bright in my northern sky

she/her • returning to tumblr after 10 years • hyperfixate with me // dc / batfamily - ace attorney - elder scrolls - way too much more • i live in earth-860 • twitch.tv/n_spade

[magic-crazy-as-this]

WEBSITE • TWITCH • BLUESKY • TIKTOK • ZINES + MORE

current projects:

AMARYLLIS - a slice-of-life romantic comedy

AESTHETIC BLOG • TRAILER • TIKTOKS

( NA / Finding Yourself / Female + Male Protaganists) 💖 Contemporary Romance 🏙 📸 Fake Dating to Get Famous 📺 💢 Enemies to Lovers 💕 ✨ Bit of a Real-Life Fairy Tale 🌹

AVALON RISING - a magical girl / sci-fi comic

AESTHETIC BLOG • TIKTOKS

UMBRELLA ACADEMY x BATTLE OF THE PLANETS + ARTHURIAN LEGENDS ( YA / Coming-of-Age / Female protagonist )

👪 Found Family is literally magic ✨ ⚔️ Sword + Sorcery + Cyberpunk 💾 🌈 Retro anime vibes 🏙️

fandoms:

(in no way an exhaustive list) I'm always happy to talk about:

Transformers

Batman / Batfamily

Ace Attorney

The Elder Scrolls

Musical Theatre (too many to list!)

TRON

Tortall Series by Tamora Pierce

Howl's Moving Castle (book + movie)

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (and DM only!!)

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie just stared at the Doctor, confusion written plainly across his face, mouth hanging ajar.

Time lords? Travel through space and time? It was all past Jamie's understanding. The closest thing he could think of was the faeries.

Is that why the Doctor felt so strange? Why the air seemed to fizz around him and why his eyes seemed to hold more than they should?

Jamie wasn't a bairn to be snatched away and replaced by a changeling, but he also knew the tales of adults being kidnapped. Would the Doctor kidnap him and take him away?

His anxieties only rose as the Doctor offered him his hand. Sure, the Doctor hadn't taken him yet, but the sìth were known for their trickery.

It was probably too late for him anyway. Jamie sighed and placed his hand in the Doctor's, warily waiting for something to happen.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor so very much wanted to reassure Jamie that he wouldn't hurt him but THAT WASN'T TRUE, NOW WAS IT. Not when danger and destruction coalesced in his wake like a planet devouring everything within the Roche.

It would be kind to warn Jamie away. To send him back home before he discovered the dust of lives ruined, worlds destroyed.

Instead, he scooped up the young man's hand and pressed it to his heart. Hearts. He held Jamie there securely, his clutch warm and steady, but not with so much force that he couldn't slip away.

RUN.

There was no mistaking the binary pulse thundering there.

"No human in the world can do that," The Doctor proclaimed gravely. "And I'm no human. Just a silly man in the moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been expecting to be swept away to the seelie or unseelie court, both men vanishing from the bench with Jamie never to be seen again.

Not for the Doctor to press his hand against his chest. Certainly not to feel the beat of two hearts beating through the Doctor's suit and pulsing against his skin.

His eyes widened.

"Yer... ye've got two hearts!"

The Doctor was right - no human had two hearts in their chest. The man in the moon was supposed to be human too, and that settled it in Jamie's mind. This 'man' really was a faerie. Why he hadn't taken Jamie yet, he wasn't sure. Some sort of trick he was most likely enjoying.

Jamie tried to focus on those thoughts instead of that he could feel his heart matching one of the beats coming from that not-human chest.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor agreed softly, his own hand falling away, all at once freeing Jamie. "Does it frighten you?"

Now came the hard part, the part that made both hearts ache. How he wished things could be as simple as thrilling winds off the moors and golden lamplight and the practically luminescent blush crowning the young man's cheeks.

But to be a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords came with an unknowable darkness that swallowed lives whole.

"You should be. Being around me... it's dangerous. More than you could possibly understand. I've lost so many, innocents who had done nothing more than just hang about."

Those eyes, the inescapable umbra were as pitiless and lonely as a total eclipse.

"You should run home, Jamie. Truly. There will be other battles, other ways to stake your claim on this world. If you stay here, if you stay with me, it could be a disaster beyond your imagination."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie's hand lingered a few seconds longer before he realised he should probably not still be feeling the beat of his hearts and returned it to his lap. He hoped the heat he felt in his cheeks could be passed off as being caused by the cold breeze.

Yes, it did frighten him. The unknown did that. The fact he could just disappear without anyone knowing where he went, that he might never see his family and friends again, it scared him.

But Jamie knew that people would die here, that he could be one of those dead as well. It was a battle, a fight for freedom. Jamie was scared of this as well, but he had a duty to the Prince, to his clan, and Jamie didn't back down, even if he was scared.

So he met those brown eyes shaded by incomprehensible loss with his own blue gaze, fearful but determined.

"Doctor Smith - if that is your real name," he muttered before continuing, "Ah cannae go back home. Mebbe ye can joos up an' leave, but Ah've got to fight the Redcoats. If Ah dinnae fight them, Ah might nae have a home to go back to. Ah willnae leave mah people to fight withoot mah help. Ah'm stayin' here, werewolf or no'."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor let out a low breath he had forgotten to release until the young man's hand fell away from his chest.

He began to say, "This is bigger than just the battle. The beast we're after is--"

"Jamie?"

Donald McCrimmon stumbled out of the house unsteady as if truly and heavily drunk, unfeasible considering the fight ahead of them all and what it meant for their homeland. Everyone needed to keep a clear head, but it seemed Jamie's father had no such plans.

"Who in the hell is this?"

The Doctor leapt to his feet, keeping a hand outstretched to maintain some distance between he and them.

"Easy there, friend. I'm here to lend support on the field."

"Support? HAH!"

Donald's head flew back, his open mouth stretching wide with far too many teeth. His eyes were flashes of deadly yellow in the pale moonlight.

"The only battle happenin' is right here."

With that, he let his arms fall open, each creaking and stretching with a hideous pull and tear of human flesh melding into monster. A face once quick to smile and quicker to laugh yawned into a pointed muzzle, coarse grey fur stretching thick on his skin.

The Doctor was helpless but to stop and stare for a full moment before remembering himself, remembering Jamie.

He grabbed the young man once again by the hand, ready to pull him headlong back into the House.

"RUN!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was listening intently to what the Doctor was about to say when he heard a familiar voice say his name. His head snapped up, and he looked towards what he believed to be his father - what used to be his father.

"Da?"

So he had been in the hall after all. He looks terrible, Jamie thought as his father stumbled over. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in days, and he appeared as if he'd drank far too many beers. Something was definitely wrong. His father had always preferred a clean-shaven face, and no Scot, certainly not his father, would be getting drunk before such an important battle.

He rose to his feet as the older piper approached. Questions brimmed on his tongue - did you see me play? Are you alright? Why did you drink so much? How did you know I was out here? - but then his father spoke again, and he froze.

Suddenly he was filled with embarrassment and shame, and being out here with the Doctor felt forbidden. If anyone else had discovered them, he probably wouldn't have felt this way, but his father was another story.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the Doctor beat him to it.

It occurred to him that there was something off about his father's voice too - it wasn't slurred like it would have been if he was truly drunk, but it wasn't his normal voice either. There was a growl or a rasp to it and it was slightly deeper than normal.

The next moments happened both in slow motion and far too fast.

The glint of fangs in a human mouth that had shown him how to hold his own when playing the chanter. Kind eyes had been replaced with yellow inhuman ones, boring right through him. The knees he once sat on as a child, growing, bending, changing. The snapping and creaking of bone as the man he'd known all his life, who had taught him nearly everything he knew, became a beast he'd only imagined.

"Da?..."

Jamie wasn't sure what to do as he stared at the werewolf. Should he run? Approach his father? Ask the Doctor what the hell just happened? The Doctor made the choice for him, and Jamie turned away from the terrifying new sight and began sprinting away in whichever direction the Doctor pulled him.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

They raced into the house, coats billowing in a rush behind them.

"BAR THE DOOR!!" the Doctor roared at the top of his voice and when no one seemed to act quick enough either behind them or in the great hall before them, he shouted again, "BAR THE DOOR!!"

Voices echoed his order. Someone screamed.

The huge wooden gate slammed closed inches from a snarling snout, leaving the beast a menacing shadow in the tall windows.

"What do we need... what do we need..." the Doctor chanted, his hands hovering manically, twitching, shaking at either side of his head.

He was prepared for this, he should have been more prepared for this.

