donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-09-02 09:59 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-09-02 09:59 pm
Entry tags:
Fic Commentary: Telepathic Talks
The last commentary that's been requested. Please feel free to ask for another if there's one you'd like to see.
btw- I've been trying to post this for DAYS.... apparently LJ has decided it hates me.
Title: Telepathic Talks
Pairing/Warning/Rating: none, rated G
Word Count: 1741
Summary: A disaster brings the Doctor closer to Jack
Author's Note: Written for _medley_ (to fulfill a request on her holiday meme.)
Now _medley_ had asked for telepathyfic of any kind. I said I'd try, not having any idea where I'd go with the idea or how I'd go about it, but I really wanted to come up with a present for her so I took a stab at it. And stared at an empty word doc for awhile. I was missing the hook, the plot, whatever it was that could get the story off the ground. So, I started thinking- telepathy... Presumedly the Doctor's got some skill at it (as seen in "Girl in the Fireplace") and we know Torchwood's got some training in it (as seen in "Doomsday") and Jack's at least used psychic paper ("Empty Child"). So the question was when and who I wanted in the story. Boiling things down I write Jack best. And I thought _medley_ was a little more of a DW fan than a TW fan so I settled on a story between the Doctor and Jack. But why would they use telepathy if they could just talk to one another? hmmmmm........
It was supposed to be a quick little trip. See the sights. Try some food. Have a laugh. The Doctor should have known better, it was never as easy as that with those two on board.
I was trying to give the impression that this was Nine and not Ten but the choppiness of this opening. To me anyway, it's more the way Nine talks then Ten. I also wanted to establish a bit of an omnious feel from the get go.
Oh, it had started off innocently enough of course; Rose had heard about the famous giggling tunnels and just had to see them. The Doctor had laughed at her bright eyed wonder and gone into a lengthy explanation of the science behind the noise that the locals foolishly misinterpreted as giggling which Rose interrupted by calling him a spoilsport. She then proceeded to pout until Jack offered to escort her through the tunnels.
By mentioning Rose now, it hopefully became obvious it was Nine. I can't actually write Rose, her speech patterns I mean, so I avoided having to do that by having this part be written as a sort of flashback.
If only they’d waited, but why would they have? There was no way they could have known about the seismic activity that the tunnels had been experiencing. It had been hushed up because the government felt it might interfere with the money the tourists brought in. Of course that plan blew up in their faces, almost literally. And, as for the tourist trade? Well, they wouldn’t have to be worrying about that anymore, not if the Doctor had anything to say about it.
The Doctor can be kind of mean to people who he thinks deserve it.
First things first. Checking on Rose, he learned she was resting comfortably with the other ‘lucky survivors.’ The medicos told him that although she was currently paralyzed, the effects of the gas she inhaled would dissipate within a day or so. Reluctantly, he left her in their care as he went to find out about Jack. It was almost disappointing how easy it was. A little lie here. A flash of psychic paper there. And voilà, the Doctor was at the makeshift headquarters of the people in charge of the collapsed tunnels radiating an air of authority which ensured no one questioned him about being there. He never even had to raise his voice.
I debated writing out these scenes, but eventually decided that they weren't the point of the story. This was a Nine/Jack interaction story not Nine/random people. I also used that bit to sneak in that effects of the gas.
The news, he learned quickly, was anything but good. In fact “not good” seemed the phrase on everyone’s lips. The stability of the remaining tunnels? Not good. The chance of getting to anyone still trapped? Not good. The likelihood that any of the trapped were still alive? Not good. The probability the gas wouldn’t cause irreparable brain damage with prolonged exposure? Not good.
Scans showed that fifteen people had been trapped amidst the ruins. They also revealed that, between the falling debris and the density of the gas, the majority of them were already dead. And it was only a matter of time before the rest succumbed to the effects of the gas and died as well, but the Doctor was determined to make sure they saved Jack before that could happen. Oh, the scans weren’t detailed enough to discriminate between those trapped, but the Doctor knew anyway. Jack was alive. He had to be.
