DW Fic: Alphabet Soup (1/1)
Title: Alphabet Soup
Author: lizzledpink
Rating: PG
Summary: Challenge: write 26 drabbles or oneshots. The inspiration for each will be a word starting with a different letter of the alphabet. Pick the words yourself. Anything goes.
Warnings: Spoilers for all new series episodes.
APPLES
Amy likes apples, and Rory has always been very, very happy about that.
There was this saying Rory’s mother told him when he was six. “An apple a day keeps the Doctor away.” Apparently little Amelia Pond had never heard the expression, and, perhaps out of spite for the man who had stolen her heart (before Rory had even met Amy, no less), Rory made it his solemn duty to prevent her from hearing it.
So apples are Amy’s favorite fruit, because they remind her of her Raggedy Doctor.
And they’re Rory’s favorite fruit because he hopes it’ll keep the Doctor away.
Amy still loves apples. Now, he’s her (kind-of) boyfriend, and they’re sitting out by the duck pond (funny, but there aren’t any ducks) eating apples.
Whether or not the Doctor exists, Rory will still like apples. Just so he can hope that the Doctor isn’t real, because if he is, maybe he’ll spirit Amy away and take her off on those grand adventures, and leave him behind.
Without her.
(Of course, that’s exactly what happens - except the Doctor spirited Rory away too. Now his name is Mr. Pond, and he’s centuries old, in his head, and formerly plastic. Right, and not so right.)
(And Rory discovers that, by chance, his favorite fruits aren’t apples, they’re pears. And he still hasn’t figured out why the Doctor finds that so funny, but that’s quite alright. Really. It is.)
BEARS
“Like bears,” the Doctor says suddenly, flicking a switch on the console.
Rose blinks out of her morose thoughts. “Huh?”
“Bears. Or maybe bees. They always go for the sweetest thing there is - honey. If there’s honey around, there’s no stopping a bear trying to get to it.”
“What are we talking about, exactly?”
He continues on, ignoring her, and Rose is a little exasperated, if amused. This regeneration talks too much. She doesn’t really mind. “So the bears, they’ll try and attack each other, or ward each other off. All they want is the honey. It tastes so good. They can’t get enough of it. So how does one bear gets chosen over another?” He looks at Rose. “Well?”
Rose frowned. “Well, the stronger bear gets the honey, right? Scares the other one off. Is this going somewhere?”
He looks up at the ceiling, and hits another button. “Not really.”
“Why’s that?”
“The thing is, the stronger bear, he wants the honey. But he doesn’t want to eat the honey, because he’s afraid if he does, then when he’s finished, it’ll be gone. So he leaves the honey alone. And the honey doesn’t get eaten at all.”
“That’s stupid.”
“What?”
“Honey’s honey. It’s supposed to be eaten. Otherwise, why would you bother with it at all? Just because the honey doesn’t last long, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it while it’s there.”
The Doctor stares at her, and breaks into a grin. “Rose, never change!” he declares happily. Suddenly the contemplative mood is gone, and he’s his usual mad self, and the TARDIS begins to whir and grind and slowly heads back to Earth, so they can tell Jackie that Mickey’s gone.
She smiles back, and decides to figure that bear thing out later. It can wait.
CAMOUFLAGE
Every few days, it hits her just how normal everything is.
She’ll be walking down the corridor, munching on a bagel and scanning through lines of reports, when it’ll occur to her that she blends in perfectly. She’s another drone. Yes, one of the top drones, but still a drone. Just one more Torchwood employee, dealing with aliens and stuff on a regular basis. In normalcy.
Sure, sometimes something exciting happens, but most of this job is paperwork and thinking and… normal. Like every other person in the universe, that’s what she’s become now.
And for that brief moment, she’ll remember, and it hurts. She’ll remember the days when she was special. Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth; that was her. Now she’s just Rose Tyler, Division C Analyst and Field Agent.
Another human, trapped on a lonely Earth, looking to the stars.
And then the moment passes, and she gets back to work, because what else can she do? Time moves forward, in a linear progression of cause to effect, and she would be silly to think it might move otherwise.
DREAMS
He sits on a park bench, and stares.
He’s supposed to be hunting some bloke down. Some idiot who left his partner to die and ditched the Agency, who was last seen on Sol-3 (Earth), sometime in the twentieth century. A slippery fellow, to be certain. There’ve been rumors about him, saying he was the first Agent ever.
The man on the park bench really doesn’t care at the moment. He looks at his watch again, still finding it impossible to believe, but it’s true.
This is Earth. April 2020, to be precise.
And she’s there.
But she can’t be.
And she is.
A woman with the brightest red hair, a playful scowl on her face, shouting. She’s holding hands with a dark-skinned man who is apparently much more easy-going, because he’s just laughing her off. They’re wearing wedding rings. Married.
And there’s a little girl with her face, and a littler boy with her nose, and they’re going down the slide together, laughing while their parents happily bicker.
He watches for a bit. Suddenly, the boy falls and scrapes his knee. The husband looks at his wife, who says it’s his turn. The husband runs to the child, smiling.
Then the man on the park bench gets up, and walks over to the smiling woman.
“Hello,” he says. “Is your n-n… You’re Donna?”
She whirls around and looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, and who’re you?”
“D-d-do you remem-member me?” he stutters.
She frowns at his face, puzzled. “Yeah, no, sorry. Don’t think we’ve met. You alright? You look a bit pale.”
“F-F-Fine.”
She shrugs. Then she turns around, hearing a wail, and heads towards her husband, who is utterly failing to keep their child calm.
Lee swallows. He whispers three silent words, which she never will never again know he said, hits the device on his arm, and disappears through time and space.
Happiness remains, for him, a dream.
EVENING
He knew the Doctor was somehow involved the moment he heard about it. The ghosts, the building, the aliens… He had to be somewhere. Elton had no doubt whatsoever - the Doctor had saved them all.
Out of respect for what the Doctor had done, he read the entire list of the dead.
So many names. So many lives, taken, reasonless. People convinced they were doing the right thing. Not right, but not wrong.
And now they were dead.
His eyes passed over the names, and then he froze.
“Elton?”
“Jacqueline Tyler,” he read aloud. “Jackie.”
Ursula quieted. “I’m sorry.”
“Rose, too.”
“Both of them?”
“Yeah.”
“Elton?”
“What?”
“It’s okay.”
“Maybe,” he replied solemnly. “I just hope he got to tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
Elton’s lips quirked up. “What do you think? It’s Rose.”
“I’m sure he did,” Ursula said with certainty. “I know he did.”
“Good.”
FREEDOM
Once upon a time, he had been free.
Yeah, he remembered it. And he wishes he didn’t.
In this place, they surgically pick him apart now and then. He’s a curiosity. None of them can figure out how he became the way he is. But they’re humans, sweet, beloved humans. He might have been one once, but he’s not sure. He made a mistake, a very stupid mistake, and he knows exactly how wrong it was. So maybe he’s not human. Or maybe he is. Does it matter anymore?
What does human mean when there is nothing left for you to be human about?
This room is so dark, so cold.
Somebody stands at the bars, and snaps their fingers. The familiar whirr sounds. The person stares in fascination.