"You! Go to the kitchens and get me as much silver and salt as you can carry from the kitchens!" he demanded of a serving girl in a frilly apron. She had already raced away when he carried on, half to himself, "We'll have to make a Circle of Bisclavret to keep it in place, but getting it to stay that long for the spell to work... ohhh, we need something bigger than salt!"

With that, the Doctor snatched Jamie up by the shoulders, manic, panicked, and completely in control.

"You're a clever lad, I need your mind, help me think! Werewolves, what do we know? They're sensitive to sound, resonant sounds, but something discordant, something out of tune would get it to stop in its tracks," he listed, "But what could possibly be in tune and out of tune at the same time?"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was still reeling from what he had just witnessed. His father becoming a werewolf in front of his very eyes. He wanted to believe this was all a dream, or rather, a nightmare, that he would wake up in the farmhouse on his pallet to get ready for the night march, but Jamie knew that this was real.

How did he not notice that something was wrong? Donald McCrimmon had been acting like his normal self for the past few days. Or maybe he hadn't. Jamie remembered how his father had been spending more time training alone, how he wouldn't practice his piping, and when Jamie suggested they play together a few days before, he'd refused and had left the house once Jamie started playing. Jamie hadn't thought much of it at the time, but looking back, those were definitely signs.

The shock was starting to wear off, and if Jamie could stop thinking over and over about how that beast was his father, he'd probably be able to focus on what was happening. Everything around him was still muffled, however, screams and voices barely breaking through his thoughts.

Suddenly, two firm, heavy hands were clutching his shoulders, pulling him out of the loop that threatened to drown him.

The Doctor.

Here he was, calling Jamie 'clever' again. This Doctor definitely didn't know him, or he'd know that even amongst his peers he was regarded as being a few sheep short of a flock. That didn't matter now. The Doctor needed his help. He had to think.

He looked around wildly, looking for something that would fit the Doctor's description - then his eyes landed on the bagpipes he'd set aside earlier. He rushed over and grabbed them, quickly getting them into position as he returned to the Doctor's side, and started playing.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

Just outside the tall windows, the shadow of what was once Jamie's father cringed, clutching at its head with hideous claws.

"Good, good!" the Doctor cried, holding up a hand to get Jamie to stop, especially with him so near to the sound himself. "Get as many as you can near the circle I'll be making in the main hall, we'll need you all to start playing as soon as the beast makes it there. Try and keep it to a prime number! No less than three, no more than thirteen!"

His long fingers knotted in his hair as he tried to panic his way through a thousand colliding trains of thought, each notion a bubble burst by the roars of the beast outside and the echoing thud of a door that wouldn't last much longer.

"We need to get everyone down in the cellars, anyone who isn't up to stay and fight...!"

But how could the Doctor put together the circle, get everyone to safety, lure away the beast, protect Jamie--

"Aye. I'll do it."

Laird McLaren rose to his feet, roughly wiping the last dredges of one final pint from his mouth. His free hand reached for the claymore strapped across his back.

"I'll buy ye the time ye need. Send that thing on a wee merry chase. I wasn't expectin' ta survive through tomorrow anyhow."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie stopped playing as soon as the Doctor signalled, the bagpipes letting out a discordant wheeze as they deflated. He nodded at the Doctor's instructions, although he was unsure what a prime number was.

He scanned the hall around him. He saw at least two men holding bagpipes, but he thought a few more men would help.

"Hey! Ye heard him! Ah need as many pipers as Ah can get! No more than thirteen!"

A few men stepped forward, clutching their pipes or retrieving them from where they'd placed them, and eventually Jamie had gathered six pipers, plus himself. He hoped he had a prime number like the Doctor asked.

His fingers pressed tightly on his chanter in his anxiousness, the holes forming bumps on each of his fingertips. He refused to let it overtake him again and he turned back to the Doctor as he spoke. Then his laird stepped forward.

There were some shouted protests as his daughter Kirsty and his son Alexander pushed through the crowd towards him.

"Father, no! Ye can't, please!" Kirsty begged.

"Ah can do it. Ah'm faster than ye, Ah can lead it away." Alexander said, claymore already in hand.

The older man shook his head. "No, the clan'll need someone young and strong to lead them through the battle, an' Ah'm no spring chicken anymore. Ah'll do it, an' yer nae to stop or follow me! Ye lead the clan and do me proud."

Alexander nodded, but it was clear he wasn't happy, his mouth set in a hard line. "Aye, father."

"Ye listen to yer brother, alright?" Colin gave Kirsty a kiss on the forehead. "An' ye look after him. Ye take those who cannae help down to the cellars."

Kirsty nodded, tears threatening to spill. "Aye, Father, Ah will."

Laird McLaren took in his children one more time before turning to the watching Jamie.

"Whatever ye an' him are doin', lad, Ah hope it works. Ah dinnae know this man, but if he's with ye, Ah trust him."

Jamie nodded. "Thank ye, Laird McClaren."

The laird dipped his head and gave Jamie a grim smile before turning to the Doctor.

"What would you have me do?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The great doors buckled under the dull thud of a monster desperate to get in.

"He won't be held back for long!" The Doctor cried.

Another crash followed by a guttural roar. Screams echoed in its wake, echoing in the vaulted ceilings. The women darted back, whispering like gossiping hens.

"We haven't much time, you lead the monster away with whoever might be of aid!"

WHOEVER WILL BE SACRIFICED TO GET ANOTHER OTHERWORLDLY BEING YOU'VE BROUGHT TO THEIR DOORSTEP.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

The wood began to give.

THUD.

Splinter.

THUD.

Split.

THUD!!

"I'll be right back, Jamie, you're a good lad!" the Doctor cried, giving the young man's shoulder a squeeze before taking off headlong, his arms frantically waving like a scarecrow loosed in a storm. "GO ON, EVERYBODY MOVE!!"

He followed the screaming throng only as far as the kitchens until nearly collided with the serving girl he had sent for salt and silver.

"I thought these might help!" she shouted, practically dumping an armful of spoons and forks along with a paper bag of salt into his arms.

Without another word, she raced past him to join the others down beneath.

The Doctor had not a moment to lose, retracing his steps back to the great hall. In the hollow of the house, he heard inarticulate shouts and the slice of steel - Laird McLaren and his men making their last stand.

The only thing that followed was a sickening crunch, wet and thick with viscera and gnashing teeth.

Dumping his goods unceremoniously on the flagstones with a clatter, the Doctor scooped up the bag of salt and began trying to tear at its seal with his own bite like a beast himself.

"Haemovariforms... ngghhh... derive from the planet Scheherazade... along with the Adherents of the Repeated Meme," he breathlessly explained.

The paper tore free in a cloud of the grainy stuff that left him coughing, but there was no time.

"It's a virus that gains its power from repeated stories, it literally feeds on folklore...!"

He kicked the silverware into the rough shape of a circle, flicking the salt in what he hoped wasn't actually random and was the shape of a unicursal hexagram instead.

"Vampires, zombies, werewolves, it turns people of any place of any planet into the monsters under their bed!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie just stared at the Doctor, confusion written plainly across his face, mouth hanging ajar.

Time lords? Travel through space and time? It was all past Jamie's understanding. The closest thing he could think of was the faeries.

Is that why the Doctor felt so strange? Why the air seemed to fizz around him and why his eyes seemed to hold more than they should?

Jamie wasn't a bairn to be snatched away and replaced by a changeling, but he also knew the tales of adults being kidnapped. Would the Doctor kidnap him and take him away?

His anxieties only rose as the Doctor offered him his hand. Sure, the Doctor hadn't taken him yet, but the sìth were known for their trickery.

It was probably too late for him anyway. Jamie sighed and placed his hand in the Doctor's, warily waiting for something to happen.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor so very much wanted to reassure Jamie that he wouldn't hurt him but THAT WASN'T TRUE, NOW WAS IT. Not when danger and destruction coalesced in his wake like a planet devouring everything within the Roche.

It would be kind to warn Jamie away. To send him back home before he discovered the dust of lives ruined, worlds destroyed.

Instead, he scooped up the young man's hand and pressed it to his heart. Hearts. He held Jamie there securely, his clutch warm and steady, but not with so much force that he couldn't slip away.

RUN.

There was no mistaking the binary pulse thundering there.

"No human in the world can do that," The Doctor proclaimed gravely. "And I'm no human. Just a silly man in the moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been expecting to be swept away to the seelie or unseelie court, both men vanishing from the bench with Jamie never to be seen again.

