Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Jacobite and the Living Computer ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, the BBC does. This is a work of fanfiction based on a missing episode, The Prison In Space, and takes place after that episode. No harm is being done to the series or novels.

***

 

He Thing or She Thing?

Part One: Openings and Closings

Jamie and Zoe wearily trudged into the TARDIS console room. After the two children trotted the Doctor, sickeningly jubilant.

"Och, how can he be so cheerful after what we went thru?" snapped Jamie, irritably.

"Just because you're a wet blanket doesn't mean he has to be, Jamie."

"Wet blanket, me? Nau jest a minnit!"

"I think all of us need some rest and relaxation," said the Doctor quickly, stepping between his two young companions. Like some traffic conductor, he stood with both arms extended.

"There he goes again," complained Jamie. "As soon as he sets off fer some vacation, we're in it up to our necks!"

"Surely you can get it right this time, Doctor?" said Zoe, hands on her hips.

Ignoring them, the Doctor rubbed his hands together. Began to punch keys on the coordinate programmer. "Stand by for transference," he announced. In one hand he grabbed two demat levers, and edged them back. Simultaneously he edged the last one forward with his other hand.

Instinctively, Jamie grabbed the console. Gritted his teeth. Zoe shook her head, and still rested her hands on her hips.

The TARDIS coughed and banged. Wheezed itself into the fifth dimension with some protest. Zoe found herself groping at anything as she was thrown backwards. Jamie happened to be the most convenient solid object. As she shot past, he felt her grab onto his vest. With her momentum she pulled him backwards with her. Both of them landed smack on their backsides.

"Watch it nau," he snapped.

"What is it with you?" demanded she. "You've been treating me like some sort of enemy ever since we left!"

"Me? It's ye who's the queen of the maclarties lately!"

"Quiet!" shouted the Doctor, throwing up his hands. His large coat sleeves slid down to his elbows. "That's it! I've had enough!"

Zoe and Jamie stared at the Doctor in surprise. Normally he didn't yell at people when he would break up arguments. Slowly, Jamie got up, and helped Zoe to her feet this time.

"Thank you," he said, becoming calm once more. Smiling ruefully he folded his hands, pressing them to his mouth. Silence fell amongst the trio. For a few seconds Jamie and Zoe watched the column rise and fall. It was almost hypnotic.

"I can see there's more going on here than I expected," he said more to himself than to his two companions. Silently they glowered at each other. He could sense the waves of hostility radiating between them. "Oh, dear me. This is not good."

Neither youth talked to each other when the TARDIS landed. It had been a torturous few minutes for the Doctor. Anything he said might catapult Zoe and Jamie into some argument or another. "Talk about being diametrically opposed," he muttered.

So intently they were ignoring each other that they didn't see the Doctor rounding the console. Neither knew what those two circular panels were for. They just assumed it was some device vital to running the TARDIS.

He had heard something in the back of his mind. Felt a strange shiver that went past the boundary between conscious and subconscious thought. Absently he'd tied a knot in one of his coattail. His baggy jacket was clearly several sizes too large, but he loved the multitude of pockets to stash things in.

What compelled him to choose these particular coordinates over any other? To tell himself the truth, he just punched them in randomly. So distracted as he was by Jamie and Zoe's bickering. As he checked the coordinates and atmospheric readings, he paged through his 500-year diary. "Planet Delta Draconic four. Hmm. Says here that a small band of humans attempted to colonize there, but were unsuccessful. Can't help but wonder why."

"Er, we seem to have landed, if anybody's interested," he announced. Silence melted his cheerful comic face into a frown. "Ahem!"

"I'm not going anywhere, if she's comin' along," said Jamie, stubbornly. He poked a thumb in Zoe's general direction.

"You'd be crazy if you think I'm going anywhere with that simian primitive," she snapped, equally angry.

"Oh, is that so?" asked the Doctor. Slowly he walked around Zoe, glancing her from head to toe. Face set into an indifference pose, she turned her back to Jamie. "You know what I see here?"

Then he crossed the room, circling Jamie. With sharp eyes the young Highlander followed the Doctor's path. "Dissention. A failure to communicate. Could be very unpleasant, you know."

"Aye. She dosnae listen to a word I say," agreed Jamie.

"That's not true," she spat back, looking over one shoulder.

"Sounds as if she heard you just now, Jamie," the Doctor pointed out. He stood close to his old friend, his head only inches from Jamie's left shoulder. "I think it would be wise if you both stopped talking, and started listening to what the other has to say."

"But Doctor, she's being impossible . . ."

The Doctor shook his head. "The first step to successful communication is, well, making the first step. Think about it, if that's not too much to ask."

He winced at the Doctor's verbal jab. Tucking hands into his belt, he sauntered over to the hallway.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going to look round outside," said the Doctor, cheerfully.

"I'm not going anywhere with him," she repeated, sitting in the ornately carved Louis XVI chair.

"Fine," said the Doctor, coming close to her now. "You both can stay here inside the TARDIS until you work out your differences."

"But Doctor, surely . . . "

"Ah, Zoe, I'm not playing games. I am quite serious."

He turned to the console. Beside the door switch, he pressed a few buttons.

"Whatever are you doing?" asked Zoe. Curiousity overided her sulking.

"Setting the door controls. There's a special option for infrared identification. It's a security measure. It opens the door for whatever pattern of heat I intend it to."

"I've never seen that before."

"Say for instance that someone managed to break into the TARDIS. Once I set the program to only open for a distinctive heat pattern, the door would simply not open for this particular person. When you first came on board, the TARDIS took readings of your life signs. And stored them in its Data Bank."

"By setting this switch here," and here he flipped on a switch.

"And this one here," he said, pressing another button beside it. "I can set the doors to only open if the TARDIS sensors detect your heat pattern."

"How interesting. An infrared security detector."

"Why did you never use it before?" broke in Jamie. Just his head and shoulders slipped from behind the door that led to the rest of the TARDIS. He'd decided leaving the Console room was not as exciting as he'd thought.

"I've never had the need to," he answered simply, looking over his shoulder. "Until now."

Jamie glanced at Zoe, shrugging. She glanced back, still perplexed. "It's activated now. From the inside," she realized, finger resting on the indicator. "I thought it functioned usually to keep people out."

Realizing he was paying attention to her, the Highlander quickly turned away. He dissapeared through the closing door, and left Zoe and the Doctor still stood side-by side at the console.

"Now I'm going to have a look round. You two are quite welcome to join me. But there's one catch."

"What?" asked Zoe.

"You both must exit the doors at the same exact moment. Both you and Jamie together. Only the combination of your two heat patterns will open the door, from the inside."

"Wait a minute!" Zoe protested, reaching out for his coat sleeve.

Nimbly he dodged her grasp, and hit the door switch. Hearing the noise, Jamie sprang into the room. Both he and Zoe watched the Doctor skip through the rapidly opening doors.

Already he stood outside the TARDIS. A fresh wind blew into the Console room, washing out the stuffiness inside. "Looks quite pleasant."

"If you think yuir going out there without me," said Jamie, dashing across the floor. "Yuir daft!"

Zoe stayed beside the console, adamantly keeping her distance from the Scot. Immediately the doors swung shut.

"Wait jest a minnit!" snapped the Highlander, jumping back before he smashed his nose in the shutting doors. "Hey, let us out of here!" Futilely he banged on the doors. They refused to open.

"It's not good, Jamie," laughed Zoe. "He's not going to open them."

"Dinna be daft! I know where the switch is," he snorted, marching over to the hexagon console. His hands immediately found the right switch. Flipped it. Nothing happened.

Zoe switched on the scanner. They could see the Doctor, waving to them.

"Incidentally," came his voice over the speaker. "I would suggest you two solve your little differences and come outside. It's rather exciting."

"Don't be ridiculous, Doctor," said Zoe. "You can't expect us to stay cooped up in here!"

His only response to her was a cheerful smile. Over the scanner screen.

"Doctor, open this door!" she shouted.

"It's no guid, lass," said Jamie irritably. "He cannae hear you outside."

"What a mean, rotten trick," she snapped. Frustrated, she slammed her fist down on the console. "Of all the underhanded, low-down . . ."

"What're ye on about nau?"

"He's locked us in here on purpose. The only means of egress for you or I, is for us to leave simultaneously!"

"Tha's what he told me, in English, mind you."

***

Part Two: Under scrutiny

"Look, I told you I don't remember anything after they put me into that correction chamber."

"Oh, aye. That's convenient! You weren't locked up in a cell. All they did was put ye in school!"

