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sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-17 11:32 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-17 11:32 am
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Edgar van Scyoc Presents: Doctor Who; Chapter 5
Title: Edgar van Scyoc Presents: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13 (mainly for language)
Summary: Gareth David-Lloyd joins the Doctor Who cast as Ross Jenkins, helping the Doctor rescue displaced hospitals and meeting William Shakespeare while Torchwood battles alien "werewolves" and confronts victims of the Rift. Meanwhile, Edgar van Scyoc shows off his new tattoo -- and Edgar and Ellis must make some hard decisions when their relationship is threatened by the press.
Chapter Five
DOCTOR WHO 1x16: THE NEW KID
It's an unfortunate coincidence that Ross Jenkins is taken to Stroger Memorial Hospital to recover from his battle with the Daleks at the same time as a bloodsucking alien vampire takes up residence. The Shadow Proclamation, an intergalactic police force, has been charged with bringing her in. To keep her from escaping, they decide to transplant the entire hospital to the moon. Ross's one bit of luck is that Rose and the Doctor were visiting him when it happened. Three against an army isn't great odds, but then the Doctor specialises in long odds...and Ross has a few surprises up his sleeve.
Excerpt from the shooting script for Episode 1x16: The New Kid.
Story by: Ellis Graveworthy
Teleplay by: Ellis Graveworthy and Richard Allen
INT - HOSPITAL - DAY
Blurry shapes onscreen and the bleep of a heart monitor in the background. As the camera pulls back, the blurs resolve themselves into ROSS, lying in a hospital bed. He is staring at the camera but mainly into nothing, his face infinitely sad.
GWEN VO
The reports on the Invasion That Wasn't have been collated and filed. We've taken witness statements from Rose Tyler and Ross Jenkins, and Tommy's technical specs are in triple-backup storage so that if another fleet comes back we'll know what to do. The Doctor says there won't be any more, but he thought they were destroyed at the battle of Arcadia, too.
ROSS turns his head as the door enters; it's a nurse, carrying a tray of food. He pushes himself up and lets her set it in front of him.
GWEN VO
It's been a hard adjustment for all of us. We know what really happened, and the image of the buildings falling is one I can't put out of my head. I've spoken with Ian and Owen and they both think we'll all feel better when the thirty-six hours have passed and we feel like we're in "real" time again. Tosh and Tommy don't want to talk about it -- not with anyone but each other, anyway.
ROSS picks at his food listlessly.
GWEN VO
Torchwood has completed and closed the case on the invasion. Now I think we need to find some way to close the case in our own heads.
[beat]
Ross Jenkins has been temporarily removed from duty at USPAT for medical and personal reasons.
[a click]
This concludes the summary notes on Torchwood Event File 9926. Officer Gwen Cooper-Williams, digital signature.
The door opens and ROSE puts her head in; ROSS immediately lights up, looking behind her expectantly for the DOCTOR. Instead, a huge bouquet of flowers appears.
Time-jump; ROSS has shoved the hospital food away and the flowers are now in a vase, sitting on a shelf next to his bed. We can see that he has bandages on one arm under his hospital pyjamas. ROSE and the DOCTOR are sitting next to his bed.
ROSS
I have to admit I thought you two would be gone by now. Tosh came to visit me yesterday, she said you'd both disappeared.
ROSE
Well, we did, kind of. We took a little jump. The timestorm made antsy-pants here anxious.
DOCTOR
I'm not even going to dignify the term "antsy pants" with a response.
ROSE
And I had to bully him into coming to see you. But I wanted to. Because, you know. Saved The World Club and everything.
ROSS
I'm glad. I wanted to see you again. I -- I had something for you, actually.
He reaches over to the shelf and opens a drawer, pulling LETHBRIDGE's PDA out from under a bag of cotton balls. ROSE bites her lip and the DOCTOR looks sad.
ROSS
It belonged to the Col -- to my father. He gave it to me before he died.
ROSE
We know. I saw him use it all the time.
ROSS
He said I should destroy it but...
DOCTOR
You're not as big on destruction as he was.
ROSS
I read through it. I thought maybe if there was anyone I should call...
[beat]
He was keeping notes on it. About you and Rose. Recommendations for your capture, at first. Later, just informational notes. Places he'd been with you. Things you showed him.
DOCTOR
I knew.
ROSS
And you still let him keep it? He was going to give it to USPAT.
DOCTOR
Humans...
[shakes his head]
If I don't want to be held, you won't hold me. If I don't want to be caught, you won't catch me. Maybe out there is something that can, but not humans. Not yet.
The DOCTOR glances at ROSE, who is studying the PDA as if she can't believe it's real.
DOCTOR
We should go. I don't think we'll be passing this way again anytime soon.
ROSS
Maybe that's best.
ROSE
Will you be okay?
ROSS waves off her concern.
ROSS
I've got USPAT and Torchwood. I'll be fine.
Suddenly the room shakes; there is a sharp jolt that nearly throws ROSS out of the bed.
DOCTOR
What on...? Rose?
ROSE
[picking herself up]
What is it now?
DOCTOR
Look at the window.
THE DOCTOR and ROSE both look. Eventually ROSS slides out of the bed and carefully disengages the various IV tubes and monitors, joining them.
INT - HOSPITAL - VIEW OF OUTSIDE
Over their shoulders, we see the wide hospital window, looking out on a blank expanse of space. Below them is a white landscape devoid of features; far beyond them, the EARTH swings into view.
OPENING CREDITS.
***
FINAL SCENE:
EXT - HOSPITAL FRONT ENTRY - DAY
ROSS is sitting on a park bench, studying the PDA. He speaks apparently to no-one.
ROSS
It's still yours if you want it.
The DOCTOR appears next to the bench, looking awkward.
DOCTOR
You should have it. It was your father's.
ROSS
Doesn't give a very good report of him.
DOCTOR
You're too old to believe in putting your parents on a pedestal.
ROSS
I'd only known him three days.
DOCTOR
Grief is for the finality of death, not the value of the person lost.
[ROSS looks up.]
Now you don't have hope anymore. That's what will crush you, if you let it.
ROSS
How did you survive?
The DOCTOR glances at ROSE, who is buying a hot dog from a cart nearby.
DOCTOR
I found a new reason to hope.
[pause]
Rose and I are leaving. Thank you for your help.
ROSS
Good luck.
The DOCTOR turns and walks away. ROSS looks down at the PDA, clenches it tightly, and makes a decision.
ROSS
[calling out]
I want to come with you.
The DOCTOR stops but doesn't react otherwise.
ROSS
This was what I dreamed about, going to the stars, and you and Rose look like you could use a third. I'm not my father but --
DOCTOR
You're yourself.
ROSS
So take me with you. Please.
DOCTOR
Your father is dead because of me.
ROSS
I exist because of you. And I can see you waiting to take me apart, find out what I am. I can see you fighting against it. Let me come with you and you can find out. I'll let you.
Focus on the DOCTOR's face; he looks torn and miserable. Before he turns around he carefully reschools his features into a mask of cheerful, paternal indulgence.
DOCTOR
Rose needed a new playmate anyway. Come on.
ROSS bolts up out of the bench and catches up with him as they reach ROSE, who smiles and hugs ROSS with one arm, then presents him with a candy bar. They walk away, laughing.
BLACKOUT.
***
Edgar van Scyoc's public image was edgy and dark and a little bit sinister, which was exactly the way he liked it. He didn't think he was a particularly dark or sinister man, though he would grant the public "edgy".
Not that he felt very edgy at the moment, even, lying in a hotel room bed in Vancouver, the latest show in the can and filming breaking for three blissful weeks so that Tennant could rehearse for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at Steppenwolf. Steppenwolf had been good to them over the years, letting them nick props and borrow rehearsal space at times, and it was the least they could do to lend out their lead for a few weeks. Especially since it meant he got three blissful weeks in which to loaf around Vancouver and oversee some of the Doctor Who filming.
A hand touched his shoulder; he smiled.
And then there was Ellis.
"You have a new tattoo," Ellis said, a querying but not-quite-disapproving note in his voice.
"Mm. I thought about asking you if I should do it, but -- "
"It's your body," Ellis replied.
Ellis had been surprised by the tattoos, the first time he saw them, but not as freaked out as some of Edgar's girlfriends had been. He'd touched each one in turn, demanding that a sleepy Edgar explain them to him, tell him their stories.
Just below the base of the neck, the word chiule -- first word in the English language, and his first tattoo, the night before he graduated film school. Three masks on the left shoulderblade, one for every Humana Festival he'd taken a play to; the logo of a short-lived science-fiction drama on his right shoulder, where for the thirteen episodes that existed he'd been a very, very junior director's assistant.
Over his spine, between his shoulderblades -- and hadn't that hurt like a bitch -- a stylized pair of fangs. He'd gotten them prematurely, when he started his assistant job on Buffy the Vampire Slayer; he might have shelled out for something a little fancier if he'd known by the following year he'd have a director's credit and two scripts to his name. Joss Whedon had liked Edgar's style and helped him out a lot when he was first starting; he still owed him for that. He'd wanted to take on Firefly and turn it around, when it was cancelled, but he couldn't then; years later when he managed to haul Studio Sixty up by its bootstraps and get it a second season he'd gone to get the logo of the fictional NBS network directly under the fangs.