Not for the Doctor to press his hand against his chest. Certainly not to feel the beat of two hearts beating through the Doctor's suit and pulsing against his skin.

His eyes widened.

"Yer... ye've got two hearts!"

The Doctor was right - no human had two hearts in their chest. The man in the moon was supposed to be human too, and that settled it in Jamie's mind. This 'man' really was a faerie. Why he hadn't taken Jamie yet, he wasn't sure. Some sort of trick he was most likely enjoying.

Jamie tried to focus on those thoughts instead of that he could feel his heart matching one of the beats coming from that not-human chest.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor agreed softly, his own hand falling away, all at once freeing Jamie. "Does it frighten you?"

Now came the hard part, the part that made both hearts ache. How he wished things could be as simple as thrilling winds off the moors and golden lamplight and the practically luminescent blush crowning the young man's cheeks.

But to be a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords came with an unknowable darkness that swallowed lives whole.

"You should be. Being around me... it's dangerous. More than you could possibly understand. I've lost so many, innocents who had done nothing more than just hang about."

Those eyes, the inescapable umbra were as pitiless and lonely as a total eclipse.

"You should run home, Jamie. Truly. There will be other battles, other ways to stake your claim on this world. If you stay here, if you stay with me, it could be a disaster beyond your imagination."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie's hand lingered a few seconds longer before he realised he should probably not still be feeling the beat of his hearts and returned it to his lap. He hoped the heat he felt in his cheeks could be passed off as being caused by the cold breeze.

Yes, it did frighten him. The unknown did that. The fact he could just disappear without anyone knowing where he went, that he might never see his family and friends again, it scared him.

But Jamie knew that people would die here, that he could be one of those dead as well. It was a battle, a fight for freedom. Jamie was scared of this as well, but he had a duty to the Prince, to his clan, and Jamie didn't back down, even if he was scared.

So he met those brown eyes shaded by incomprehensible loss with his own blue gaze, fearful but determined.

"Doctor Smith - if that is your real name," he muttered before continuing, "Ah cannae go back home. Mebbe ye can joos up an' leave, but Ah've got to fight the Redcoats. If Ah dinnae fight them, Ah might nae have a home to go back to. Ah willnae leave mah people to fight withoot mah help. Ah'm stayin' here, werewolf or no'."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor let out a low breath he had forgotten to release until the young man's hand fell away from his chest.

He began to say, "This is bigger than just the battle. The beast we're after is--"

"Jamie?"

Donald McCrimmon stumbled out of the house unsteady as if truly and heavily drunk, unfeasible considering the fight ahead of them all and what it meant for their homeland. Everyone needed to keep a clear head, but it seemed Jamie's father had no such plans.

"Who in the hell is this?"

The Doctor leapt to his feet, keeping a hand outstretched to maintain some distance between he and them.

"Easy there, friend. I'm here to lend support on the field."

"Support? HAH!"

Donald's head flew back, his open mouth stretching wide with far too many teeth. His eyes were flashes of deadly yellow in the pale moonlight.

"The only battle happenin' is right here."

With that, he let his arms fall open, each creaking and stretching with a hideous pull and tear of human flesh melding into monster. A face once quick to smile and quicker to laugh yawned into a pointed muzzle, coarse grey fur stretching thick on his skin.

The Doctor was helpless but to stop and stare for a full moment before remembering himself, remembering Jamie.

He grabbed the young man once again by the hand, ready to pull him headlong back into the House.

"RUN!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was listening intently to what the Doctor was about to say when he heard a familiar voice say his name. His head snapped up, and he looked towards what he believed to be his father - what used to be his father.

"Da?"

So he had been in the hall after all. He looks terrible, Jamie thought as his father stumbled over. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in days, and he appeared as if he'd drank far too many beers. Something was definitely wrong. His father had always preferred a clean-shaven face, and no Scot, certainly not his father, would be getting drunk before such an important battle.

He rose to his feet as the older piper approached. Questions brimmed on his tongue - did you see me play? Are you alright? Why did you drink so much? How did you know I was out here? - but then his father spoke again, and he froze.

Suddenly he was filled with embarrassment and shame, and being out here with the Doctor felt forbidden. If anyone else had discovered them, he probably wouldn't have felt this way, but his father was another story.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the Doctor beat him to it.

It occurred to him that there was something off about his father's voice too - it wasn't slurred like it would have been if he was truly drunk, but it wasn't his normal voice either. There was a growl or a rasp to it and it was slightly deeper than normal.

The next moments happened both in slow motion and far too fast.

The glint of fangs in a human mouth that had shown him how to hold his own when playing the chanter. Kind eyes had been replaced with yellow inhuman ones, boring right through him. The knees he once sat on as a child, growing, bending, changing. The snapping and creaking of bone as the man he'd known all his life, who had taught him nearly everything he knew, became a beast he'd only imagined.

"Da?..."

Jamie wasn't sure what to do as he stared at the werewolf. Should he run? Approach his father? Ask the Doctor what the hell just happened? The Doctor made the choice for him, and Jamie turned away from the terrifying new sight and began sprinting away in whichever direction the Doctor pulled him.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

They raced into the house, coats billowing in a rush behind them.

"BAR THE DOOR!!" the Doctor roared at the top of his voice and when no one seemed to act quick enough either behind them or in the great hall before them, he shouted again, "BAR THE DOOR!!"

Voices echoed his order. Someone screamed.

The huge wooden gate slammed closed inches from a snarling snout, leaving the beast a menacing shadow in the tall windows.

"What do we need... what do we need..." the Doctor chanted, his hands hovering manically, twitching, shaking at either side of his head.

He was prepared for this, he should have been more prepared for this.

"You! Go to the kitchens and get me as much silver and salt as you can carry from the kitchens!" he demanded of a serving girl in a frilly apron. She had already raced away when he carried on, half to himself, "We'll have to make a Circle of Bisclavret to keep it in place, but getting it to stay that long for the spell to work... ohhh, we need something bigger than salt!"

With that, the Doctor snatched Jamie up by the shoulders, manic, panicked, and completely in control.

"You're a clever lad, I need your mind, help me think! Werewolves, what do we know? They're sensitive to sound, resonant sounds, but something discordant, something out of tune would get it to stop in its tracks," he listed, "But what could possibly be in tune and out of tune at the same time?"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was still reeling from what he had just witnessed. His father becoming a werewolf in front of his very eyes. He wanted to believe this was all a dream, or rather, a nightmare, that he would wake up in the farmhouse on his pallet to get ready for the night march, but Jamie knew that this was real.

How did he not notice that something was wrong? Donald McCrimmon had been acting like his normal self for the past few days. Or maybe he hadn't. Jamie remembered how his father had been spending more time training alone, how he wouldn't practice his piping, and when Jamie suggested they play together a few days before, he'd refused and had left the house once Jamie started playing. Jamie hadn't thought much of it at the time, but looking back, those were definitely signs.

The shock was starting to wear off, and if Jamie could stop thinking over and over about how that beast was his father, he'd probably be able to focus on what was happening. Everything around him was still muffled, however, screams and voices barely breaking through his thoughts.

Suddenly, two firm, heavy hands were clutching his shoulders, pulling him out of the loop that threatened to drown him.

The Doctor.

Here he was, calling Jamie 'clever' again. This Doctor definitely didn't know him, or he'd know that even amongst his peers he was regarded as being a few sheep short of a flock. That didn't matter now. The Doctor needed his help. He had to think.

He looked around wildly, looking for something that would fit the Doctor's description - then his eyes landed on the bagpipes he'd set aside earlier. He rushed over and grabbed them, quickly getting them into position as he returned to the Doctor's side, and started playing.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

Just outside the tall windows, the shadow of what was once Jamie's father cringed, clutching at its head with hideous claws.

"Good, good!" the Doctor cried, holding up a hand to get Jamie to stop, especially with him so near to the sound himself. "Get as many as you can near the circle I'll be making in the main hall, we'll need you all to start playing as soon as the beast makes it there. Try and keep it to a prime number! No less than three, no more than thirteen!"

His long fingers knotted in his hair as he tried to panic his way through a thousand colliding trains of thought, each notion a bubble burst by the roars of the beast outside and the echoing thud of a door that wouldn't last much longer.

"We need to get everyone down in the cellars, anyone who isn't up to stay and fight...!"

But how could the Doctor put together the circle, get everyone to safety, lure away the beast, protect Jamie--

"Aye. I'll do it."