Highlander and astrophysicist fumed at each other. Short dark hair swirling around her head, Zoe turned on him. Sterile white lights glared off her plastic outfit. Still, she was clad in that crazy miniskirt and jacket with the scallop pattern border.

Jamie combed fingers violently through his straight, brown hair. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. Warily, hazel eyes fixed on the young woman.

"Do you think I enjoyed that beastly place?" asked Zoe, circling the room. "It was all I could do to pursuade those instructors that I wasn't mad."

"Did a guid job o' that didn't ye?"

"For your information, Jamie, I had them convinced that being feminine was in fact not a crime."

"Jest be glad you didnae ha to put on one of those daft dolly-guard outfits! It was absolutely ridiculous!"

Zoe covered her mouth, dimples betraying her amusement. "The Doctor told me all about that," she giggled. "I bet you looked cute. Sewn into a miniskirt that was a bit shorter than usual for you."

Mouth dropping open, Jamie glared at her. "Come on now!" he groaned. "How many times do I have to tell ye? It's no a skirt I'm wearing! It's a kilt!"

"Sorry," she said, trying to stop laughing at the mental image of him in a mini-skirt and spandex. She looked so smug with those sickeningly cute dimples in her cherubic cheeks.

"And well ye shuild be," he nodded, warily crossing over to the far end of the console room. "After what we went thru to get you out of there."

"What does our last adventure have to do with what we just came through?"

"If the Doctor hadna insisted on stopping by the capital to check on the men . . ."

"But he had to make certain things were under control on Gynion. Reversing years of rule by women takes a while, you know."

"Aye."

"Why those men were scared of those women running after them. It took quite a spot of sociology to put them right now."

"What? Men chasing after the women instead of women chasin after the men? Like that's a big improvement."

"Oh, of course not. The main idea is to get them to socially interact through a controlled set of social norms. Like courtship and moonlight, gazing into each other's eyes, billet-deux . . ."

"Billet-deux?"

"You know. Love letters." Still he looked blankly at her. "Amorous admiration of the opposite sex, from afar."

"There were plenty of the other sex glancing at ye right enau!"

"Why, Jamie," she smiled. "I do believe, you're jealous."

"Don't be ridiculous. Jealous of what?"

"You are jealous. It's a typical human response to deny jealousy, when one is in fact guilty of it."

"Is that more o' yuir fancy education?" he asked, thrusting hands into his thick leather belt. The beautiful silver buckle was well framed by the vest hanging from his shoulders.

"My fancy education has gotten us out of quite a lot of fixes, Mister McCrimmon," she retorted. "You were jealous about me paying more attention to those men on Gynion than you."

"Now what do I ha to be jealous of?" he wondered, raising his eyebrows. "Of a bunch o' lads looking at a lass? Tha happens all the time."

"Case in point. I pay attention to you, and you push me away."

"Wha are ye talking aboot?"

"Surely you must know. A few minutes back there, you wouldn't even look me in the face. And whenever I'd open my mouth, you'd snap at me."

"Aye, well, I suppose I am a bit angry, yes."

"See."

"You and yuir self righteousness! Honestly, do ye always have to be right?"

"It's my job to be correct. At least back on Space Station XL7J833 it was. I'm a scientist, after all."

"Well, in case ye hadnae noticed, we're no on that space wheel thing any more!"

"Oh, what a brilliant observation," she snapped, throwing up her hands. "Do you have any more urgent facts to relate to me?"

"There ye go again! Saying I'm stupid. Because I'm no from yuir time!"

"I never said that!"

"Yuir jest like the Doctor. They all treat me like I'm an idjit!" he snapped. To punctuate each syllable, he stabbed the air with his index finger. "Because I've niver seen electronic gizmos in my ain time! But I'll tell ye, at least I know how to enjoy living!"

"Okay, okay," sighed Zoe. "Maybe I seemed like I was putting on a superior act. But I never recall saying you're stupid! Not at all."

"So prove t' me, then. Give me a couple o' reasons then, in yuir scientific opinion, that I'm jest as capable as ye in a disaster."

"You, er . . ." she began, then blanked.

"Well?"

"Give me a moment."

"See," he spat. Pointed at her. "You think I'm an idjit. Because I cannae understand yuir math and science."

They stood on opposite sides of the Console room, backs turned to each other. It just may well have been a chasm. Zoe bit her nails. Jamie was being sarcastic, and abrasive. But he had a point. Perhaps she had been underestimating him lately. At that moment Zoe began to remember the many times Jamie had pulled them out of trouble. Like the time on Dulkis when he had the idea of tunneling to catch the atomic seed device. Or when he bulldozed a Quark with nothing more than a couple of rocks.

She had to admit he was brave. Did the best with what resources were available. Even when he sprayed plastic all over a laser gun, and just happened to disable it. By pure chance. To stop the Space Wheel from blowing up a rocket where the Doctor landed the TARDIS. That did happen long ago, back on her beloved space station. Where she first met the Doctor and Jamie. It seemed so far removed from her in space and time, like a dream that melts away when a person wakes. Would she ever get back?

Right now she could hardly care.

Leo Ryan snapped at her one time, when the Cybermen attacked. What was it he said? That she was nothing but a thinking machine, incapable of emotion. She felt so guilty when the meteors tumbled toward the incapacitated space station, and she couldn't predict what to do. For all her advanced education, she was incapable of living a real life. Equations and physics could not prepare her for random whims of fate. She remembered sitting there at her desk, gloomy. Jamie had stood over her, assuring her that she'd be all right. That she was dealing with the situation in the best way she knew how.

He was right. Oh, was he ever right, and she hated him for it. How was she to know what to think? In her adventures with the Doctor, she'd felt more emotion than she'd felt in her whole life. She'd been scared, sad, happy, elated. A whole spectrum of emotions was buried far beneath fact.

Faintly the hum of the TARDIS penetrated her silent introspection. She turned to Jamie, who was staring up at the scanner screen. When he was angry, he'd sulk. Or he'd pretend to ignore her. That was so typical of him. How could someone, who was close to her age, be so different from her?

He wasn't from her time. No more than she was from his. Fighting was a way of life to the Highlander. It wasn't to her. Neither was having him leap to her rescue when she was in danger. How primitive and sexist this seemed. Yet, how flattering, at the same time.

She had witnessed the product of ultra-feminism, back on Gynion. To the point where men were excluded from society. It was just as unbearable as male dominated societies on Earth. Reverse discrimination, she recalled.

"Jamie, what I'm trying to tell you," Zoe began. "Is that you're right."

"Is that so?" he grunted. Quietly she approached him.

"I admit, I've got no right to judge you. And I suppose I do treat you like you're less than capable."

"Aye, well that's no real surprise. After all, you are from that huge space station n' all."

"I had to learn quite a lot of technology to be able to cope on that station. With the rigors of my career . . ."

"What, with machines that ring up water like magic? Have ye ever been wi'out food and drink fer days on end, in the middle of a war?"

"But I have been scared for my life, Jamie," she countered. "And since I've traveled with you and the Doctor, I've learned what it's like to truly live."

Jamie turned his head to look at her. Gone were the hard lines of computer brilliance. Those intelligent brown eyes looked vulnerable. It was a strange transformation. He'd seen Zoe like this before, when she was faced with something she couldn't explain. She was afraid.

Her veneer was cracking. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I'll not make that mistake again."

"Aye. Well, thank you," he said, looking down at his boots. Not looking right at her.

"I just don't understand you," she said, resting a hand on her hip. "Now you won't even look at me."

"What do ye expect me to say? You said yuir sorry, an I accept it. So what else are ye expectin me t' say?"

"It's . . . nothing," she said, turning away. Both of them now stood close to the Console, the only neutral territory in the chamber.

"You women," he sighed. "Can never understand what yuir thinking. Ye expect me to say and do things I dinna even ken what yuir talking aboot."

"Oh, honestly, why do I bother?" she sighed to herself. Black lashed eyes shut, frustrated. Confront them honestly, and they turn to mush. Try to hint to them, and they stare at you dumbfounded. Zoe frowned, running her hand along the edge of one control panel. Felt an aching inside her. Something she'd ignored long before. All the arguing, and the bickering became pointless. It was just a smokescreen.

"There you go again," she snapped, turning to him once again. "Making these sweeping generalizations about women. What do you know that I don't about women? That's the trouble with men. You think you have to figure us out all the time."

"That's because you drive us daft," he explained.

"Let me explain something to you," she said, grabbing his arm. "We're not talking about just men and women in general. We really are talking about you and me. You're from the past, I'm from the future. We just don't jive because of the time difference. And no, this isn't more of my fancy education, James Robert McCrimmon." "Well, Zoe Herriott," he countered. "What do we have in common?"