There'd been many shows over the years -- god, a horrible stint on Ally McBeal, one episode (all he could take) of Dawson's Creek, a decent run on The X-Files, two scripts and a couple of episode on the Stargate franchise, a gig with Nip/Tuck -- but those had just been him doing his job. The others were the ones that mattered, the ones that had changed his career.
He felt Ellis's fingers drift down to the small of his back, just above his hips. The skin was still a little sore, but it had scabbed and peeled nicely, and he was pretty pleased with the result.
"Ampersand production company," Ellis said. "You remember when we thought that up at what, three in the morning?"
"E & E looked weird," Edgar mumbled. "There's something classic about the ampersand."
"And a mechanical ampersand! That would look cool!" Ellis repeated mockingly. "Though I must admit your tattoo man did a very nice job on all the little gears and pistons and things."
"Thank you."
Ellis's hand flattened over the tattoo, firm and warm.
"Why do you do it?" he asked. "Do you think you're likely to forget?"
"These things changed me," Edgar said. "I like having a sign of that. Gives me something to talk about in bed," he added, angling for a laugh, but when he looked over his shoulder Ellis was studying him with serious eyes.
"And yet you waited until now to get the tattoo."
"I wasn't sure it was going to change my life until now," he said.
***
TORCHWOOD 2x16: TOOTH AND CLAW
Werewolves? In Chicago? It's a ridiculous thought, but when Ian and Jack go out after a weevil and come back with more than the usual number of lacerations, everyone has to consider it as a serious possibility. The hunt is on when the next full moon rises, but the "werewolves of Chicago" seem hesitant to engage -- and as the chase becomes more and more desperate, the team begin to wonder who the real vicious animals are.
Though it wasn't exactly frightening at night, Lurie Garden was a little forbidding; Ian had always heard people giving warnings about staying away from this or that neighborhood after dark, but he knew the truth was that the most dangerous place to wander after dark was downtown, where tourists were considered easy targets. Not that he and Jack were easy targets, either one, but they were chasing something a little more dangerous than the average mugger. The full moon gave more light than usual, anyway.
"I still say it's too cold for weevils," he said, rubbing his gloved hands together and blowing into them. Jack took a swig of tea from the thermos flask and offered it to him, but he waved it off.
"They're warm-blooded," Jack said. "It's never too cold for Weevils."
"That's the worst slogan ever," Ian replied. "Honestly -- "
"Hang on," Jack said, putting up a hand. "Did you hear that?"
Ian turned his head, listening; Jack was starting to look like a dog on the scent, hungry and eager...and it shouldn't excite him, but it did. Weevil-hunting was the one time Jack left Torchwood and the burden he carried behind him and was just purely himself. A hunter.
A shadow flickered in the distance. Jack grinned at him.
"Told you so," he said, and took off running.
Weevils in the sewers and the abandoned underground tunnels tended to hunt in gangs, but aboveground they were almost always solo; Tosh had a theory that the above-ground hunters were pack members that had been kicked out. There was safety in numbers for a Weevil, after all -- they couldn't fix on more than one target at a time, as hunting with Jack-as-bait had often proved. Ian circled wide, giving Jack a chance to draw its attention.
Jack turned his flashlight directly on the lumbering figure, and Ian had a brief vision of sleek fur over corded muscle before he realized something wasn't right. The shadow moved too fast, darting out of the light, and Jack whistled and took off running again. Ian moved before thinking, following the usual pattern and trying to intercept. He was within ten feet of it when he caught the gleam of moonlight on teeth.
It was fast, too fast, and too big for a Weevil, and it had fangs --
The last thing Ian heard before the world went dark was Jack calling his name in a panic.
***
He woke briefly, a firebrand burning its way down his chest, and tried to lie still and let the pain subside. When it began to drop away he became aware of voices in the room, angry voices, but he wasn't certain he was prepared for anger yet, and he kept his eyes closed.
" -- why I keep warning you about taking him hunting, Jack!"
"You act like I'm ordering to go. Half the time he starts it."
"That's no excuse. He's twenty-five, for god's sake."
Owen, that was Owen. He opened his eyes to slits; Owen was standing nearby, leaning on his cane and getting all five-foot-nine of him up into Jack's face.
"Did you think I was unaware of that, Owen?" Jack asked. "I know it. Better than anyone."
"I know he seems experienced but -- "
"You're bloody right he does," Jack snarled. Ian closed his eyes and listened as Jack's voice gentled. "He's seen too much for his years. You all have. And you all go into it now, every time, with your eyes open."
"Are yours open, Jack? You can't die! And you forget sometimes that we can!"
Silence for a long time. Ian tried to shift his body, felt the pain well up again, and grunted.
"He's waking up," Jack said. "Ian?"
"Ow," Ian managed.
"Yeah, ow is right," Owen answered, and by the sound of it he was limping around to the other side of the bed. "You weren't supposed to wake up just yet, errand boy."
Cool relief washed over him as Owen pushed something into his IV; the world faded away a lot more gently this time.
"What was it, anyway?" he heard Owen ask.
"Don't know. Big. Teeth and claws. Fur."
"Werewolf," Ian muttered as he slipped down.
***
Excerpt from the shooting script for Episode 2x16: Tooth And Claw.
Story & Teleplay by: Edgar van Scyoc
INT - HUB - SHOWER ROOM
IAN is standing in the HUB communal shower room, shirtless, examining himself in a mirror. There are several long, healing scars on his chest, some with stitches still in them. JACK appears behind him, fully dressed. IAN stands still as JACK approaches and kisses him on the shoulder.
JACK
Ready to go hunting with us tonight?
IAN
No.
JACK
You don't have to go.
IAN
I'm pretty sure I do.
[pause]
Here's the thing.
JACK
[affectionate]
What's the thing?
IAN
If it really is a werewolf.
JACK
Werewolves aren't real.
IAN
But if they were, are we sure I'm not one, now?
JACK
It's not a werewolf. Werewolves aren't real. But if it had been a werewolf, and on the incredibly long odds that it transmitted lycanthropy to you through its claws, and on the further long odds that neither Owen nor myself would notice any changes in you, then I promise you that the first time you try to hurt someone I'll shoot you in the head. Sound good?
IAN
You say the nicest things.
JACK
Get dressed. Work to do.
JACK slaps him on the ass as he walks away. IAN smiles and pulls his shirt over his head, then leans in close to the mirror and double-checks his teeth for signs of fangs.
***
"Ian! IAN!"
Jack rounded the corner and slammed into the wall opposite, staggering forward, the rest of the team on his heels. The sputtering lights on the street didn't show much of the alley, but he could see enough.
The werewolf -- really, what else could you call them? -- was huddled on the ground, cradling its injured arm and keening. Blood matted its fur and stained its white claws dark. But...there was intelligence in the shiny black eyes, and it wasn't trying to escape or fight back. Just waiting. Patiently.
Ian stood a few feet away, breathing hard, gun trained on it. His hand shook slightly.
"O-kay," Jack said slowly. "Ian, you heard Tosh on the comms. They're not hostile."
Ian drew a deep breath and pulled the safety on his gun.
"Ian, they're intelligent. It's hurt. It's not going to attack you."
Jack edged closer. Ian's eyes were wide and staring, fixed on the werewolf's eyes.
"It's not going to hurt you," Jack continued. "But you can hurt it. Are you going to be that man, Ian? Humanity's on the cusp of conquering that urge to kill."
"Are you sure that's a good thing?" Ian asked, voice harsh.
"Yes, I am. Because I come from a time past the cusp. I'm here in this world and I'm staying here, Ian, but the world is a better place when people decide to stop..." Jack slid his fingers along the barrel, holding it. He didn't try to turn it yet; Ian's finger was taut on the trigger. "Torchwood doesn't destroy just because it doesn't understand."
Ian's eyes shifted from the werewolf to Jack's face.
"Don't be the monster, Ian." Jack tightened his grip on the barrel. "Let go of it."
Ian released the gun, so fast that Jack almost dropped it, and stepped back. He turned, as if to run, but the rest of the team was there to stop him. Gwen grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close; Tommy stepped up to his shoulder and leaned against him, cautiously.
Jack replaced the safety on the gun, shoved it in his pants next to his own, and turned his attention away.
"You speak English?" he asked, bending down. The werewolf stared at him. "Unarmed, look." He held up his hands and twisted them at the wrists. "You speak Esperanto?"
A shake of the head.
"Kehani? Top Sector Standard? New Portugese?" No reaction other than a slight tremor. "Boeshan Sector Low?"
At this, the werewolf sat up, tilting its head.
Jack could have laughed. He hadn't spoken that language since he was fifteen and left home.
"You speak Boeshan Sector Low?" Jack asked again.
"Yes," the werewolf answered. "It hurts."
"I know, I know," Jack crooned, holding out his hand. "Listen, I can take you somewhere safe. I know you don't trust me, but there's been a misunderstanding. We're landbound aid agents. We can help you."
"Your bodyguard," the werewolf said, tipping its head at Ian. Owen had caught up and was shining a light in his eyes, checking him for head injuries.
"He won't hurt you. He's -- " Jack actually had to search for the word before it would come to him. "They are my family-bond. All of them back there."
"Lucky man," the werewolf drawled, letting Jack wrap his shirt around the injured arm.