They snap their fingers again, and it’s gone. They leave
Adam once knew freedom. But he hasn’t for a very, very long time.
He can only blame his own misguided, idiocy.
And that’s about as human as he can get.
GAME
Sitting on a bench, watching little kids play.
He never thought he’d be doing something as mundane as this, and still enjoy it.
“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” somebody asked, sitting down next to him. Jack looked up. It was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, yet oddly dressed in tweed, like an old professor or something.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Who?”
“Rose,” the man answered flatly, his eyes flicking back to the field. Six-year-old Rose was playing with her “brother” Mickey, kicking a football around in the grass. They were having a blast. Jackie was watching from afar while chatting with another mother. None of them noticed the two men on the bench, watching her.
“How’d you know I’m looking at her?”
The man leaned towards Jack slightly and tapped his nose. “Because you miss her as much as I do,” the man confided, winking.
He was cheerful, Jack noted, but within his eyes… Sadness. A similar sadness to his own. And age, painful age.
“Doctor?” Jack asked hesitantly. “But it can’t be. I thought regeneration was just a myth.”
“Next time you see me, it’ll be the real me - the one in your timeline, Jack. I’ll have regenerated then, too. Just tell him the box gives it away, that’s how you know.” The Doctor sighed. “Things get better Jack. Sometimes they’re sad. Sometimes they aren’t. But eventually, change comes, as it always does. Embrace it.” He glanced at Rose. “You’ll see her again, too. But for me, that time’s gone. You’re gone. That’s how it is. And maybe I’ll meet you, my you, again.”
He stood up again on rickety knees, and started to leave. “Doctor!” Jack called out.
“Yes?”
“I think this you will take it better than my you. Just want you to know - I’ll love you till the day I die.”
The Doctor turned back and frowned at him, but his eyes shone with amusement. “No, you won’t. You called me an old friend that day. I should know; I was there.” He began to walk off again, leaving Jack to puzzle it out.
And puzzle he did.
HEAL
Really, he’s absolutely fine. Yes, that spear did nick his shoulder. Okay, maybe it drew blood. Look, it’s only a little scrape, really.
Rose just laughs, shaking her head. Because he’s just so, so stubborn. Doesn’t know why she puts up with him.
Nevertheless she goes to the kettle and pours tea for both of them, and they sit in the TARDIS kitchen quietly, sipping their tea.
It’s rather domestic, but that’s fine. This new Doctor doesn’t mind domestic, if Rose is there. And besides, though he’ll never admit it, he definitely needs to be cared for and looked after, and that shoulder does hurt, a little bit. The tea helps, but seeing her teasing grin heals him more.
ISLAND
For sixteen years, he sat, and never saw the sky.
Then, one day, he looked up. They’d dug him out, they had. The Romans. Real ones, actually. Not plastic ones. It’d be a little troubling if they were plastic, so not plastic was good.
And they decided they liked the box. And they wanted to bring it back to Rome, because admittedly, it was a pretty cool box. He agreed. As long as he could stay with it, and as long as nobody tried to open it. They could put it up in the center of the Forum, for all he cared.
Just as long as she was safe, and he was at her side.
So they took him to the island of Sicily, and the box went on public display. Romans.
And he looked up at the sky. There were no stars. It was dark.
Maybe it was better that Amy couldn’t see this. Amy loved stars. So he’d guard her box, and keep her in there until the Doctor came, and they could get the stars back.
Eventually.
But it would take a lot of sixteen years.
JAIL
There’s a point where imprisonment just gets boring.
No, really.
For some reason, it’s always the same. They get caught flouting some ridiculous rule, or maybe they’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Happens a lot, really. At this point, even Rose is used to it, which is rather funny, actually. It takes companions ages to get used to imprisonment. Which shows just how long Rose Tyler’s been with him. Which is nice.
Point is, it’s gotten ridiculous.
They’ll be escorted to a typical jail cell and the local law enforcement will try to intimidate them. It doesn’t work. Ever.
This time, Rose and the Doctor just looked at each other and laughed, and started comparing the senior guard to some bloke they’d met in France, 1905. Which was rather insulting, considering the senior guard was female, decidedly non-human, and from the fifty-ninth century.
Then, they were thrown in jail. Separate cages this time, as they complained. Oh, well. At least it made the escape remotely more interesting.
Seriously. It needed more interesting.
Frankly, Rose Tyler had become used to this. And while it was still fun and enjoyable for them both, the Doctor couldn’t help but grin with
bored amusement.
Because Rose Tyler, imprisoned, was supposed to be shaking with fear.
And she had promptly curled up and fallen asleep.
Oh, Rose.
KINDNESS
Logically speaking… Well, there is no logic. Never mind, that line of thought was rubbish anyway.
She’s just this one, plain, human girl. Utterly normal. Works in a shop. Nothing special at all. Sweet, stubborn, a sense of humor, nice, annoying, slightly stupid (but actually, very clever). One hundred percent mundane.
Except, she’s not normal, and she’s absolutely special. Really, it doesn’t make any sense. Time twists around her, almost as much as it does around him. She and time are inextricable from one another, and he doesn’t quite understand why. On this simple, normal planet, which he used to love so much, she is like a bright beacon of light, outshining everything.
He should really go. He doesn’t need anything, or anybody. He’s a Time Lord, the last of them. And what good would having a human do right now? Humans don’t understand. They couldn’t. And she, bright as she is, why would she want to come? She turned him down once.
He realizes he’s forgotten something. He forgot to tell her the true extent of the TARDIS’ power. Space, yeah, but he’d missed the point.
Maybe he should tell her, just to see. Because he’s curious. It’s a trait that not one of his regenerations has lost, the curiosity, the need to know.
What makes her so special?
He wants to know her.
Did he mention it could travel in time?
LAPEL
This is absolutely the most snoggable Doctor yet.
And he’s too young. Jack feels like a cradle-robber just looking at him. Hilarious, when you think about it.
But honestly, all he wants to do is pull him forward by that bowtie of his and unwrap him like a present, bit by bit, braces, jacket, shirt and all.
While snogging him.
Alonso was sweet, and the gesture was kind, but Jack wishes that just once the Doctor would let a guy buy him a drink. This guy, specifically.
The only two (nearly) immortal guys in the universe, and they both have to be gorgeous, and one of them has to be such a prude.
It’s just not fair.
MUSIC
Once a year, Rose and the Doctor meet at Tyler manor, in the centre of the party room, and the rest of the house knows to clear out and stay away until morning comes.
They dim the lights, the first few years. When Tony is seven, he barges in one day. In that silly way a child does, he questions everything he sees. Eventually, Rose and the Doctor manage to wave him away and send him back to bed, but he gives them a nice idea. From that point on, they use candlelight instead, and decide that it suits the room much better that way.
It’s a large, spacious room. Nearly a ballroom, but not quite. It’s good enough.
The music begins to play, and they are transported in time. Not literally, for a change.
Rose’s arms go around the Doctor’s neck, and her head rests against his chest. He holds her around the waist, and together, they sway and dance slowly across the room, to the sweet sounds of Glen Miller, and remember.