"We're human beings, both out of our own times. And we both made the decision to stick with the Doctor."

"Aye well. Tha's sensible enau."

He folded his arms across his chest. His sturdy MacLaren kilt, seemed so strange in the ultra modern control room. That button-up canvas shirt he wore, with the striped cravat wrapped around his bare neck, made him look remotely like a boy scout. Everything about Jamie was an anachronism.

"I wonder what's keeping the Doctor," he murmured, glancing up at the scanner screen again. "Why hasnae he come back?"

"You're right. He's been away for a while, hasn't he."

"Jest a few minutes he said," sighed Jamie, clenching his jaw and biting his bottom lip. "I don't like it."

Zoe took his wrist and looked at his watch. "It's been nearly two hours. Surely it can't take that long to talk to a Time Lord."

"Sh!" he hissed, lifting his hand. His eyebrows lowered, and he concentrated.

"What?"

"Do you no hear it, Zoe?"

"Hear what?" she asked.

"A strange sort of noise . . . in the background."

"All I hear is the TARDIS," she began. "No wait. I . . . It's too difficult to make out."

"Close yuir eyes, and concentrate," he said. "Mebbe we can both tell what it is if we block everything else out."

Both of them shut their eyes. Zoe attenuated all thoughts to her hearing. She could do that, by partitioning her mind to concentrate on one sense to expand her perception. Jamie knew this, without having attended an Enhanced Perception class at the Parapsychic Institute. What other things did he know that she did?

"Stop it, Zoe," she scolded herself. "Must concentrate on the noises in the room." Yes, there was the humming of the TARDIS. And the faint hissing of the nerves firing in her brain. She struggled to listen beyond the room. A strange throb seemed to rise all around her. It was just under the range of her hearing, a low frequency sound. Perhaps Jamie's senses were sharper than hers. In the future there were tape recorders and video cameras to capture such images. After all, he was from a time when hearing and sight were a necessity. On a battlefield with Redcoat soldiers, listening for the slightest sounds through the mist.

Just the tiniest bit she opened one eye. She glimpsed Jamie, leaning with his back against the TARDIS console. Eyes were closely pressed shut, as he concentrated. Somehow he must be sorting through all the sounds in his perception.

"Like some sort of a low sound . . . not a high-pitched one," he muttered.

"Sound natural or manmade?" she asked, standing right in front of him.

"I dinna ken."

"A voice?"

"No."

"A nuclear pulse generator perhaps?"

"What?"

She scolded herself for forgetting to speak in ways he could understand. "Like thunder?"

"Aye, like thunder. Very low. Can't quite-- ah yes. A sort of rumbling. That keeps repeating over and over. Almost like someone--. och no, that's daft."

"What?"

"Like someone talking, really low. At a really slow speed."

"What do you mean?"

"Ye know, when ye run one of them tape recorder things really slow. And the words are low and slurred together. That's what this sounds like. If I can jest make out the words…"

So intently he stood there. Zoe moved closer, studying his face. That strong sturdy jaw clenched as he listened. His freckled skin looked slightly blotched under the bright TARDIS lights. It was now so quiet she could hear her own rumbling in her ears. Even the TARDIS humming couldn't drown out the strange eerie noise. Something was outside the ship, something large and frightening. Jamie had somehow evaluated a tangible explanation for the rumbling. With his scant knowledge of technology. Seeing him there, so closely concentrating, made Zoe feel nervous. After all, he usually had a good sense for danger.

Grinning to herself, she forced away the fears. Fear was irrational. Zoe tried to focus on tangible objects. Around her were the high walls of the TARDIS, solid and steady. Hard to believe they were compressed into an outer volume just the size of a few square meters. Circuits flickered and chattered to themselves in electronic lingo. Yes, this was real enough.

Just beneath the rumbling she heard it. A slow garbled rush, almost unintelligible at first. Yet the more she concentrated, the more she could hear. Till the moaning burble eerily echoed somewhere outside.

Ever so silently she moved closer to the young Scot, and reached out. He didn't even flinch when she grasped hold of his striped scarf. Easy enough, for he always left the ends, thrust through a silver ring, dangling well down his chest. Nor did he stop to notice Zoe standing on her tiptoes to reach him.

Height was annoying. She was shorter than Jamie or the Doctor, by about five inches. Both of them were well under six feet high. Giggling to herself, Zoe slid her left arm around his neck. She felt the blood pounding behind her ears, and her nerves firing in rapid succession.

"Eh, what's this . . . " was all he could choke out before she cut him off. Hot blood rushed to his cheeks, and he shivered. Small arms gripped around his neck with surprising strength. His first impulse was that she was trying to strangle him. But how on earth could you strangle somebody by just muffling their mouth with your face? No one smothered their breath like this? By the time he blinked, he had a living, breathing woman in his arms. Was this really how they kissed in her time, perhaps?

She strained to reach him. Even though he leaned with his back against the edge of the Tardis Console. Slowly and rhythmically she moved her head from side to side. So softly she touched him; it was almost tender. Nevertheless, he could feel her slender body trembling. Instinctively, Jamie stopped trying to tear her from his grasp, and relaxed. He was sure his own knees were shaking. This couldn't be quite right, after all. Should she be doing this to him? Part of him didn't care. He'd only been kissed like this once.

And the sensible side of the Highlander was screaming to quit. It wasn't proper. She was just his friend, after all. Ah well, he wasn't about to complain. Funny how she insisted on opening her mouth and grasping him so tightly, as if he'd disappear. He found himself slowly trace his hand down the curve of her back. He immersed his fingers in her straight, black hair. This daft lassie from some future time was incredibly attractive. Why had he never realized this before?

"I did hear what you described," she gasped, voice low. Only inches from his nose, her brown eyes looked nervously up at him. Still, she gripped his shoulders. Jamie was still trying to take in what just happened.

"Aye, I told ye it was someone's voice." His strong arms tightened around her waist protectively. Usually he held her protectively when both were faced with an unknown danger. However, this time the contact felt different. They held each other now-- front to front-- and wondered what the next moment would bring. Smooth thighs and hips pressed up against his kilt. Any minute he expected her to smack him in the face. Push him away and accuse him of being daft.

"Jamie," she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

"Yes, Zoe?" he answered.

"I heart it too. A low voice like a tape running at a slow speed," she whispered.

"Dinnae worry," he said, struggling to steady his shaking voice. That rumbling shot through his head. Inside his chest he could feel his heart racing. Zoe shivered, still wrapped in his arms. Her brown eyes flicked back and forth in the silent room. Against his shirt he felt her heart pounding faster than his.

"But there was yet another noise, that's overtop of the rumbling."

"Aye."

"Someone's out there, singing . . . "

"Tha's no what I hear," he said.

"I'm talking about that singing, off key."

"Singing, off key?" he repeated. The TARDIS doors began to swing open.

Both teenagers jumped apart. Zoe turned away, hiding her face. Jamie gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Cheerfully the Doctor waltzed into the Console Room. Jet black hair was fringed slightly out of place. "Ah, Jamie, Zoe!" he said. "Ready to leave now?"

Jamie still stood there, stunned. Next to the console, he clutched its side for support. Pushing her bobbed hair behind her ears, Zoe started to rub her temples. She looked a bit wobbly on her feet.

"Zoe, wait," he spluttered, reaching out one hand to her as she stumbled away.

As she walked past the Doctor, she tripped. "Sorry Doctor," she murmured, catching hold of the front of his jacket. "But I've not been feeling quite well, lately."

"Come to think of it, you look a bit peaky," said the Doctor, eyebrows knitting in concern. Briefly he glanced at her, gripping her arms to support her. "Why don't you go lie down, my dear? I'll fill you in later."

Zoe exited, hands to her head.

"What happened out there, Doctor?" Jamie managed to ask. "I heard this strange voice."

"Just a spot of negotiations. No need for you two to bother about. But we're off."

"Just like that?" Jamie asked, as the Doctor crossed over to the console. He closed the doors, and started throwing switches.

"You may have heard the voice of to whom I was talking," said the Doctor. "Pleasant enough chaps, the Gantruar. Just had a friendly chat with them."

"But ye were gone so long we were worried, sick. And that's a lot longer than jest having a word or two with someone."

"The Gantruar with which I spoke are rather large, Jamie."

"I imagined they must be giants."

"Precisely one hundred feet high, and massive. In the time it takes for one to say one word, a human would stand around waiting when to reply."

"I thought they sounded like thunder. I was right."

"Rather difficult to hold a long conversation with them," sighed the Doctor. "But no problem to a Time Lord."