"The dark-haired one -- he's my only partner-bond."
"Ah. Strange rituals you have here. Will he be well?"
"He's young. They bounce back."
Jack heard something approaching laughter from the werewolf's throat.
"You're a good bondfather."
"Thanks. Come on -- let's get your arm seen to," Jack said.
***
Courtesy of the Torchwood Extras official website:
Captain's Blog for Episode 2.16: Tooth And Claw
Ongoing Archive Notes
Torchwood 3
Volume 73, Week 16
Alien activity: Space werewolves. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. They're a race I've never encountered before; the poor kids were far from home and had to make an emergency stop for repairs. We just happened to catch one on an unlucky night. They look like us, most of the time -- sort of like us, anyway. Last time we ran into each other I spooked one, she nailed Ian...cultural misunderstanding. That almost got Ian killed. Great.
Rift activity: Nil.
Security: Ian had some issues standing down once we'd cornered them. I don't think it'll be an ongoing problem, but I'm going to keep an eye on him. I've seen Torchwood twist people before; I'm not going to let that happen to my people. Especially to Ian.
Other security issues: We need to be more aware of what's in our skies. Tosh feels bad that the scanner missed the touchdown, but it's this sub-standard 21st-century issue technology. I'm going to rummage in the archives and see if we have anything more effective in the "function-unknown" files.
Staff: I'm still in everyone's bad books. Every time they see Ian leaving with me to hunt, they get this look. I can't explain to them that if Ian really wants to be there, he'll be there and I'll be glad of the company. If he doesn't want to be there, or he thinks self-preservation is more important, he needs to learn to ask. I think this was a lesson for him -- and if he did need to ask, he would have.
Other staff issues: Owen's physical therapy progress is heartening and he's been cleared on the gun range. Another few weeks and he'll be back on active duty. I'll be glad of that; we've missed his presence, and I think he's going a little nuts trying to get out of the Hub.
Other issues: [Private-locked to digital signature, Captain Jack Harkness] Our werewolves, strangely enough, spoke Boeshan Sector Low. I haven't heard it in centuries; it was the first language I learned as a child. They must have come from somewhere near my homeworld. I've never heard of them, which means between now and my hometime they died out, or left the system. Out there, where they are now, Boeshan Alpha is spinning in space, empty, unpopulated, waiting for my family's colony. I can't help but wonder if the war that was fought in the Boeshan sector came out of something as simple and terrible as what we saw tonight. What I saw for just a minute in Ian's eyes.[end private-lock]
Capt. Jack Harkness.
***
TORCHWOOD 2x17: THE SONS OF BLUES
Officer Andy, Gwen's old partner on the force, wants help solving a puzzle: What happened to Jonah Bevan, a young man walking home from a party who mysteriously disappeared in full view of his front door? In the course of her investigation, Gwen comes to realise that there have been hundreds of disappearances in Chicago, each correlating to what Tosh and Tommy call an "afterspike" in Rift activity. Jack wants her to shut the investigation down, but many of the vanished are poor African-American southsiders and Gwen can't help but be suspicious of his orders. Once she uncovers the truth, though, she can never go back...
From the News And Views section of Television Without Pity, "Race And Raciness In The Windy City":
Torchwood may have finally tackled Chicago's elephant in the room, the tough question of the north-south race divide in the Windy City. It's common knowledge to those who view that Gwen, the only African-American cast regular, hails from south of the loop, while her sometimes-foil, Ian Leone, is a northside Italian-American residing in the heart of middle-class middle-urban Wrigleyville. Like the city itself, the mixed-race cast of Torchwood has rarely addressed racism directly.
Until last night, when Gwen flat-out informed Jack that she believed the intended cover-up of the abduction of dozens of southside African-Americans was a move by establishment law-enforcement to try and make the problem go away. As it turned out, the lead character was only doing what he thought was right in hiding away victims of "The Rift" on an island in Lake Michigan, but the controversy was already started: was it racism? Was Ian taking up the White Man's Burden in helping Gwen uncover the truth? Was it necessary to put two white men on one side of the argument and three minority characters on the other? WAs it an ironic commentary meant to come down on the side of integration and racial harmony? And what do Chicagoans really think about it?
Unfortunately, what the fans think about it is blatantly clear: hot gay sex!
Wait, what?
Whether it is a move to remind viewers that Ian and Jack are members of a sexual minority, an intentional distraction, or an incidental scene blown out of proportion, the fact remains that most fans couldn't care less about decoding the message of the episode. Messageboards and fan-blogs exploded over the explicit scene in which Gwen, angry with the world and determined to make Jack see reason, walks in on Jack and Ian in flagrante -- and in the Hub greenhouse, where nookie is not generally part of the action.
As sex scenes go, it was pretty harmless: no below-the-waist cinematography (or touching!) and no tongue, either. Still, two shirtless men in a sweaty embrace -- one of whom doesn't even bother to do up his pants when they finally emerge to confront the angry police officer -- is nothing to sneeze at. You can bet the conservative news shows will be all over the episode as soon as they pick their jaws up off the ground. And they won't be talking about race.
The question remains: was it a piece of incredible misdirection intended to highlight the misdirection going on in the episode, or was it just a gaffe that inadvertently distracted viewers?
***
"I told you we should have cut that scene," Edgar said, propping his feet on the coffeetable and tipping his head back, a bowl of oatmeal balanced on his chest. Ellis, on the other end of the phone line, heaved a sigh.
"It was a good scene. It sharpened the contrast between Gwen's place in Jack's life and Ian's. Maybe we should have just...shifted it to another episode," Ellis replied. "There's no going back now, though. We've been renewed, Edgar. We'll have other episodes in which to be political if we choose."
"I don't like the implication that we used homosexuality as a distraction," Edgar said.
"Well, some people are saying we used homosexuality to heighten the impact of the racial question. Part of Torchwood's draw is its edginess. That's your spin, and I like it, and it gives us a cheap out in situations such as this."
"Maybe," Edgar said, as something on his phone beeped. "I think someone's calling me or texting me or something."
"Luddite," Ellis said. "Go on. I'll call you later."
Edgar studied his cellphone for a second, then hesitantly pushed the End button. A text-message notification popped up.
PEOPLE MAGAZINE RIGHT NOW
From his agent, apparently. He frowned. He wasn't sure he'd been spotted out with any eligible females this week, but you never knew. He walked to the computer on his kitchen counter and brought up People Magazine's webpage.
NEW ISSUE TODAY! the headline screamed, and Edgar squinted at the thumbnail.
Oh. No. Oh, no --
He clicked on it and was rewarded with a full-color, high-resolution cover shot of his own face. His face, in three-quarters profile, and Ellis's face in full profile. Dinner in the middle. A photograph of the two of them having a late-night dinner at OySy. He remembered that meal; he could see his plate of tempura in his head as clearly as in the photograph.
Life Imitates Art ran the header, and underneath, Edgar van Scyoc and Ellis Graveworthy's secret trysts!
***
"Well," Ellis said, arriving at the Top Secret Emergency Gay Outing meeting in Edgar's office, toting a copy of the magazine. "I will say this for them, it's work worthy of the CIA. Sorry to call you out so early in the morning, Heidi, Marcus," he added, greeting the lawyer and top PR man for Ampersand Productions.
"Have a seat, El," Edgar said, waving him over without getting up. Ellis studied him for a second before settling down, hip-to-hip, and leaning forward.
"I'm afraid if Edgar had taken a lie-in, we might have waited until church let out, at least, before we had to drag you off," he continued.
"I'm an atheist," Marcus said amiably.
"I'm getting overtime," Heidi grinned.
"Before you say anything," Marcus added smoothly, with no pause for either man to open their mouths, "I'm going to take us step by step through how, or if, we control this. We have two options -- you can either go along and hold a press conference to discuss the issue, or you can print a denial and take PR steps to follow up."
"Or if you like we can go full-on Oscar Wilde and sue them," Ellis suggested, smiling.
"We're outed, Marcus," Edgar said. "You can say it."
"I could, but calling this 'the outing' sounds like we're going on a picnic," Marcus replied. "So here's the first question. How do you two feel about it?"
Ellis darted a glance at Edgar before opening his mouth.
"I've been quietly out for years," he said. "My family knows, most people who've met me know, probably. I'm not afraid or ashamed of making it known. But," he added, as Marcus tried to speak, "Edgar -- I know you've been -- tried to be circumspect. And neither of us like press conferences. So -- if you want to deny it..."
"No," Edgar answered hastily. "I don't, I just -- well, if we denied it and we wanted to go public later we'd look like lying cowards, anyway, and I wouldn't deny it whatever the impact, but...I worry about the timing. Did you see last night's episode?"
"And there's the publicity," Ellis murmured thoughtfully.
"Which wouldn't be entirely negative -- probably not even mostly negative," Marcus said. "You have a strong gay and gay-friendly following."
"Heidi, what about the network?" Edgar asked.
"The network has a nondiscrimination policy that expressly mentions sexual orientation."
"Heidi."
She sighed. "Informal policy supports nondiscrimination when the parties involved aren't..."
"Flamboyant?" Ellis asked. "Darrrrling -- "
"Ellis, take this seriously!" Edgar said.
