The odds were against us, but baby here we are...
[[Forward-dated to Sunday afternoon. Party post. Open to everyone, even if you don't know the happy couple- this is as much a celebration of two years of survival as it is a wedding.]]
The wedding reception is being held at the Grand Ballroom, familiar to some as the same ballroom the Christmas Ball was held a year ago. It's also been decorated ( Read more... )
The wedding reception is being held at the Grand Ballroom, familiar to some as the same ballroom the Christmas Ball was held a year ago. It's also been decorated ( Read more... )
The Doctor, clearly, is a moron.
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So the Doctor just makes his way through the crowds, following the feel of Time Lord, until he finds someone who fits Dmitri's description.
And then he grins, grabs a fork, and moves close enough to steal a bite of the other Doctor's cake.
"This is really good cake," he says, grinning in a way that's got more teeth in it than should be possible. "And you can't expect me to fall for the old 'I'll stop by, but sorry if I don't mention when, oh, sorry, seem to have been distracted' trick when I still remember using it." There's something in the smile and in the posture, an edge to his already manic demeanour, that suggests the other Doctor's standing on ice that's getting thinner by the moment, but oh, he'll play it up nice enough for the crowds ( ... )
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For all of his past self's manic grinning, he doesn't smile at all. He pauses a moment, and then sets his plate down on the nearest table. He glances to the extended hand, and then briefly around the room - possibly he's looking for Rose, or Donna, or even the TARDIS, someone to rescue him from this situation.
None of those people are anywhere he can easily catch their attention or duck behind them, and so he sighs, swinging his attention back to... himself. Oh, he remembers that smile. He'd forgotten - or maybe never realised - how disconcerting it must have been to those on the receiving end.
"I did mention I was busy," he says, as if that absolutely explains avoiding himself for this long. "Can we do this... somewhere else?"
Assuming that never doing this ever isn't an option...
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He scans the room for the nearest exit, never quite taking his attention off his future self. This one reminds him a bit of his Fifth, and he wouldn't be surprised if the other Doctor just took off running. Good way to ruin a wedding reception; kind of like punching himself, for that matter.
That's why the punching can wait until they're someplace more private. And people say he isn't considerate.
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He starts talking as he heads toward the nearest door - he's not sure where it leads, but it doesn't much matter as long as they're out of the way before the shouting starts. He'd hate to ruin Martha and Des' wedding reception, after all.
"I'd like to point out, first of all, that Rose isn't from much further along in the timeline than you are, therefore, anything she told you might not have been... exactly... entirely... What did she tell you?" He should probably find out what they're talking about before he starts defending himself.
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His tone's about as light as it can get, considering.
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He spins around to face the other Doctor so he's walking backwards. He has to reach behind him to open the door, but he manages, and edges backwards into some empty side hall, grimacing a little.
"Did I say that? You know how it is when we've just regenerated - can't exactly be held responsible for the things you say, at a time like that..."
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He keeps advancing, relentless and angry. The Sycorax, he'll forgive, whoever they are. Crises happen; he knows that well enough. But what sounded like a nice little jaunt to New Earth, after... Given what he's seen of his Tenth already, he's getting the impression he'd never have gone back. Just like countless other times, just like on Gallifrey (and he can barely even think the name without something inside him clenching up) when they tried to make him Lord President.
Only this isn't just him taking someone and leaving them when it's time for them to go. This isn't like Adam, who'd tried to abuse the gift he was given and got dumped back home with all the problems he'd caused himself. This is someone he was responsible for, who died for him, and he, at least, ( ... )
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He wishes he'd stop getting cornered in hallways, these days.
He also wishes the other Doctor would stop looking at him like that. He didn't exactly like having the Doctor in the watch around, but at least he never had to explain... Plus, it's very hard for a watch to give looks of any sort. That too.
The Doctor clenches his jaw briefly, almost glaring. "Oh, it's not like he didn't make it off the Game Station all on his own," he snaps. "Made it back to Earth, found himself a team, moved on..." After more than a century of waiting and a trip to the end of the universe and a year that never was, sure, but he did.
...and that excuse isn't going to earn him any points here.
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"Don't talk to me," the Doctor hisses. "Just think about this -- think very hard: waking up alone, surrounded by the dead, with no idea how it is you survived, and there's no one to come for you. That's what we left him to." It's deliberate, playing up the moments after Gallifrey's destruction, after the war, and his voice doesn't so much crack as it crumbles around the edges, tripping over the memories. Can you still remember this? Does it still hurt? Or have you run so far from it you can't feel anything anymore?
"I had to leave him, in the hopes that just maybe you wouldn't turn out like me. And it looks like you didn't. Instead, you just turned out a--"
The memory hits, hard and immediate.
"Then prove yourself, Doctor. What are you, coward or killer ( ... )
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But the mention of John Thane gets him to look up immediately, gaze snapping up to meet the other Doctor's, and he straightens slowly, taking a moment to get his breath back properly. There's a flicker of an expression on his face, gone in an instant, and it's difficult to tell if it was meant to be a smile or a snarl.
"You're going to be happier if I don't talk to you after all." Especially about that, especially after this...
He has got to stop getting cornered in hallways.
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He's not expecting this to be an easy conversation, especially after everything that's happened, and the things that triggered Dmitri to say anything at all. It's still one that, apparently, they need to have.
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"It wasn't two years Jack was missing," he says finally, dropping his hand after a moment and fixing his eyes on the wall across from where he's standing, pointedly not on the other Doctor. "It was seven, and you would think that just maybe, if someone went to all the effort of shoving all those years into a neat little packet in some dark pit in his mind, they might've had a good reason for it, and maybe it might not be the best idea to pull that packet out, put it in control of a walking Fact and set it loose on Chicago..."
He's trying to keep that ragged edge out of his voice, but it's there, seeping up from underneath bitterness and anger. He's comfortable with his anger, even if there's nothing he can do with it, now or... then.
"But apparently someone had a different opinion on the matter."
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What he's listening to is beyond his worst-case scenario, and part of him uncharitably wonders if his future self ran away from this, too. A smaller, darker part of him wonders if he might do the same.
"And?" There are a wealth of questions there, like What did he do? and What did you do? and Is he dead? and, most importantly, Why?
He trusts the other Doctor will pick up on all of the above.
It may or may not mean anything that the barely-smothered aggression in his posture has vanished, for the moment, in response to that ragged edge in his Tenth's voice.
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But not yet.
"One of the casualties of the Time War was... a little colony planet called Boeshane. Didn't factor much in any dominant timelines, basically insignificant, but it mattered to John Thane. And then it was gone, and he-"
The Doctor breaks off. He's not explaining this. Not here, not today, he's just not, and he- He was so close to having one unexpectedly good day.
He goes on, after a moment, tone softer, "He found himself in Chicago. Looking for a Time Lord to blame, someone to hold accountable for war crimes, and..."
And here I was.
He glances over, gaze skirting over actually meeting the other Doctor's eyes. Are you happy now? Are we done?
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Of course that would be the one he picked up because Rose was there to remind him, because he needed a day when everybody lived. The universe isn't done having its fun with him, oh no.
But while that tells him how it began and why, it still doesn't give him everything he needs.
"How did it end?" He won't press for details on the rest, but this much, he needs to know. Not What happened to him? or Are you all right?, which is a pointless question to ask anyone who's been on the receiving end of what the other Doctor's hinting at, or any other question, but this.
Dmitri said Thane was probably nothing dangerous right now. That... might just say something about Jack, and about his own responsibilities.
Responsibilities are all he has left.
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