"So yer saying that whoever made the mistake o' messing with them didnae take the time to talk with them?"

"They didn't even realize that they were being spoken to, Jamie. As far as they were concerned, the planet was becoming dangerously geologically active. In this case, the phenomenon was far from volcanic in origin."

"So where to now, Doctor?" Jamie asked. Hands thrust in his leather vest pockets, he looked over the Doctor's shoulder. Still, he was punching keys.

Strangely they had not yet dematerialized.

"Off for rest and relaxation. By the look of Zoe, she probably could use a vacation."

"Aye," mumbled Jamie. Looking at the figures flickering across the digital display didn't make him any wiser. Just a lot of strange numbers to him. It might as well be in Greek.

"By the way, nice lipstick," said the Doctor, casually. "Crystal rose, I believe?"

"Eh, what?" Jamie spluttered, wiping away at his lips with the tip of his cravat. Those pink stains looked suspicious.

On they hurtled through the Vortex. Leaving the Gantruar far behind on their planet, where a colony of humans was struggling to survive.

Jamie was still stunned. She had kissed him. She, Zoe Herriott--the logical calculating scientist-- had kissed him. He didn't know whether to be scared or flattered. Surely she was just playing a joke.

Not a word had been exchanged between them since. She'd been in bed, with some sort of a sickness that the Doctor couldn't explain. For nearly an hour she'd slipped into a deep sleep. Jamie was the one who usually fell asleep whenever the opportunity presented itself.

As usual, the Doctor didn't say where they were going. He sat cross-legged on a chaise lounge. His nimble fingers moved up and down on the holes drilled in his striped recorder. Jamie lay on the horsehair sofa, trying to fall asleep. Which wasn't easy with the half pitches of Twinkle, twinkle, little star echoing in the Parlor. That's the name Jamie gave this particular room, filled with various pieces of furniture from various times.

Jamie turned over for the tenth time. It was just no good. He couldn't get her out of his mind. He'd close his eyes, and see her dark, elvish features appear out of the darkness. Black as her hair, and her brown eyes. That softness of her warm lips and breath plagued him. It was safer to think of her as a lass that he argued with from time to time. But now he felt awkward, uncomfortable. Finally he sat up. Scratched his head. "Doctor," he said. "What's wrong wi' Zoe?" he asked.

No response. Now the tones of some obscure abstract song issued from the recorder. Only his eyebrows raised in question as he struggled to find the right note.

Patiently the young Highlander tried again. Adjusted his kilt and crossed the ornate Persian carpet to where the Doctor sat. "Doctor, wha's wrong wi' Zoe?" he repeated. "The wee lass has been acting strange."

"Since when?"

"Since, well when we left that planet. Where the lassies were uppity."

"After you gave her that stern spanking?"

"It was jest a wee larruping," he said defensively. Jade green eyes fixed on him.

"Well, it cured her, didn't it?"

"I do admit it was appropriate, under the circumstances," admitted the Doctor, peering through the bore of his recorder. Pulling off the mouthpiece, he stuck his finger into the shaft. To check for dust. "Certainly did the trick to shock her out of the Conditioning. But she was subjected to extremely deep trauma. It appears to be affecting her more than I thought."

"Do ye mean she's sick?"

"Well, not physically. But emotionally. There could be some critical emotional aftereffects."

"How do ye ken?" asked Jamie, none the wiser.

"Just look at the way you two were arguing."

"Ah, well, we do ye know."

"I'm not referring to your normal bickering. If you recall the episode in the TARDIS Control room, you were at each other's throats."

"She started it," snapped Jamie, hands on his hips.

"Her will was warped by the conditioning, Jamie. A whole lifetime of values twisted into Babs' ideals. Even Zoe's mind might not snap back right away."

"She might never recover?" gasped Jamie.

"I wouldn't say that," said the Doctor, looking up at Jamie thoughtfully.

"What do we do?" he asked, hands outstretched. He didn't like this at all.

"Stay close to her. Reassure her that we are her friends. Respond to her fears as if they were real threats."

"What are ye saying?"

"One of the aftereffects of brainwashing is a struggle to regain one's identity," explained the Doctor. Whipping out his handkerchief, he began to polish his recorder. "The mind struggles to make sense of events, and scrambles to find the right set of values."

"But surely she can remember right from wrong."

"I don't doubt that. But her mind could experience paranoia."

"Para what?"

"She might begin to see things that don't exist. Fantasize her fears. Translate the world into a fantasy she can understand. But that's part of the mind healing itself."

"Oh. I still don get it, Doctor. How do we help her fight something in her mind?"

"All we can do is watch and wait, Jamie."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm paying a visit to an old friend," said the Doctor. He fitted the pieces of his disassembled instrument back together. "Someone who might be able to treat Zoe's condition. Or at least offer advice."

"When will we arrive, do ye think?"

"Oh, Jamie," he sighed. "Don't you know better then to ask me a question like that?"

"Aye, well, wake me when we get there," sighed Jamie. "I'm going to ma own bed. Haven't slept a wink o' decent sleep fer days."

"You go on, Jamie. I'll wake you if there's any change. I'm going to have a bit of a thought. Let's see. Perhaps London bridge is falling down."

A few sour notes later, he reconstructed the tune to the famous nursery rhyme. At least it was one that the Highlander had remotely heard of from his past. Slowly Jamie dragged himself to his room. The Highlander didn't notice the Doctor looking at him thoughtfully.

***

Part Three: Inside out

"Doctor! Jamie!" echoed a voice. "Help me!"

Jamie sat boldly upright. A loud scream pierced his ears. "Victoria?" he gasped, still not fully awake.

He realized he was sleeping in his own bed. In the small room he'd adopted in the TARDIS. The lights were dim. Just how long had he been asleep?

Rubbing his eyes, he yawned. There was nothing but silence. Perhaps he'd been dreaming of Victoria again. The thought of her made his face crumple with an aching loss. He'd never been able to tell her.

He glanced at his watch. The thick leather band was still strapped to his wrist. Twenty after ten. PM. Such a thing like consulting a watch had little meaning to a person traveling outside of time. Jamie had only recently learned to tell time. A good eight-hour's solid he'd slept. Even though he felt better, it still didn't seem like enough.

Then he remembered. Zoe was ill. Soon they'd arrive on a planet where the Doctor hoped he could find help.

Slowly, he pressed hands against the mattress. It yielded, almost sucking him under again. He shook off sleep, and the covers. Jamie reached for his kilt, automatically wrapping the wool garment around his waist. Next, he put on his shirt, that he'd thrown over a nearby chair.

A few minutes later he crept down darkened corridors. Strange that the lights were dim. The Doctor only turned them off when the crew slept. Surely he didn't leave without telling them.

But he did this sometimes. Creeping out when Zoe and Jamie were fast asleep, on a private adventure. Then he'd show up suddenly, having saved some society from the brink of destruction.

The Doctor would have waked him. If they had arrived. At least that's what he said.

"Jamie! Doctor!" a voice called once more. "Please help me!"

"Zoe!" he gasped. Through the darkened mazes he raced. Where was her room, again? All he could do was follow her cries. Jamie's boots pounded against a hard floor.

"I'm coming, lass!" he cried. "Hold on!"

Zoe's yells grew louder. Luckily, his good sense of direction was kicking in. Instinctively he remembered the layout of the winding corridors.

Just what had the Doctor said was wrong with her? Trauma? Mental trauma. Paranoia. Such words Jamie hardly ever used in Scotland. Not back in seventeen-forty-five. A whole unused vocabulary had been thrust on him in the last few years.

He burst through her door, expecting to jump on some assassin. Spun around in the darkness. "All right ye Sassenaches! Come out and fight . . ."

"Thank goodness," gasped Zoe weakly. She huddled in the small bed, a white ghost under the scant light. Her face looked bone-white with those dark large eyes staring through the gloom.

"I heard ye scream," he said, panting. With more force than necessary he slapped the light panel, casting the room into brightness.

Zoe squinted, and blinked. Even though the light was dimmer than in the Control room. "Ow! Not so bright!"

"Sorry," he said, coming over to her. "What's wrong? It sounded as if someone were attacking ye!"

Carefully he sat on the edge of her bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Dark hair, normally pulled back into a thick band, hung over her face. That intelligent young face now stared past him as if he didn't exist. Brown eyes grew frighteningly large.

"Och, ye jest had a bad dream, that's all," he soothed, taking her hand. Slowly he patted it.

"It wasn't an illusion, Jamie," she snapped, pulling her hand away. "I saw something! Something tried to attack me."

"Dinna be daft, lass!" he scoffed. "How could anyone get in here without the Doctor letting them in? Ye ken he's the only one who can turn the key t' get in the TARDIS."