"It's too funny though, really," Ellis said. "All this fuss, and I know that both of you are sitting there right now wondering which of us tops."
"Edgar!"
"I'm not wondering," Marcus grinned.
"Good for you, lad. The whole thing is built on the supposition that two men in the entertainment industry can't be business partners without sleeping together, I suppose. They've dug up a shared bank account that we use for work expenses, a handful of shared hotel suites where there's usually at least two beds, and a couple of photographs of us doing nothing more informal than eating ribs with our fingers."
"If you use a fork it defeats the point!" Edgar retorted.
There was a quiet cough from Marcus.
"So you're in agreement that we're not going to move to deny," he said.
"Yes," Edgar said firmly.
"All right. The next step is to decide how you want to go about confirmation. We could simply ignore it and let you two be photographed out together, or you could do an interview -- press conference -- "
"No," the men said in unison.
Edgar steepled his fingers under his chin. "Or we could scoop them."
Marcus frowned. "The magazine's already out."
"Could you get us on a morning talk show tomorrow?" Edgar asked. "The View, Regis and Kelly, something like that?"
"The View?" Ellis asked.
"Know what you're thinking, love it, on it," Marcus said, taking out his phone. "Be right back."
"What are you thinking? How come Marcus knows what you're thinking?" Ellis demanded, as Marcus left the room to make a call.
"If we show up on a Monday morning talk show to talk about race in the episode and they just happen to bring up the magazine, we can laugh at them," Edgar said. "We can say all kinds of things about the ridiculousness of a People Magazine article on it."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence while Ellis digested this.
"I knew you were the sneaky one," he said.
"Thank you, Ellis."
"But if we go on Regis and Kelly you have to sit near Regis, he frightens me."
***
Transcript of Edgar van Scyoc and Ellis Graveworthy's appearance on The View, April 2009:
Barbara Walters: We were all ready to talk about the episode this morning --
Sherri Shepherd: Hunched over in front of the TV, taking notes.
Barbara Walters: Did you take notes?
Sherri Shepherd: Oh, I took notes. I have no memory for things like that. But I wanted --
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: No memory!
Sherri Shepherd: -- I wanted to be well informed. Anyway.
Joy Behar: And of course, did anyone here not enjoy the greenhouse scene?
Whoopi Goldberg: But, we decided we were going to keep the discussion focused on the message of the show.
Ellis Graveworthy: And then you all got People Magazine through your letter flaps.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: Isn't it cute how he says letter flaps?
Sherri Shepherd: Here it is...
[catcalls and laughter as the magazine is presented.]
Edgar van Scyoc: Can I see that? Thank you --
Barbara Walters: What are you doing?
Edgar van Scyoc: Ellis?
Ellis Graveworthy: Thank you, there we are.
[they both sign the cover and pass it back]
Edgar van Scyoc: Now it's worth five dollars instead of two.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: So -- you're making pretty light of this.
Ellis Graveworthy: We just both found ourselves rather amused that People Magazine were the last to know. It isn't as though we've been hiding it. We run a company together, for god's sake.
Joy Behar: So you are....
Edgar van Scyoc: Together, yes.
Joy Behar: You heard it here officially first, folks!
Sherri Shepherd: Are you married?
Edgar van Scyoc: Oh god. Married.
Ellis Graveworthy: No, no no. But yes, we are together, almost -- let's see, six months or something like that.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: Men. They never remember anniversaries.
Barbara Walters: And you're really not bothered about your personal business being news-stand gossip?
Ellis Graveworthy: Well, this is marvelous timing, good publicity for us.
Sherri Shepherd: Now come on. You can be truthful with us, just tip us a wink. Was this whole thing staged?
Ellis Graveworthy: Staged?
Whoopi Goldberg: You know, a little set up, some publicity for the show, the article coming out right after this particular episode.
Edgar van Scyoc: Oh -- no, not at all. We had no idea People was running an article.
Ellis Graveworthy: It's kind of a shame, we could have called them up and confirmed or denied various rumors they mention.
Joy Behar: Such as?
Ellis Graveworthy: Oh, such as, long romantic walks after dark. Certainly not, we'd be mugged. And if you'll -- Edgar, stand up, turn around.
Edgar van Scyoc: Oh, we're doing this now?
Ellis Graveworthy: Yes, turn around. There was some talk of a filthy tattoo Edgar had gotten, but you can see --
[Edgar van Scyoc pulls his shirt up to show his lower back]
Ellis Graveworthy: Ahh, there we are.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: Are we going to have to blur anything?
[laughter; camera focus tightly on a tatto on van Scyoc's back]
Ellis Graveworthy: That's only our company logo. He's a branded man, quite literally. So you see, I suppose they didn't tell us because a lot of interesting lies are rather better entertainment than the truth.
Barbara Walters: What is the truth?
Edgar van Scyoc: Boring. Two people in love, that's all.
Ellis Graveworthy: All our characters have much more interesting sex lives than we do, frankly.
Edgar van Scyoc: Which is why -- here comes the plug -- you should be watching Torchwood and Doctor Who, Saturday nights starting at eight-seven-central.
Whoopi Goldberg: All right, there's the plug.
Joy Behar: When we come back, how to choose a good groomer for your pet!
***
Taken from a daily news post on torchwood_el, Torchwood's major meta, fic, and picspam community:
Off-LJ Links:
People Magazine has a story on Ellis Graveworthy and Edgar van Scyoc
kikura_s posts hi-res scans of the cover and article.
Discussion and Meta:
vanscyocfan wonders how van Scyoc and Graveworthy's relationship will affect how the shows are viewed
copperbadge mediates a discussion about sexuality and public image
elevated_fics community announces the E&E Slashfest
bluejeans07 has a comic about fan reactions to the news
***
DOCTOR WHO 1x17: THE SHAKESPEARE CODE
The Doctor has long since given up any pretense of kicking Rose out of the TARDIS, and when Ross comes aboard he simply sighs and asks where in time or space they'd like to go. The young Lieutenant, surprisingly, asks to see Shakespeare, and the Doctor obliges by taking him to see it in its original time -- but something's rotten in London, where a trio of witches are trying to use Love's Labors Won for their own purposes. Can the trio save the day against forces supernatural, and keep Will Shakespeare out of trouble at the same time?
Title: Hallo Spaceboy
By: mmk_mmk
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How do you dress a soldier for freewheeling adventures in space?
Author's Notes: Ross's dramatic but clever little change of clothing got me thinking about who helped dress him when he got to the TARDIS.
"Not that."
"Why not this? I like jeans."
"Not those jeans."
"Rose, I don't get why -- "
"Flared jeans, Lieutenant?"
"You can call me Ross. Are they flared?"
"Yeah. Take 'em off."
"Okay, what about this?"
"You don't really do the James Dean thing well. Red's not your color."
"I always looked good in yellow."
"You can't wear your beret everywhere."
"I could if I wanted. You wear those shoes."
"What's wrong with my shoes?"
"Uh. Nothing. Are these shirts sorted by...anything?"
"This is the TARDIS. Chaos is king."
"I guess you get used to it."
"Mmm, not really. That's why they call it chaos."
"That was either really deep or a total blow-off, Rose."
"I like to keep people guessing. Oh, hey, that looks nice."
"What, the brown pants?"
"Yeah."
"They're a little...tight. In places they shouldn't be."
"Maybe the TARDIS really likes you."
"Can it hear what I'm thinking?"
"Sorta."
"So. Hello, TARDIS. I'm Ross Jenkins. Can I have some hard-wearing shoes for running in? Thanks."
"You're a dork, Ross."
"Cut me some slack, I'm new at this. I never was any good at shopping."
"You just need to find a look. Soldier boy is so last year. You want to be...a spaceboy."
"No silver foil. I mean it."
"Something classic. Something that'll fit in anywhere. Doctor, come help Ross dress himself."
"Ah! Doctor!"
"You don't have to salute, Ross. The pair of you are complete amateurs. Here. Trousers, nice and roomy, warm socks, you need good socks -- looks like you asked for some shoes?"
"Yeah, I -- "
"Shirt...canary yellow, just a touch will show through. Waistcoat, suit coat, nice deep grey color to go with the trousers...no hat I think...well, put them on."
"Uh, can you...not look?"
"Oh -- right, twenty-first century human. I do know how to pick them."
"Doctor, be nice."
"I'm always nice. How's it going, Ross?"
"Okay, you can turn around now."
"He looks good, Doctor. Kind of like your less-fashionable younger brother."
"Like my what?"
"Never mind. Ross?"
"It's...cool. Yeah."
"And if you're a very good human, in a few years you'll have earned yourself a hat. Now, are we ready to confront the Elizabethans and emerge victorious?"
"Lead the way, fashionista."
***
Chapter 6
Rating: PG-13 (mainly for language)
Summary: Gareth David-Lloyd joins the Doctor Who cast as Ross Jenkins, helping the Doctor rescue displaced hospitals and meeting William Shakespeare while Torchwood battles alien "werewolves" and confronts victims of the Rift. Meanwhile, Edgar van Scyoc shows off his new tattoo -- and Edgar and Ellis must make some hard decisions when their relationship is threatened by the press.
