Understanding

by Berzerkerprime

Notes: Missing scene for the Big Finish audio "Sirens of Time." The Fifth Doctor really gets put through the ringer in that one; beaten up, shot, nearly drowned, broken leg, and life force drained. One wonders how he just kinda walks away from the end of it all with Six and Seven, really.

And I've figured out what the Short Hops are all about. Each one has a companion making some sort of observation about the Doctor. First Tegan, then Nyssa, now it's Turlough's turn.

Enjoy!

Tegan looked positively green.

It had long ago ceased to be fun, giving her crap about her apparent sea-sickness. The Australian had gotten worse and worse as the TARDIS bobbed on the ocean until even Turlough felt sorry for her. He couldn't help but think that it was a well-deserved cosmic vengeance for all the crap she had given him since their adventure with the Eternals. No, Tegan deserved a little of what she meted out.

Still, Turlough couldn't blame her for her suspicion. After all, he had tried to kill one of her dear friends. He certainly wasn't above wanting a pound of flesh in such a situation. And so, Turlough didn't add his own round of return sniping to Tegan's misery.

Instead, Turlough busied himself with the TARDIS instruments, fiddling with nobs and buttons which didn't seem to do anything but make noises and blink. He could work the scanner all right, not that looking at endless expanses of open water told him much.

"Oh, rabbits," Tegan moaned miserably, prompting Turlough to turn his attention her way. She was curled up, back against the wall, holding a bag and resting her head and arms on her bent knees. "I wish the Doc would come back already. There any sign of him?"

"No," Turlough replied, drifting away from the controls, "and I can't say I enjoy bobbing around in U-boat infested waters, either."

"Thinking of your own skin again?" Tegan said with a mean streak in her tone.

He could have started a fight. He thought about accusing her of thinking of her stomach. But she wasn't in any sort of shape to be a challenge. He let it pass.

"I'm being practical," he said with a shrug, "we've no idea how well the TARDIS will stand up to a World War Two torpedo. And we're stuck in here until the doors choose to open."

Tegan gave a wry sniff of indignation. "This rackety old piece of junk! Of course it's gotta have the door stop working while the Doctor's outside!"

As if on cue, there was a sudden pounding from the outside of the door. Turlough jumped and Tegan scrambled to her feet, her plastic bag forgotten.

"What was that?" Tegan exclaimed.

The question set Turlough back in motion, back to the one control he knew was working properly. He worked the control, trying to get the scanner to show what was pounding on the door. As the image came into focus, a voice floated through the closed door.

"Tegan! Turlough! Open the door!"

"Doctor!" Tegan exclaimed. She spun on a precarious high heel and rammed herself into the console as more pounding came from the main door. "We gotta get the door open, Turlough! C'mon!"

"I can't! It's still jammed!" said Turlough.

"Open the door!" came the Doctor's plaintive plea along with more pounding.

"Well, do something!" said Tegan. "He can't just cling on all day!" She went back over to the door and pressed herself against it, as if that would somehow help.

Turlough continued to prize the controls on the console, desperately, looking for some sign that the door might give and open. He was just beginning to contemplate pulling open panels when Tegan gave a gasp.

"What?" Turlough asked, looking up. Tegan's face had gone white.

"I think I just heard him say that the Time Lords want him dead!"

"What reason could they possibly have for that?" Turlough asked, skeptically.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time! And besides, you're one to talk! Get the door open!"

Turlough let that one pass, too. He probably deserved it. Instead, he bent to his task again, pulling open a panel and exposing a bundle of wires and cables. He wiggled a few tentatively, trying to figure out where the tangle led.

The Doctor's pounding had grown weaker, giving more urgency to Turlough's task. The Doctor kept calling their names, but it was clear he was fading fast. Turlough decided to go for broke and grabbed hold of a bundle of wires and pulled. He knew that the odds of it doing anything useful were slim to none, but he didn't have much to lose. The wires came free in a hail of sparks and Turlough fell back on to his bottom.