(One day, when he’s eight, Tony Tyler decides that someday he will grow up to be like this Uncle Jack person his sister always misses and says she loved, and he doesn’t learn for many years why exactly that makes both Rose and the Doctor both amused and scared out of their wits.)
NATURAL
If your lifespan is over a century, and you’re forced to live through every one of those years linearly, and you never age, it’s only natural to get a bit lonely.
So when Captain Jack Harkness first realizes just who and what Rory Williams is, he’s ecstatic, off the wall ecstatic. And he feels blessed.
Somebody understands.
Only, no, he doesn’t.
Jack quickly gets to know Rory, and realizes the truth. Rory is no blessing, he’s a curse. Rory is brilliant and gorgeous and funny and kind and it’s only natural for Jack to fall for him instantly and irrevocably, the way Jack always does.
He has always given his heart out too easily. It’s probably his greatest flaw. Or strength. No, it’s a flaw.
Because Rory Williams is madly in love with Amy Pond, and won’t even look his way. Oh, they’ll share a bit of camaraderie, swap a couple stories, lament the fact that world seems to turn around them at a snail’s pace. Friends. A listening ear.
But that companionship Jack so wants (which he has only experienced once before, back in a time when he was mortal and the world was simpler) is denied to him.
And he can’t even blame brilliant and gorgeous and funny and kind Rory for it.
Sometimes Jack wishes he could keep himself from falling in love, but he’s very, very bad at it, and even as he forces himself to leave, and even as he falls in love with Estelle and tries to get over Rory, and even as he later hopes and prays that Rory didn’t die in the fire like they say, he doesn’t return. He doesn’t look back, he doesn’t want to know. (This is why he never goes back to see his companions, he thinks.)
Jack Harkness looks at the starless sky and sighs, and kisses this sweet girl he’s fallen for, and wonders when the cruelty of this universe will end.
OPEN
Somewhere in the universe there must be a marmalade jar opening championship match, and the Doctor is convinced that Rose Tyler would win it.
His hands are a bit oily. He was working on the TARDIS again, messing with the trans-spatial exomatrix initiator (the thing that goes fwoosh). Now his fingers can’t quite grip the jar right, and he’s having a bit of trouble here, even after running it under hot water.
Which is when Rose walks in.
She obviously just woke up. She’s wearing a nightie. Her eyes are half-closed (or is it half-open?) and her feet drag behind, nudging her pink slippers along inch by inch. Still, she manages to walk over to the Doctor, and slap his hand lightly away from the marmalade jar.
He looks at her, bewildered, and she musters up a small, sleepy glare.
She pulls a dishrag out of a drawer, and wipes the edges of the jar. Then, in one swift motion, she twists the lid and suddenly it’s open with a small ‘pop’ to prove it.
The Doctor stares at her with the awe a child gives to somebody who has just made them a balloon animal.
Rose rolls her eyes and sits down at the table, clearly implying that it’s his turn to make breakfast.
He begins to babble about going to a planet called Reffurefura next, or perhaps a trip to Na’uli, and obliges.
PEARS
River has handed him a pear.
For a moment, he stares at it, utterly perplexed.
“What? I give you fruit and you just sit there?”
“It’s a pear,” he explains, tugging absently at his bowtie with one hand.
“So?”
“I haven’t had a pear in years.” He grins. “I wore a leather jacket back then, like a punk biker.”
River cannot imagine it. No, really. She actually can’t. It just doesn’t… work. She’s seen him in a few different outfits, but leather jacket? Really? “You what?”
He grins. “I hate pears.” Then he takes a bite, and finds it is juicy and soft and sweet and absolutely delectable.
“You’re absolutely crackers,” she says, almost affectionately.
“Of course I’m mad, it’s what makes me so amazing,” he replies absently, and he takes another bite out of the pear.
Interesting how tastes can change.
The Doctor licks his lips.
QUERY
Martha Smith-Jones is the only person to notice the young man in the corner, and she’s pretty certain that’s deliberate.
So she smiles with all the happiness of a young bride at her husband, and kisses his cheek. “Back in a moment.”
“Alright,” he says agreeably.
She pulls out of his arms, and heads over the man in the tweed jacket, with the kind eyes and the strange mixture of boundless youth and infinite age. He was dancing a moment ago with a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old. He looks himself to be only a couple decades older than that.
“Doctor?”
“Martha,” he said, dipping his head. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She smiles blissfully. “I’m very happy. Mickey’s wonderful.”
The words lie unspoken, but poignantly hang in the air nonetheless. He seems to be waiting for something, and after a moment, she realizes what.
“…If there had been no Rose. If we’d met in a different time, under different circumstances. Could you have loved me?”
His eyes are as brutally honest as ever, even if they’re rather green now, and not the soft brown she’s used to.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
It’s the answer she was expecting, but she needed to hear it. The tiny, tiniest part of her heart that still yearns for him cries out, and is silenced.
The process is a bit less painful than Martha thought it would be.
She smiles, and nods. “Okay. Will I see you again?”
“In a while, maybe, but just once. My past, your future. Other than that…” He shrugs.
“Then it’s not goodbye,” she says decisively. “See you later, Doctor.”
“Goodbye, Martha Smith-Jones.” He kisses her cheek, somewhere between a proud parent and a doting brother, and leaves the wedding reception silently.
She’s sad, but it’s a very happy sad, so that’s fine.
RIGHT
She kneels down beside the dying form of Donna Noble, and whispers two words, two precious words she hopes so desperately that Donna will remember.
And then the thread unwinds. It all comes undone, spinning way, breaking apart. The very fabric of this reality has been shattered, and Rose, her soul, both in this world and another, is torn between the two.
Rose screams as everything around her unwinds.
And then she snaps.
And then it stops.
She pants, breathing hard for a moment, as her senses return to her. Mickey is at her side, rubbing her arm soothingly. Soothingly? Why does she need to be soothed?
Oh, yeah. Her nerve endings were on fire. Slowly, the pain is dying away.
“What happened?” Mickey finally asks, when she at last appears calm.
Rose opens her eyes, her gaze solemn and certain. “Donna Noble turned left,” she says cryptically. “It’s begun.” Then, less cryptically, she smiles grimly at Mickey. “I’m going to need two things.”
“What?”
“The particle data for the universe that should have opened up in place of the one I was just in. There should be a clear, obvious hole for me to jump through.”
“What’s the second thing?”
Rose grins. “A big damn gun.”
Mickey trades a glance with Jake, who shakes his head, and shrugs.
Rose is amazing. Rose is the best. Rose is wonderful.
But Rose is broken, and only one man can fix her. She’s changed so much, though, that he might not be able to bring her back.
The stars are going out, but the brightest one of all is already gone.
STONES
No less than six versions of the Doctor are currently nearby.
The Doctor (the most recent version, of course) knows how to avoid each and every one of them, fortunately, avoiding a paradox. He never meets himself here, nor any of his companions. It’s very deliberate.
This is a point in time that he comes and visits when he or his companions need to be reminded. Right now is one of those times.
They sit on a rooftop, and watch the spot where the Berlin Wall used to be, only minutes ago. It’s gone. Torn down. The mark of a terrible time, wiped from the world forever.