"But you reacted as if there was someone ready to attack me," she insisted. "You must have sensed it too."

"That was jest a reflex," he insisted. "Ye ken that I fought at Culloden Muir, in the past!"

"Where's the Doctor?" she asked him, eyes registering him.

"I thought he would come in here, t'check on ye by nau."

"I haven't seen him."

"Ye mean he hasnae come in here at all?"

"I've been asleep. How could I know?"

"Och, he's gone and left us again."

"He couldn't have . . . " she gasped. White fingers grabbed the edge of her bedspread.

"No I mean that the Doctor sometimes sneaks away, and comes right back. He's done it before. He said he'd land on some planet where there was someone who could get ye some help."

"Whatever for? I'm not sick!"

Jamie snapped his mouth shut. Then he slowly explained, "Ye said ye weren't feeling well before, when we left that last planet."

"Oh, yes. I suppose I must have dozed off. But I'm feeling fine now. Just a bit, frightened."

Jamie looked at his watch. "Tis rather late. Can I get ye anything? A glass of water or something?"

"Please, I'm parched. But, don't be gone too long, will you?"

"I'll be back in two shakes."

He returned. Zoe was laying on her side, still weak and drawn. Jamie read the fear in her sleeping frown as she clutched her pillow to her chest. Like a statue she lay, with lips parted slightly.

"Where's the Doctor when ye need him?" muttered Jamie crossly to himself. Soft lights in the room bathed her skin. Zoe had long ago taped a pink and purple veil over the light to mute its stark sterile effect. Soft purple filtered light transformed Jamie's tartan. The red and yellow of the MacLaren were painted sick puce. Zoe's soft powder blue bedspread appeared deep violet.

"Zoe?" he said softly, shaking her shoulder.

"Oh," she whispered, blinking as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Here's yuir water. Careful nau."

She gripped the plastic cup, fumblingly. Even though she insisted she was fine, somehow she wasn't. He gently guided the cup to her mouth.

"That's it. All down nau. Good."

She managed to finish it all. "What did the Doctor say about me?"

"He well, said that you were suffering from some trauma. From that correction or conditioning probe. And that you're no yet recovered. He's taking the TARDIS to a friend who says he can help you."

"But I'm not sick. Just tired."

"You dinna look well, Zoe," said Jamie. "You look as white as a ghost."

With his left hand he touched her forehead, and recoiled. "Och, you're as cold as ice!"

"I do feel a bit chilly," she said, straightening up in the bed. Jamie noticed the nightgown she wore. Blue feathers spilled over the neckline and cuffs of a nylon. Jamie didn't recognized that it was a 1920's bathrobe borrowed from some flapper many journeys ago.

"Where's the blasted heat control around here?" he muttered, standing. Hastily he hunted for a thermostat switch.

"Jamie, please stop pacing," she sighed. "You're making me dizzy."

"Sorry. I'm jest worried about the Doctor."

"Where is he?" asked Zoe.

"Tell you what. I'm going to the console room, and checking that scanner thing. Mebbe if I can see what's outside . . ."

"Wait, take me along," she said, throwing aside her covers.

"I dinna ken if that's all right."

"Oh, don't be silly," she said. Zoe swung her feet around to the edge of the bed. When Jamie grasped her hand, she managed to stand.

Together they crept into the Console room. Like the corridors, it too was dark. Nowhere could they see the Doctor. Only the faint emergency lights cast a dim glow in the room.

"It's funny how all the lights up here are off, and my bedroom lights are working," said Zoe.

Carefully Jamie carried a flickering lantern in one hand. Long shadows danced on the huge walls. Dozens of black crescents covered them, the instant they entered. Jamie hunted for the light switch in vain.

"Aye, it's like that all over the TARDIS. I cannae tell what's wrong. Tha Fault locater says there's a . . . somthing blown."

"A circuit?" she said, helpfully.

"Aye, tha's it. But some of the other circuits are still going."

"Now which one of these controls activates the scanner?" she asked.

Jamie immediately flipped a switch. The screen flickered into life. A strange pastel landscape illuminated their faces. Gentle, red sand hills curved against sherbet green sky. "Och, that's weird," he muttered. "Definitely not earth."

"I don't see the Doctor anywhere out there," said Zoe.

"Well, he wouldnae jest pop out and wave to us."

"Don't you think I know that?" she snapped.

"That's strange," muttered the Highlander, shaking his head. "I could swear I saw some buildings."

"Jamie!" she cried, gripping his arm. Again she stared past the walls and the room, into some unknown dimension.

"What?"

"The voices, telling me what to do!"

Zoe clasped hands to her head. "Leave me alone, damn you!" she cried. Tried not to scream. Strange images swirled and distorted reality. It was as if her life itself had gone out of focus. "I refuse . . . to let you into my mind!"

All Jamie saw was Zoe writhing in agony, strangely silently screaming.

"That does it," he snapped. "I'm going outside!"

His hands found the door control. And flipped the simple metal switch. "Och, what's with this?" he asked. Stubbornly the doors remained shut.

Again he tried the control. "Come on, you sasanache machine!"

Desperately he grabbed Zoe's arm. Pulled her over toward the door. Perhaps if they both stood in front of it, the door might open. That is if the Doctor forgot to set the infrared sensor to their heat patterns.

"Who's the heathen coward that wuild strike at a lass wi' magic?" he shouted, at the top of his lungs. For that was the only explanation he could cudgel from his brain for Zoe's silent torment.

Lifeless, she sagged to the floor. Invisible wires, her life's support into reality, had been snipped. The young Highlander caught her as she crumpled. Glancing up at the scanner screen though the dark, he noticed the sherbet landscape. Not a cloud marred the gentle sky with twin suns. Jamie scowled. For all he knew, this could be an illusion. What kind of hell was Zoe experiencing?

Then the faint humming all around him ceased. Always Jamie could hear the TARDIS generators ticking away, even when the ship had landed. Something very odd was going on here. Lights that went on in some parts of the ship, while others didn't, or the scanner screen operating while the door wasn't.

Carefully he carried her. Luckily she wasn't that heavy. Like a rag doll she lay across his arms, totally limp. Strange coldness spread throughout her body. Jamie bit his lip. He didn't know quite what to do. To make matters worse, the Doctor was nowhere to be found. And they were stuck inside the TARDIS.

Jamie kicked the door open with one foot, balancing Zoe in his hands. Luckily her light was still on. Then turning sideways, he tried not to bang her legs against the doorway as he entered. Lowered her onto the bed. Pulled the covers over her, and tucked them around her body.

Then he sat on the side of the bed. Waited. What else could he do? Anger rose in him. How could the Doctor just leave them here, when Zoe might be gravely ill, possibly dying?

Yet, the Doctor said it was in her mind. Maybe, if he could somehow convince her she wasn't sick, she'd get better. How on Earth would he do that, when she was unconscious?

Zoe's eyes flicked open. "Och, guid. Yuir awake," he smiled, relieved.

"I fainted, didn't I," she grumbled. "Just great. Playing the vulnerable female again. However did I get back here?"

"I carried ye. From the Console room."

Zoe blushed. "You really didn't have to, you know."

"What, leave you on that hard, cold floor? Dinna be daft."

"Jamie, what is happening to me?" she asked him. "It was horrible. As if reality itself was twisted . . . I couldn't keep my balance!"

"I cannae tell..."

"It's not like I can explain it, scientifically. I... don't know what was more frightening. The experience itself, or not being able to explain it!"

"But you'll get better, see!"

"I hope the Doctor's okay," she said, trying to change the subject. He couldn't understand this strange void in her reasoning. Or could he?

"I'm worried too. He might get into trouble, without me there to keep him out of it. Just wish there was some way we could get oot of here."

"But the Doctor told me that the TARDIS doors can be locked from the outside in certain circumstances. It's a special emergency procedure."

"Ye maun we canna get out?"

"Not unless I can figure out what's keeping the control door from working."

"The Doctor doesnae do things wi'out a reason," said Jamie.

"What if there's some greater danger outside, and he's trying to protect us!" cried Zoe. "By shutting us in here."

"There's nowt oot there that can get us," said Jamie. "No wi' the doors locked. Unless . . . "

"Oh, if I could only concentrate long enough to think," she winced. "Maybe if I could access the central computer and ring up the infrared codes . . ."

"Dinna try, lass," he said softly. "Jest relax. You'll get better. I know it." Simply he slid his arm around her shoulders.

"I feel so helpless," she grumbled, drawing her knees up and resting her chin on them. "I hate it."