Laird McLaren rose to his feet, roughly wiping the last dredges of one final pint from his mouth. His free hand reached for the claymore strapped across his back.

"I'll buy ye the time ye need. Send that thing on a wee merry chase. I wasn't expectin' ta survive through tomorrow anyhow."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie just stared at the Doctor, confusion written plainly across his face, mouth hanging ajar.

Time lords? Travel through space and time? It was all past Jamie's understanding. The closest thing he could think of was the faeries.

Is that why the Doctor felt so strange? Why the air seemed to fizz around him and why his eyes seemed to hold more than they should?

Jamie wasn't a bairn to be snatched away and replaced by a changeling, but he also knew the tales of adults being kidnapped. Would the Doctor kidnap him and take him away?

His anxieties only rose as the Doctor offered him his hand. Sure, the Doctor hadn't taken him yet, but the sìth were known for their trickery.

It was probably too late for him anyway. Jamie sighed and placed his hand in the Doctor's, warily waiting for something to happen.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor so very much wanted to reassure Jamie that he wouldn't hurt him but THAT WASN'T TRUE, NOW WAS IT. Not when danger and destruction coalesced in his wake like a planet devouring everything within the Roche.

It would be kind to warn Jamie away. To send him back home before he discovered the dust of lives ruined, worlds destroyed.

Instead, he scooped up the young man's hand and pressed it to his heart. Hearts. He held Jamie there securely, his clutch warm and steady, but not with so much force that he couldn't slip away.

RUN.

There was no mistaking the binary pulse thundering there.

"No human in the world can do that," The Doctor proclaimed gravely. "And I'm no human. Just a silly man in the moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been expecting to be swept away to the seelie or unseelie court, both men vanishing from the bench with Jamie never to be seen again.

Not for the Doctor to press his hand against his chest. Certainly not to feel the beat of two hearts beating through the Doctor's suit and pulsing against his skin.

His eyes widened.

"Yer... ye've got two hearts!"

The Doctor was right - no human had two hearts in their chest. The man in the moon was supposed to be human too, and that settled it in Jamie's mind. This 'man' really was a faerie. Why he hadn't taken Jamie yet, he wasn't sure. Some sort of trick he was most likely enjoying.

Jamie tried to focus on those thoughts instead of that he could feel his heart matching one of the beats coming from that not-human chest.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor agreed softly, his own hand falling away, all at once freeing Jamie. "Does it frighten you?"

Now came the hard part, the part that made both hearts ache. How he wished things could be as simple as thrilling winds off the moors and golden lamplight and the practically luminescent blush crowning the young man's cheeks.

But to be a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords came with an unknowable darkness that swallowed lives whole.

"You should be. Being around me... it's dangerous. More than you could possibly understand. I've lost so many, innocents who had done nothing more than just hang about."

Those eyes, the inescapable umbra were as pitiless and lonely as a total eclipse.

"You should run home, Jamie. Truly. There will be other battles, other ways to stake your claim on this world. If you stay here, if you stay with me, it could be a disaster beyond your imagination."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie's hand lingered a few seconds longer before he realised he should probably not still be feeling the beat of his hearts and returned it to his lap. He hoped the heat he felt in his cheeks could be passed off as being caused by the cold breeze.

Yes, it did frighten him. The unknown did that. The fact he could just disappear without anyone knowing where he went, that he might never see his family and friends again, it scared him.

But Jamie knew that people would die here, that he could be one of those dead as well. It was a battle, a fight for freedom. Jamie was scared of this as well, but he had a duty to the Prince, to his clan, and Jamie didn't back down, even if he was scared.

So he met those brown eyes shaded by incomprehensible loss with his own blue gaze, fearful but determined.

"Doctor Smith - if that is your real name," he muttered before continuing, "Ah cannae go back home. Mebbe ye can joos up an' leave, but Ah've got to fight the Redcoats. If Ah dinnae fight them, Ah might nae have a home to go back to. Ah willnae leave mah people to fight withoot mah help. Ah'm stayin' here, werewolf or no'."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor let out a low breath he had forgotten to release until the young man's hand fell away from his chest.

He began to say, "This is bigger than just the battle. The beast we're after is--"

"Jamie?"

Donald McCrimmon stumbled out of the house unsteady as if truly and heavily drunk, unfeasible considering the fight ahead of them all and what it meant for their homeland. Everyone needed to keep a clear head, but it seemed Jamie's father had no such plans.

"Who in the hell is this?"

The Doctor leapt to his feet, keeping a hand outstretched to maintain some distance between he and them.

"Easy there, friend. I'm here to lend support on the field."

"Support? HAH!"

Donald's head flew back, his open mouth stretching wide with far too many teeth. His eyes were flashes of deadly yellow in the pale moonlight.

"The only battle happenin' is right here."

With that, he let his arms fall open, each creaking and stretching with a hideous pull and tear of human flesh melding into monster. A face once quick to smile and quicker to laugh yawned into a pointed muzzle, coarse grey fur stretching thick on his skin.

The Doctor was helpless but to stop and stare for a full moment before remembering himself, remembering Jamie.

He grabbed the young man once again by the hand, ready to pull him headlong back into the House.

"RUN!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was listening intently to what the Doctor was about to say when he heard a familiar voice say his name. His head snapped up, and he looked towards what he believed to be his father - what used to be his father.

"Da?"

So he had been in the hall after all. He looks terrible, Jamie thought as his father stumbled over. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in days, and he appeared as if he'd drank far too many beers. Something was definitely wrong. His father had always preferred a clean-shaven face, and no Scot, certainly not his father, would be getting drunk before such an important battle.

He rose to his feet as the older piper approached. Questions brimmed on his tongue - did you see me play? Are you alright? Why did you drink so much? How did you know I was out here? - but then his father spoke again, and he froze.

Suddenly he was filled with embarrassment and shame, and being out here with the Doctor felt forbidden. If anyone else had discovered them, he probably wouldn't have felt this way, but his father was another story.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the Doctor beat him to it.

It occurred to him that there was something off about his father's voice too - it wasn't slurred like it would have been if he was truly drunk, but it wasn't his normal voice either. There was a growl or a rasp to it and it was slightly deeper than normal.

The next moments happened both in slow motion and far too fast.

The glint of fangs in a human mouth that had shown him how to hold his own when playing the chanter. Kind eyes had been replaced with yellow inhuman ones, boring right through him. The knees he once sat on as a child, growing, bending, changing. The snapping and creaking of bone as the man he'd known all his life, who had taught him nearly everything he knew, became a beast he'd only imagined.

"Da?..."

Jamie wasn't sure what to do as he stared at the werewolf. Should he run? Approach his father? Ask the Doctor what the hell just happened? The Doctor made the choice for him, and Jamie turned away from the terrifying new sight and began sprinting away in whichever direction the Doctor pulled him.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

They raced into the house, coats billowing in a rush behind them.

"BAR THE DOOR!!" the Doctor roared at the top of his voice and when no one seemed to act quick enough either behind them or in the great hall before them, he shouted again, "BAR THE DOOR!!"

Voices echoed his order. Someone screamed.

The huge wooden gate slammed closed inches from a snarling snout, leaving the beast a menacing shadow in the tall windows.

"What do we need... what do we need..." the Doctor chanted, his hands hovering manically, twitching, shaking at either side of his head.

He was prepared for this, he should have been more prepared for this.

"You! Go to the kitchens and get me as much silver and salt as you can carry from the kitchens!" he demanded of a serving girl in a frilly apron. She had already raced away when he carried on, half to himself, "We'll have to make a Circle of Bisclavret to keep it in place, but getting it to stay that long for the spell to work... ohhh, we need something bigger than salt!"

With that, the Doctor snatched Jamie up by the shoulders, manic, panicked, and completely in control.

"You're a clever lad, I need your mind, help me think! Werewolves, what do we know? They're sensitive to sound, resonant sounds, but something discordant, something out of tune would get it to stop in its tracks," he listed, "But what could possibly be in tune and out of tune at the same time?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie just stared at the Doctor, confusion written plainly across his face, mouth hanging ajar.

Time lords? Travel through space and time? It was all past Jamie's understanding. The closest thing he could think of was the faeries.

Is that why the Doctor felt so strange? Why the air seemed to fizz around him and why his eyes seemed to hold more than they should?

Jamie wasn't a bairn to be snatched away and replaced by a changeling, but he also knew the tales of adults being kidnapped. Would the Doctor kidnap him and take him away?

His anxieties only rose as the Doctor offered him his hand. Sure, the Doctor hadn't taken him yet, but the sìth were known for their trickery.