“Why are we here, Doctor?” Amy asks.
He smiles wistfully, thinking of a proud woman who only wanted to protect her family, a little boy who would someday change the world, and the young man who no longer exists.
“Because sometimes, we forget. Because sometimes, humanity actually gets it right.”
Amy seems to understand, and they fall silent again, just sitting, and watching, and thinking. It’s a nice day, and nothing’s perfect, but since when is anything?
The universe would be a boring place, if it were.
TORTURE
Tappity-tap. Tappity-tap.
The Master opens one eye, glancing at the Doctor.
The other Time Lord is sitting in his wheelchair, still aged so many years. The Master somewhat regrets that, actually. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d have liked, and really, had changed nothing. Not to mention, the Doctor is no longer as handsome. Really, this incarnation had the most gorgeous hair, until he aged it all away. And now he couldn’t turn the Doctor back. That would be showing weakness or forgiveness or some other idiotic emotion for which the Master does not care.
Tappity-tap.
The Master snorts. “Stop that.”
The Doctor doesn’t even look at him. He just beats the rhythm out again. The sound of his fingernails reverberates, throughout the silent room.
As if the drums in his head weren’t bad enough.
And the old man taps four times again, and again, and again.
The Master leaves the room, muttering something about boredom and going off to play with that silly immortal again. Maybe he’ll try a beheading, this time.
But the beat of four follows him nonetheless, and it burns.
The Master is forced to wonder if he’s won.
UNDERNEATH
The Doctor can be very harsh with her, sometimes, but Rose lets him get away with it. Why?
Well, she knows herself. She’s not terribly special. Not very smart, or anything. She’s only a shop girl from London. Twenty-first century London, at that. But if there’s one thing she can understand, it’s people. She gets people. The Doctor might not be human, but he’s no less of a person, so she can see it.
He’s lonely, and scarred, and terrified by everything that’s happened to him. He’s been through more than she can ever imagine.
So if he sometimes yells at her or insults her or something equally rude, she knows he’s just lashing out.
And the more she stays with him, the less he does it. He’s healing.
Rose doesn’t know how much she’s factored in to that healing, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, she’s sticking by him no matter what.
Underneath his mercurial moods and bitter outlook, he’s so, so much more.
VIOLETS
For once the half-human Doctor is glad he’s stuck in the twenty-first century. They haven’t begun to genetically enhance flowers yet, nor have they begun to import flowers from galaxies half-way across the universe, leaving him with a delightfully limited selection of flowers.
And he still can’t pick out which he should buy.
At least he knows he isn’t going to pick out roses… He shudders, imagining the look Rose would give him if he did. It’s not worth it.
So then what?
Carnations?
Orchids?
Tulips?
Suddenly, his cell phone vibrates, causing the Doctor to jump in surprise.
He flips it open. He’s received a text message? From Jackie?
“Go with violets. Don’t be late for your date if you’re planning to propose, you half-alien tart! And pick up some milk, would you? Tony knocked over and spilled it all.”
The Doctor grins.
Who’d’ve thought the slow path could be so fun?
He whistles a little tune, buys the violets, and heads to the supermarket, rather certain that he’s the luckiest man in the universe.
All of them, actually.
WRITTEN
“Oi, you in the bowtie!”
He’s left Amy and Rory to have some alone time in the TARDIS, while he goes and picks up a few repair parts for his darling ship.
The Doctor did not expect to be recognized, least of all by the man selling - what kind of meat is that anyway?
“Yes?” He asks, looking over. The mechanic, currently looking for the coupling he requested, ignores them both.
“Some lady asked me to give you a message.” He throws a paper airplane over, which the Doctor snatches from the air, completely confused.
Unfolding the airplane, he finds a message written in twenty-third century German, perhaps the language least likely to show up on this planet. Ever.
Hello, sweetie! If they have an extra size nine mesothermal booster in stock, would you pick one up for me? xxx
The Doctor is undeniably amused. “River,” he says, shaking his head fondly.
He picks up the part, as well as the one he came for, and wonders how long it will be until he delivers that mesothermal booster.
Timey-wimey wibbly-wobbly…
X-RAY
The Doctor looks at the device in his hands, and laughs.
“Hey! I’m in pain, by the way!”
He grins at Rose, almost sheepishly, and nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s just… You actually broke your arm.”
“I what?” she shrieks.
“You tripped. On the pavement. And you broke your arm. It’s just a tiny, hairline fracture, but…” He’s still grinning as he pulls some weird machine from the shelf.
“So you’re saying I can come through aliens and planets and ships and all that, and come out unscathed.”
He nods, running the machine over her arm. It makes a buzzing sound, and within a moment or two her bone is completely fixed.
“And then I come home to see mum one day, which is about the least dangerous thing I do these days, and I trip and my arm’s broken. Is that right?”
He nods again, still grinning with sheer amusement. “Jeopardy-friendly? You’re the most trouble-attracting person I’ve ever known, and that includes me!”
Rose groans, and with her newly healed arm, throws a pillow at him.
YEARS
“Okay, okay, we’re in a dungeon, underground, and trying to escape. I say we go…” The Doctor licks his finger and sticks it out, then points to the right. “That way.”
Rory frowns.
“Doctor, I’m pretty sure we came from the other direction.”
“I’m almost certain we take a right here; now come along, Ponds!”
“No, Doctor. The exit is to the left, not the right.”
“I’m the designated driver, I say this way.”
“But you’re wrong.”
“I’m a Time Lord; I’m never wrong.”
“Yeah, except, you are.”
“Well I’m older, so ha! This way!”
“I lived for almost two thousand years. You’re only about one thousand. I’m older. And you’re still wrong. We should go left, Doctor.”
“That was only mental-”
“Oh, please!” Amy interrupts. “Boys!”
They both look at her.
“Alternatively, we could go straight and take the stairs.”
There is a silence.
Rory coughs. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Good work, Amy,” the Doctor says approvingly. “We go straight!”
“You two are rubbish without me,” she declares, disgusted.
But then there’s a tiny explosion from behind them, and they all start to run. The argument is forgotten.
ZERO
She’s lived a happy life, but she still wishes she’d seen more.
She has served her purpose well for many a Time Lord, but it’s not right for her, is it? To be decommissioned? To just… end?
Wasn’t there more she could do? She was old, not defunct. She was in nearly perfect working condition, thank you very much. So perhaps she missed by a couple years, sometimes, or maybe she’d gained a bit of an attitude as time has gone by. But is that so bad? Does that mean she’s useless as a ship, with no reason for being?
Suddenly, somebody is there. He’s already pretty old, but he wants to leave. And he’s taking her to do it.
She’s being stolen?
A younger girl enters with this excitable old man, and now she has two new pilots, and she’s leaving, and she’s stolen.
It wasn’t her time after all.
She sees time twist before her, and sees things change. She has a future with this man and his granddaughter. A whole lifetime of people and friends and sadness and happiness and it’ll be rough. She’s only a type 40 after all.
But this TARDIS rather likes being stolen.
She’s free, and she’ll happily take this man wherever he wants to go, for the rest of her years.