Nine always showed faith in Jack. And trust. I always appreciated that in him, so here Nine is positive in his belief that Jack's okay. The Doctor's not willing to accept anything other than that.
While the bureaucratic idiots argued the best way to get to those still trapped the Doctor reacquainted himself with what the gas did to the human body. One of the scientists present happily explained how, once inhaled, the gas interfered with the chemistry of the brain. First a person would lose control over their limbs, then as exposure increased they would start to lose control over the brain itself. If you couldn’t find a way to force the neurons to continue to fire they would just stop working all together. All involuntary actions, like breathing and having your heart beat would cease and the person would die. The Doctor thanked the oddly cheerful man before getting away as fast as he could.
And here's why the telepathy comes into play- The Doctor had to keep Jack's mind active until rescuers could get to his body. I also liked the "oddly cheerful" description. Some people *far* to excited by their jobs.
He found a small storage room that would be perfect for his plan. It was quiet, and after a quick burst of his sonic screwdriver, he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. Sitting down, he shifted about until he was comfortable, then relaxed his mind, and reached out. It was terribly difficult, but he was determined, and using every telepathic trick he’d ever learned he felt his way into the collapsed tunnels.
Jack? He reached out, searching for the familiar presence he’d become accustomed to. Jack? Blocking out the swirling chaos of the rescuers he mentally slipped through the tunnels, sending out feelers like the tendrils of an octopus. Then, almost by accident, he found what he was looking for.
I'll take a minute to admit here that I'd never actually read telepathy fanfic and wasn't sure what it was supposed to entail, so I was completely winging it on how telepathy was supposed to work in this universe.
It was barely there, like a half-heard whisper, something you acknowledge without knowing why. Straining, the Doctor focused his energy until the vague, nebulous feeling that he associated as being Jack coalesced into a stronger form, something that was Jack.
Jack? As a former Time Agent, Jack should have had some experience with telepathy but the Doctor couldn’t be sure exactly how much psi-training the other man had gotten, or how successful it had been.
Doctor? The response was a feeling, more than a word. It was a sense of confusion intermixed with a hint of pain and a sigh of relief at the recognition.
I kind of liked the idea that telepathic communication was different than speaking- that it was more about emotions and feelings than words.
I’m here, right here. The Doctor replied, projecting a sense of friendship and calm.
The confusion from the other man swirled into panic. Rose? Rose!
Don’t worry, she’s safe. Rose is safe. The image of Rose sleeping comfortably at the hospital was pushed at Jack’s worry as a reassurance. Then the Doctor focused on gathering up the essence-that-was-Jack. I have you, Jack. You’re safe too.
Suddenly the amorphousness snapped into a telepathic version of Jack that was crouched on the floor, huddled in a ball. “There you go, lad. Fantastic, that’s fantastic.” The psi-equivalent of the Doctor said, putting his arms around Jack.
But, I needed them to have more of a proper interaction, so switched it to something more akin to speaking here.
“Doctor?”
“You’ve had a lot more psi-training than I would have thought, Captain,” the Doctor whispered softly. “It’ll make this easier.”
“Easier? I.. I don’t understand.” Jack’s mental voice cracked with confusion and fear.
“Nothing for you to worry about. It’ll be okay.” He ran a hand through Jack’s hair, a bit shorter and spiker than he’d remembered it being, but it soothed the younger man just the same. “We just need to keep you alert and talking to me until the rescue party can get to you.”
I always thought that we see ourselves differently than we see others. In your mind's eye you would have a different perspective and that's why the psi-equivilent of Jack that the Doctor sees is a bit different.
“Talking? You mean thinking,” Jack teased, settling into the Doctor’s embrace.
“Very funny.” Letting his awareness spread the Doctor could sense that rescue work had finally begun, but that it was slow going. “I should have known you’d crack a joke at a time like this.”
“It’s the best way to face adversity, Doctor. Tell a joke. Or get drunk. Or have amazing sex. Or all three, if possible.”
Jack's all about keeping up appearances of being a carefree flirt, isn't he?