It was probably too late for him anyway. Jamie sighed and placed his hand in the Doctor's, warily waiting for something to happen.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor so very much wanted to reassure Jamie that he wouldn't hurt him but THAT WASN'T TRUE, NOW WAS IT. Not when danger and destruction coalesced in his wake like a planet devouring everything within the Roche.

It would be kind to warn Jamie away. To send him back home before he discovered the dust of lives ruined, worlds destroyed.

Instead, he scooped up the young man's hand and pressed it to his heart. Hearts. He held Jamie there securely, his clutch warm and steady, but not with so much force that he couldn't slip away.

RUN.

There was no mistaking the binary pulse thundering there.

"No human in the world can do that," The Doctor proclaimed gravely. "And I'm no human. Just a silly man in the moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been expecting to be swept away to the seelie or unseelie court, both men vanishing from the bench with Jamie never to be seen again.

Not for the Doctor to press his hand against his chest. Certainly not to feel the beat of two hearts beating through the Doctor's suit and pulsing against his skin.

His eyes widened.

"Yer... ye've got two hearts!"

The Doctor was right - no human had two hearts in their chest. The man in the moon was supposed to be human too, and that settled it in Jamie's mind. This 'man' really was a faerie. Why he hadn't taken Jamie yet, he wasn't sure. Some sort of trick he was most likely enjoying.

Jamie tried to focus on those thoughts instead of that he could feel his heart matching one of the beats coming from that not-human chest.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor agreed softly, his own hand falling away, all at once freeing Jamie. "Does it frighten you?"

Now came the hard part, the part that made both hearts ache. How he wished things could be as simple as thrilling winds off the moors and golden lamplight and the practically luminescent blush crowning the young man's cheeks.

But to be a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords came with an unknowable darkness that swallowed lives whole.

"You should be. Being around me... it's dangerous. More than you could possibly understand. I've lost so many, innocents who had done nothing more than just hang about."

Those eyes, the inescapable umbra were as pitiless and lonely as a total eclipse.

"You should run home, Jamie. Truly. There will be other battles, other ways to stake your claim on this world. If you stay here, if you stay with me, it could be a disaster beyond your imagination."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie's hand lingered a few seconds longer before he realised he should probably not still be feeling the beat of his hearts and returned it to his lap. He hoped the heat he felt in his cheeks could be passed off as being caused by the cold breeze.

Yes, it did frighten him. The unknown did that. The fact he could just disappear without anyone knowing where he went, that he might never see his family and friends again, it scared him.

But Jamie knew that people would die here, that he could be one of those dead as well. It was a battle, a fight for freedom. Jamie was scared of this as well, but he had a duty to the Prince, to his clan, and Jamie didn't back down, even if he was scared.

So he met those brown eyes shaded by incomprehensible loss with his own blue gaze, fearful but determined.

"Doctor Smith - if that is your real name," he muttered before continuing, "Ah cannae go back home. Mebbe ye can joos up an' leave, but Ah've got to fight the Redcoats. If Ah dinnae fight them, Ah might nae have a home to go back to. Ah willnae leave mah people to fight withoot mah help. Ah'm stayin' here, werewolf or no'."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor let out a low breath he had forgotten to release until the young man's hand fell away from his chest.

He began to say, "This is bigger than just the battle. The beast we're after is--"

"Jamie?"

Donald McCrimmon stumbled out of the house unsteady as if truly and heavily drunk, unfeasible considering the fight ahead of them all and what it meant for their homeland. Everyone needed to keep a clear head, but it seemed Jamie's father had no such plans.

"Who in the hell is this?"

The Doctor leapt to his feet, keeping a hand outstretched to maintain some distance between he and them.

"Easy there, friend. I'm here to lend support on the field."

"Support? HAH!"

Donald's head flew back, his open mouth stretching wide with far too many teeth. His eyes were flashes of deadly yellow in the pale moonlight.

"The only battle happenin' is right here."

With that, he let his arms fall open, each creaking and stretching with a hideous pull and tear of human flesh melding into monster. A face once quick to smile and quicker to laugh yawned into a pointed muzzle, coarse grey fur stretching thick on his skin.

The Doctor was helpless but to stop and stare for a full moment before remembering himself, remembering Jamie.

He grabbed the young man once again by the hand, ready to pull him headlong back into the House.

"RUN!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie just stared at the Doctor, confusion written plainly across his face, mouth hanging ajar.

Time lords? Travel through space and time? It was all past Jamie's understanding. The closest thing he could think of was the faeries.

Is that why the Doctor felt so strange? Why the air seemed to fizz around him and why his eyes seemed to hold more than they should?

Jamie wasn't a bairn to be snatched away and replaced by a changeling, but he also knew the tales of adults being kidnapped. Would the Doctor kidnap him and take him away?

His anxieties only rose as the Doctor offered him his hand. Sure, the Doctor hadn't taken him yet, but the sìth were known for their trickery.

It was probably too late for him anyway. Jamie sighed and placed his hand in the Doctor's, warily waiting for something to happen.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor so very much wanted to reassure Jamie that he wouldn't hurt him but THAT WASN'T TRUE, NOW WAS IT. Not when danger and destruction coalesced in his wake like a planet devouring everything within the Roche.

It would be kind to warn Jamie away. To send him back home before he discovered the dust of lives ruined, worlds destroyed.

Instead, he scooped up the young man's hand and pressed it to his heart. Hearts. He held Jamie there securely, his clutch warm and steady, but not with so much force that he couldn't slip away.

RUN.

There was no mistaking the binary pulse thundering there.

"No human in the world can do that," The Doctor proclaimed gravely. "And I'm no human. Just a silly man in the moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been expecting to be swept away to the seelie or unseelie court, both men vanishing from the bench with Jamie never to be seen again.

Not for the Doctor to press his hand against his chest. Certainly not to feel the beat of two hearts beating through the Doctor's suit and pulsing against his skin.

His eyes widened.

"Yer... ye've got two hearts!"

The Doctor was right - no human had two hearts in their chest. The man in the moon was supposed to be human too, and that settled it in Jamie's mind. This 'man' really was a faerie. Why he hadn't taken Jamie yet, he wasn't sure. Some sort of trick he was most likely enjoying.

Jamie tried to focus on those thoughts instead of that he could feel his heart matching one of the beats coming from that not-human chest.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor agreed softly, his own hand falling away, all at once freeing Jamie. "Does it frighten you?"

Now came the hard part, the part that made both hearts ache. How he wished things could be as simple as thrilling winds off the moors and golden lamplight and the practically luminescent blush crowning the young man's cheeks.

But to be a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords came with an unknowable darkness that swallowed lives whole.

"You should be. Being around me... it's dangerous. More than you could possibly understand. I've lost so many, innocents who had done nothing more than just hang about."

Those eyes, the inescapable umbra were as pitiless and lonely as a total eclipse.

"You should run home, Jamie. Truly. There will be other battles, other ways to stake your claim on this world. If you stay here, if you stay with me, it could be a disaster beyond your imagination."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie just stared at the Doctor, confusion written plainly across his face, mouth hanging ajar.

Time lords? Travel through space and time? It was all past Jamie's understanding. The closest thing he could think of was the faeries.

Is that why the Doctor felt so strange? Why the air seemed to fizz around him and why his eyes seemed to hold more than they should?

Jamie wasn't a bairn to be snatched away and replaced by a changeling, but he also knew the tales of adults being kidnapped. Would the Doctor kidnap him and take him away?

His anxieties only rose as the Doctor offered him his hand. Sure, the Doctor hadn't taken him yet, but the sìth were known for their trickery.

It was probably too late for him anyway. Jamie sighed and placed his hand in the Doctor's, warily waiting for something to happen.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor so very much wanted to reassure Jamie that he wouldn't hurt him but THAT WASN'T TRUE, NOW WAS IT. Not when danger and destruction coalesced in his wake like a planet devouring everything within the Roche.

It would be kind to warn Jamie away. To send him back home before he discovered the dust of lives ruined, worlds destroyed.

Instead, he scooped up the young man's hand and pressed it to his heart. Hearts. He held Jamie there securely, his clutch warm and steady, but not with so much force that he couldn't slip away.

RUN.

There was no mistaking the binary pulse thundering there.

"No human in the world can do that," The Doctor proclaimed gravely. "And I'm no human. Just a silly man in the moon."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie had been partially expecting the Doctor to admit he wasn't from Scotland, so when he admitted that, he wasn't that surprised. What Jamie hadn't expected was what came after that admission.