Chapter Five
DOCTOR WHO 1x16: THE NEW KID
It's an unfortunate coincidence that Ross Jenkins is taken to Stroger Memorial Hospital to recover from his battle with the Daleks at the same time as a bloodsucking alien vampire takes up residence. The Shadow Proclamation, an intergalactic police force, has been charged with bringing her in. To keep her from escaping, they decide to transplant the entire hospital to the moon. Ross's one bit of luck is that Rose and the Doctor were visiting him when it happened. Three against an army isn't great odds, but then the Doctor specialises in long odds...and Ross has a few surprises up his sleeve.
Excerpt from the shooting script for Episode 1x16: The New Kid.
Story by: Ellis Graveworthy
Teleplay by: Ellis Graveworthy and Richard Allen
INT - HOSPITAL - DAY
Blurry shapes onscreen and the bleep of a heart monitor in the background. As the camera pulls back, the blurs resolve themselves into ROSS, lying in a hospital bed. He is staring at the camera but mainly into nothing, his face infinitely sad.
GWEN VO
The reports on the Invasion That Wasn't have been collated and filed. We've taken witness statements from Rose Tyler and Ross Jenkins, and Tommy's technical specs are in triple-backup storage so that if another fleet comes back we'll know what to do. The Doctor says there won't be any more, but he thought they were destroyed at the battle of Arcadia, too.
ROSS turns his head as the door enters; it's a nurse, carrying a tray of food. He pushes himself up and lets her set it in front of him.
GWEN VO
It's been a hard adjustment for all of us. We know what really happened, and the image of the buildings falling is one I can't put out of my head. I've spoken with Ian and Owen and they both think we'll all feel better when the thirty-six hours have passed and we feel like we're in "real" time again. Tosh and Tommy don't want to talk about it -- not with anyone but each other, anyway.
ROSS picks at his food listlessly.
GWEN VO
Torchwood has completed and closed the case on the invasion. Now I think we need to find some way to close the case in our own heads.
[beat]
Ross Jenkins has been temporarily removed from duty at USPAT for medical and personal reasons.
[a click]
This concludes the summary notes on Torchwood Event File 9926. Officer Gwen Cooper-Williams, digital signature.
The door opens and ROSE puts her head in; ROSS immediately lights up, looking behind her expectantly for the DOCTOR. Instead, a huge bouquet of flowers appears.
Time-jump; ROSS has shoved the hospital food away and the flowers are now in a vase, sitting on a shelf next to his bed. We can see that he has bandages on one arm under his hospital pyjamas. ROSE and the DOCTOR are sitting next to his bed.
ROSS
I have to admit I thought you two would be gone by now. Tosh came to visit me yesterday, she said you'd both disappeared.
ROSE
Well, we did, kind of. We took a little jump. The timestorm made antsy-pants here anxious.
DOCTOR
I'm not even going to dignify the term "antsy pants" with a response.
ROSE
And I had to bully him into coming to see you. But I wanted to. Because, you know. Saved The World Club and everything.
ROSS
I'm glad. I wanted to see you again. I -- I had something for you, actually.
He reaches over to the shelf and opens a drawer, pulling LETHBRIDGE's PDA out from under a bag of cotton balls. ROSE bites her lip and the DOCTOR looks sad.
ROSS
It belonged to the Col -- to my father. He gave it to me before he died.
ROSE
We know. I saw him use it all the time.
ROSS
He said I should destroy it but...
DOCTOR
You're not as big on destruction as he was.
ROSS
I read through it. I thought maybe if there was anyone I should call...
[beat]
He was keeping notes on it. About you and Rose. Recommendations for your capture, at first. Later, just informational notes. Places he'd been with you. Things you showed him.
DOCTOR
I knew.
ROSS
And you still let him keep it? He was going to give it to USPAT.
DOCTOR
Humans...
[shakes his head]
If I don't want to be held, you won't hold me. If I don't want to be caught, you won't catch me. Maybe out there is something that can, but not humans. Not yet.
The DOCTOR glances at ROSE, who is studying the PDA as if she can't believe it's real.
DOCTOR
We should go. I don't think we'll be passing this way again anytime soon.
ROSS
Maybe that's best.
ROSE
Will you be okay?
ROSS waves off her concern.
ROSS
I've got USPAT and Torchwood. I'll be fine.
Suddenly the room shakes; there is a sharp jolt that nearly throws ROSS out of the bed.
DOCTOR
What on...? Rose?
ROSE
[picking herself up]
What is it now?
DOCTOR
Look at the window.
THE DOCTOR and ROSE both look. Eventually ROSS slides out of the bed and carefully disengages the various IV tubes and monitors, joining them.
INT - HOSPITAL - VIEW OF OUTSIDE
Over their shoulders, we see the wide hospital window, looking out on a blank expanse of space. Below them is a white landscape devoid of features; far beyond them, the EARTH swings into view.
OPENING CREDITS.
***
FINAL SCENE:
EXT - HOSPITAL FRONT ENTRY - DAY
ROSS is sitting on a park bench, studying the PDA. He speaks apparently to no-one.
ROSS
It's still yours if you want it.
The DOCTOR appears next to the bench, looking awkward.
DOCTOR
You should have it. It was your father's.
ROSS
Doesn't give a very good report of him.
DOCTOR
You're too old to believe in putting your parents on a pedestal.
ROSS
I'd only known him three days.
DOCTOR
Grief is for the finality of death, not the value of the person lost.
[ROSS looks up.]
Now you don't have hope anymore. That's what will crush you, if you let it.
ROSS
How did you survive?
The DOCTOR glances at ROSE, who is buying a hot dog from a cart nearby.
DOCTOR
I found a new reason to hope.
[pause]
Rose and I are leaving. Thank you for your help.
ROSS
Good luck.
The DOCTOR turns and walks away. ROSS looks down at the PDA, clenches it tightly, and makes a decision.
ROSS
[calling out]
I want to come with you.
The DOCTOR stops but doesn't react otherwise.
ROSS
This was what I dreamed about, going to the stars, and you and Rose look like you could use a third. I'm not my father but --
DOCTOR
You're yourself.
ROSS
So take me with you. Please.
DOCTOR
Your father is dead because of me.
ROSS
I exist because of you. And I can see you waiting to take me apart, find out what I am. I can see you fighting against it. Let me come with you and you can find out. I'll let you.
Focus on the DOCTOR's face; he looks torn and miserable. Before he turns around he carefully reschools his features into a mask of cheerful, paternal indulgence.
DOCTOR
Rose needed a new playmate anyway. Come on.
ROSS bolts up out of the bench and catches up with him as they reach ROSE, who smiles and hugs ROSS with one arm, then presents him with a candy bar. They walk away, laughing.
BLACKOUT.
***
Edgar van Scyoc's public image was edgy and dark and a little bit sinister, which was exactly the way he liked it. He didn't think he was a particularly dark or sinister man, though he would grant the public "edgy".
Not that he felt very edgy at the moment, even, lying in a hotel room bed in Vancouver, the latest show in the can and filming breaking for three blissful weeks so that Tennant could rehearse for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at Steppenwolf. Steppenwolf had been good to them over the years, letting them nick props and borrow rehearsal space at times, and it was the least they could do to lend out their lead for a few weeks. Especially since it meant he got three blissful weeks in which to loaf around Vancouver and oversee some of the Doctor Who filming.
A hand touched his shoulder; he smiled.
And then there was Ellis.
"You have a new tattoo," Ellis said, a querying but not-quite-disapproving note in his voice.
"Mm. I thought about asking you if I should do it, but -- "
"It's your body," Ellis replied.
Ellis had been surprised by the tattoos, the first time he saw them, but not as freaked out as some of Edgar's girlfriends had been. He'd touched each one in turn, demanding that a sleepy Edgar explain them to him, tell him their stories.
Just below the base of the neck, the word chiule -- first word in the English language, and his first tattoo, the night before he graduated film school. Three masks on the left shoulderblade, one for every Humana Festival he'd taken a play to; the logo of a short-lived science-fiction drama on his right shoulder, where for the thirteen episodes that existed he'd been a very, very junior director's assistant.
Over his spine, between his shoulderblades -- and hadn't that hurt like a bitch -- a stylized pair of fangs. He'd gotten them prematurely, when he started his assistant job on Buffy the Vampire Slayer; he might have shelled out for something a little fancier if he'd known by the following year he'd have a director's credit and two scripts to his name. Joss Whedon had liked Edgar's style and helped him out a lot when he was first starting; he still owed him for that. He'd wanted to take on Firefly and turn it around, when it was cancelled, but he couldn't then; years later when he managed to haul Studio Sixty up by its bootstraps and get it a second season he'd gone to get the logo of the fictional NBS network directly under the fangs.
There'd been many shows over the years -- god, a horrible stint on Ally McBeal, one episode (all he could take) of Dawson's Creek, a decent run on The X-Files, two scripts and a couple of episode on the Stargate franchise, a gig with Nip/Tuck -- but those had just been him doing his job. The others were the ones that mattered, the ones that had changed his career.
He felt Ellis's fingers drift down to the small of his back, just above his hips. The skin was still a little sore, but it had scabbed and peeled nicely, and he was pretty pleased with the result.
"Ampersand production company," Ellis said. "You remember when we thought that up at what, three in the morning?"
"E & E looked weird," Edgar mumbled. "There's something classic about the ampersand."
