(no subject)
Doors long since sealed closed groaned open, the first waves of fresh air breaking through with a hiss and a whoosh as the wane and dusty light from the docking bay illuminated two small figures creeping in through the narrow opening before shutting out the world once again. Thin, whispered voices echoed in the darkness, disturbed now for the first time in what felt ages but couldn't have been more than a decade, tiny feet and hands skittering, touching, clinking against weathered machinery as they fumbled their way to the console in the centre of the chamber.
"I don't think we should be here, Theta," came one voice, oddly cautious but not meek. It was more a statement than a question, and carried with it the unvoiced opinion of And I'm stupid for following.
Another voice, this one also a boy's, snorted and replied: "No one ever comes here; we'll be fine. 's not trespassing if no one cares."
The lights flickered on then, illuminating the two young Gallifreyans dressed in the uniforms of Academy students -- well, the first boy was, moreso than the second. He was all clean-cut and proper, his clothing pressed and neat. His companion, the daring one, looked rumpled and disshevelled, half his uniform missing, the other half untucked and dirty, wrinkled beyond hope. It gave him the appearance of having just woken up after falling asleep in his clothing, then being chased through the mud by Norathisks and Vortisaurs who demanded only the finest of linens as their main choice of sustenance, and so he'd offered up his jacket as some early morning snack.
The two were looking about the console room, fingers touching and pressing and running over every surface. Theta, the unkempt one as he'd been named, had the most awestruck look on his face, though his companion seemed more nonplussed. "Always wanted to see one of these," he breathed, almost giddy. "She's beautiful."
"They aren't that big of a deal," his friend replied, rolling his eyes and giving the console a bit of a poke before brushing his finger off on his waistcoat. "And we'll each get our own someday when we graduate." He paused, adding a little disdainfully: "We'll get new ones that are better than this old thing."
Theta all but pouted. "Aw, but I like this one! Just 'cause she's old don't mean she's not good."
The other boy shrugged and gave his friend a look that asked Really, denoting a sex, now? "It doesn't matter. Father is decommissioning all the Type 40s, anyway, so it'll be gone long before we graduate."
A long silence passed between the two boy when Theta didn't respond, instead walking around the console, drinking in everything he saw.
"Can we keep this one?" he asked suddenly. His friend gave him a funny look and he hastily added: "I mean, we're gonna need t' learn t' fly these anyway, right? Tell your dad we want extra practise or something."
"We'll have plenty of practise with much better models than this, Theta."
"But Koscheiiii," Theta whined. "I like this one. Pleeeease?"
There was a long, drawn-out sigh before Koschei shrugged and said: "Fine. I'll ask him." To which Theta whooped loudly and gave the other boy a hug and kiss, then went back to examining the TARDIS' console.
They visited often after that, walking easily through the front doors, as now they had permission. Feigning interest in learning to pilot a TARDIS and learn more about them in furtherance of their studies, Koschei had nonchalantly pointed out Theta's newest "friend" to his father and requested it not be scrapped with the rest of the machines his father had control over. Theta's joy at being able to visit the "old girl," as he'd begun calling her, was palpable.
For years, the two continued the visits, often playing games or hiding away from their school work and classmates when they wanted to be alone. Koschei rarely visited without his other half, but Theta found himself wandering the TARDIS' halls often on his own, chatting non-stop at the walls as if they could hear him and understand. He talked about his worries, his frustrations, all his dreams of travelling with Koschei, righting wrongs and seeing all the galaxies had to offer. He'd only ever confided these secrets to Koschei, he told the walls, but he knew he could trust her to keep it secret, too.
Neither child noticed -- or, at least, commented on -- the fact the lights were always on when they visited, the temperature perfect. They didn't say anything about the gentle, soothing hum of engines long-since unused, or the minuscule touches of soft fingers on their consciousnesses, gently brushing against them, seeking and comforting, almost desperate for contact and wanting to please. Rooms appeared often that they could not recall being there before, stocked with everything they could ever want or need.
It was not until years later, when Theta stumbled into the TARDIS, fighting back sobs of anger and frustration and grief, that he realised the ship was waiting for him, ready to give whatever he needed to soothe his pain. He couldn't speak to her, not properly, not without a link, but he babbled regardless about his fight with Koschei, about failing his tests, about all the hurt and anguish his family had afforded him and how horribly lonely he felt now, without the other boy at his side. The TARDIS responded in kind, humming soothingly, desperate to offer the same comforts he'd given her all those years ago when, as a child, he'd stumbled about her console room and stared at her in awe and called her beautiful, as though the old and worn machine had any sort of value at all when everyone else dismissed her as junk to be discarded. She sought to calm him, chase away the aching pain in his hearts, but she could only brush against his mind, could only dim the lights and offer him a silent place to cry, hide him from the world until he was ready to face it again.
He never did stop hiding, she knew, even when he finally left her again, empty and numb. He never left those dark and cool places she'd offered in his grief, and she rejoiced when he returned to her years later, frantic to escape and take her with him, both of them outcasts among their kind. This time, however, as he took the controls in hand, laughing, and told her to go where she would, he could hear her singing, could feel those touches on his mind, as he made Contact and linked himself to her, their fates bound together until the end of their days.