“I’m all for jokes. Jokes are good. And I suppose that maybe it might be possible to think about alcohol in a way that would wind up tricking your subconscious into considering itself drunk, but telepathic sex is impossible.”
I really thought I hit on Nine's speech patterns here.
“You sure about that?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. This Jack was paler than the real one and much younger looking without the typical bravado and arrogance.
This description of Jack was supposed to be two-fold. First, that psi-versions were a little different, but second that Jack is usually hiding who he really is behind a mask (a flirty, self-assured, mask) and without it he'd be more vunerable, less worldly.
“Quite sure.” The Doctor plastered a smile on his face. He could feel psychic tremors radiating from Jack as the effort of maintaining the connection strained him. “But I bet you’d like to prove me wrong, yeah?”
“That’d be a sucker’s bet.” Jack started to laugh, but it turned into a gasp almost immediately. “Betting against me... especially... especially when sex is involved...” The solidity of the presence in the Doctor’s arms began to waver.
I just had to slip that in.
“Careful, Jack. You have to concentrate, or you’ll succumb to the gas.” Pulling him closer, the Doctor focused his energy on helping maintain the contact.
“Not going to... get rid of me... that easily.” Jack’s tone was firm and steady, but the involuntary gasps and trembles betrayed him.
“Help is on its way. And as long as you’re here with me the effects of the gas are reversible.” The Doctor leaned down to kiss Jack on the forehead, hoping further contact on this psychic realm would help somehow, but the body in his arms was already losing its solid form. “Stay with me Jack, please. You can do it, stay with me.”
The Doctor always tries ( I was sort of thinking of him and Jade for this, when he said she'd burn up if she stayed- he wants to save people so badly, he's just failed time and time again at it)
Only a swirl of who-Jack-was remained, sending out a wave of sympathy and regret, I’m sorry Doctor, before it slipped away entirely.
Jack? Jack! He called, again and again, but there was no response. His calls just echoed back to him, unanswered.
Concentrating, he reined in his thoughts, returning to his conscious form. The Doctor sat there, barely aware of the hustle and bustle going on outside amidst the rescuers, frozen in disbelief. He’d failed. What was he going to tell Rose? How could he tell her that Jack, vibrant, flirtatious, fun loving Jack, was gone forever?
Eventually the Doctor picked himself up and left the storage room, resigned to his fate. Slipping into the hallway he ran smack dab into the scientist who he had talked to earlier.
“Ah, Doctor!” The happy fellow grabbed him into a hug. “You heard the news, then?” Seeing the look of confusion he explained, “A survivor! Isn’t that grand?”
“Someone was pulled out of the tunnels? Alive?” An impossible sense of hope bubbled up inside the Doctor. “Do you know who? Or how badly he was hurt?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know his name, but I managed to catch a glimpse of the handsome young thing before they took him off to the hospital and he didn’t look terribly injured. Perhaps there would be more information available about him there?”
"handsome young thing"- of course that'd be Jack!
The Doctor grabbed the scientist and planted a kiss on either cheek. Then he turned and took off without even noticing the flustering man he left in his wake.
It only took a few minutes to get to the hospital, but it felt so much longer. Desire and dismay were at war within him. He couldn’t let himself believe that Jack was alive until he had proof, otherwise the disappointment would be overwhelming. Carefully, he wheedled his way into the hospital and onto the floor that housed the survivors. The medicos recognized him, and immediately told him Rose was sleeping comfortably and would be fine by the morning. Then they pointed him in the direction of the room that housed the newest survivor.
The Doctor strode up to the door, only to stop once he got there. What if wasn’t Jack on the other side? It would be like failing him in the tunnels all over again. Paused, standing with his hand on the door, he felt the slightest burble of laughter coming from inside. Sending a burst of chiding love back he threw open the door and flew into the room, where Jack was waiting for him.
The Doctor's the eternal optimist. Someone had survived. It had to be Jack. But still, there was that moment, before he opened the door, when he began to doubt himself. Jack, of course, would find that funny.
