fanfic preview - does this sound like 11? (doctor who)
“There’ something wrong.”
The Doctor frowned, clanking around under the TARDIS control panel, rather energetically whacking it with a spanner. His long legs were sprawled out and the only thing visible, boots resting close-by to where he’d tossed his tweed jacket and a whole other selection of random bits of technology and metal that appeared to pretend to be tools.
“What’s the reading now?” He asked after another whack with his spanner.
“Circle, little ¾ circle with a dot in it. Circle with two lines.” Amy said vaguely, puzzling over the display. She then stopped to pick up his jacket.
“What angle?”
“Hm?”
“What angle are the lines at?” the Doctor asked, sounding exasperated with impatience.
“Uhm...” Amy walked closer to the display looking over it. She then gave Rory a hopeless look over the control panel. He shrugged. “Forty....eight degrees? And maybe 170 degrees?”
“Maybe?” The Doctor huffed and scrambled backwards from under the control panel, looking sooty. He got to his feet and looked over, rolling his eyes. “Amy, that’s nothing like 48 degrees. That 37.67 degrees and 154.92 degrees. Come on, it’s easy stuff this, can’t you tell by just looking at it?”
He tapped the control panel as if it was obvious and he was trying to explain the alphabet to an adult.
“So? What does it mean anyway?” Amy said, shrugging off his being pedantic. She offered his jacket back to him but he ignored her, too distracted.
“It means that we’re losing power. Or have lost it. Quite a lot, actually like something’s feeding from it.”
“Not good?” Rory asked.
“Very not good.” The Doctor wriggled the spanner, thinking, and looked at the dials again. He then groaned and flung the spanner into the rest of the pile of tools. “Right! We’ll have to refuel at the rift. Charge us up like a big old battery - buzz! Maybe that’ll kick start us a bit. Come on then Ponds, dress for Wales.”
His frustration apparently shoved aside and the energy of adventure back again, the Doctor hopped over to man the controls and piloted them to Cardiff.
“Is there..uh.. much to see in Cardiff?” Rory asked, watching him. He had never personally been, but he could hardly imagine monsters and aliens crawling about the place. That was a relief. He’d rather that his new wife wasn’t killed off when he finally had her. A peaceful honeymoon seemed nice. Just a pity that he was probably with the two least peaceful people on earth. “Nothing nasty?”
“Not unless you count Torchwood as nasty.” The Doctor muttered, frowning to himself in disapproval. He then suddenly slapped his forehead. “Oh! Of course! No, they’re gone now. Well, the Welsh Torchwood branch. Got blown up. Terrible business. The 456 I think they were called. I was busy. Well, kind of busy. Been a rough year. Very rough, but crikey...torchwood gone, children chanting doom and I was swanning about deflowering a tudor mona-“
He paused, letting the half uttered word ‘monarch’ hang in the air. He looked slightly guilty and then waved a hand dismissively.
“Buuut you don’t need to know about that. Rough year. Not quite myself. Well, not me, my other self. Him. Me. Very confusing. Irresponsible. Probably. Still I can’t hold you human’s hands all the time, you’ve got to defend yourself without me sometimes....ugh, poor Jack. No wonder he was in that bar.”
He ran a hand through his hair and set about landing the TARDIS during his little babbling rant.
Rory and Amy gave him a blank look, amused and used to his rambles by now, knowing that no matter how interesting they seemed, getting more information out of him in that state was hard and wearing. Better to just absorb what they could and move on. Amy smiled fondly, though. She loved him like this - all manic purpose and bubbly eccentricity. Just like when she was a kid. Her Raggedy Doctor.