(no subject)
Barge comas had always slightly unsettled the Doctor. Not that he mentioned it to anyone else, but they reminded him so much of a healing coma he could never quite shake the impression that there was some dire mental trauma undergoing repair in the mind of the victim as they slumbered. At least they inevitably looked peaceful through their respite, and despite his rage Rex was no exception.
A third check in an hour wasn't strictly necessary, but Rex was there, and he was there, and the infirmary wasn't all that busy so he thought he might as well. He pulled the curtain aside to look in on his hospital bed again, to run the scanner over him. That should have been sufficient enough to satisfy his concerns.
But they weren't. This time he sat the scanner down on the coarse hospital sheets and pulled up a chair for a seat.
"She's leaving soon, Martha," he said quietly. "Dr. McCoy will be taking over for her in charge of the infirmary. I'm actually quite glad it wasn't me, because I've always resented positions of authority." He regarded Rex quietly. His face was so boyish, peaceful when he was like that. Quite unlike the troubled young man he was when he was waking. "I don't mind it so much as I have in other regenerations." His tone grew more quiet. After all, the infirmary was mostly still. There wasn't much noise to cover his somewhat pointless monologue, just a need to speak and hear himself talk and openly acknowledge that he did want to talk.
"I referred to my position as former Lord President of the High Council with pride. Keeper of the Laws of Rassilon- keeper of the laws of that man..." He closed his eyes, bit his lip up between his teeth. "I've run for office on more than one occasion, commanded armies, claimed authority over establishments. No, I shy from leadership far less than I used to. But I still don't necessarily trust myself with it."
He cleared his throat, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. The TARDIS had returned it to him relatively recently. He'd went quite a long time without it. "When you graduated, I was going to give you a tool kit, and take you on adventures. I was going to show you the cosmos. I thought- I thought of all the things I was doing for you, I was truly helping. I never stopped to consider all that running that I did, in my efforts to be a positive influence- that I'd do quite the opposite. That I might show you somewhere along the line that it's all well and good to run, no matter who you leave behind so long as it appears to be necessary. I've done entirely too much of that."
When he drew a breath, it was shakier than he liked. He put away the sonic screwdriver, and quietly recalled his conversation with Narvin. And with that, he took off his hat (the sad, weather thing) and plucked out a gold-petaled flower. Six of them all around. A simple little blossom, as poignant as a rose. It was the same flower that he plucked from his brother's body- a flower native to Gallifrey.
He placed the Flower of Rememberance on the stand beside of Rex's bed.
"I don't believe... I'll mind being alone whenever it's time for you to go, now that I've had some consideration. It will be painful, and difficult. I've run from what a terrible creature that I know I can be- two steps from a god, one from a monster -more times than I can count. To hold you responsible would be hypocritical of me. It's not even my job to."
The Doctor stood, leaned over Rex's bed, and pressed his forehead to his. Just for a moment. Didn't bother to look for the dreams inside of it, and if they existed he'd leave them in the privacy of them. Once he'd pulled back, a light tip of the nose punctuated the gesture.
His hearts ached, and the space between them felt hollow. But somehow it was a little better. It was better having said what he said, and he pulled the curtain to leave. There was too much hate in the world to bear yet another grudge, especially toward people that had the capacity to fill him with joy. Once was enough.
A third check in an hour wasn't strictly necessary, but Rex was there, and he was there, and the infirmary wasn't all that busy so he thought he might as well. He pulled the curtain aside to look in on his hospital bed again, to run the scanner over him. That should have been sufficient enough to satisfy his concerns.
But they weren't. This time he sat the scanner down on the coarse hospital sheets and pulled up a chair for a seat.
"She's leaving soon, Martha," he said quietly. "Dr. McCoy will be taking over for her in charge of the infirmary. I'm actually quite glad it wasn't me, because I've always resented positions of authority." He regarded Rex quietly. His face was so boyish, peaceful when he was like that. Quite unlike the troubled young man he was when he was waking. "I don't mind it so much as I have in other regenerations." His tone grew more quiet. After all, the infirmary was mostly still. There wasn't much noise to cover his somewhat pointless monologue, just a need to speak and hear himself talk and openly acknowledge that he did want to talk.
"I referred to my position as former Lord President of the High Council with pride. Keeper of the Laws of Rassilon- keeper of the laws of that man..." He closed his eyes, bit his lip up between his teeth. "I've run for office on more than one occasion, commanded armies, claimed authority over establishments. No, I shy from leadership far less than I used to. But I still don't necessarily trust myself with it."
He cleared his throat, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. The TARDIS had returned it to him relatively recently. He'd went quite a long time without it. "When you graduated, I was going to give you a tool kit, and take you on adventures. I was going to show you the cosmos. I thought- I thought of all the things I was doing for you, I was truly helping. I never stopped to consider all that running that I did, in my efforts to be a positive influence- that I'd do quite the opposite. That I might show you somewhere along the line that it's all well and good to run, no matter who you leave behind so long as it appears to be necessary. I've done entirely too much of that."
When he drew a breath, it was shakier than he liked. He put away the sonic screwdriver, and quietly recalled his conversation with Narvin. And with that, he took off his hat (the sad, weather thing) and plucked out a gold-petaled flower. Six of them all around. A simple little blossom, as poignant as a rose. It was the same flower that he plucked from his brother's body- a flower native to Gallifrey.
He placed the Flower of Rememberance on the stand beside of Rex's bed.
"I don't believe... I'll mind being alone whenever it's time for you to go, now that I've had some consideration. It will be painful, and difficult. I've run from what a terrible creature that I know I can be- two steps from a god, one from a monster -more times than I can count. To hold you responsible would be hypocritical of me. It's not even my job to."
The Doctor stood, leaned over Rex's bed, and pressed his forehead to his. Just for a moment. Didn't bother to look for the dreams inside of it, and if they existed he'd leave them in the privacy of them. Once he'd pulled back, a light tip of the nose punctuated the gesture.
His hearts ached, and the space between them felt hollow. But somehow it was a little better. It was better having said what he said, and he pulled the curtain to leave. There was too much hate in the world to bear yet another grudge, especially toward people that had the capacity to fill him with joy. Once was enough.