trans_9 | A typical Doctor Who companion injury [open, post-rebellion]

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A typical Doctor Who companion injury [open, post-rebellion]

Of all things, Ian hadn't been expected to be bested by a tree. That it was a tree that moved without the wind should have given him a clue, but, well, it was a tree. He'd got too close, it got a good hit in, he'd landed awkwardly and now he couldn't walk.

It was only his ankle and, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing, he'd intended to just hobble home. Except that it did really hurt. So halfway there he found the nearest teleport and ended up in the medbay.

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"What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly curious. "You're not going to try and re-pod them all, are you?"

He shook his head. It was impractical, as much as he liked the idea. "Just to make sure they're all all right and are getting everything they need, whatever it is. Living in a war's not easy."

"No, it isn't," she agreed, remembering briefly what it was like for her as a young girl. "What did you have in mind, then?"

"It depends on who we have and what they need. Maybe an adult they can go to, some semblance of a normal life we can give them or training to help them survive whatever else might get thrown at us." He became more animated as he spoke, it being something he was keen on. "I spoke to Tim Drake about it, someone like him who's still young himself would be a good person for other teenagers to go to if they need help."

It was rather a good idea in Barbara's eyes. Actually, it was a fantastic idea - maybe if Howard had kept busy he wouldn't have left them so quickly. But it was best not to dwell on that now.

"I like that. We could find safe places for them to go to if someone ever attacked Stacey - like an emergency evacuation procedure. And we could have structured activities or something. We could base it on a week - 5 days of something, each day different, two days of rest and then start all over again." Barbara too was thrilled by the idea, and her eyes lit up as ideas began to flow. How many of them were actually useful was something else entirely.

"Not like school, although perhaps some lessons might not be too bad, but we could focus primarily on character and moral development, skill building exercises, even counseling type times; somewhere where they can just talk about whatever is on their mind, which would have to be healthier than bottling it all up. I'm sure that having someone like Mr. Drake would be a good idea for that," not that Barbara felt terribly old but young people did often work better with people closer to their own age. "If we could get a small team of us to run things, we might have a range of things for them to do."

Ian nodded, although given the disruption that tended to happen on Stacy he wasn't sure that five days of work and two days off would work so well. But there was nothing to stop them trying it.

"It all depends on who we can get to help. Tim suggested Dick Grayson, who's a friend of his, I think. I'm not sure who else might be willing." It was hard to tell when he hadn't seen people in that setting. "Although the department heads might be willing to help take on apprentices or give a few lessons."

"Well, we could always start and see who's interested in helping? Plus Tim might know a few more." At least they had a start, she supposed. "Whatever the case, I'll help in anyway I can."

"I knew you would." He smiled at her. "We should try and write a list of all the children on Stacy too. We can't exactly round them up over the omnicomm." Much as Ian quite liked the idea, he suspected that if he tried it he'd never see any of them ever again.

"Alright, well -" Barbara broke off to get up from the bed to find a pen and note pad. It took a bit of looking but she eventually stumbled upon writing tablet; wasn't quite like pen and note pad, but it was close.

She sat back on Ian's bed, crossing her legs neatly and resting the pad on her knee. Typing was one-fingered, of course, until she learnt better or somehow managed to transfer her type-writer skills to the digital version of the keys.

"Who've we got? Orc?"

He nodded. "There's Megan, maybe. I'm not sure how old she is." He thought back to what other children he'd met on Stacy, but there weren't many, which was just as well. "All the others I've met have been re-podded." Or died.

"I see." Barbara wrote both of their names down on one side of the page, then their names and the names of other adults willing to help. "If we talk to them, perhaps they'll know of others."

"They're bound to have spoken to people their own age." And if he and Barbara spoke to enough people they'd find more adults and more children that way. "We've got somewhere to start anyway."

"We do have somewhere to start," she agreed and put the pencil down. "When your ankle is better, why don't we all meet up and discuss it more thoroughly? We each know something that others don't, maybe as a collective we'll have enough information to get this idea off the ground. But you need to get better first." And that was an order.

"I don't need my ankle to do everything," he complained, despite agreeing with her idea. "I'm not ill, I just have an ankle that doesn't work properly."

"Rest," Barbara said a little firmly and got up from the bed to straighten the pillows behind him. "I'll come back with some food blocks and a book for you."

"Thank you." He could probably live without the food blocks, but a book would be handy while he was waiting.

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A typical Doctor Who companion injury [open, post-rebellion]

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