It’ll be an adventure.
Author: lizzledpink
Rating: PG
Summary: Challenge: write 26 drabbles or oneshots. The inspiration for each will be a word starting with a different letter of the alphabet. Pick the words yourself. Anything goes.
Warnings: Spoilers for all new series episodes.
APPLES
Amy likes apples, and Rory has always been very, very happy about that.
There was this saying Rory’s mother told him when he was six. “An apple a day keeps the Doctor away.” Apparently little Amelia Pond had never heard the expression, and, perhaps out of spite for the man who had stolen her heart (before Rory had even met Amy, no less), Rory made it his solemn duty to prevent her from hearing it.
So apples are Amy’s favorite fruit, because they remind her of her Raggedy Doctor.
And they’re Rory’s favorite fruit because he hopes it’ll keep the Doctor away.
Amy still loves apples. Now, he’s her (kind-of) boyfriend, and they’re sitting out by the duck pond (funny, but there aren’t any ducks) eating apples.
Whether or not the Doctor exists, Rory will still like apples. Just so he can hope that the Doctor isn’t real, because if he is, maybe he’ll spirit Amy away and take her off on those grand adventures, and leave him behind.
Without her.
(Of course, that’s exactly what happens - except the Doctor spirited Rory away too. Now his name is Mr. Pond, and he’s centuries old, in his head, and formerly plastic. Right, and not so right.)
(And Rory discovers that, by chance, his favorite fruits aren’t apples, they’re pears. And he still hasn’t figured out why the Doctor finds that so funny, but that’s quite alright. Really. It is.)
BEARS
“Like bears,” the Doctor says suddenly, flicking a switch on the console.
Rose blinks out of her morose thoughts. “Huh?”
“Bears. Or maybe bees. They always go for the sweetest thing there is - honey. If there’s honey around, there’s no stopping a bear trying to get to it.”
“What are we talking about, exactly?”
He continues on, ignoring her, and Rose is a little exasperated, if amused. This regeneration talks too much. She doesn’t really mind. “So the bears, they’ll try and attack each other, or ward each other off. All they want is the honey. It tastes so good. They can’t get enough of it. So how does one bear gets chosen over another?” He looks at Rose. “Well?”
Rose frowned. “Well, the stronger bear gets the honey, right? Scares the other one off. Is this going somewhere?”
He looks up at the ceiling, and hits another button. “Not really.”
“Why’s that?”
“The thing is, the stronger bear, he wants the honey. But he doesn’t want to eat the honey, because he’s afraid if he does, then when he’s finished, it’ll be gone. So he leaves the honey alone. And the honey doesn’t get eaten at all.”
“That’s stupid.”
“What?”
“Honey’s honey. It’s supposed to be eaten. Otherwise, why would you bother with it at all? Just because the honey doesn’t last long, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it while it’s there.”
The Doctor stares at her, and breaks into a grin. “Rose, never change!” he declares happily. Suddenly the contemplative mood is gone, and he’s his usual mad self, and the TARDIS begins to whir and grind and slowly heads back to Earth, so they can tell Jackie that Mickey’s gone.
She smiles back, and decides to figure that bear thing out later. It can wait.
CAMOUFLAGE
Every few days, it hits her just how normal everything is.
She’ll be walking down the corridor, munching on a bagel and scanning through lines of reports, when it’ll occur to her that she blends in perfectly. She’s another drone. Yes, one of the top drones, but still a drone. Just one more Torchwood employee, dealing with aliens and stuff on a regular basis. In normalcy.
Sure, sometimes something exciting happens, but most of this job is paperwork and thinking and… normal. Like every other person in the universe, that’s what she’s become now.
And for that brief moment, she’ll remember, and it hurts. She’ll remember the days when she was special. Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth; that was her. Now she’s just Rose Tyler, Division C Analyst and Field Agent.
Another human, trapped on a lonely Earth, looking to the stars.
And then the moment passes, and she gets back to work, because what else can she do? Time moves forward, in a linear progression of cause to effect, and she would be silly to think it might move otherwise.
DREAMS
He sits on a park bench, and stares.
He’s supposed to be hunting some bloke down. Some idiot who left his partner to die and ditched the Agency, who was last seen on Sol-3 (Earth), sometime in the twentieth century. A slippery fellow, to be certain. There’ve been rumors about him, saying he was the first Agent ever.
The man on the park bench really doesn’t care at the moment. He looks at his watch again, still finding it impossible to believe, but it’s true.
This is Earth. April 2020, to be precise.
And she’s there.
But she can’t be.
And she is.
A woman with the brightest red hair, a playful scowl on her face, shouting. She’s holding hands with a dark-skinned man who is apparently much more easy-going, because he’s just laughing her off. They’re wearing wedding rings. Married.
And there’s a little girl with her face, and a littler boy with her nose, and they’re going down the slide together, laughing while their parents happily bicker.
He watches for a bit. Suddenly, the boy falls and scrapes his knee. The husband looks at his wife, who says it’s his turn. The husband runs to the child, smiling.
Then the man on the park bench gets up, and walks over to the smiling woman.
“Hello,” he says. “Is your n-n… You’re Donna?”
She whirls around and looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, and who’re you?”
“D-d-do you remem-member me?” he stutters.
She frowns at his face, puzzled. “Yeah, no, sorry. Don’t think we’ve met. You alright? You look a bit pale.”
“F-F-Fine.”
She shrugs. Then she turns around, hearing a wail, and heads towards her husband, who is utterly failing to keep their child calm.
Lee swallows. He whispers three silent words, which she never will never again know he said, hits the device on his arm, and disappears through time and space.
Happiness remains, for him, a dream.
EVENING
He knew the Doctor was somehow involved the moment he heard about it. The ghosts, the building, the aliens… He had to be somewhere. Elton had no doubt whatsoever - the Doctor had saved them all.
Out of respect for what the Doctor had done, he read the entire list of the dead.
So many names. So many lives, taken, reasonless. People convinced they were doing the right thing. Not right, but not wrong.
And now they were dead.
His eyes passed over the names, and then he froze.
“Elton?”
“Jacqueline Tyler,” he read aloud. “Jackie.”
Ursula quieted. “I’m sorry.”
“Rose, too.”
“Both of them?”
“Yeah.”
“Elton?”
“What?”
“It’s okay.”
“Maybe,” he replied solemnly. “I just hope he got to tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
Elton’s lips quirked up. “What do you think? It’s Rose.”
“I’m sure he did,” Ursula said with certainty. “I know he did.”
“Good.”
FREEDOM
Once upon a time, he had been free.
Yeah, he remembered it. And he wishes he didn’t.
In this place, they surgically pick him apart now and then. He’s a curiosity. None of them can figure out how he became the way he is. But they’re humans, sweet, beloved humans. He might have been one once, but he’s not sure. He made a mistake, a very stupid mistake, and he knows exactly how wrong it was. So maybe he’s not human. Or maybe he is. Does it matter anymore?
What does human mean when there is nothing left for you to be human about?
This room is so dark, so cold.
Somebody stands at the bars, and snaps their fingers. The familiar whirr sounds. The person stares in fascination.
