Another (1/1)
Doctor Who
Title: Another
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None at all really, unless you haven't seen Doomsday.
Characters: Ten, mentions of numerous companions.
Summary: It has been said so many times it has become a cliche in his own mind, one that only he knows. But as we all know, cliche's are only cliche's because they are true.
Authors Note: Just something.
He supposed that he should find it ironic. He wouldn't live forever, he knew this much. Eventually, one day many years from now, he would run out of regenerations. He would run out of life. No one knew how much he looked forward to and longed for that day. It was something that he often dreamed about. He, of course, hated the idea that this made him tragic in a horribly cliched way but it wasn't as though he could help it. Part of it, he always assumed, was their fault. Their lives were so short, so brilliantly instantaneous and momentary that he couldn't help but be jealous. But if you could argue that then you could also argue that it was his fault for choosing them, these humans. He had all the species of time and space to chose from and he always, without fail, chose the most short lived species of them all. (Save of course those little flies that lived for a day, but they weren't much fun to travel with. Backseat drivers, the lot of them.) He kept choosing those blasted stupid apes. From Ian and Barbara to Martha. He loved them all of course, how could he not. They were brilliant, always ready for a new challenge or a new experience. Always ready to save the day, no matter the cost.
He hated the cost. It was the cost that had taken his third regeneration, the cost that had made him leave Susan behind, the cost that had made him leave Sarah Jane with so many things unsaid. It was the cost that had so very recently ripped Rose from his side. This was the wound that stung the most. He tried to tell himself that it was simply because it was more recent than the others, that Rose was no different than anyone else he had been forced to leave behind, but he knew this wasn't true. It's a tricky thing, lying to yourself, and The Doctor had never been very good at it. Rose had been... his family. She had brought him back from the brink after losing everything in the Time War, but she wasn't special for that reason alone. As much as he had never wanted to admit it (even less in his ninth body) The Doctor, mighty Time Lord that he was, had fallen in love with her, the human. He had fallen in love with someone whom he would never even been able to spend a fraction of one of his lives with. He had doomed himself from the beginning, from the moment he had grabbed her hand in that shop basement and told her to run. Some part of him felt relieved at losing Rose the way he had. This way he had been spared of watching her wither away, or die in some particularly painful way. Instead he knew that she was safe with her family. He wished he could be there, of course, but knew that it was better for her this way. This way she would get love she deserved. Watching her slip away into the void had been harder than leaving Susan, Sarah Jane, Ace and all of them all rolled into one. He would never be able to express his gratitude to Pete for saving her, but that man had done the greatest thing in the universe. Something The Doctor was incapable of doing.
Martha was... different. He often felt guilty for constantly comparing her to Rose (not that he always told her, he had learned not to say it aloud after New Earth) but could never stop himself. Martha had loved him, he knew, but The Doctor had never been able to love her back, at least not in the way she wanted him to. She wasn't right. She wasn't Rose.
He has another one now. Another new companion. Yet another hand to hold. Yet another human. This time, however, he won't compare her to Rose. This time he will try harder to be who she wants him to be. Lucky for him, this human doesn't want to fall in love with him. Lucky for him, this time he is the rebound.
"Doctor."
Her soft voice pulls his attention away from the TARDIS console and his musings. "Hmm?"
"Are you alright?" she pushes a strand of wavy hair behind her ear and raises an eyebrow at him. "You seemed to be off in thought... well, more so than usual."
This cliche that he has become, The Doctor realizes as his latest companion (the latest in a long line) steadily grows more and more uncomfortable under his smiling gaze, is not the worst he could have become. In this cliche, he has friends, lovers, family. He does incredible things and helps these humans become the very best that they could ever be. It is not a selfish thing (although he admits it partly is) in practice, it is an outreach program. "I'm brilliant." he finally answers her, brought out of his funk. "Where to next?"
As he dances around the console shouting out facts about this planet where dirt is more valuable than gold, The Doctor plans what he will do when they return and Brianna (the girl) returns to her room. He let Joan keep that journal, with the drawing of Rose, so tonight (not that the TARDIS has night) he will draw another Rose. He will never forget her, never bring her down of the pedestal, never stop wondering what she would do, and never ever stop looking for a way to bring her home to him, but he could move on. He could stop comparing companions to her, he could stop stalking her past self whilst his companions slept, and he could stop moping around like the miserable sod he had been recently.
Finally grinning like a maniac, the first time he's really meant it since the person in front of him was blond and smiling at him cheekily, he grabs Brianna's hand and pulls her from the TARDIS. It's time to enjoy the universe again.
yeah, that was a big rambly but I'm glad it's out of my system. comment please! :D
Title: Another
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None at all really, unless you haven't seen Doomsday.