By some miracle, this caused the main door to fall open. Some water poured through and an exhausted and sodden Doctor was deposited on the floor in an unceremonious, cream-colored heap, gasping and clutching a shoulder protectively.

Water continued to splash in through the open door. Tegan struggled to push them closed and was quickly aided by Turlough. With some effort they jammed them shut. That task completed, Tegan immediately swooped in on the face-down, prone form of the Doctor.

The Time Lord was a soaked-through mess on the floor of the TARDIS. He was gasping and shivering and his skin was nearly white. Turlough watched as Tegan knelt next to him, trying to help.

"Hell's teeth, Doc!" she exclaimed. "You look terrible! Are you all right?"

Turlough spotted it right at the same moment; a faint, diluted splash of red soaked into the light cream of the Doctor's coat and seeping through his fingers. Water had obviously mixed with it, making it harder to notice. His cry of caution was just too late, coming at the same moment Tegan's hand clamped down on the Doctor's shoulder in what was supposed to be a reassuring touch.

The Doctor gave a yelp and twisted away from Tegan's touch, making her jump. Slowly, he marshaled himself and sat up, still clutching his bleeding shoulder. There was a developing bruise on his cheek, standing out starkly against his pale skin.

"Good lord!" Tegan exclaimed, rushing back to his side and keeping him from tipping over. "You're hurt! What happened out there?"

"A German on a U-boat, I'm afraid," the Doctor replied, gingerly removing his hand from his shoulder to inspect the wound. "With a gun," he added, "and a bad case of mind-control."

While Tegan fluttered over the Doctor, unsure of what to do, Turlough took stock of the wound. Though blood seemed to be flowing freely from the front of the Doctor's shoulder, there was no matching splotch of red on the back.

"The bullet's still in there," Turlough realized, kneeling next to the two of them, "that's not good."

"What do you know about it?" Tegan asked, sharply.

"I know plenty," Turlough replied, grimly.

"How? Shot someone recently?"

"Tegan," the Doctor put in, a mix of warning, pain, and exasperation.

That took the wind out of Tegan's sails. She went back to fluttering about the Doctor. "Oh, you're freezing cold," she said, "we need to get you out of these wet clothes. Turlough, help me with him."

With some effort and a lot of pained noises, they managed to get the Doctor's coat and jumper off. By then, the Time Lord was foundering, his face white as a sheet.

Turlough took charge again at this point, over Tegan's loud objections. But Turlough refused to be gainsaid, explaining again that he knew about this sort of injury.

"And just how do you know about gun shot wounds?" Tegan asked, accusingly.

"That's none of your damn business, Tegan!" Turlough snapped back at her.

For an instant, just a fraction of a second, Turlough thought that Tegan looked hurt. For a moment, he thought that his outburst had gone too far. But then, Tegan's characteristic glare returned and Turlough's heart hardened again to withstand it.

She had no right. They barely knew each other. His past, his trials, his exile, the battles he had fought; they were none of her business.

"Now wait just one minute!" Tegan exclaimed.

"Tegan, leave it be," the Doctor cut in, gasping.

"But Doctor, how can we trust him when he says he knows about bullet wounds!" Tegan pressed. "What sort of-"

"Tegan!" the Doctor pressed back, more sternly than Turlough had thought possible in his present state. He locked eyes with his Human companion and gave her an impossibly deep look. "Leave it be."

It was Tegan who finally looked away. She backed off, both literally and figuratively, and leaned against the console, arms crossed over her chest. "You trust too easily, Doc," she mumbled, her eyes drifting away to land on some point a hundred kilometers off.

With a bit of a pang, Turlough realized she was right; the Doctor did trust too easily. The Doctor trusted him too easily.

Then, the Doctor's energy was spent. He tipped back, catching himself on his good arm. This galvanized Turlough into motion. He caught the Doctor and gently lowered him into a laying position, wrestling his suspenders off his shoulders.

"You've lost a lot of blood," he told him, "and we should get that bullet out before things get infected." He moved the Doctor's legs so that his knees were up. "Keep blood going to your heart."