The interesting thing about writing this was it never occurred to me to write telepathyfic as anything other than hurt/comfort. In my mind it was the only plausible situation for telepathy to wind up needing to be used. I was a little confused by the reactions to it that I got.
btw- I've been trying to post this for DAYS.... apparently LJ has decided it hates me.
Title: Telepathic Talks
Pairing/Warning/Rating: none, rated G
Word Count: 1741
Summary: A disaster brings the Doctor closer to Jack
Author's Note: Written for _medley_ (to fulfill a request on her holiday meme.)
Now _medley_ had asked for telepathyfic of any kind. I said I'd try, not having any idea where I'd go with the idea or how I'd go about it, but I really wanted to come up with a present for her so I took a stab at it. And stared at an empty word doc for awhile. I was missing the hook, the plot, whatever it was that could get the story off the ground. So, I started thinking- telepathy... Presumedly the Doctor's got some skill at it (as seen in "Girl in the Fireplace") and we know Torchwood's got some training in it (as seen in "Doomsday") and Jack's at least used psychic paper ("Empty Child"). So the question was when and who I wanted in the story. Boiling things down I write Jack best. And I thought _medley_ was a little more of a DW fan than a TW fan so I settled on a story between the Doctor and Jack. But why would they use telepathy if they could just talk to one another? hmmmmm........
It was supposed to be a quick little trip. See the sights. Try some food. Have a laugh. The Doctor should have known better, it was never as easy as that with those two on board.
I was trying to give the impression that this was Nine and not Ten but the choppiness of this opening. To me anyway, it's more the way Nine talks then Ten. I also wanted to establish a bit of an omnious feel from the get go.
Oh, it had started off innocently enough of course; Rose had heard about the famous giggling tunnels and just had to see them. The Doctor had laughed at her bright eyed wonder and gone into a lengthy explanation of the science behind the noise that the locals foolishly misinterpreted as giggling which Rose interrupted by calling him a spoilsport. She then proceeded to pout until Jack offered to escort her through the tunnels.
By mentioning Rose now, it hopefully became obvious it was Nine. I can't actually write Rose, her speech patterns I mean, so I avoided having to do that by having this part be written as a sort of flashback.
If only they’d waited, but why would they have? There was no way they could have known about the seismic activity that the tunnels had been experiencing. It had been hushed up because the government felt it might interfere with the money the tourists brought in. Of course that plan blew up in their faces, almost literally. And, as for the tourist trade? Well, they wouldn’t have to be worrying about that anymore, not if the Doctor had anything to say about it.
The Doctor can be kind of mean to people who he thinks deserve it.
First things first. Checking on Rose, he learned she was resting comfortably with the other ‘lucky survivors.’ The medicos told him that although she was currently paralyzed, the effects of the gas she inhaled would dissipate within a day or so. Reluctantly, he left her in their care as he went to find out about Jack. It was almost disappointing how easy it was. A little lie here. A flash of psychic paper there. And voilà, the Doctor was at the makeshift headquarters of the people in charge of the collapsed tunnels radiating an air of authority which ensured no one questioned him about being there. He never even had to raise his voice.
I debated writing out these scenes, but eventually decided that they weren't the point of the story. This was a Nine/Jack interaction story not Nine/random people. I also used that bit to sneak in that effects of the gas.
The news, he learned quickly, was anything but good. In fact “not good” seemed the phrase on everyone’s lips. The stability of the remaining tunnels? Not good. The chance of getting to anyone still trapped? Not good. The likelihood that any of the trapped were still alive? Not good. The probability the gas wouldn’t cause irreparable brain damage with prolonged exposure? Not good.
Scans showed that fifteen people had been trapped amidst the ruins. They also revealed that, between the falling debris and the density of the gas, the majority of them were already dead. And it was only a matter of time before the rest succumbed to the effects of the gas and died as well, but the Doctor was determined to make sure they saved Jack before that could happen. Oh, the scans weren’t detailed enough to discriminate between those trapped, but the Doctor knew anyway. Jack was alive. He had to be.
Nine always showed faith in Jack. And trust. I always appreciated that in him, so here Nine is positive in his belief that Jack's okay. The Doctor's not willing to accept anything other than that.