"And a mechanical ampersand! That would look cool!" Ellis repeated mockingly. "Though I must admit your tattoo man did a very nice job on all the little gears and pistons and things."
"Thank you."
Ellis's hand flattened over the tattoo, firm and warm.
"Why do you do it?" he asked. "Do you think you're likely to forget?"
"These things changed me," Edgar said. "I like having a sign of that. Gives me something to talk about in bed," he added, angling for a laugh, but when he looked over his shoulder Ellis was studying him with serious eyes.
"And yet you waited until now to get the tattoo."
"I wasn't sure it was going to change my life until now," he said.
***
TORCHWOOD 2x16: TOOTH AND CLAW
Werewolves? In Chicago? It's a ridiculous thought, but when Ian and Jack go out after a weevil and come back with more than the usual number of lacerations, everyone has to consider it as a serious possibility. The hunt is on when the next full moon rises, but the "werewolves of Chicago" seem hesitant to engage -- and as the chase becomes more and more desperate, the team begin to wonder who the real vicious animals are.
Though it wasn't exactly frightening at night, Lurie Garden was a little forbidding; Ian had always heard people giving warnings about staying away from this or that neighborhood after dark, but he knew the truth was that the most dangerous place to wander after dark was downtown, where tourists were considered easy targets. Not that he and Jack were easy targets, either one, but they were chasing something a little more dangerous than the average mugger. The full moon gave more light than usual, anyway.
"I still say it's too cold for weevils," he said, rubbing his gloved hands together and blowing into them. Jack took a swig of tea from the thermos flask and offered it to him, but he waved it off.
"They're warm-blooded," Jack said. "It's never too cold for Weevils."
"That's the worst slogan ever," Ian replied. "Honestly -- "
"Hang on," Jack said, putting up a hand. "Did you hear that?"
Ian turned his head, listening; Jack was starting to look like a dog on the scent, hungry and eager...and it shouldn't excite him, but it did. Weevil-hunting was the one time Jack left Torchwood and the burden he carried behind him and was just purely himself. A hunter.
A shadow flickered in the distance. Jack grinned at him.
"Told you so," he said, and took off running.
Weevils in the sewers and the abandoned underground tunnels tended to hunt in gangs, but aboveground they were almost always solo; Tosh had a theory that the above-ground hunters were pack members that had been kicked out. There was safety in numbers for a Weevil, after all -- they couldn't fix on more than one target at a time, as hunting with Jack-as-bait had often proved. Ian circled wide, giving Jack a chance to draw its attention.
Jack turned his flashlight directly on the lumbering figure, and Ian had a brief vision of sleek fur over corded muscle before he realized something wasn't right. The shadow moved too fast, darting out of the light, and Jack whistled and took off running again. Ian moved before thinking, following the usual pattern and trying to intercept. He was within ten feet of it when he caught the gleam of moonlight on teeth.
It was fast, too fast, and too big for a Weevil, and it had fangs --
The last thing Ian heard before the world went dark was Jack calling his name in a panic.
***
He woke briefly, a firebrand burning its way down his chest, and tried to lie still and let the pain subside. When it began to drop away he became aware of voices in the room, angry voices, but he wasn't certain he was prepared for anger yet, and he kept his eyes closed.
" -- why I keep warning you about taking him hunting, Jack!"
"You act like I'm ordering to go. Half the time he starts it."
"That's no excuse. He's twenty-five, for god's sake."
Owen, that was Owen. He opened his eyes to slits; Owen was standing nearby, leaning on his cane and getting all five-foot-nine of him up into Jack's face.
"Did you think I was unaware of that, Owen?" Jack asked. "I know it. Better than anyone."
"I know he seems experienced but -- "
"You're bloody right he does," Jack snarled. Ian closed his eyes and listened as Jack's voice gentled. "He's seen too much for his years. You all have. And you all go into it now, every time, with your eyes open."
"Are yours open, Jack? You can't die! And you forget sometimes that we can!"
Silence for a long time. Ian tried to shift his body, felt the pain well up again, and grunted.
"He's waking up," Jack said. "Ian?"
"Ow," Ian managed.
"Yeah, ow is right," Owen answered, and by the sound of it he was limping around to the other side of the bed. "You weren't supposed to wake up just yet, errand boy."
Cool relief washed over him as Owen pushed something into his IV; the world faded away a lot more gently this time.
"What was it, anyway?" he heard Owen ask.
"Don't know. Big. Teeth and claws. Fur."
"Werewolf," Ian muttered as he slipped down.
***
Excerpt from the shooting script for Episode 2x16: Tooth And Claw.
Story & Teleplay by: Edgar van Scyoc
INT - HUB - SHOWER ROOM
IAN is standing in the HUB communal shower room, shirtless, examining himself in a mirror. There are several long, healing scars on his chest, some with stitches still in them. JACK appears behind him, fully dressed. IAN stands still as JACK approaches and kisses him on the shoulder.
JACK
Ready to go hunting with us tonight?
IAN
No.
JACK
You don't have to go.
IAN
I'm pretty sure I do.
[pause]
Here's the thing.
JACK
[affectionate]
What's the thing?
IAN
If it really is a werewolf.
JACK
Werewolves aren't real.
IAN
But if they were, are we sure I'm not one, now?
JACK
It's not a werewolf. Werewolves aren't real. But if it had been a werewolf, and on the incredibly long odds that it transmitted lycanthropy to you through its claws, and on the further long odds that neither Owen nor myself would notice any changes in you, then I promise you that the first time you try to hurt someone I'll shoot you in the head. Sound good?
IAN
You say the nicest things.
JACK
Get dressed. Work to do.
JACK slaps him on the ass as he walks away. IAN smiles and pulls his shirt over his head, then leans in close to the mirror and double-checks his teeth for signs of fangs.
***
"Ian! IAN!"
Jack rounded the corner and slammed into the wall opposite, staggering forward, the rest of the team on his heels. The sputtering lights on the street didn't show much of the alley, but he could see enough.
The werewolf -- really, what else could you call them? -- was huddled on the ground, cradling its injured arm and keening. Blood matted its fur and stained its white claws dark. But...there was intelligence in the shiny black eyes, and it wasn't trying to escape or fight back. Just waiting. Patiently.
Ian stood a few feet away, breathing hard, gun trained on it. His hand shook slightly.
"O-kay," Jack said slowly. "Ian, you heard Tosh on the comms. They're not hostile."
Ian drew a deep breath and pulled the safety on his gun.
"Ian, they're intelligent. It's hurt. It's not going to attack you."
Jack edged closer. Ian's eyes were wide and staring, fixed on the werewolf's eyes.
"It's not going to hurt you," Jack continued. "But you can hurt it. Are you going to be that man, Ian? Humanity's on the cusp of conquering that urge to kill."
"Are you sure that's a good thing?" Ian asked, voice harsh.
"Yes, I am. Because I come from a time past the cusp. I'm here in this world and I'm staying here, Ian, but the world is a better place when people decide to stop..." Jack slid his fingers along the barrel, holding it. He didn't try to turn it yet; Ian's finger was taut on the trigger. "Torchwood doesn't destroy just because it doesn't understand."
Ian's eyes shifted from the werewolf to Jack's face.
"Don't be the monster, Ian." Jack tightened his grip on the barrel. "Let go of it."
Ian released the gun, so fast that Jack almost dropped it, and stepped back. He turned, as if to run, but the rest of the team was there to stop him. Gwen grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close; Tommy stepped up to his shoulder and leaned against him, cautiously.
Jack replaced the safety on the gun, shoved it in his pants next to his own, and turned his attention away.
"You speak English?" he asked, bending down. The werewolf stared at him. "Unarmed, look." He held up his hands and twisted them at the wrists. "You speak Esperanto?"
A shake of the head.
"Kehani? Top Sector Standard? New Portugese?" No reaction other than a slight tremor. "Boeshan Sector Low?"
At this, the werewolf sat up, tilting its head.
Jack could have laughed. He hadn't spoken that language since he was fifteen and left home.
"You speak Boeshan Sector Low?" Jack asked again.
"Yes," the werewolf answered. "It hurts."
"I know, I know," Jack crooned, holding out his hand. "Listen, I can take you somewhere safe. I know you don't trust me, but there's been a misunderstanding. We're landbound aid agents. We can help you."
"Your bodyguard," the werewolf said, tipping its head at Ian. Owen had caught up and was shining a light in his eyes, checking him for head injuries.
"He won't hurt you. He's -- " Jack actually had to search for the word before it would come to him. "They are my family-bond. All of them back there."
"Lucky man," the werewolf drawled, letting Jack wrap his shirt around the injured arm.
"The dark-haired one -- he's my only partner-bond."
"Ah. Strange rituals you have here. Will he be well?"
"He's young. They bounce back."
Jack heard something approaching laughter from the werewolf's throat.
"You're a good bondfather."
"Thanks. Come on -- let's get your arm seen to," Jack said.
***
Courtesy of the Torchwood Extras official website:
Captain's Blog for Episode 2.16: Tooth And Claw
Ongoing Archive Notes
Torchwood 3
Volume 73, Week 16
Alien activity: Space werewolves. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. They're a race I've never encountered before; the poor kids were far from home and had to make an emergency stop for repairs. We just happened to catch one on an unlucky night. They look like us, most of the time -- sort of like us, anyway. Last time we ran into each other I spooked one, she nailed Ian...cultural misunderstanding. That almost got Ian killed. Great.