"Hearts," Tegan pertly corrected.

Turlough couldn't help but cast her an exasperated sidelong glance. "Make yourself useful and find me a first aid kit, will you?"

Tegan threw a sour look right back at him. But she turned on a high heel to the interior door and disappeared behind it nonetheless.

"I wish you two wouldn't antagonize each other so much," the Doctor said once she had left.

"She started it," Turlough muttered petulantly, beginning to work at the buttons of the Doctor's linen shirt, carefully opening it and peeling it back from the angry wound.

"Did she now?" the Doctor replied, somehow managing to raise his eyebrows despite a pained grimace.

Turlough gave a sigh. "No, she didn't," he allowed.

"And neither did you," the Doctor pressed on, "and the sooner you both understand this, the better for everyone."

Tegan chose right then to bustle back into the console room, carrying a small box. "There's a bunch of doohickies and geegaws in here," she said, "and some supplies. Hopefully, it'll hold you." She opened it and set it down next to Turlough, within reach. The box was filled with several pen-sized electronic devices, but Turlough spotted a conventional pair of tweezers and some disinfectant as well. But, there was one important thing that seemed to be missing.

"Isn't there any anesthetic?" he asked, looking up at Tegan.

She shrugged. "Well, don't look at me," she replied, "it isn't my fault that kit's pretty basic."

In reply, Turlough picked up one of the small electronic devices and held it up. "Is it basic?"

"You know what I mean."

Turlough gave a frustrated sigh, setting the device back into the box. "A topical probably wouldn't help much anyway," he said, "the bullet's pretty deep." He selected the tweezers and doused them in antiseptic. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt."

"There's another way," said the Doctor, "I can put myself into a trance. I won't be able to feel a thing."

"You also won't be able to do a thing!" Tegan exclaimed, aghast.

"Be reasonable, Tegan, I can't do a lot right now, anyway," the Doctor replied.

"But you'll be completely at his mercy!" Tegan fairly shrieked. "What if he-"

And that was when Turlough snapped. All of the snits, all of the jibs and jabs, and yes, even all of the guilt overflowed in him in that very instant. He grabbed the nearest device out of the first aid kit and sprang to his feet with it in his fist. His teeth grinding together, he took a couple of steps toward Tegan. She took a couple tentative steps back, looking afraid.

"Here!" Turlough said, holding the device out for her to take. "Take it! I have no idea what this is or what it does. If you see something you don't like, then by all means, jam it into the base of my skull and flip the switch! Or just stab me with it. I don't care! But right now, I haven't got the time!"

There was a long silence in the console room. Tegan looked at Turlough, somewhere between frightened and angry. But Turlough also thought he saw something else in the gaze.

Could that possibly be grudging respect? he wondered.

And then Tegan took the device. Turlough decided that it probably wasn't respect of any kind after all.

They stared each other down for another long moment. Finally, Turlough turned his back on Tegan and knelt next to the Doctor again.

"Actually," said the Doctor, "that's a-"

"Shut up and enter your trance."

The Doctor gave a slow nod that said he greatly wished to speak to an expert about his companion's state of mind. "Right," he said at length, "to wake me up, just say 'kneezleflark.'"

"Kneezleflark?" Tegan asked.

"It's a long story," said the Doctor around a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He took a few more and then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open again to stare straight ahead, bright and unfocused.

Turlough waved a hand over the Doctor's face. When the Time Lord did not respond, he gently prodded the wound, testing for a reaction to the tenderness of the angry injury. The Doctor didn't so much as twitch.

"Well, that's not creepy or anything," Turlough said with sarcasm.

"Is he out?" Tegan asked, coming closer and bending down to look, resting her hands on her knees. Turlough noticed with a mixture of relief and disappointment that she had left the device behind, somewhere.

"I think so," Turlough replied, again dousing the tweezers with antiseptic, "he's not responding, in any case." Carefully, he dug the tweezers into the Doctor's wound. "I just hope it's a single bullet and not shrapnel or something."

