concealed High Gallifreyan drama is lovely.
I shall leave this open to elisi, who is a wonderfully organised person and could probably tell you of every single occurence of waffles in both our 'verses.
Deliciously turning the bits in Act Three into foreshadowing except that while we thought then that the wrongness was external, he actually engineered the wrongness himself. Wonderful.
That was elisi's deliciously Moffat-y idea. Reel the readers in thinking that it's all doomed, and then tell you the real story.
Looking forward to the next time preview!
It... almost hints at Roda's future plans. *prods open, empty word document with a sigh*
THANK YOU FOR READING <3
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I don’t know the Deep Purple song, but I do have trans friends, and ever since the Master/Missy reveal I have wanted to ask them what pronoun they would use in that context. Unfortunately they haven’t seen the end of series 8 yet, but I reserve the right to go back and change all my pronoun use retrospectively once they have and I’ve asked them.
And I had to look up George Blagden, but... Grantaire. I could probably write a thesis (a short one, but still) on all the subtle variations of Grantaire I’ve seen down the years. (It’s ridiculous. I’ve been two-thirds of the way through the book for over ten years now, so I haven’t even finished the actual text, but all the different ways the different actors have played him and how they related to Enjolras and to Gavroche and to Marius...)
Good luck with the empty word document. Off to investigate Last One Standing...
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As you comment further down, they know each other very well indeed.
– So at least the Master’s son got the regeneration with the really excellent long-term planner trait...
That part is a naturally occurring trait. luckweaver mentions MBTI a little further down. I got into it this spring (thanks to other LJ friends) and discovered that the Seeker is a perfect-in-every-detail INTJ. (If you're curious google 'INTJ' and check out the top 3 results. Actually the top two would do. Hang on, I'll just link you. INTJ personality & Portrait of an INTJ. I will allow you to imagine what I first felt when I read those pages, bearing in mind I've been writing this character since 2007...)
– !!! Four probably told himself something quite similar after leaving Romana in E-Space...
It's almost an occupational hazard, when it comes to Time Lords...
Waffles?? The sheer normality of waffles in the midst of concealed High Gallifreyan drama is lovely.
Waffles... I think it started because of Alien Abduction (waffles even featured in the summary: ' This story begins with abduction and ends with waffles. In between there's some adventuring and some heartache and a fair few truths are revealed.') Then there is the very first meeting (proper meeting, when Alex isn't a baby) between Alex & Roda, the one mentioned where the Master has dislocated her arm with a waffle iron. It's too early for more thoughts right now, but waffles are a thing the Seeker always comes back to. Waffles are nice.
– Not stupid, our boy. Feels like the Seeker is almost too clever not to see through his own plan at this point...
That is almost part of it? He knows that he has a tendency to over-think everything. Which is why I very carefully had him logically work through the 'Why does it feel wrong' in Act Three - he doesn't guess, because he thinks it's wounded pride that's making him over-analyse... And he won't let himself become wrapped up in conspiracy theories, as he figures that's just his mind trying to overcompensate. So... he naturally corrects his own smartness? Does that even make sense?
– Deliciously turning the bits in Act Three into foreshadowing except that while we thought then that the wrongness was external, he actually engineered the wrongness himself. Wonderful.
I understand why Moffat likes this so much! (My keywords for this icon are 'Moffat for Dummies'. ;)
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So... he naturally corrects his own smartness? Does that even make sense?
– So not only do Roda and the Seeker know each other too well, the Seeker has to know himself too well. And, since they’re telepathic, Roda knows the Seeker knows the... ack! But this
“Good enough to fool myself. A flesh copy would probably work best… Good thing I have all your details stored, and plenty of DNA.”
“You do like a challenge though, don’t you?” Roda asked innocently, and the Seeker didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Yes, yes I do. My best bloody work, ever, and it’ll all hinge on me not remembering it. I hope you appreciate the perversity of it.
is even more poignant. (And “innocently” is even more inaccurate...) I didn’t fully appreciate the perversity of it until this additional exploration. If I could arrange the public pension, I would totally swing it so you could do DVD commentaries for these. Failing that, I’ll just have to continue with the ridiculously long explanation-unwinding comments.
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Yup. Right down to the parts that seem like inconsistencies (he uses drink/drugs/sex to cope when he's out of sorts, which seems odd for someone so sensible & controlled, except this is standard behaviour) - basically it's sort of like magic.
– So not only do Roda and the Seeker know each other too well, the Seeker has to know himself too well. And, since they’re telepathic, Roda knows the Seeker knows the... ack!
WELCOME TO OUR WORLD/brains.
But this is even more poignant. (And “innocently” is even more inaccurate...) I didn’t fully appreciate the perversity of it until this additional exploration.
Now I'm wondering how we could have written it better...
If I could arrange the public pension, I would totally swing it so you could do DVD commentaries for these.
Oh god, I would do it for FREE. Except... time. /o\
Failing that, I’ll just have to continue with the ridiculously long explanation-unwinding comments.
I can talk forever, please keep on! The more comments the better, it's like Christmas! <3
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(Which would be nice, but... Not liking any of my original ideas much.)
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Oh, yes. My brain is just... not built for coherent discussion. I do the flailing, and elisi makes it sound clever ;)
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Bit like how Promethia and I work... As in, she's the clever one (the one with the English degree etc) and then we bounce ideas around and then I write it all up. :) We all have our strengths.
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(Am signed into the other account... *g*)