He looked up into the sky to where the Doctor had indicated, at the black space in between the faint stars, then back at the Doctor, confused.

Jamie's world was very small. His whole world was Scotland, and while he knew of England that there were other countries, his knowledge of the world didn't reach very far. The suggestion that the Doctor wasn't even from here, but from somewhere in the sky, had Jamie's brain trying to make any sense it could.

"Eh? Yer home's up there?"

Surely he was joking. But what if he wasn't? A strange man who appeared on his doorstep seemingly from nowhere on the night of the full moon... Jamie's mind turned to the stories he knew and believed in.

"Are ye the man in the moon? How'd ye get back down here?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth that didn't reach the depths of his eyes.

"No, no. I'm not the Man in the Moon. We were called the Time Lords, and we could travel all of space and time, wherever we wanted."

Sensing that Jamie didn't yet understand - or perhaps couldn't yet - The Doctor knew there was one certain way he could prove himself.

"Give me your hand?" he asked this time instead of merely grabbing.

He turned to face the young man beside him, his palm falling face up on his folded knee, quietly praying he would be forgiven.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

"Aye, Ah suppose Ah coold!"

Jamie wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a bit embarrassed about how hot and tired he was after the dance.

"Ah dinnae get to dance much. Different to fightin practice, ye know."

Jamie let the Doctor take his hand and lead him outside, away from the throng of people and anyone that might hear them talking and panic. The cool night air was a welcome feeling on his hot face, cooling the sweat that still clung to his skin. Jamie looked up at the sky and at the moon, round and glowing coldly as it rose higher, threatening his people.

As they made their way from the House Jamie looked behind them, checking to see if anyone was following them, but he didn't see anyone.

Jamie's ears perked as the Doctor said his name, and he turned to look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about what the Doctor had seen in the hall. At the mention of truth, Jamie's heart dropped in his chest, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He immediately released the Doctor's hand, his mind rushing.

The truth? What did he mean by that? What was he lying about? Was this really a wild goose chase, and the werewolf didn't exist at all? Why would he do that? And why would he choose Jamie specifically? Maybe he was English after all, and he was using Jamie to infiltrate the Jacobites! Or maybe he wasn't lying about that. Maybe he was going to tell Jamie he was one of those... Jamie pushed the forbidden thoughts away that came with that idea. It probably wasn't that anyway.

Jamie cursed himself for being so trusting. He wasn't to begin with - what happened? Jamie placed a hand on his dirk, ready just in case. It'd be quicker to draw than his sgian-dubh in his kilt hose, and it'd be easier to wield in such close range compared to his claymore.

He slowly took a seat on the hanging bench, careful not to sit too close.

"Start from the beginnin, then. They say that's the best place to start, aye?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor saw Jamie's hand reach for the knife but said nothing. Instead, he ran his long fingers anxiously back through his fluff of hair before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"Aye. The beginnin'," he echoed, unable to untangle the faint threads of an accent now.

He took a deep breath and peered up into the empty dark, a faint dusting of stars daring to defy the lamplight flickering like restless fireflies around them.

When did he get so bad at this? He refused to believe his ability to talk to other living beings went away with HER.

"Truth be told, I'm not from Scotland. Or Paris. Or anywhere near here."

He reached a hand up, mapping out a hollow space where the burning ache in his hearts lived.

"You see up there? In the void between the stars?"

The arm dropped lifelessly to his lap.

"That's where my home planet used to be."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

He knows something, Jamie thought, some relief flooding through him. The werewolf was in this hall, not out on the moors. If the werewolf wasn't in here, it could have been harder to stop it from ravaging his countrymen.

He let himself continue through the dance without asking any more questions, despite that he was brimming with curiosity about what the Doctor had seen. The Doctor's grin had to mean something good, although Jamie was unsure what could make him look that happy in this situation.

There was something about him that just felt different, Jamie thought as they moved through the dance, but he wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't just how he looked - sure, his hair stuck up oddly, and he'd never seen a necktie in that shape before, but maybe that's how people dressed in Paris. It wasn't that that gave him the feeling that something was different, it was something else.

There was something that made the air buzz when they got close, and when Jamie looked into his eyes, they were so deep they seemed bottomless. And when their hands touched... It was all very odd. There was something about this strange man that unknowingly pulled him closer, something that eased his initial distrust and gave him faith he wouldn't have had otherwise.

As the dance ended, Jamie stood for a moment, his mind replaying the parts where he'd danced with the Doctor. Then he stepped over to the Doctor before they could be swept up if another dance were to start and placed a hand on his arm.

"What did ye see? Do ye ken who it is? What now, Doctor Smith?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Before all else, I'd like to take ya for some air, and we oughta speak. Looks like you could use it!"

Jamie's face was flushed a bright poppy and the Doctor ran his long fingers through the sweat-soaked fluff of his hair. It had been quite some time since he'd danced like that SHE LOVED DANCING and in thick wools, no less.

The crowd cheering gave them both plenty of cover, everyone too busy congratulating the musicians and debating the next song, wiping at streaming eyes. For some of these men, some hardly more than boys, it would truly be their last dance.

Once again, The Doctor took young Jamie by the hand, leading him down some winding corridors until at last they stumbled outside and into the walled gardens where the cool evening breeze rushed up to meet them. The wind sweeping off the pond was delightfully refreshing, like a bite of a crisp apple, the lights of the house glittering like starlight on its dark surface.

Only when they had taken great strides from the House and its exuberant inhabitants, did the Doctor speak again.

"Jamie," he said, letting both syllables trip from his lips in a binary orbit, "Before all of this, before... battle and werewolves and battle with werewolves and all the madness between, I ought'a tell you the truth. The one and all of it."

At the edge of the water, they found themselves in front of a carved wooden bench dangling in chains beneath an arch, both made proudly with the shapes of thistle and Scottish bluebell.

The Doctor gestured for Jamie to sit and join him, certain to hold it steady for Jamie before sinking down himself.

"Only it's hard to know where to begin."

Or how he might react.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As the Doctor threw open the doors and stepped into the hall, Jamie followed behind, his pipes positioned and ready to play.

He watched as the Doctor rallied the crowd, taken by how confident he was. He seemed so sure that this plan would work, and he just burst in here and acted as if everyone knew and loved him.

As the Doctor started clapping a rhythm, Jamie began playing. He was a bit shakey at first, but he gained his composure, and the notes came out strong and clear.

Despite the reason for his playing, Jamie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the drummers and other pipers joined in. If there were other pipers here, maybe his father was here too. He began to scan the hall.

He watched as a few familiar faces got up and began dancing. He saw his laird, Colin McLaren, being pulled to his feet by his daughter, Kirsty. She looked over at Jamie and smiled, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

As more people began to stand, it was harder to look around for his father. Jamie was disappointed, but he tried not to let it dampen his pride. He hadn't seen anyone showing any of the signs the Doctor had mentioned, but he didn't have the sharpest eyes, so there was a good chance he'd missed seeing them. Unless they weren't in the hall and were among the other Scots readying for the march. Could he and the Doctor be wasting their time here?

His gaze was suddenly pulled by a swish of fabric beside him as the tall stranger he'd become entangled with stepped into the ladies' dancing line and offered him a hand. Jamie considered it for a moment.

In Jamie's head, this was a dance for men and women to do with each other, not for a man to do with another man. The Doctor didn't seem to care, but he hadn't shown discomfort towards anything since they'd met. Jamie didn't really want to dance with a man, especially with so many people around, but it was the only way for them to talk while blending in. Jamie put his bagpipes carefully to the side and reluctantly took the Doctor's hand, stepping into the men's line.

"Have ye seen anythin' yet? Ah havenae."

He linked arms with the Doctor and began dancing, turning around in a circle before switching partners. Dancing wasn't the best way to talk to people, but at least he could actually talk and not have a blowpipe in his mouth.

He completed his circle with the lass and switched back to the Doctor, waiting to hear what he had to say.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Aye," The Doctor responded, interrupted by a step and spin.

All the while, he kept his eyes over the young man's shoulder, watching every move his father made. Although his head was bent low, hiding any yellowing eyes or sharpened teeth, the Time Lord could all too easily spot nails growing to stiletto claws, a tuft of coarse fur emerging from beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket.

When he and Jamie were reunited, the Doctor added, "I've some ken."

I was afraid of this, the he wondered, I'm so sorry, Jamie...

It was all he could do to snap that cheery, wild grin back into place as he spun the carousel with the mildly confused ladies, towering over them too tall to properly join hands in the middle.