"Shrapnel?" Turlough didn't look up from what he was doing, but the tone in Tegan's voice made him guess that she was turning green again.

"Some bullets are designed to sort of explode when they hit their target," he explained. The tweezers were now half-buried in the torn up flesh of the Doctor's shoulder. As Turlough carefully guided them along the path the bullet had taken, blood welled up around them and a slight squelching sound was produced.

"I think I'll be over here," said Tegan and her tone sounded even greener than before. She walked over to the wall on the opposite side of the room and sat down against it.

Turlough continued to work for several minutes, rather disgusted with the sight himself. He ignored the rotten feeling in his stomach and simply carried on. At length, he felt the tweezers connect with something hard. He worked around its edges until he was able to get a grip on the thing. Then slowly, carefully, he worked it free. He held it up to inspect it. Covered in blood and somewhat scratched up by the tweezers, it otherwise looked smashed, but whole. He set it aside and looked back to the wound.

For a moment, just an instant as if out of the corner of his eye, Turlough thought he saw a faint golden glow amid the blood and mess around the wound. Tiny motes of light danced before his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was stress or an odd trick of the light or something else. But as soon as it was there, it had passed.

Turlough sat back for a moment. giving himself a second to breathe. For several minutes, he pondered the prone, insensate figure laid out on the floor.

"You're right, you know," he said, just loud enough for Tegan to hear.

"About what?"

"Him," Turlough replied, "and me. He shouldn't trust me like he does. He has every reason to toss me out into the ocean right now and leave me." He gave a bitter laugh and began to rummage through the kit, looking for something to use to suture the wound. "He shouldn't have even brought me back from the Eternals' ship. He doesn't know it, but he needs someone cynical to keep his wide-eyed optimism in check. Damn and blast! Isn't there anything to suture this with?!"

Tegan came over and helped him look through the kit, but she had no luck either.

"I suppose we'll have to wake him up," she said at length.

"I wanted to suture it first, but you're probably right," Turlough replied, "what was that ridiculous word again?"

Tegan thought for a moment, fishing in her recall before she remembered. "Kneezleflark," she said at last.

The effect was almost instantaneous. The Doctor gave a gasp and squeezed his eyes closed. He took a couple of calming breaths, then ventured to open his eyes and look up at his companions again.

"Ah, hello," he said, "all finished, then?"

"Not quite," he said apologetically, "we seem to be short a needle and thread."

The Doctor looked up at both of them with the patience of an old man explaining something to a very young child who simply didn't understand. His eyes landed on his Human companion.

"Tegan," he said, "that... geegaw that Turlough gave you. Could I see it, please?"

Looking a little as though she had been caught without a driver's license, Tegan went over to the console and retrieved the device.

Ah, Turlough thought, that's where she left it. Silly girl.

Tegan handed the device to the Doctor. He placed it near the wound and pressed the button on the side. A tiny spiral of glittering silver light came out of it and knitted the wound back together.

"Electronic suture," the Doctor explained, "no needle and thread needed. Far more sanitary and far less painful."

Tegan shot Turlough a sour look.

"I didn't know!" Turlough explained, defensively. Rather than wait for Tegan's continued tirade, he reached for the bandages and went back to work. Tegan simply gave a disgruntled harumph and wandered away.

"Turlough," the Doctor said after a few moments of silence, "I don't regret our understanding. You know that, right."

"I don't understand it," Turlough replied, "and I doubt Tegan ever will. But whatever makes you happy."

"Tegan will be sorted out in time," said the Doctor, "just give it a while."

Turlough shook his head in confusion. This man was simply confounding. He happily traveled with a mouthy woman who questioned him at every turn and a man who had tried to kill him for nothing more than his own gain. Turlough could only surmise that the Doctor was stark raving mad.

And yet, it also made sense. Behind the confounding trust, there was a sharp wisdom that belied the Doctor's apparent age.

"I don't get you," Turlough said at last.

"Good," the Doctor replied around a smile, "I like it that way."