Rift activity: Nil.
Security: Ian had some issues standing down once we'd cornered them. I don't think it'll be an ongoing problem, but I'm going to keep an eye on him. I've seen Torchwood twist people before; I'm not going to let that happen to my people. Especially to Ian.
Other security issues: We need to be more aware of what's in our skies. Tosh feels bad that the scanner missed the touchdown, but it's this sub-standard 21st-century issue technology. I'm going to rummage in the archives and see if we have anything more effective in the "function-unknown" files.
Staff: I'm still in everyone's bad books. Every time they see Ian leaving with me to hunt, they get this look. I can't explain to them that if Ian really wants to be there, he'll be there and I'll be glad of the company. If he doesn't want to be there, or he thinks self-preservation is more important, he needs to learn to ask. I think this was a lesson for him -- and if he did need to ask, he would have.
Other staff issues: Owen's physical therapy progress is heartening and he's been cleared on the gun range. Another few weeks and he'll be back on active duty. I'll be glad of that; we've missed his presence, and I think he's going a little nuts trying to get out of the Hub.
Other issues: [Private-locked to digital signature, Captain Jack Harkness] Our werewolves, strangely enough, spoke Boeshan Sector Low. I haven't heard it in centuries; it was the first language I learned as a child. They must have come from somewhere near my homeworld. I've never heard of them, which means between now and my hometime they died out, or left the system. Out there, where they are now, Boeshan Alpha is spinning in space, empty, unpopulated, waiting for my family's colony. I can't help but wonder if the war that was fought in the Boeshan sector came out of something as simple and terrible as what we saw tonight. What I saw for just a minute in Ian's eyes.[end private-lock]
Capt. Jack Harkness.
***
TORCHWOOD 2x17: THE SONS OF BLUES
Officer Andy, Gwen's old partner on the force, wants help solving a puzzle: What happened to Jonah Bevan, a young man walking home from a party who mysteriously disappeared in full view of his front door? In the course of her investigation, Gwen comes to realise that there have been hundreds of disappearances in Chicago, each correlating to what Tosh and Tommy call an "afterspike" in Rift activity. Jack wants her to shut the investigation down, but many of the vanished are poor African-American southsiders and Gwen can't help but be suspicious of his orders. Once she uncovers the truth, though, she can never go back...
From the News And Views section of Television Without Pity, "Race And Raciness In The Windy City":
Torchwood may have finally tackled Chicago's elephant in the room, the tough question of the north-south race divide in the Windy City. It's common knowledge to those who view that Gwen, the only African-American cast regular, hails from south of the loop, while her sometimes-foil, Ian Leone, is a northside Italian-American residing in the heart of middle-class middle-urban Wrigleyville. Like the city itself, the mixed-race cast of Torchwood has rarely addressed racism directly.
Until last night, when Gwen flat-out informed Jack that she believed the intended cover-up of the abduction of dozens of southside African-Americans was a move by establishment law-enforcement to try and make the problem go away. As it turned out, the lead character was only doing what he thought was right in hiding away victims of "The Rift" on an island in Lake Michigan, but the controversy was already started: was it racism? Was Ian taking up the White Man's Burden in helping Gwen uncover the truth? Was it necessary to put two white men on one side of the argument and three minority characters on the other? WAs it an ironic commentary meant to come down on the side of integration and racial harmony? And what do Chicagoans really think about it?
Unfortunately, what the fans think about it is blatantly clear: hot gay sex!
Wait, what?
Whether it is a move to remind viewers that Ian and Jack are members of a sexual minority, an intentional distraction, or an incidental scene blown out of proportion, the fact remains that most fans couldn't care less about decoding the message of the episode. Messageboards and fan-blogs exploded over the explicit scene in which Gwen, angry with the world and determined to make Jack see reason, walks in on Jack and Ian in flagrante -- and in the Hub greenhouse, where nookie is not generally part of the action.
As sex scenes go, it was pretty harmless: no below-the-waist cinematography (or touching!) and no tongue, either. Still, two shirtless men in a sweaty embrace -- one of whom doesn't even bother to do up his pants when they finally emerge to confront the angry police officer -- is nothing to sneeze at. You can bet the conservative news shows will be all over the episode as soon as they pick their jaws up off the ground. And they won't be talking about race.
The question remains: was it a piece of incredible misdirection intended to highlight the misdirection going on in the episode, or was it just a gaffe that inadvertently distracted viewers?
***
"I told you we should have cut that scene," Edgar said, propping his feet on the coffeetable and tipping his head back, a bowl of oatmeal balanced on his chest. Ellis, on the other end of the phone line, heaved a sigh.
"It was a good scene. It sharpened the contrast between Gwen's place in Jack's life and Ian's. Maybe we should have just...shifted it to another episode," Ellis replied. "There's no going back now, though. We've been renewed, Edgar. We'll have other episodes in which to be political if we choose."
"I don't like the implication that we used homosexuality as a distraction," Edgar said.
"Well, some people are saying we used homosexuality to heighten the impact of the racial question. Part of Torchwood's draw is its edginess. That's your spin, and I like it, and it gives us a cheap out in situations such as this."
"Maybe," Edgar said, as something on his phone beeped. "I think someone's calling me or texting me or something."
"Luddite," Ellis said. "Go on. I'll call you later."
Edgar studied his cellphone for a second, then hesitantly pushed the End button. A text-message notification popped up.
PEOPLE MAGAZINE RIGHT NOW
From his agent, apparently. He frowned. He wasn't sure he'd been spotted out with any eligible females this week, but you never knew. He walked to the computer on his kitchen counter and brought up People Magazine's webpage.
NEW ISSUE TODAY! the headline screamed, and Edgar squinted at the thumbnail.
Oh. No. Oh, no --
He clicked on it and was rewarded with a full-color, high-resolution cover shot of his own face. His face, in three-quarters profile, and Ellis's face in full profile. Dinner in the middle. A photograph of the two of them having a late-night dinner at OySy. He remembered that meal; he could see his plate of tempura in his head as clearly as in the photograph.
Life Imitates Art ran the header, and underneath, Edgar van Scyoc and Ellis Graveworthy's secret trysts!
***
"Well," Ellis said, arriving at the Top Secret Emergency Gay Outing meeting in Edgar's office, toting a copy of the magazine. "I will say this for them, it's work worthy of the CIA. Sorry to call you out so early in the morning, Heidi, Marcus," he added, greeting the lawyer and top PR man for Ampersand Productions.
"Have a seat, El," Edgar said, waving him over without getting up. Ellis studied him for a second before settling down, hip-to-hip, and leaning forward.
"I'm afraid if Edgar had taken a lie-in, we might have waited until church let out, at least, before we had to drag you off," he continued.
"I'm an atheist," Marcus said amiably.
"I'm getting overtime," Heidi grinned.
"Before you say anything," Marcus added smoothly, with no pause for either man to open their mouths, "I'm going to take us step by step through how, or if, we control this. We have two options -- you can either go along and hold a press conference to discuss the issue, or you can print a denial and take PR steps to follow up."
"Or if you like we can go full-on Oscar Wilde and sue them," Ellis suggested, smiling.
"We're outed, Marcus," Edgar said. "You can say it."
"I could, but calling this 'the outing' sounds like we're going on a picnic," Marcus replied. "So here's the first question. How do you two feel about it?"
Ellis darted a glance at Edgar before opening his mouth.
"I've been quietly out for years," he said. "My family knows, most people who've met me know, probably. I'm not afraid or ashamed of making it known. But," he added, as Marcus tried to speak, "Edgar -- I know you've been -- tried to be circumspect. And neither of us like press conferences. So -- if you want to deny it..."
"No," Edgar answered hastily. "I don't, I just -- well, if we denied it and we wanted to go public later we'd look like lying cowards, anyway, and I wouldn't deny it whatever the impact, but...I worry about the timing. Did you see last night's episode?"
"And there's the publicity," Ellis murmured thoughtfully.
"Which wouldn't be entirely negative -- probably not even mostly negative," Marcus said. "You have a strong gay and gay-friendly following."
"Heidi, what about the network?" Edgar asked.
"The network has a nondiscrimination policy that expressly mentions sexual orientation."
"Heidi."
She sighed. "Informal policy supports nondiscrimination when the parties involved aren't..."
"Flamboyant?" Ellis asked. "Darrrrling -- "
"Ellis, take this seriously!" Edgar said.
"It's too funny though, really," Ellis said. "All this fuss, and I know that both of you are sitting there right now wondering which of us tops."
"Edgar!"
"I'm not wondering," Marcus grinned.
"Good for you, lad. The whole thing is built on the supposition that two men in the entertainment industry can't be business partners without sleeping together, I suppose. They've dug up a shared bank account that we use for work expenses, a handful of shared hotel suites where there's usually at least two beds, and a couple of photographs of us doing nothing more informal than eating ribs with our fingers."
"If you use a fork it defeats the point!" Edgar retorted.
There was a quiet cough from Marcus.
"So you're in agreement that we're not going to move to deny," he said.
"Yes," Edgar said firmly.
"All right. The next step is to decide how you want to go about confirmation. We could simply ignore it and let you two be photographed out together, or you could do an interview -- press conference -- "
"No," the men said in unison.