"Aye. But there's nothing we ken do nau," he said softly, patting her shoulder. "But wait. And I hate waiting, too."

Zoe chuckled. "That's something we have in common." Jamie felt her snuggling against him. Dare he ask her about a few hours ago?

If she wasn't well in the head, did that mean it was a fluke? Jamie didn't want to think about it. At least now her temperature warmed up. A bit of color crept into her complexion now.

"I must look a mess," she said.

"You look fine to me, lass," he said.

"Don't be silly, Jamie. My hair's a mess, I'm in my nightgown, for heavens sake!"

Then she laughed. "Listen to me, worried about how I look."

"Ye lasses are all the same. Always worrying about yuir hair and yuir face," sighed Jamie.

"Oh, stop."

Beneath the nightgown she felt warm and soft. He dared to clasp her free hand on the counterpane. Felt the pressure of her fingers closing on his. In the silence he felt her heart beating close. A funny thing this silence. Not even the distant humming of the TARDIS was present. Was it footsteps he suddenly heard?

They clasped arms around each other. Jamie pressed up against her body, just separated from his leg by the blanket. With one hand he slowly reached into his sock, lifting his right leg to do so. He gripped the familiar handle of his dirk.

"Are ye sure no one ken get inside here? Mebbe it's the Doctor, coming back."

"What if it isn't?" Zoe gasped. "There must be others, with advanced technology that could break in!"

"Dinnae be daft, Zoe. Ye were the one who said if he locked us in, he locked us in!"

"How do you know something else might have entered when he left?"

"If there is someone in here," said Jamie, leaping from the bed. Stepping lightly on his toes, he positioned himself between the bed and the door. "He'll no get past me!"

"I feel so reassured," she said, sarcastically. "Ten to one it'll get us both."

For a few minutes, Jamie listened intently. Hunched in a defensive crouch, he clenched his dirk tightly in his left hand. Every muscle in his body tightened while he slowly advanced upon the room entrance. Zoe sat rigidly as before. Only her brown eyes moved back and forth.

Bang!

Zoe gasped, throwing up her hands. Crunching up on the bed, she hugged her knees nervously.

"Tha does it!" cried Jamie. "I'm checking this oot!"

"Oh, do be careful, Jamie!" Zoe called after him, after he dashed into the dark hallway.

Nothing happened. Except for the tangible silence. Mere seconds dragged by, agonizingly slow.

"Jamie?" she called. "What's going on?"

No answer came. Just the dark rectangle lurking through the door frame. "If he would just shut the door," she grumbled.

But Jamie would never leave her in danger, intentionally. Would he?

Men are unnecessary. Such time wasted on foolishness such as dating.

"No!" she snapped. "Men and women need each other."

You are a fool. Don't you see how they hold you back. When danger arises, you'd just get in the way.

"No. The Doctor has good reason to leave me behind. When he knows that my education didn't include offensive tactics."

Still the voices persisted. Answering her every objection. Two faces angrily pressing against the curved glass of an enclosed space. Smoke rising around her. Walls rising in her mind to block out any objection.

Men were obsolete, an obstacle. They made no sense, they criticized women. They were rude, dirty and violent. A waste of time.

Don't the drones just eat and laze around in the hive? While the females wait on them hand and foot. They only exist as living recepticals for sperm.

"Jamie and the Doctor are different," she argued. Even though time and again they rescued her. The Doctor respected her knowledge. It was fun to compete with him, to laugh at his gentle teasing. Or verbally spar with Jamie. Even when he was pompous. Nine times out of ten he was wrong.

You're just a fixture to them. A damsel to be rescued. When do they ever respect your experience, your knowlege?

It felt like the light was being choked from the refuge around her. Both sides of the issue crashed before her. Lights flickered out as the hum of the TARDIS suddenly halted. A pitch black curtain dropped before her vision.

Again, she could hear the minute sounds in her head. Blood pounding in her temples. Hissing neurons fired in her brain. Muscle fibers stretched taut.

Thumping sounded. Footsteps echoed. In pace with her heart. Racing faster, and faster.

Zoe clamped hands to her head. They had both left her alone. To face a menace far worse than any she could scientifically explain. That thumping of her heart grew louder. She could pace the time with each beat. Eighty times a minute.

No. It was coming from outside her body. Lub-dub, lub-dub against her ribcage. Against a solid floor. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Hands grasped her arms, and she struggled against them. "Let me go!" she screamed, as she wriggled against a steel grip.

"Zoe, it's me," cried a familiar voice, with a Scottish accent. "Whist ye, stop fighting!"

"You're just holding me back! Like you always do!" she cried.

"What'tre ye saying? Yuir fair near freezing!"

Achingly tight his fingers closed. On her arms blood vessels spattered into bruises. She dug her fingernails into rock-hard biceps, pushing with every ounce of strength. Only to feel her energy slip away.

Then she blinked hard. The room was light once more. Glanced up into the concerned face of a young man. Total puzzlement wrote across his face. She shivered. Why was she so cold? With the comforter and blankets piled high on her bed, she should be roasting hot.

"Jamie . . . what the . . . "

"Hush nau, it's all right," he said, pulling the blankets around her. Tightly he hugged her. "There, there."

It was a funny scene: A Scots highlander slipped his arm around a girl in a futuristic gown. Also wrapped around her was his other hand that still clutched his dirk.

"I feel, so stupid being so scared," she chattered.

"There's nowt outside that made that noise."

"J-just, don't disappear again," she said, eyes tearing up despite her efforts to stop.

"I'm here. I will nae run away again."

Zoe rested her chin on his shoulder. By glancing over it, she saw a flickering lantern lighting her room. The lights really had gone out here, as well. Perhaps someone did attack the TARDIS, and cause some of the circuits to blow.

"Jamie, what happened to the lights?"

"They all went oot, all over the TARDIS. Jest the emergency ones are on. It doesnae happen very often."

He must have brought the lantern with him when he returned, she realized. She felt the strong hard muscles in his arms holding her reassuringly.

"It, it was another attack," she said, forcing back tears.

"How?" he demanded, gripping his dirk tightly.

"I, I was hearing voices in my head. Saying things like I heard when I was put in that conditioning chamber. Oh, listen to me. I must be going crazy."

Maybe we're both going daft, Jamie thought. He looked at her, shivering still against his shirt. "It's no as daft as ye think," he said. "I was thinking, before, that someone might have some kind of power. That's attacking us thru the TARDIS walls. I know it probably sounds daft t' ye . . ."

"No, it doesn't," she said, resting both her hands on his shoulders. She faced him now. "A person with psychic powers could be attacking us, yes."

"But whatever must be affecting you must be affecting me as well, otherwise I wouldnae be hearing things too."

"Do you suppose, that it could kill us? Drive us mad?"

"I dinna ken, lass," he admitted. His distinctive nose and strong cheekbones were painted gold in the flickering lantern light. Strangely soft and feminine for one so masculine. That scarf added a strange sensitive touch to a strongly muscled neck. She found her fingers playing with the scarf tips.

"But there's no one I'd rather go with," she said softly, turning her head to face him. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"I cannae jest leave you alone in the TARDIS."

"I'd be fine. "

"Even if I cuild open the door and search for the Doctor. What if ye pass out again?"

"Honestly, I feel like a princess out of a storybook right now. And I don't even read fiction. Don't be so worried about me"

"I cannae help but worry about ye," he admitted, voice now to a whisper. Lips were inches from her ear. "That's why I didnae want ye coming wi' us in the first place."

"Really," she asked, eyebrows lowered. Her mind moved back in time to what he'd said on the rocket:

It's like this. You have yuir world, and the Doctor an' me ha' ours.

He'd said this, shaking her small hand. At her doubting puzzled face, he stopped. And tried again.

Look, you've been, well . . . he stopped once more, as if hunting for the right words to say. And then he'd turned and said goodbye, not looking back.

"I thought you just didn't want to be bothered by me hanging around."

"Tha wasnae why I said what I did, Zoe."

"Were you worried that I'd get in the way?"

"No . . ." he said, looking a bit hurt. "I did say that I'd protect ye if ye got into trebble."

"Then why didn't you want me to come along?"

" It was jest . . . difficult to leave," he said, struggling to put the elusive feelings into words. He was so afraid of saying the wrong things. Zoe guessed what he was trying to say.

"Look what happened," she laughed. "You can't get rid of me that easily, James Robert McCrimmon."

For a moment he traced back. Alone on a cold northern beech he saw Victoria. Eyes red from crying the night before, she'd said she must go her own way. Into her own world, out of the Doctor's and his. He'd never been able to tell her how he felt. When the moment came, he lost his nerve.