As soon as they returned to the line, those dark eyes were once again relentless on Jamie's, his hand so warm. The dance drew them so near that he could feel the other's breath ghosting along his pale skin, his unusual heritage letting every molecule slip by.

The Time Lord's orbit was inescapable, for that he never fully understood why.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause, but the Doctor hardly noticed, breathless in a world that very suddenly no longer belonged to him.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie was caught off guard as the Doctor rushed off.

"Hey, wait fer me!"

He cast a glance back into the farmhouse to say a last goodbye to his mother, but she'd already gone off to another room. He decided not to shout to her, having already said goodbye, and quickly shut the front door to race after the Doctor. His heart was beating fast with apprehension and what could possibly be exhilaration. There was something exciting about the possibility of seeing something he'd only heard of in stories.

Jamie bounded across the moor, trying to catch up to the long-legged man who crossed the heath so easily. His hair blew out behind him, tousled by the wind that was threatening to tug his tam-o'-shanter from his head. His claymore and dirk bumped against his side and his bagpipes were tucked under his arm, comforts as he ran into something unfamiliar.

He skidded to a stop next to the Doctor and looked up at him, waiting to hear what was next.

He internally sighed in relief that the lairds were still feasting. He hadn't been aware of what the lairds would be doing before the march, and he was glad nothing had started without him.

Once the Doctor had finished speaking, Jamie piped up.

"Aye, mebbe we have an advantage because we'll only be facin one beastie, but Ah still dinnae know how we'll convince them to hold off on the attack. Do ye think he's turned into a wolf yet, or do ye think he's still human?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not the worst odds ye've faced? How many times have ye had to save people from a werewolf?"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"More than I ought'a share," the Doctor admitted blithely with a bob of his head. "The beast won't truly arise until the moon does, full and high over the moor. But there will be signs as we get closer - too many teeth, flashes of yellow eyes, things of that nature. Bein'- or, well, rather canine-adjacent - they also are quite sensitive to sound."

When he turned to Jamie, the boy's gaze was once again swallowed up at the edge of the singularity in the Doctor's own, a look that already seemed to be chanting: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Just know this: the wolf could be anyone inside in disguise. The beast takes over the person, destroying whoever they might have been before. They may try and act the same, but that person is gone."

A hand went to cover his mouth as he pondered what to do.

"And we'll have to consider every single person there. But how do we get close to everybody and with time so short?"

Only then did his eyes fall to the pipe strapped to Jamie's hip.

"You know how to play that, yeah?"

The Doctor threw open the double doors of the hall with both hands, the very spirit of mania and good cheer.

"Aye now? Are we not celebratin' Scottish independence?" he roared at the top of his lungs, voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling.

Not waiting for anyone to ask what the hell he was even doing, he grabbed the nearest young man by the wrist, dragging him up into the wide aisle, a serving girl next, then someone else.

"Come now, we ain't sneakin' up on nobody yet! Let's have us one last reel, aye?"

Clapping his hands in the direction of the war drummers would get them on-beat, surely they knew the rhythm. Other pipers joined them, striking up a familiar tune as so many others got up to join the line.

His eyes flicked to Jamie's father in the corner, familiar in a matching tartan to the young man's. He was covering his ears, hunched over low, trying to seem as if it was merely some headache that ailed him.

It would not do for Jamie to see that.

Whipping back around had the Doctor's plaid and coat both swishing out wide, his grin glistening in the flickering candlelight. Stepping into the ladies' line himself, he offered Jamie his wide, warm hand.

"You ain't getting out of it neither, young Jamie! A revolution without dancing is not worth having at all!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

There was something about the Doctor that seemed to melt any doubts he'd had previously. Of course, he didn't trust the man completely yet, but he wasn't on edge as he was before.

Not only that, but the weight of his hand and that gaze, both soft and intense at once, made him feel like he was trusted too, as if it really were up to him and this stranger, and it made him feel stronger and hopeful.

"Aye, but how are we goin tae stop them? Ah suppose all we need tae to is convince them is that the march tonight shooldn't happen an we shoold wait fer tomorrow tae start the battle, but how are we goin tae do that? Like Ah said, we're joos a piper an a doctor. Ah dinnae think that anythin we say will do much. to convince them."

Jamie looked up at the darkening sky and suddenly realised that their conversation was making him later.

"We shoold probably go now if we want tae stop them before they leave. Ah was already runnin late before ye got here. Och, Ah hope they havenae left already!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Then we haven't got any time to lose!"

The Doctor patted Jamie's shoulder fiercely before taking off running, not waiting for Jamie to say his goodbyes, trusting him to follow behind.

The thick Highland grasses were thick and plush under his Converse trainers, the wind whipped up with excitement as he crested the tall hill overlooking Culloden. The sun was only just beginning to tumble down golden beyond the horizon, the moon threatening to raise her blade.

He paused for only a moment, both to let Jamie catch up and to enjoy one last refreshing breeze with a wide, dauntless grin. If Earth was one of his favourite places in all the universe, Scotland was perhaps one of the loveliest places on Earth in his heart.

Once the young man finally joined him, he gestured wide, an arm around his shoulders.

"There's Culloden down there," he explained, "All the lairds are havin' one last supper before sundown and taking the night march. With any luck, we'll be able to convince them to hold off until morn. We've an advantage, too. As far as I can tell--"

-- By which he meant a visit a century in the future --

"--There be only one beastie roaming the moors tonight, but that can change as easily as the wind. We find out who that might be, or man who ain't no man, and we save the rebellion."

He shrugged dramatically.

"Certainly not the worst odds I've faced!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Jamie relaxed slightly when he heard the familiar Scottish lilt in the Doctor's voice. The English would never try to do a Scottish accent, he thought, and even if they did, they'd be no good at it. They'd certainly not be able to slip it in like the Doctor was doing.

Jamie was a superstitious man. He believed in fae, kelpies, Cat Sìth, all of it. His clan even had their own legend of the Phantom Piper that appeared right before a McCrimmon died. When the Doctor mentioned the wolves that weren't wolves at all, his eyes widened, and he believed every word.

"Really? Ye think they're out tonight? Ohhh, Ah see what ya meant by the full moon. Och, that cannae be good! The attack is goin tae be tonight! Ma father, ma brothers, ma Laird - they're already there, preparin tae march! Ah'm supposed tae be there too! But the wolves…"

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. His loyalty to his clan called, but his belief in the supernatural was strong as well. No matter what, he wouldn't leave his clanmates to die.

"This battle's very important fer our freedom. Ah dinnae think anyone will call it off fer joos a few rumours. Ah'm joos a piper, an no offence, but Ah dinnae think they'll listen tae a Doctor either. Ah have tae do somethin though!"

[magic-crazy-as-this]

On one hand, the Doctor couldn't help but feel relieved - overjoyed even - to have finally come across someone who didn't need to be convinced of the spooky supernatural or worlds beyond.

The only thing that kept him from practically vibrating in his shoes was the sinking feeling as he was reminded of the battle and what was at stake. What they would lose.

"Trust me, lad."

The Doctor rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder, enormous and warm and heavy, the weight of it shaking the smaller man's frame a little.

"I know what this battle means to you, to all of us Scotsmen. I wouldn't be sayin' such things if it weren't a matter of life and death and king and country."

The eyes that swallowed Jamie up were as soft as a puppy's with the intensity of an event horizon, yielding no quarter, allowing no escape.

"You're a smart lad, I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. Between the two of us, we might yet save this rebellion."

For as long as the rebellion even has.

[tropiyas]

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

classic texts have nothing on the crazy people come up with in modern times tbh

[cerastes]

“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”

– Joshua Graham, Who Is A Fallout New Vegas NPC, Something Most People Throwing This Quote Around Don’t Realize

[sparkylurkdragon]

“If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight like I always have.”

– Shadow the Hedgehog in what is widely considered one of if not the single worst game in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise

[tarradash]

[spookyscaryskeletitties]

this is the source for this text and it haunts me on a regular basis

[onion-souls]

[oblivionsongstress]

“Pick a god and pray.”

-Fredrick from Fire Emblem Awakening

[jedijenkins]

Huh, it’s almost like art isn’t just fine art…

[mysteryseeker]

this is my addition to this ever growing list of raw quotes originating from unexpected sources

[knucklesandgyros]

[silver-tongues-blog]

[lostsometime]

#discovering that the profound is lurking behind the absurd#just waiting for the chance to peek through like sunlight through the clouds#is one of the best things in life once you start to notice it

this is a beautiful way to put it and i’m gonna cry abt it

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

this post has gotten so much better since the last time I saw it

[rolanslide]

I would like to add

[rolanslide]

“You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one.”

