2. The Doctor Dances (You're Welcome, My Dear)
He used to dance quite well. When he had the right partner.
A/N: I decided if I was going to properly going to continue this, I would have to give a name to another character, and since certain things are rather vague in the series, I’m going to say this is slightly AU, or at least acknowledge that I took several liberties with situations. Angst.
He allowed himself three days, every century. Just three days to remember them, just so they would never be lost to the universe. Once every 100 years, he would take out that music box from oh- so long ago, ask the TARDIS for those semi- solid holograms, and would lose himself to dancing.
He expertly moved in time to the music, spinning and laughing and engulfed in the beats of his own hearts. His feet skipped back and forth as he matched his sons’ rhythms. His eyes twinkled as he skillfully twirled each of his daughters in time to the music. His smile widened as he swayed to and fro, never breaking step with his grandchildren placed precariously on his feet, too young to fully keep up with him themselves. The last day, though, was always fully devoted to her. The embodiment of music itself she used to call him. As they sashayed, twisted, tangoed, whirled, and waltzed back and forth, he would move gracefully and professionally as he soaked in the projection of what once was. Then their song would end, the box would close, and he would be in lonely darkness once more.
He had always thought it unfair, that they should meet on her 12th life and his 1st, but he had cherished every moment with her as though there would never be another. The day they permanently bound themselves to one another was one of the greatest in his long, long existence. She gave him a key to each of her priceless ships- an intimate treasure and private joke between them, as they were not only broken but belonged in a museum- and he gave her a music box of a thousand melodies. She would take it with them to every wedding, birth, regeneration, and celebration they went to for the rest of her lives. It was programmed to play exactly the right song for every occasion, and many nights were happily spent learning or creating new dances for each one.
Each of his children had their own tune, as well as each grandchild, sibling, and parent. But her- she was special. Every time she opened the box, a song specific to her mood would play, and he always rejoiced in the mystery of what would come next. She would open it after every silly squabble, every bad day, every frustrating argument he had with his superiors, and every time she was inexplicably happy. He would gather her in his arms and nothing could ever be wrong in the universe. When they danced, people always watched, amazed that such a clumsy man could be so nimble. He would only laugh at their thoughts, entranced by his wife and her amazing ability to bring out the best in even her most inept student. She was well named.
So he knew, as they danced at her behest in those precious final moments of her very last life, as he held her in his arms for the very last time, that this part of him would always be hers. He could only ever be graceful with her, only ever allow the music to seep into his limbs when they were together, only ever be the envy of the room when it was as it was in these crucial, final moments- her Doctor and his Professor, as he danced her to her sleep.
Years later, friends would always ask him to dance, and occasionally he obliged them. He would be silly or downright ridiculous and they would all chalk it up to clumsiness or the awkwardness of that regeneration, none of them ever knowing or guessing the truth. That once upon a time, the Doctor danced.