They snap their fingers again, and it’s gone. They leave
Adam once knew freedom. But he hasn’t for a very, very long time.
He can only blame his own misguided, idiocy.
And that’s about as human as he can get.
GAME
Sitting on a bench, watching little kids play.
He never thought he’d be doing something as mundane as this, and still enjoy it.
“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” somebody asked, sitting down next to him. Jack looked up. It was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, yet oddly dressed in tweed, like an old professor or something.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Who?”
“Rose,” the man answered flatly, his eyes flicking back to the field. Six-year-old Rose was playing with her “brother” Mickey, kicking a football around in the grass. They were having a blast. Jackie was watching from afar while chatting with another mother. None of them noticed the two men on the bench, watching her.
“How’d you know I’m looking at her?”
The man leaned towards Jack slightly and tapped his nose. “Because you miss her as much as I do,” the man confided, winking.
He was cheerful, Jack noted, but within his eyes… Sadness. A similar sadness to his own. And age, painful age.
“Doctor?” Jack asked hesitantly. “But it can’t be. I thought regeneration was just a myth.”
“Next time you see me, it’ll be the real me - the one in your timeline, Jack. I’ll have regenerated then, too. Just tell him the box gives it away, that’s how you know.” The Doctor sighed. “Things get better Jack. Sometimes they’re sad. Sometimes they aren’t. But eventually, change comes, as it always does. Embrace it.” He glanced at Rose. “You’ll see her again, too. But for me, that time’s gone. You’re gone. That’s how it is. And maybe I’ll meet you, my you, again.”
He stood up again on rickety knees, and started to leave. “Doctor!” Jack called out.
“Yes?”
“I think this you will take it better than my you. Just want you to know - I’ll love you till the day I die.”
The Doctor turned back and frowned at him, but his eyes shone with amusement. “No, you won’t. You called me an old friend that day. I should know; I was there.” He began to walk off again, leaving Jack to puzzle it out.
And puzzle he did.
HEAL
Really, he’s absolutely fine. Yes, that spear did nick his shoulder. Okay, maybe it drew blood. Look, it’s only a little scrape, really.
Rose just laughs, shaking her head. Because he’s just so, so stubborn. Doesn’t know why she puts up with him.
Nevertheless she goes to the kettle and pours tea for both of them, and they sit in the TARDIS kitchen quietly, sipping their tea.
It’s rather domestic, but that’s fine. This new Doctor doesn’t mind domestic, if Rose is there. And besides, though he’ll never admit it, he definitely needs to be cared for and looked after, and that shoulder does hurt, a little bit. The tea helps, but seeing her teasing grin heals him more.
ISLAND
For sixteen years, he sat, and never saw the sky.
Then, one day, he looked up. They’d dug him out, they had. The Romans. Real ones, actually. Not plastic ones. It’d be a little troubling if they were plastic, so not plastic was good.
And they decided they liked the box. And they wanted to bring it back to Rome, because admittedly, it was a pretty cool box. He agreed. As long as he could stay with it, and as long as nobody tried to open it. They could put it up in the center of the Forum, for all he cared.
Just as long as she was safe, and he was at her side.
So they took him to the island of Sicily, and the box went on public display. Romans.
And he looked up at the sky. There were no stars. It was dark.
Maybe it was better that Amy couldn’t see this. Amy loved stars. So he’d guard her box, and keep her in there until the Doctor came, and they could get the stars back.
Eventually.
But it would take a lot of sixteen years.
JAIL
There’s a point where imprisonment just gets boring.
No, really.
For some reason, it’s always the same. They get caught flouting some ridiculous rule, or maybe they’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Happens a lot, really. At this point, even Rose is used to it, which is rather funny, actually. It takes companions ages to get used to imprisonment. Which shows just how long Rose Tyler’s been with him. Which is nice.
Point is, it’s gotten ridiculous.
They’ll be escorted to a typical jail cell and the local law enforcement will try to intimidate them. It doesn’t work. Ever.
This time, Rose and the Doctor just looked at each other and laughed, and started comparing the senior guard to some bloke they’d met in France, 1905. Which was rather insulting, considering the senior guard was female, decidedly non-human, and from the fifty-ninth century.
Then, they were thrown in jail. Separate cages this time, as they complained. Oh, well. At least it made the escape remotely more interesting.
Seriously. It needed more interesting.
Frankly, Rose Tyler had become used to this. And while it was still fun and enjoyable for them both, the Doctor couldn’t help but grin with
bored amusement.
Because Rose Tyler, imprisoned, was supposed to be shaking with fear.
And she had promptly curled up and fallen asleep.
Oh, Rose.
KINDNESS
Logically speaking… Well, there is no logic. Never mind, that line of thought was rubbish anyway.
She’s just this one, plain, human girl. Utterly normal. Works in a shop. Nothing special at all. Sweet, stubborn, a sense of humor, nice, annoying, slightly stupid (but actually, very clever). One hundred percent mundane.
Except, she’s not normal, and she’s absolutely special. Really, it doesn’t make any sense. Time twists around her, almost as much as it does around him. She and time are inextricable from one another, and he doesn’t quite understand why. On this simple, normal planet, which he used to love so much, she is like a bright beacon of light, outshining everything.
He should really go. He doesn’t need anything, or anybody. He’s a Time Lord, the last of them. And what good would having a human do right now? Humans don’t understand. They couldn’t. And she, bright as she is, why would she want to come? She turned him down once.
He realizes he’s forgotten something. He forgot to tell her the true extent of the TARDIS’ power. Space, yeah, but he’d missed the point.
Maybe he should tell her, just to see. Because he’s curious. It’s a trait that not one of his regenerations has lost, the curiosity, the need to know.
What makes her so special?
He wants to know her.
Did he mention it could travel in time?
LAPEL
This is absolutely the most snoggable Doctor yet.
And he’s too young. Jack feels like a cradle-robber just looking at him. Hilarious, when you think about it.
But honestly, all he wants to do is pull him forward by that bowtie of his and unwrap him like a present, bit by bit, braces, jacket, shirt and all.
While snogging him.
Alonso was sweet, and the gesture was kind, but Jack wishes that just once the Doctor would let a guy buy him a drink. This guy, specifically.
The only two (nearly) immortal guys in the universe, and they both have to be gorgeous, and one of them has to be such a prude.
It’s just not fair.
MUSIC
Once a year, Rose and the Doctor meet at Tyler manor, in the centre of the party room, and the rest of the house knows to clear out and stay away until morning comes.
They dim the lights, the first few years. When Tony is seven, he barges in one day. In that silly way a child does, he questions everything he sees. Eventually, Rose and the Doctor manage to wave him away and send him back to bed, but he gives them a nice idea. From that point on, they use candlelight instead, and decide that it suits the room much better that way.
It’s a large, spacious room. Nearly a ballroom, but not quite. It’s good enough.
The music begins to play, and they are transported in time. Not literally, for a change.
Rose’s arms go around the Doctor’s neck, and her head rests against his chest. He holds her around the waist, and together, they sway and dance slowly across the room, to the sweet sounds of Glen Miller, and remember.