- Technoblade from Dream SMP

We deserve a soft epilogue, my love

- A Stucky fanfiction

[gattinidiguerra]

Truly the best shit on the internet here.

[stormfalcon2018]

Ahem @bettinalevyisdetermined could you please do a video with this?

also “you’re not brave, you’ve merely forgotten the fear of death. Allow me to reacquaint you.” Is the rawest line and it’s from dominus ghaul from destiny 2’s vanilla story when it first released.

How can we forget the quote that sums up this entire reblog chain:

Why do you people feel profound thought has to come from high places? The gutter looks at the stars too

[hitmanmason]

“Spare me this mockery of justice!” (A few minutes later, a with a different character) “Silence! Or you shall be held in contempt of court!” “I have nothing *but* contempt for this court!” The Transformers: The Movie (1986)

[eric-coldfire]

“For every kid that dreams up the electric lightbulb, there’s one who dreams up the atom bomb.” - Mr. Electric, The Adventures of Sharkboy And Lavagirl (2005).

“I like turtles!” - turtle kid

[mithrel]

“If the sea were of ink and the sky parchment I could not begin to write my love for you.”

Grandma Arbuckle reading a love letter in A Garfield Christmas.

[the-haiku-bot]

Grandma Arbuckle

reading a love letter in

A Garfield Christmas.

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[christian-zelda]

Doesn’t Jesus Christ say something similar to that?

[magic-crazy-as-this]

"Proverb" my ass, this is from Star Trek.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

As soon as the Doctor started speaking, his accent clearly English, Jamie's hackles immediately rose. He stood so he'd take up as much of the doorway as possible to prevent the Doctor from breaking through and positioned his hand so that he was ready to grab his dirk at the slightest sign of hostility.

"Doctor John Smith," he muttered, not quite trusting the man in front of him.

He didn't relax at the Doctor's explanation either. It could be true, of course, but Jamie didn't know much of the world outside of Scotland and the rebellion.

"We dinnae need their help anyway," he said somewhat stubbornly. "They're probably too afraid tae fight 'the mighty English'. Bah!"

He scowled, then grinned excitedly as he thought of the battle to come.

"Aye, it's the perfect time tae catch them by surprise! They've all been celebratin the Duke of Cumberland's birthday with brandy an they'll be pissed an unawares! All the easier sneak up an get them withoot tae much bloodshed on our end. Ah havenae heard any rumours aboot the full moon, other than that it'll make it easier fer us to see the sassenachs an easier fer them tae see us."

He didn't mind divulging this piece of information. If the Doctor was really a sassenach and not Scottish, there would be no way he'd get back to their camp in time to warn them. Jamie would make sure of that, if he had to.

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The Doctor's lip folded up into a grimace as he mused on the notion, his head bobbing to and fro. It was always a delicate subject, the whole "the truth is out there" talk, especially after centuries of doing it.

It never quite got boring, especially when people reacted well, but that was never a guarantee. It felt like every person took a completely different revelation there. Far too often he forgot not to rush matters in excitement.

"It's not the English I'm so worried about," he carefully broached, allowing a few threads of an accent come through, just enough to be believable in his supposed backstory but not noticeable enough if he forgot again. "There's a different sort of animal who might be trouble."

Brows waggling with manic delight, he continued.

"There's strange talk of wolves marauding these moors. Wolves who used to be men."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

[ closed starter ] with @jamie-mccrimmon2

It's 15 April 1746 and on the eve of a battle that will determine the fate of Scotland, the Tenth Doctor has no choice but to once again track down a monster on the Highlands, bringing him face-to-familiar face. Can the Doctor save Jamie's life and can the Highlander heal the Doctor's broken heart before tooth and claw tear them apart?

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @uzmacchiato)

"Well... that was a mistake," The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked the various levers and dials on the TARDIS console, darting from one position to the other.

His eyes never left the monitor where news stories popped up nonstop. The Sun had a lurid photograph of a lupine creature devouring a cow whole with the headline "THE MONSTER MOUNTBATTEN". The Daily Mail had a suspected timeline of the royal family's rumoured abnormalities.

On one hand, it made the Time Lord's hearts ache to be reminded of an adventure he'd had with... her. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was still there, palm pressed to the smooth white surface, every part of his soul crying out for her only to never hear its echo.

On the other, it felt safe, welcome even to delve into another manic race against danger, leaving no room for dwelling on grief.

Either way, he had no choice but to chase down these monsters before they found their way to Queen Victoria over a century later, turning the royals into a force of complete destruction that would tear all of Britain asunder.

Mouth half hung open, he cackled madly as he pumped the altermatter ignition, the blue box wheezing and heaving into place at the crest of a hill overlooking the moors.

Now just to remember how to tie on a kilt.

The sun was beginning to descend golden on the thick sea of verdant grass that shifted serenely with every ruffle of the cool summer breeze. Of all the places The Doctor had been across the infinite expanse of time and space, he never felt so at home as he did on Earth. He closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his thick brown locks and blue-and-crimson plaid.

In the distance was a small farmhouse on the banks of a shining lake. Scanners indicated tonight the wolves would attack tonight with the rising of the full moon and right here.

With luck and a few entertaining lies, maybe the locals would have some information that could lead him to adventure.

Bounding down the hilltop, he made his way to their front door, knocking merrily with a relentlessly cheerful grin, more than pleased to be making someone's acquaintance.

[jamie-mccrimmon2]

Inside the small farmhouse, a Scottish lad with shaggy hair was rushing around, looking for something.

"Jamie, yer goin tae be late!" A lady, twice the age of the lad, chided him as he opened a cupboard. "How many times have Ah told ye tae put it somewhere ya'd remember!"

"Aye, Ma, Ah know, but Ah'll find it! Ah'm nae missin the night march!" Jamie responded as he rifled through the contents of the cupboard.

"Yer father's probably wonderin where ya are! He's nae supposed tae be the only piper fer the clan!"

"Aye, Ah know," Jamie shut the cupboard and turned around, eyes scanning back and forth for the next place to search.

"James Robert McCrimmon, what am Ah tae do with ye?" His mother shook her head.

Jamie McCrimmon was running late for the most important night of his life. He was supposed to be on the night march before the battle set to happen the next day alongside his father, brothers, clan and fellow Scots, and yet he was still at home, searching for his tam-o'-shanter.

He wasn't avoiding the battle, certainly not. He was apprehensive, of course, but he was excited too, ready to join the Jacobite rebellion and fight for the Bonny Prince and his country. Dressed in his great kilt, his weapons and bagpipes ready, all he needed was his tam-o'-shanter and he'd be ready to join his clan.

He picked up a pile of his clothes, not expecting anything, and found a blue cap underneath.

"Ah foond it!" He said, relieved, placing it on his head. "Ah better head off."

"Stay safe, Jamie," His mother moved over to him, and he leaned in to give her a kiss of the cheek. "Do yer coontry prood."

Jamie was about to respond when a knock came at the door.

"Ah suppose someone's come tae get me. Ah'll see ya later, Ma."

He made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to see someone from the clan McLaren, but instead was face to face with a chap wearing McDonald tartan. He took him in, tall and thin, hair sticking up like moor grass. He hadn't seen him before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with the McDonalds.

"Hello there! Did the McLaren laird send ya? Ah'm comin, joos runnin a wee bit late."

[magic-crazy-as-this]

The night march. Of course. How could he have forgotten how the doomed battle began? But if the Highlanders were marching under the silvery gaze of the merciless moon, more than just the ill-fated rebellion was in danger.

"Ah, yes, I'm ahh..."

The Doctor's eyes flicked to Jamie's for only a moment.

"I'm Doctor John Smith," he quickly named, "I've been abroad in Paris trying to garner support for our cause and it seems I've gotten turned around now that I'm finally home."

He gestured loosely to himself.

"You'll forgive the accent, I've been in the company of foreigners for too long, they don't take well to proper Scots further afield."

It was as good an excuse as any, and he had to supply something. Last time he'd made an honest attempt at blending in, he'd been unable to remember too keep all the long vowels and swallowed consonants in place while racing against monstrous destruction.

"Although I have to ask, do you suppose it's safe to be on the move tonight? The sassenachs can get themselves killed just as well come sunup and there's rumours of strange happenings under the full moon."