While the bureaucratic idiots argued the best way to get to those still trapped the Doctor reacquainted himself with what the gas did to the human body. One of the scientists present happily explained how, once inhaled, the gas interfered with the chemistry of the brain. First a person would lose control over their limbs, then as exposure increased they would start to lose control over the brain itself. If you couldn’t find a way to force the neurons to continue to fire they would just stop working all together. All involuntary actions, like breathing and having your heart beat would cease and the person would die. The Doctor thanked the oddly cheerful man before getting away as fast as he could.
And here's why the telepathy comes into play- The Doctor had to keep Jack's mind active until rescuers could get to his body. I also liked the "oddly cheerful" description. Some people *far* to excited by their jobs.
He found a small storage room that would be perfect for his plan. It was quiet, and after a quick burst of his sonic screwdriver, he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. Sitting down, he shifted about until he was comfortable, then relaxed his mind, and reached out. It was terribly difficult, but he was determined, and using every telepathic trick he’d ever learned he felt his way into the collapsed tunnels.
Jack? He reached out, searching for the familiar presence he’d become accustomed to. Jack? Blocking out the swirling chaos of the rescuers he mentally slipped through the tunnels, sending out feelers like the tendrils of an octopus. Then, almost by accident, he found what he was looking for.
I'll take a minute to admit here that I'd never actually read telepathy fanfic and wasn't sure what it was supposed to entail, so I was completely winging it on how telepathy was supposed to work in this universe.
It was barely there, like a half-heard whisper, something you acknowledge without knowing why. Straining, the Doctor focused his energy until the vague, nebulous feeling that he associated as being Jack coalesced into a stronger form, something that was Jack.
Jack? As a former Time Agent, Jack should have had some experience with telepathy but the Doctor couldn’t be sure exactly how much psi-training the other man had gotten, or how successful it had been.
Doctor? The response was a feeling, more than a word. It was a sense of confusion intermixed with a hint of pain and a sigh of relief at the recognition.
I kind of liked the idea that telepathic communication was different than speaking- that it was more about emotions and feelings than words.
I’m here, right here. The Doctor replied, projecting a sense of friendship and calm.
The confusion from the other man swirled into panic. Rose? Rose!
Don’t worry, she’s safe. Rose is safe. The image of Rose sleeping comfortably at the hospital was pushed at Jack’s worry as a reassurance. Then the Doctor focused on gathering up the essence-that-was-Jack. I have you, Jack. You’re safe too.
Suddenly the amorphousness snapped into a telepathic version of Jack that was crouched on the floor, huddled in a ball. “There you go, lad. Fantastic, that’s fantastic.” The psi-equivalent of the Doctor said, putting his arms around Jack.
But, I needed them to have more of a proper interaction, so switched it to something more akin to speaking here.
“Doctor?”
“You’ve had a lot more psi-training than I would have thought, Captain,” the Doctor whispered softly. “It’ll make this easier.”
“Easier? I.. I don’t understand.” Jack’s mental voice cracked with confusion and fear.
“Nothing for you to worry about. It’ll be okay.” He ran a hand through Jack’s hair, a bit shorter and spiker than he’d remembered it being, but it soothed the younger man just the same. “We just need to keep you alert and talking to me until the rescue party can get to you.”
I always thought that we see ourselves differently than we see others. In your mind's eye you would have a different perspective and that's why the psi-equivilent of Jack that the Doctor sees is a bit different.
“Talking? You mean thinking,” Jack teased, settling into the Doctor’s embrace.
“Very funny.” Letting his awareness spread the Doctor could sense that rescue work had finally begun, but that it was slow going. “I should have known you’d crack a joke at a time like this.”
“It’s the best way to face adversity, Doctor. Tell a joke. Or get drunk. Or have amazing sex. Or all three, if possible.”
Jack's all about keeping up appearances of being a carefree flirt, isn't he?
“I’m all for jokes. Jokes are good. And I suppose that maybe it might be possible to think about alcohol in a way that would wind up tricking your subconscious into considering itself drunk, but telepathic sex is impossible.”