She wasn't Victoria. No one could ever replace her. Jamie slipped that memory away, cherishing it for its own sake. Zoe's features formed before his eyes, now.

Slowly, he curled his left arm around her shoulders, and pulled the astrophysicist to himself. This hand still gripped the dirk, but he didn't even notice he was still holding it. Somehow his warrior's instinct was prompting him to keep his guard. Propped up on his right arm, he pressed lips to hers. He trembled as he prayed she wouldn't hit him. Zoe relaxed against him, sliding her arms around his neck. Down the curve of her back and waist he felt his left hand pass. Small fingertips worked their way through his hair.

Warmth was returning to her body. Wonder of wonders. The hand that wrapped round his neck slid down around his shoulders. Almost magically, Zoe worked the tightness out of his muscles with her small fingers. He tried not to burst out laughing. It felt soothing. No one in his time knew how to touch like this.

Now he moved further onto the twin bed. He sat on his bent knee with his left leg balanced up alongside her leg still under the covers. Now he felt her hand massaging its way down past his waist. Despite his warm wool kilt, he shivered. Slowly he released his grip on the dirk, and didn't even notice as it dropped to the bed behind Zoe.

He drew his knees up under himself as he struggled not to rest his feet on her bed. It seemed a sin to dirty her bedspread. However, the astrophysicist was one step ahead of him. Taking his left leg, she balanced it across her hip. Zoe pulled at the laces of his boots. Both of them thumped tonelessly onto her bedroom floor. She kneaded his foot, right through his woolen sock. The Highlander gasped and sighed as a soporific sensation shot up his leg and into his spine. What was she doing, with those small finger movements that could provide such pleasure?

"Is this some of yuir fine scientific education?" he asked her.

"Massage and acupressure. Works quite well to relieve tension."

"How on Earth did ye ken that, lass?" he teased her. Now he stretched out, laying on his side with his head leaning on his bent arm.

"When you, er kissed me. I sensed a massive amount of tension. Especially in your trapezius muscle."

"Eh?"

"Your back. It felt solid and rigid, like stone . . ."

"I'm supposed to be solid an rigid. Wi' all that rushing around . . . " he protested. "Chasin Ice Warriors an Daleks."

"I'm not talking about your overall musculature. What I mean is your physiological response. . . mph!"

Jamie choked off her words when he pressed his mouth to hers. This time he tried to duplicate the gesture she'd so successfully displayed. Felt her hot breath moving within his mouth. He had to admit, this was a much nicer way of keeping her from chattering science terms than simply putting his hand over her mouth. After all, he didn't want to be rude. There were some times when things should not be explained, only simply accepted. Zoe didn't mind. He could feel her laughter through the kiss. Such a thing he'd never have the nerve to do to a lass in his own time.

"Nicely done," she laughed, as she gasped a breath in. "You learn fast."

"Nau, what's all this about?" he asked, resting a hand on the side of her face. "Ye've been acting strange ever since we left."

"What's so strange?" she asked him. "I'm sick of pushing back my feelings. Every minute of every single day."

"How ye feel--That's pretty obvious by now."

She nodded, those dimples looking less and less sickeningly sweet. No more was he mocked by a slender petite woman in a plastic miniskirt and jacket; a computer of flesh and blood.

"But what we're doing, in mah own time one would only try if they were . . . "

"In love?" she suggested.

"Aye."

"Haven't you ever just kissed someone for the pleasure of it?" she asked him.

"Aye, well, no really."

"But what about experimenting? Surely you must have wondered what it was like to kiss a girl?"

"Aye, well, one ken dream. There's jest rules, tha one follows."

"Rules?"

"I mean... it's no proper jest to grab a lass and kiss her jest cause ye feel like it."

"Oh, I see. Don't worry. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't feel something for you," she said. With her small hand she traced the line of his cheeks.

"Even in the future, do people just do things because they want to? Wi'out restraint? Are there no rules?"

"Yes. But it never hurt to explore and experiment with relationships," she said. "How else would you know what not to do?"

"Have ye ever?"

"Have I ever what?"

"Ever . . . experimented?"

"I never took the time to."

"An ye are nau?"

"I wouldn't unless I cared for the person. And I do. More than you can imagine."

"But yuir no yuirself lately," he protested. "An I wouldnae want to do something to make you worse."

"How well do you know me?" she asked.

"I shuild think I ken ye pretty well, Zoe. After the adventures we've had."

"Behind all the arguing, all the teasing. It's because I like you."

"Sure cuild ha fooled me, lass."

"You don't understand women, do you?" she asked.

"No I don't," he sighed. "All those hidden jokes. The looking at each other and giggling."

"I guess I don't understand men any better," she said. She gripped his hand and traced it over her bosom. He gasped, and shuddered. Then relaxed. Fear was causing him to shake. Gently he felt the softness and resilience of her body. Something he'd longed to do with Victoria.

But it was not proper to even think of doing that. She'd be shocked. Misunderstand him completely, even though he knew she loved him so. How he longed to draw her into his grasp and sooth away her worries with a comforting embrace. And he couldn't because she'd be offended.

Here she was, this astrophysicist, barely older than Victoria, opening herself to him in ways that shattered his misconceptions. If two people liked each other, was it enough?

Jamie never ran away from a battle. Here was one, in his arms. To become close to someone in a way that he'd dreamed, but never dared. He had feelings for her. Somehow it was more difficult to get close to Zoe. Than it was for the one time he grew close to a woman. With Victoria he'd shared the intense emotional connection at least. Even though physical contact was forbidden.

Bravely he choked down his fear, and drew her once more into his arms. Not caring where her hands touched him. Even when she threw aside the covers, and pulled him under, fully clothed.

No barrier remained. Not even blankets could stop them. Nylon and wool rubbed together, sending a virtual shock when she touched him. Nylon held heat as well as wool. Modern brushed against archaic. Strange. Like a child he felt her press against him, as they lay beneath the covers. Her ice-cold feet touched his legs. He winced, and pressed his own against hers, trying to drive every ounce of cold from the young asktrophysicist.

Ice melted. He worked one arm under her body, ignoring it as it fell asleep. Hunted for the gentle pressure of her lip touches to his. Duplicating the rhythmic motions he'd seen other people perform so well. Small soft thighs straddled his knee. He felt soft spongy wetness on his chest. It was Zoe, kissing his chest gently. He'd not noticed that she'd unbuttoned his shirt halfway, until he felt her hands slipping beneath it.

With all the strength in her petite body she rolled over, pulling him over on top of her. He felt her softness under him, unlike any sensation he'd experienced before. Only the thin cloth of her nightgown and his own clothing separated them. Pressing her into the bed with his own weight seemed a crime. She was jest a wee lass, after all.

"Ouch!"

"What's wrong?" he asked, pushing himself up with both arms. Only inches from her face dangled the ends of his scarf.

"Something . . . jabbed me right in the stomach . . ."

The large silver buckle on his belt almost cut right into her. "Och, I'm verra sorry. I guess I didnae realize . . ."

"Stop apologizing, you silly person," she hushed. "Let me help you."

Small hands pulled at the sturdy leather belt, gently slipping if off. "Are ye quite sure about this?" he asked her.

"Just relax, will you," she scolded gently, gripping the ends of his scarf. Slipped down the silver ring fastening it around his neck. Then she smiled. Her intention was unmistakable, in any time. She guided his hands up her leg, her hips and thighs. Warm soft skin felt like nothing he'd ever before touched. Under him she lay, a live sculpted statue that breathed.

He summoned up his courage. Whatever techniques she may have in the future, he knew but one. She guided him down, into her. With her dark lashed eyes blinking, she gasped. Again and again he kissed her as she threw her head back. For a moment he rested his head on her chest as she caressed it with her lips. Struggled, against resistance.

"Relax, Zoe, I'm no going t' hurt ye," he found himself babbling.

"Oh, but it does! And it's wonderful," she gasped. Shrieking as he pressed on.

Amazing how well she fit under his hips. Small yet strong. Squinting, he could glimpse her face. Lips parted and white teeth showed. Those dark lashed eyes blinked, and her dark hair dripped with sweat. Both small feet splayed out from under his thighs.

How silly he felt. A giddy sensation shot up from nowhere. What if someone could see them now? Sweating and fussing and gasping in slight pain and extreme pleasure. Her cries seemed like he was hurting her, but wasn't that supposed to be how it sounded?

"Don't stop, Jamie!" she cried. Reflexively he reached for her hands, grasping them reassuringly. Strong firm pressure from her long fingers clenched his in return. Their fingers intermeshed and interlocked.