She sang of stars and space and time, free for the first time in centuries to stretch and move and live, and with lights dark and temperature cool, as it had been the day he came to her sobbing and she'd hid him away, she welcomed Theta home.
Character: The TARDIS
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count 1,154
"I don't think we should be here, Theta," came one voice, oddly cautious but not meek. It was more a statement than a question, and carried with it the unvoiced opinion of And I'm stupid for following.
Another voice, this one also a boy's, snorted and replied: "No one ever comes here; we'll be fine. 's not trespassing if no one cares."
The lights flickered on then, illuminating the two young Gallifreyans dressed in the uniforms of Academy students -- well, the first boy was, moreso than the second. He was all clean-cut and proper, his clothing pressed and neat. His companion, the daring one, looked rumpled and disshevelled, half his uniform missing, the other half untucked and dirty, wrinkled beyond hope. It gave him the appearance of having just woken up after falling asleep in his clothing, then being chased through the mud by Norathisks and Vortisaurs who demanded only the finest of linens as their main choice of sustenance, and so he'd offered up his jacket as some early morning snack.
The two were looking about the console room, fingers touching and pressing and running over every surface. Theta, the unkempt one as he'd been named, had the most awestruck look on his face, though his companion seemed more nonplussed. "Always wanted to see one of these," he breathed, almost giddy. "She's beautiful."
"They aren't that big of a deal," his friend replied, rolling his eyes and giving the console a bit of a poke before brushing his finger off on his waistcoat. "And we'll each get our own someday when we graduate." He paused, adding a little disdainfully: "We'll get new ones that are better than this old thing."
Theta all but pouted. "Aw, but I like this one! Just 'cause she's old don't mean she's not good."
The other boy shrugged and gave his friend a look that asked Really, denoting a sex, now? "It doesn't matter. Father is decommissioning all the Type 40s, anyway, so it'll be gone long before we graduate."
A long silence passed between the two boy when Theta didn't respond, instead walking around the console, drinking in everything he saw.
"Can we keep this one?" he asked suddenly. His friend gave him a funny look and he hastily added: "I mean, we're gonna need t' learn t' fly these anyway, right? Tell your dad we want extra practise or something."
"We'll have plenty of practise with much better models than this, Theta."
"But Koscheiiii," Theta whined. "I like this one. Pleeeease?"
There was a long, drawn-out sigh before Koschei shrugged and said: "Fine. I'll ask him." To which Theta whooped loudly and gave the other boy a hug and kiss, then went back to examining the TARDIS' console.
They visited often after that, walking easily through the front doors, as now they had permission. Feigning interest in learning to pilot a TARDIS and learn more about them in furtherance of their studies, Koschei had nonchalantly pointed out Theta's newest "friend" to his father and requested it not be scrapped with the rest of the machines his father had control over. Theta's joy at being able to visit the "old girl," as he'd begun calling her, was palpable.
For years, the two continued the visits, often playing games or hiding away from their school work and classmates when they wanted to be alone. Koschei rarely visited without his other half, but Theta found himself wandering the TARDIS' halls often on his own, chatting non-stop at the walls as if they could hear him and understand. He talked about his worries, his frustrations, all his dreams of travelling with Koschei, righting wrongs and seeing all the galaxies had to offer. He'd only ever confided these secrets to Koschei, he told the walls, but he knew he could trust her to keep it secret, too.
Neither child noticed -- or, at least, commented on -- the fact the lights were always on when they visited, the temperature perfect. They didn't say anything about the gentle, soothing hum of engines long-since unused, or the minuscule touches of soft fingers on their consciousnesses, gently brushing against them, seeking and comforting, almost desperate for contact and wanting to please. Rooms appeared often that they could not recall being there before, stocked with everything they could ever want or need.
It was not until years later, when Theta stumbled into the TARDIS, fighting back sobs of anger and frustration and grief, that he realised the ship was waiting for him, ready to give whatever he needed to soothe his pain. He couldn't speak to her, not properly, not without a link, but he babbled regardless about his fight with Koschei, about failing his tests, about all the hurt and anguish his family had afforded him and how horribly lonely he felt now, without the other boy at his side. The TARDIS responded in kind, humming soothingly, desperate to offer the same comforts he'd given her all those years ago when, as a child, he'd stumbled about her console room and stared at her in awe and called her beautiful, as though the old and worn machine had any sort of value at all when everyone else dismissed her as junk to be discarded. She sought to calm him, chase away the aching pain in his hearts, but she could only brush against his mind, could only dim the lights and offer him a silent place to cry, hide him from the world until he was ready to face it again.
He never did stop hiding, she knew, even when he finally left her again, empty and numb. He never left those dark and cool places she'd offered in his grief, and she rejoiced when he returned to her years later, frantic to escape and take her with him, both of them outcasts among their kind. This time, however, as he took the controls in hand, laughing, and told her to go where she would, he could hear her singing, could feel those touches on his mind, as he made Contact and linked himself to her, their fates bound together until the end of their days.
She sang of stars and space and time, free for the first time in centuries to stretch and move and live, and with lights dark and temperature cool, as it had been the day he came to her sobbing and she'd hid him away, she welcomed Theta home.
Character: The TARDIS
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count 1,154