(One day, when he’s eight, Tony Tyler decides that someday he will grow up to be like this Uncle Jack person his sister always misses and says she loved, and he doesn’t learn for many years why exactly that makes both Rose and the Doctor both amused and scared out of their wits.)
NATURAL
If your lifespan is over a century, and you’re forced to live through every one of those years linearly, and you never age, it’s only natural to get a bit lonely.
So when Captain Jack Harkness first realizes just who and what Rory Williams is, he’s ecstatic, off the wall ecstatic. And he feels blessed.
Somebody understands.
Only, no, he doesn’t.
Jack quickly gets to know Rory, and realizes the truth. Rory is no blessing, he’s a curse. Rory is brilliant and gorgeous and funny and kind and it’s only natural for Jack to fall for him instantly and irrevocably, the way Jack always does.
He has always given his heart out too easily. It’s probably his greatest flaw. Or strength. No, it’s a flaw.
Because Rory Williams is madly in love with Amy Pond, and won’t even look his way. Oh, they’ll share a bit of camaraderie, swap a couple stories, lament the fact that world seems to turn around them at a snail’s pace. Friends. A listening ear.
But that companionship Jack so wants (which he has only experienced once before, back in a time when he was mortal and the world was simpler) is denied to him.
And he can’t even blame brilliant and gorgeous and funny and kind Rory for it.
Sometimes Jack wishes he could keep himself from falling in love, but he’s very, very bad at it, and even as he forces himself to leave, and even as he falls in love with Estelle and tries to get over Rory, and even as he later hopes and prays that Rory didn’t die in the fire like they say, he doesn’t return. He doesn’t look back, he doesn’t want to know. (This is why he never goes back to see his companions, he thinks.)
Jack Harkness looks at the starless sky and sighs, and kisses this sweet girl he’s fallen for, and wonders when the cruelty of this universe will end.
OPEN
Somewhere in the universe there must be a marmalade jar opening championship match, and the Doctor is convinced that Rose Tyler would win it.
His hands are a bit oily. He was working on the TARDIS again, messing with the trans-spatial exomatrix initiator (the thing that goes fwoosh). Now his fingers can’t quite grip the jar right, and he’s having a bit of trouble here, even after running it under hot water.
Which is when Rose walks in.
She obviously just woke up. She’s wearing a nightie. Her eyes are half-closed (or is it half-open?) and her feet drag behind, nudging her pink slippers along inch by inch. Still, she manages to walk over to the Doctor, and slap his hand lightly away from the marmalade jar.
He looks at her, bewildered, and she musters up a small, sleepy glare.
She pulls a dishrag out of a drawer, and wipes the edges of the jar. Then, in one swift motion, she twists the lid and suddenly it’s open with a small ‘pop’ to prove it.
The Doctor stares at her with the awe a child gives to somebody who has just made them a balloon animal.
Rose rolls her eyes and sits down at the table, clearly implying that it’s his turn to make breakfast.
He begins to babble about going to a planet called Reffurefura next, or perhaps a trip to Na’uli, and obliges.
PEARS
River has handed him a pear.
For a moment, he stares at it, utterly perplexed.
“What? I give you fruit and you just sit there?”
“It’s a pear,” he explains, tugging absently at his bowtie with one hand.
“So?”
“I haven’t had a pear in years.” He grins. “I wore a leather jacket back then, like a punk biker.”
River cannot imagine it. No, really. She actually can’t. It just doesn’t… work. She’s seen him in a few different outfits, but leather jacket? Really? “You what?”
He grins. “I hate pears.” Then he takes a bite, and finds it is juicy and soft and sweet and absolutely delectable.
“You’re absolutely crackers,” she says, almost affectionately.
“Of course I’m mad, it’s what makes me so amazing,” he replies absently, and he takes another bite out of the pear.
Interesting how tastes can change.
The Doctor licks his lips.
QUERY
Martha Smith-Jones is the only person to notice the young man in the corner, and she’s pretty certain that’s deliberate.
So she smiles with all the happiness of a young bride at her husband, and kisses his cheek. “Back in a moment.”
“Alright,” he says agreeably.
She pulls out of his arms, and heads over the man in the tweed jacket, with the kind eyes and the strange mixture of boundless youth and infinite age. He was dancing a moment ago with a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old. He looks himself to be only a couple decades older than that.
“Doctor?”
“Martha,” he said, dipping his head. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She smiles blissfully. “I’m very happy. Mickey’s wonderful.”
The words lie unspoken, but poignantly hang in the air nonetheless. He seems to be waiting for something, and after a moment, she realizes what.
“…If there had been no Rose. If we’d met in a different time, under different circumstances. Could you have loved me?”
His eyes are as brutally honest as ever, even if they’re rather green now, and not the soft brown she’s used to.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
It’s the answer she was expecting, but she needed to hear it. The tiny, tiniest part of her heart that still yearns for him cries out, and is silenced.
The process is a bit less painful than Martha thought it would be.
She smiles, and nods. “Okay. Will I see you again?”
“In a while, maybe, but just once. My past, your future. Other than that…” He shrugs.
“Then it’s not goodbye,” she says decisively. “See you later, Doctor.”
“Goodbye, Martha Smith-Jones.” He kisses her cheek, somewhere between a proud parent and a doting brother, and leaves the wedding reception silently.
She’s sad, but it’s a very happy sad, so that’s fine.
RIGHT
She kneels down beside the dying form of Donna Noble, and whispers two words, two precious words she hopes so desperately that Donna will remember.
And then the thread unwinds. It all comes undone, spinning way, breaking apart. The very fabric of this reality has been shattered, and Rose, her soul, both in this world and another, is torn between the two.
Rose screams as everything around her unwinds.
And then she snaps.
And then it stops.
She pants, breathing hard for a moment, as her senses return to her. Mickey is at her side, rubbing her arm soothingly. Soothingly? Why does she need to be soothed?
Oh, yeah. Her nerve endings were on fire. Slowly, the pain is dying away.
“What happened?” Mickey finally asks, when she at last appears calm.
Rose opens her eyes, her gaze solemn and certain. “Donna Noble turned left,” she says cryptically. “It’s begun.” Then, less cryptically, she smiles grimly at Mickey. “I’m going to need two things.”
“What?”
“The particle data for the universe that should have opened up in place of the one I was just in. There should be a clear, obvious hole for me to jump through.”
“What’s the second thing?”
Rose grins. “A big damn gun.”
Mickey trades a glance with Jake, who shakes his head, and shrugs.
Rose is amazing. Rose is the best. Rose is wonderful.
But Rose is broken, and only one man can fix her. She’s changed so much, though, that he might not be able to bring her back.
The stars are going out, but the brightest one of all is already gone.
STONES
No less than six versions of the Doctor are currently nearby.
The Doctor (the most recent version, of course) knows how to avoid each and every one of them, fortunately, avoiding a paradox. He never meets himself here, nor any of his companions. It’s very deliberate.
This is a point in time that he comes and visits when he or his companions need to be reminded. Right now is one of those times.
They sit on a rooftop, and watch the spot where the Berlin Wall used to be, only minutes ago. It’s gone. Torn down. The mark of a terrible time, wiped from the world forever.