He heard himself gasping as well. This was more exhausting than fighting. He felt his face crumpling with the effort. In Gaelic he heard himself shout the war cry:

Creag au tuire!

Then it was over. Balanced across her, he tried to catch his breath. It seemed as all his strength drained away. Through the waves of release she lay with his weight on her, relieved. She stroked his hair as he struggled to recover. Smiling in sheer delight at what just happened. Trying to ignore the stickiness plastered between them both. All Zoe could do was cradle him like a baby, while he lay gasping like a fish out of water.

"Hush, Jamie, hush," she soothed, covering his face in kisses again.

They had tossed back the covers. She gingerly pulled them up over them both. Tears blurred her vision as she drew in an enormous sigh. He managed one desperate kiss. Zoe felt his rhythmic breathing through her tongue as he fell asleep. "No regrets at all," she whispered, pressing her cheek against his. "I never thought it could be so sweet. Zoe eased a snoring Highlander off herself, and lay him on his side. Pressed herself into the curve of his body, and wrapped his limp arms around her. Picking up his knife, she hurled it at the lantern.

Immediately it crashed to the floor. Extinguished, it plunged them both into darkness.

***

Part Four: The Perfect Remedy

The first thing he remembered was awaking from one of the deepest slumbers. He must have been out like the proverbial light. Curved round a living breathing woman, he felt her flesh pressed against his. Her skin stuck to his own. Somehow she'd slipped off their outer garments.

Her dark hair obscured his vision. Dimly the light from the corridor shone through the door crack. Carefully he drew his arm in front of his face. Checked his watch's luminescent dial. "Eight o'clock," he muttered.

Then he smiled. She rested as blissfully as he. Just the small in and out of her soft breathing could he feel against him. With his tongue he tasted the remains of last night's work. Dried sweat made her shoulder salty and sweet. Instinctively he drew her into his arms and kissed her just behind her left ear. In her sleep, Zoe turned over onto her back and cuddled up against him. Through the darkness he found her lips. It didn't seem unreasonable to wake her with a kiss, did it?

Cheerful whistling echoed through the corridors.

"Och, no!" gasped the Highlander. He'd totally forgotten where he was. He leapt out of the bed as if it were some monstrous amoeba.

Zoe stirred, and slapped the sheets next to her. "Jamie? What's wrong?" she asked, pushing herself up on one arm.

"Whist, lass! I didnae mean to wake you," he apologized.

"Tired of me already?"

"Och no, of course not. But I hear the Doctor!"

"Oh no," she gasped, pulling the sheets to cover herself.

"Where the blazes is ma kilt?" he asked.

"If you shout, he'll hear you," she shushed. Pulling the covers around herself, she made a toga. As she got up, she pulled half the bedclothes away with her. Jamie felt her wrap something around his waist. Slipped one strap and buckled it. Then she wrapped the rest of the kilt, fastening both buckles at his right hip. Finally she held out his shirt as he thrust his arms through the sleeves. Tenderly she buttoned up the front, all the time looking at him with moist, dark eyes.

"Thanks, lass," he whispered, as she fastened the belt around his waist and the sporran around his hips. Into his hand she pressed the bone handle of his forgotten dirk. Hastily he shoved it down his sock. Then he leaned over to lace his boots and tie the laces around his ankles as he always did. Automatically he knotted the scarf around his neck.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his hand. "We're forgetting something."

"Aye." He gripped her derriere with one hand, drawing her to himself. She pressed up against his kilt, straddling his leg. Jamie held her so she wouldn't have to strain to reach his mouth. Felt the sweet caress of her lips for a blissful minute. Small, soft hands massaged his chest and back.

"Och, Zoe," he sighed, balancing her on one knee. Enveloped her in his arms that refused to release her just yet. "So sweet ye are."

For a moment she fingered the soft wool of his kilt. Home woven fabric she passed through her sensitive fingertips. "No where near as you," she replied, softly.

"Whatever am I goin t' do wi ye?"

"It will all be all right," she said, kissing him tenderly. "I assure you."

At his side was an old and dear friend. The Doctor prayed that he'd help Zoe. Dr. Psimion was an expert in psychic traumas. At least that was what she'd claimed.

"Don't worry," she assured him. Her long violet smock swept the TARDIS' glossy floor. "After what you told me, there are several options available for Zoe."

"I hated having to leave her in there, with the door locked."

"You did the right thing."

"But I had to fool poor Jamie too. He must be worried sick about me."

"From what it sounds like, Jamie is capable."

"But he's not exactly the best medical person," sighed the Doctor. "He's from eighteenth-century Scotland."

"Does he have strong feelings for Zoe?"

"He's rather protective of her. And most women for that matter. Apart from that I don't know."

They both stood in the TARDIS console room. Dr. Psimeon brushed a lock of silver hair out of her face. The Doctor threw the lights back on.

"Jamie? Zoe?" he called out, down the hall. "I'm back. Everything's all right now. I've gotten help for Zoe."

"Doctor, am I glad to see you," said Jamie. He came rapidly through the door, dressed in a kilt and loose button-up shirt. Carefully he put down the plate of food concentrate he'd been eating. As usual he rolled up the sleeves to his elbow. Nodded to the new arrival. "Pleased to meet ye, ma'am."

"Ah, you're Jamie McCrimmon. The Doctor's told me all about you, and your friend Zoe."

"Aye, well, then ye know what's wrong wi' her?"

"I have some very good ideas."

"How is Zoe?" asked the Doctor, wringing his hands.

"Zoe," repeated Jamie, fumbling for words. "Ye mean, how is she?"

"Out with it."

"Well, she cried out once or twice. I jest gave her some water, and stayed with her. Like ye said to."

"You didn't bleed her, did you?"

"Och, no," said Jamie, shaking his head. "No fer what she had. I . . . jest kept her warm. She's sleeping back in her room nau."

"Very good Jamie," sighed the Doctor, looking much relieved. "I'm sorry to have locked you both in the TARDIS, but the good Dr. Psimeon said it was necessary to keep Zoe under isolation."

"She wasnae in isolation," protested Jamie. "She was wi me."

"Take me to her."

As Jamie anxiously looked on, Dr. Psimeon examined the sleeping young woman. Like a crusader on a tombstone she lay there, hands folded. Using an old stethoscope, the woman listened to Zoe's heart.

"Strong and steady. Good flush to the skin, for a human. Body temperature's a steady 38 degrees Celsius. Healthy."

The Doctor nodded. "That's a relief."

"Also, I detect a high concentration of hormonal activity. Not exactly unusual for what imbalances existed before."

"But what about her mind?" asked Jamie, wringing his hands and biting his lip.

Psimeon placed her hands on either side of Zoe's head. Shut her own eyes, and went rigid.

The young Highlander felt the Doctor's hand resting on his shoulder. "It's all right, Jamie. I think Zoe is fine."

"What's she doing?"

"Looking into her mind."

"Och, does that mean she'll see all what happened?"

"Dr. Psimeon is nothing but discreet. Anything in Zoe's mind will remain private."

He didn't hear Jamie's silent sigh of relief.

A few tense minutes later, the psychotherapist opened her eyes. "All perfectly normal. Any evidence of trauma has healed itself. She underwent quite an ordeal," reported Psimeon.

"Does that mean Zoe will recover?" asked the Doctor. "As I described it, that conditioning did quite a job on her memory."

"I must commend Jamie McCrimmon on his effective treatment," smiled Dr. Psimeon mysteriously.

"Och, what did I do?"

"That spanking was quite effective. Primitive, yet effective."

"But what went wrong?" asked the Doctor. "I thought that reversed the conditioning."

"Initially it brought her out of the conditioning, yes. But exposing Zoe to male-female conflict so soon after that experience traumatized her sense of herself. She required time to live through her fantasies while her mind healed itself."

"So I was right," smiled the Doctor. "Hurrah for good old-fashioned bed rest."

Jamie swallowed hard, and crossed his fingers. He was feeling a bit faint.

Within his mind he felt gossamer fingers caressing. *I won't tell him, it said. That is between you and her.

"Aye, well thank you," he sighed aloud.

"Whatever is the matter, Jamie?" the Doctor asked him. "You seem nervous about something."

"It's jest that . . . Zoe and I had an argument. And I'm jest hoping . . ."

"She will forget the last few hours," said Dr. Psimeon. "And remember who her friends are."

"Aye, friends," muttered the Scot, dragging his boot on the floor. No use crying over spilt milk. "We'll always have the TARDIS, I suppose."

"Why so glum, Jamie? Zoe's going to be quite all right."

"If ye don mind, I must be getting something t' eat. I'm fair starved."

"Of course, lad," muttered the Doctor, perplexed at his companion's behavior