Characters: Ten, mentions of numerous companions.
Summary: It has been said so many times it has become a cliche in his own mind, one that only he knows. But as we all know, cliche's are only cliche's because they are true.
Authors Note: Just something.
He supposed that he should find it ironic. He wouldn't live forever, he knew this much. Eventually, one day many years from now, he would run out of regenerations. He would run out of life. No one knew how much he looked forward to and longed for that day. It was something that he often dreamed about. He, of course, hated the idea that this made him tragic in a horribly cliched way but it wasn't as though he could help it. Part of it, he always assumed, was their fault. Their lives were so short, so brilliantly instantaneous and momentary that he couldn't help but be jealous. But if you could argue that then you could also argue that it was his fault for choosing them, these humans. He had all the species of time and space to chose from and he always, without fail, chose the most short lived species of them all. (Save of course those little flies that lived for a day, but they weren't much fun to travel with. Backseat drivers, the lot of them.) He kept choosing those blasted stupid apes. From Ian and Barbara to Martha. He loved them all of course, how could he not. They were brilliant, always ready for a new challenge or a new experience. Always ready to save the day, no matter the cost.
He hated the cost. It was the cost that had taken his third regeneration, the cost that had made him leave Susan behind, the cost that had made him leave Sarah Jane with so many things unsaid. It was the cost that had so very recently ripped Rose from his side. This was the wound that stung the most. He tried to tell himself that it was simply because it was more recent than the others, that Rose was no different than anyone else he had been forced to leave behind, but he knew this wasn't true. It's a tricky thing, lying to yourself, and The Doctor had never been very good at it. Rose had been... his family. She had brought him back from the brink after losing everything in the Time War, but she wasn't special for that reason alone. As much as he had never wanted to admit it (even less in his ninth body) The Doctor, mighty Time Lord that he was, had fallen in love with her, the human. He had fallen in love with someone whom he would never even been able to spend a fraction of one of his lives with. He had doomed himself from the beginning, from the moment he had grabbed her hand in that shop basement and told her to run. Some part of him felt relieved at losing Rose the way he had. This way he had been spared of watching her wither away, or die in some particularly painful way. Instead he knew that she was safe with her family. He wished he could be there, of course, but knew that it was better for her this way. This way she would get love she deserved. Watching her slip away into the void had been harder than leaving Susan, Sarah Jane, Ace and all of them all rolled into one. He would never be able to express his gratitude to Pete for saving her, but that man had done the greatest thing in the universe. Something The Doctor was incapable of doing.
Martha was... different. He often felt guilty for constantly comparing her to Rose (not that he always told her, he had learned not to say it aloud after New Earth) but could never stop himself. Martha had loved him, he knew, but The Doctor had never been able to love her back, at least not in the way she wanted him to. She wasn't right. She wasn't Rose.
He has another one now. Another new companion. Yet another hand to hold. Yet another human. This time, however, he won't compare her to Rose. This time he will try harder to be who she wants him to be. Lucky for him, this human doesn't want to fall in love with him. Lucky for him, this time he is the rebound.
"Doctor."
Her soft voice pulls his attention away from the TARDIS console and his musings. "Hmm?"
"Are you alright?" she pushes a strand of wavy hair behind her ear and raises an eyebrow at him. "You seemed to be off in thought... well, more so than usual."
This cliche that he has become, The Doctor realizes as his latest companion (the latest in a long line) steadily grows more and more uncomfortable under his smiling gaze, is not the worst he could have become. In this cliche, he has friends, lovers, family. He does incredible things and helps these humans become the very best that they could ever be. It is not a selfish thing (although he admits it partly is) in practice, it is an outreach program. "I'm brilliant." he finally answers her, brought out of his funk. "Where to next?"
As he dances around the console shouting out facts about this planet where dirt is more valuable than gold, The Doctor plans what he will do when they return and Brianna (the girl) returns to her room. He let Joan keep that journal, with the drawing of Rose, so tonight (not that the TARDIS has night) he will draw another Rose. He will never forget her, never bring her down of the pedestal, never stop wondering what she would do, and never ever stop looking for a way to bring her home to him, but he could move on. He could stop comparing companions to her, he could stop stalking her past self whilst his companions slept, and he could stop moping around like the miserable sod he had been recently.
Finally grinning like a maniac, the first time he's really meant it since the person in front of him was blond and smiling at him cheekily, he grabs Brianna's hand and pulls her from the TARDIS. It's time to enjoy the universe again.
yeah, that was a big rambly but I'm glad it's out of my system. comment please! :D