Edgar steepled his fingers under his chin. "Or we could scoop them."
Marcus frowned. "The magazine's already out."
"Could you get us on a morning talk show tomorrow?" Edgar asked. "The View, Regis and Kelly, something like that?"
"The View?" Ellis asked.
"Know what you're thinking, love it, on it," Marcus said, taking out his phone. "Be right back."
"What are you thinking? How come Marcus knows what you're thinking?" Ellis demanded, as Marcus left the room to make a call.
"If we show up on a Monday morning talk show to talk about race in the episode and they just happen to bring up the magazine, we can laugh at them," Edgar said. "We can say all kinds of things about the ridiculousness of a People Magazine article on it."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence while Ellis digested this.
"I knew you were the sneaky one," he said.
"Thank you, Ellis."
"But if we go on Regis and Kelly you have to sit near Regis, he frightens me."
***
Transcript of Edgar van Scyoc and Ellis Graveworthy's appearance on The View, April 2009:
Barbara Walters: We were all ready to talk about the episode this morning --
Sherri Shepherd: Hunched over in front of the TV, taking notes.
Barbara Walters: Did you take notes?
Sherri Shepherd: Oh, I took notes. I have no memory for things like that. But I wanted --
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: No memory!
Sherri Shepherd: -- I wanted to be well informed. Anyway.
Joy Behar: And of course, did anyone here not enjoy the greenhouse scene?
Whoopi Goldberg: But, we decided we were going to keep the discussion focused on the message of the show.
Ellis Graveworthy: And then you all got People Magazine through your letter flaps.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: Isn't it cute how he says letter flaps?
Sherri Shepherd: Here it is...
[catcalls and laughter as the magazine is presented.]
Edgar van Scyoc: Can I see that? Thank you --
Barbara Walters: What are you doing?
Edgar van Scyoc: Ellis?
Ellis Graveworthy: Thank you, there we are.
[they both sign the cover and pass it back]
Edgar van Scyoc: Now it's worth five dollars instead of two.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: So -- you're making pretty light of this.
Ellis Graveworthy: We just both found ourselves rather amused that People Magazine were the last to know. It isn't as though we've been hiding it. We run a company together, for god's sake.
Joy Behar: So you are....
Edgar van Scyoc: Together, yes.
Joy Behar: You heard it here officially first, folks!
Sherri Shepherd: Are you married?
Edgar van Scyoc: Oh god. Married.
Ellis Graveworthy: No, no no. But yes, we are together, almost -- let's see, six months or something like that.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: Men. They never remember anniversaries.
Barbara Walters: And you're really not bothered about your personal business being news-stand gossip?
Ellis Graveworthy: Well, this is marvelous timing, good publicity for us.
Sherri Shepherd: Now come on. You can be truthful with us, just tip us a wink. Was this whole thing staged?
Ellis Graveworthy: Staged?
Whoopi Goldberg: You know, a little set up, some publicity for the show, the article coming out right after this particular episode.
Edgar van Scyoc: Oh -- no, not at all. We had no idea People was running an article.
Ellis Graveworthy: It's kind of a shame, we could have called them up and confirmed or denied various rumors they mention.
Joy Behar: Such as?
Ellis Graveworthy: Oh, such as, long romantic walks after dark. Certainly not, we'd be mugged. And if you'll -- Edgar, stand up, turn around.
Edgar van Scyoc: Oh, we're doing this now?
Ellis Graveworthy: Yes, turn around. There was some talk of a filthy tattoo Edgar had gotten, but you can see --
[Edgar van Scyoc pulls his shirt up to show his lower back]
Ellis Graveworthy: Ahh, there we are.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck: Are we going to have to blur anything?
[laughter; camera focus tightly on a tatto on van Scyoc's back]
Ellis Graveworthy: That's only our company logo. He's a branded man, quite literally. So you see, I suppose they didn't tell us because a lot of interesting lies are rather better entertainment than the truth.
Barbara Walters: What is the truth?
Edgar van Scyoc: Boring. Two people in love, that's all.
Ellis Graveworthy: All our characters have much more interesting sex lives than we do, frankly.
Edgar van Scyoc: Which is why -- here comes the plug -- you should be watching Torchwood and Doctor Who, Saturday nights starting at eight-seven-central.
Whoopi Goldberg: All right, there's the plug.
Joy Behar: When we come back, how to choose a good groomer for your pet!
***
Taken from a daily news post on torchwood_el, Torchwood's major meta, fic, and picspam community:
Off-LJ Links:
People Magazine has a story on Ellis Graveworthy and Edgar van Scyoc
kikura_s posts hi-res scans of the cover and article.
Discussion and Meta:
vanscyocfan wonders how van Scyoc and Graveworthy's relationship will affect how the shows are viewed
copperbadge mediates a discussion about sexuality and public image
elevated_fics community announces the E&E Slashfest
bluejeans07 has a comic about fan reactions to the news
***
DOCTOR WHO 1x17: THE SHAKESPEARE CODE
The Doctor has long since given up any pretense of kicking Rose out of the TARDIS, and when Ross comes aboard he simply sighs and asks where in time or space they'd like to go. The young Lieutenant, surprisingly, asks to see Shakespeare, and the Doctor obliges by taking him to see it in its original time -- but something's rotten in London, where a trio of witches are trying to use Love's Labors Won for their own purposes. Can the trio save the day against forces supernatural, and keep Will Shakespeare out of trouble at the same time?
Title: Hallo Spaceboy
By: mmk_mmk
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How do you dress a soldier for freewheeling adventures in space?
Author's Notes: Ross's dramatic but clever little change of clothing got me thinking about who helped dress him when he got to the TARDIS.
"Not that."
"Why not this? I like jeans."
"Not those jeans."
"Rose, I don't get why -- "
"Flared jeans, Lieutenant?"
"You can call me Ross. Are they flared?"
"Yeah. Take 'em off."
"Okay, what about this?"
"You don't really do the James Dean thing well. Red's not your color."
"I always looked good in yellow."
"You can't wear your beret everywhere."
"I could if I wanted. You wear those shoes.""What's wrong with my shoes?"
"Uh. Nothing. Are these shirts sorted by...anything?"
"This is the TARDIS. Chaos is king."
"I guess you get used to it."
"Mmm, not really. That's why they call it chaos."
"That was either really deep or a total blow-off, Rose."
"I like to keep people guessing. Oh, hey, that looks nice."
"What, the brown pants?"
"Yeah."
"They're a little...tight. In places they shouldn't be."
"Maybe the TARDIS really likes you."
"Can it hear what I'm thinking?"
"Sorta."
"So. Hello, TARDIS. I'm Ross Jenkins. Can I have some hard-wearing shoes for running in? Thanks."
"You're a dork, Ross."
"Cut me some slack, I'm new at this. I never was any good at shopping."
"You just need to find a look. Soldier boy is so last year. You want to be...a spaceboy."
"No silver foil. I mean it."
"Something classic. Something that'll fit in anywhere. Doctor, come help Ross dress himself."
"Ah! Doctor!"
"You don't have to salute, Ross. The pair of you are complete amateurs. Here. Trousers, nice and roomy, warm socks, you need good socks -- looks like you asked for some shoes?"
"Yeah, I -- "
"Shirt...canary yellow, just a touch will show through. Waistcoat, suit coat, nice deep grey color to go with the trousers...no hat I think...well, put them on."
"Uh, can you...not look?"
"Oh -- right, twenty-first century human. I do know how to pick them."
"Doctor, be nice."
"I'm always nice. How's it going, Ross?"
"Okay, you can turn around now."
"He looks good, Doctor. Kind of like your less-fashionable younger brother."
"Like my what?"
"Never mind. Ross?"
"It's...cool. Yeah."
"And if you're a very good human, in a few years you'll have earned yourself a hat. Now, are we ready to confront the Elizabethans and emerge victorious?"
"Lead the way, fashionista."
***
Chapter 6
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<3
(Loving this, so much, Sam!)
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I would like to see this!
Still enjoying this very much so far.
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Or something.
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Wait, wait wait--is Edgar's Ampersand a tramp stamp (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tramp_stamp)?
...okay, that sounds terribly disrespectful, especially since if I were to get a tattoo, that's the exact place I would put it. It's a good area! And the tattoo design is amazing.
Incidentally, the whole bit with the tattoos is fabulous. *thumbs up*
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E&E - wait, is the elevated_fics comm supposed to be just for E&E RPS fic? Because as a nickname Elevated is pretty cool. If not, E&E works nicely and HAS AN AMPERSAND. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love that the ampersand hold so much meaning, and naturally RPS ficcers would pick up on that, or at least the good ones would. (And your betas would probably drag you into writing E&E, too, which would mean you would be reluctantly but not with actual reluctance writing RPS and then complaining about who made you write the RPS but really it's not RPS because you created E&E and /brain 'splody/)
If this were actual RPS and not fictional RPS I wouldn't even be considering how the RPS ficcers would take all this, and write it, because I dislike RPS (and then I read yours, so that went down the drain). This fic has me so confused. :D YOU have me so confused.
Oh, and they're still ADORABLE, those two. Just, you know, saying. /beams, snuggles E&E to death/
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I think an ampersand's a pretty brilliant logo myself :D