I really thought I hit on Nine's speech patterns here.
“You sure about that?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. This Jack was paler than the real one and much younger looking without the typical bravado and arrogance.
This description of Jack was supposed to be two-fold. First, that psi-versions were a little different, but second that Jack is usually hiding who he really is behind a mask (a flirty, self-assured, mask) and without it he'd be more vunerable, less worldly.
“Quite sure.” The Doctor plastered a smile on his face. He could feel psychic tremors radiating from Jack as the effort of maintaining the connection strained him. “But I bet you’d like to prove me wrong, yeah?”
“That’d be a sucker’s bet.” Jack started to laugh, but it turned into a gasp almost immediately. “Betting against me... especially... especially when sex is involved...” The solidity of the presence in the Doctor’s arms began to waver.
I just had to slip that in.
“Careful, Jack. You have to concentrate, or you’ll succumb to the gas.” Pulling him closer, the Doctor focused his energy on helping maintain the contact.
“Not going to... get rid of me... that easily.” Jack’s tone was firm and steady, but the involuntary gasps and trembles betrayed him.
“Help is on its way. And as long as you’re here with me the effects of the gas are reversible.” The Doctor leaned down to kiss Jack on the forehead, hoping further contact on this psychic realm would help somehow, but the body in his arms was already losing its solid form. “Stay with me Jack, please. You can do it, stay with me.”
The Doctor always tries ( I was sort of thinking of him and Jade for this, when he said she'd burn up if she stayed- he wants to save people so badly, he's just failed time and time again at it)
Only a swirl of who-Jack-was remained, sending out a wave of sympathy and regret, I’m sorry Doctor, before it slipped away entirely.
Jack? Jack! He called, again and again, but there was no response. His calls just echoed back to him, unanswered.
Concentrating, he reined in his thoughts, returning to his conscious form. The Doctor sat there, barely aware of the hustle and bustle going on outside amidst the rescuers, frozen in disbelief. He’d failed. What was he going to tell Rose? How could he tell her that Jack, vibrant, flirtatious, fun loving Jack, was gone forever?
Eventually the Doctor picked himself up and left the storage room, resigned to his fate. Slipping into the hallway he ran smack dab into the scientist who he had talked to earlier.
“Ah, Doctor!” The happy fellow grabbed him into a hug. “You heard the news, then?” Seeing the look of confusion he explained, “A survivor! Isn’t that grand?”
“Someone was pulled out of the tunnels? Alive?” An impossible sense of hope bubbled up inside the Doctor. “Do you know who? Or how badly he was hurt?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know his name, but I managed to catch a glimpse of the handsome young thing before they took him off to the hospital and he didn’t look terribly injured. Perhaps there would be more information available about him there?”
"handsome young thing"- of course that'd be Jack!
The Doctor grabbed the scientist and planted a kiss on either cheek. Then he turned and took off without even noticing the flustering man he left in his wake.
It only took a few minutes to get to the hospital, but it felt so much longer. Desire and dismay were at war within him. He couldn’t let himself believe that Jack was alive until he had proof, otherwise the disappointment would be overwhelming. Carefully, he wheedled his way into the hospital and onto the floor that housed the survivors. The medicos recognized him, and immediately told him Rose was sleeping comfortably and would be fine by the morning. Then they pointed him in the direction of the room that housed the newest survivor.
The Doctor strode up to the door, only to stop once he got there. What if wasn’t Jack on the other side? It would be like failing him in the tunnels all over again. Paused, standing with his hand on the door, he felt the slightest burble of laughter coming from inside. Sending a burst of chiding love back he threw open the door and flew into the room, where Jack was waiting for him.
The Doctor's the eternal optimist. Someone had survived. It had to be Jack. But still, there was that moment, before he opened the door, when he began to doubt himself. Jack, of course, would find that funny.
The interesting thing about writing this was it never occurred to me to write telepathyfic as anything other than hurt/comfort. In my mind it was the only plausible situation for telepathy to wind up needing to be used. I was a little confused by the reactions to it that I got.