“Why are we here, Doctor?” Amy asks.
He smiles wistfully, thinking of a proud woman who only wanted to protect her family, a little boy who would someday change the world, and the young man who no longer exists.
“Because sometimes, we forget. Because sometimes, humanity actually gets it right.”
Amy seems to understand, and they fall silent again, just sitting, and watching, and thinking. It’s a nice day, and nothing’s perfect, but since when is anything?
The universe would be a boring place, if it were.
TORTURE
Tappity-tap. Tappity-tap.
The Master opens one eye, glancing at the Doctor.
The other Time Lord is sitting in his wheelchair, still aged so many years. The Master somewhat regrets that, actually. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d have liked, and really, had changed nothing. Not to mention, the Doctor is no longer as handsome. Really, this incarnation had the most gorgeous hair, until he aged it all away. And now he couldn’t turn the Doctor back. That would be showing weakness or forgiveness or some other idiotic emotion for which the Master does not care.
Tappity-tap.
The Master snorts. “Stop that.”
The Doctor doesn’t even look at him. He just beats the rhythm out again. The sound of his fingernails reverberates, throughout the silent room.
As if the drums in his head weren’t bad enough.
And the old man taps four times again, and again, and again.
The Master leaves the room, muttering something about boredom and going off to play with that silly immortal again. Maybe he’ll try a beheading, this time.
But the beat of four follows him nonetheless, and it burns.
The Master is forced to wonder if he’s won.
UNDERNEATH
The Doctor can be very harsh with her, sometimes, but Rose lets him get away with it. Why?
Well, she knows herself. She’s not terribly special. Not very smart, or anything. She’s only a shop girl from London. Twenty-first century London, at that. But if there’s one thing she can understand, it’s people. She gets people. The Doctor might not be human, but he’s no less of a person, so she can see it.
He’s lonely, and scarred, and terrified by everything that’s happened to him. He’s been through more than she can ever imagine.
So if he sometimes yells at her or insults her or something equally rude, she knows he’s just lashing out.
And the more she stays with him, the less he does it. He’s healing.
Rose doesn’t know how much she’s factored in to that healing, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, she’s sticking by him no matter what.
Underneath his mercurial moods and bitter outlook, he’s so, so much more.
VIOLETS
For once the half-human Doctor is glad he’s stuck in the twenty-first century. They haven’t begun to genetically enhance flowers yet, nor have they begun to import flowers from galaxies half-way across the universe, leaving him with a delightfully limited selection of flowers.
And he still can’t pick out which he should buy.
At least he knows he isn’t going to pick out roses… He shudders, imagining the look Rose would give him if he did. It’s not worth it.
So then what?
Carnations?
Orchids?
Tulips?
Suddenly, his cell phone vibrates, causing the Doctor to jump in surprise.
He flips it open. He’s received a text message? From Jackie?
“Go with violets. Don’t be late for your date if you’re planning to propose, you half-alien tart! And pick up some milk, would you? Tony knocked over and spilled it all.”
The Doctor grins.
Who’d’ve thought the slow path could be so fun?
He whistles a little tune, buys the violets, and heads to the supermarket, rather certain that he’s the luckiest man in the universe.
All of them, actually.
WRITTEN
“Oi, you in the bowtie!”
He’s left Amy and Rory to have some alone time in the TARDIS, while he goes and picks up a few repair parts for his darling ship.
The Doctor did not expect to be recognized, least of all by the man selling - what kind of meat is that anyway?
“Yes?” He asks, looking over. The mechanic, currently looking for the coupling he requested, ignores them both.
“Some lady asked me to give you a message.” He throws a paper airplane over, which the Doctor snatches from the air, completely confused.
Unfolding the airplane, he finds a message written in twenty-third century German, perhaps the language least likely to show up on this planet. Ever.
Hello, sweetie! If they have an extra size nine mesothermal booster in stock, would you pick one up for me? xxx
The Doctor is undeniably amused. “River,” he says, shaking his head fondly.
He picks up the part, as well as the one he came for, and wonders how long it will be until he delivers that mesothermal booster.
Timey-wimey wibbly-wobbly…
X-RAY
The Doctor looks at the device in his hands, and laughs.
“Hey! I’m in pain, by the way!”
He grins at Rose, almost sheepishly, and nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s just… You actually broke your arm.”
“I what?” she shrieks.
“You tripped. On the pavement. And you broke your arm. It’s just a tiny, hairline fracture, but…” He’s still grinning as he pulls some weird machine from the shelf.
“So you’re saying I can come through aliens and planets and ships and all that, and come out unscathed.”
He nods, running the machine over her arm. It makes a buzzing sound, and within a moment or two her bone is completely fixed.
“And then I come home to see mum one day, which is about the least dangerous thing I do these days, and I trip and my arm’s broken. Is that right?”
He nods again, still grinning with sheer amusement. “Jeopardy-friendly? You’re the most trouble-attracting person I’ve ever known, and that includes me!”
Rose groans, and with her newly healed arm, throws a pillow at him.
YEARS
“Okay, okay, we’re in a dungeon, underground, and trying to escape. I say we go…” The Doctor licks his finger and sticks it out, then points to the right. “That way.”
Rory frowns.
“Doctor, I’m pretty sure we came from the other direction.”
“I’m almost certain we take a right here; now come along, Ponds!”
“No, Doctor. The exit is to the left, not the right.”
“I’m the designated driver, I say this way.”
“But you’re wrong.”
“I’m a Time Lord; I’m never wrong.”
“Yeah, except, you are.”
“Well I’m older, so ha! This way!”
“I lived for almost two thousand years. You’re only about one thousand. I’m older. And you’re still wrong. We should go left, Doctor.”
“That was only mental-”
“Oh, please!” Amy interrupts. “Boys!”
They both look at her.
“Alternatively, we could go straight and take the stairs.”
There is a silence.
Rory coughs. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Good work, Amy,” the Doctor says approvingly. “We go straight!”
“You two are rubbish without me,” she declares, disgusted.
But then there’s a tiny explosion from behind them, and they all start to run. The argument is forgotten.
ZERO
She’s lived a happy life, but she still wishes she’d seen more.
She has served her purpose well for many a Time Lord, but it’s not right for her, is it? To be decommissioned? To just… end?
Wasn’t there more she could do? She was old, not defunct. She was in nearly perfect working condition, thank you very much. So perhaps she missed by a couple years, sometimes, or maybe she’d gained a bit of an attitude as time has gone by. But is that so bad? Does that mean she’s useless as a ship, with no reason for being?
Suddenly, somebody is there. He’s already pretty old, but he wants to leave. And he’s taking her to do it.
She’s being stolen?
A younger girl enters with this excitable old man, and now she has two new pilots, and she’s leaving, and she’s stolen.
It wasn’t her time after all.
She sees time twist before her, and sees things change. She has a future with this man and his granddaughter. A whole lifetime of people and friends and sadness and happiness and it’ll be rough. She’s only a type 40 after all.
But this TARDIS rather likes being stolen.
She’s free, and she’ll happily take this man wherever he wants to go, for the rest of her years.
It’ll be an adventure.