Christmas Ficathon: Day 16
Title: The Heart of the TARDIS
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: The TARDIS
Rating: G
Word Count: 770
Summary: It's all in the name of love. The TARDIS muses on regeneration and where to go from here. Set post-Waters of Mars, but there are no real spoilers.
For dragonessa24, who loves the TARDIS more than anyone has or ever will. I'm sorry, bb. Bawwww TARDIS D: (which is what I was sorely tempted to title this fic, ngl)
There are many things they don’t teach you in the Cradle. I’m not one to speak ill of my Nurses, or at least I wasn’t when I was young - I suppose it’s a result of all these centuries spent with a Time Lord who has a less-than-favourable opinion of his people - but there are things I wish I had not learned the hard way. Great care was taken in teaching us the function of every circuit, how to navigate the vortex, to anticipate the needs of our occupants (though they neglected to tell us we would, on occasion, have to override our pilot’s commands for their own good, but I suppose not even the Time Lords could have predicted half the things the Doctor has asked me to do), even how to rearrange our interiors (always to aid our pilots, you understand, never for our entertainment).
The list of what I learned on my own during my time with the Doctor could have stretched my expansive corridors and then some. For example: breeding human women have a strange predilection for pickles and react quite negatively when your stores run dry (thankfully the first and last time the Doctor brought a pregnant companion on board), it often becomes necessary to create entire rooms to house your pilot’s hobbies, and a TARDIS’ bond to her Time Lord can have unexpected consequences. It’s this last one I wish I had been told of, more than the quirks of various species who wandered my halls over the years. I wish I had been prepared.
The Nurses told us very little about regeneration, apart from that it was a natural occurrence and generally a very smooth process. Traumatic regenerations were uncommon for most Time Lords; my previous pilot had regenerated twice while he was with me, and indeed it had barely registered as more than a jolt in our psychic connection. The first time the Doctor regenerated it was no different. But his lifestyle had grown more and more dangerous over the years; he began taking greater risks on his adventures, and finally the Time Lords exiled us to Earth and forced him to regenerate. I felt every nuance of his agony, the death of his former self jarring my consciousness like never before. Because we were Bonded, his pain became my pain, and I ached in a way I hadn’t thought possible for a TARDIS. We just weren’t prepared for things like this in the Cradle.
And it never gets any easier. I have learned to read the signs over the centuries, sensing when he has become weary with one body or another. Sometimes, I try to calculate when and where it will happen, seeking out the best place for him to find his end, but my Doctor has always had a knack for finding trouble in the most peaceful of places. When he is within my walls, I can do nothing more than fill our connection with warmth and love. It is all I can do to let him know he isn’t alone, that although he changes I am still here, his one constant. And always he has pulled through, my Time Lord who risks so much, always he comes back to me.
But they never tell you in the Cradle that, one day, your pilot will not come back to you. And I fear the Doctor’s time is coming soon.
I can see the signs in him now. His companions gone, he is weary of this body, longing to be rid of it. But this time is different. His recklessness is out of hand and I fear for once I am helpless to keep him from harm’s way. Every day he grows more distant, our Bond weakening for the first time since he first brushed his hands across my console in greeting. I am losing him to his own arrogance. A TARDIS is not taught how to deal with failure.
We press on through the vortex, locked in a struggle of ship against pilot, and I don’t know how much longer I can fight him. His will has become as strong as mine.
He has taught me many things over our centuries together, my Time Lord: sorrow, compassion, joy, and not least of all love. He taught me that sometimes one must fight for someone they love, when they cannot clearly see the best path for themselves. Sometimes, a TARDIS must forget what they learned in the Cradle and take control. Sometimes we carry on, even when there is no hope left.
Even if it is our last act in this universe.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: The TARDIS
Rating: G
Word Count: 770
Summary: It's all in the name of love. The TARDIS muses on regeneration and where to go from here. Set post-Waters of Mars, but there are no real spoilers.
For dragonessa24, who loves the TARDIS more than anyone has or ever will. I'm sorry, bb. Bawwww TARDIS D: (which is what I was sorely tempted to title this fic, ngl)
There are many things they don’t teach you in the Cradle. I’m not one to speak ill of my Nurses, or at least I wasn’t when I was young - I suppose it’s a result of all these centuries spent with a Time Lord who has a less-than-favourable opinion of his people - but there are things I wish I had not learned the hard way. Great care was taken in teaching us the function of every circuit, how to navigate the vortex, to anticipate the needs of our occupants (though they neglected to tell us we would, on occasion, have to override our pilot’s commands for their own good, but I suppose not even the Time Lords could have predicted half the things the Doctor has asked me to do), even how to rearrange our interiors (always to aid our pilots, you understand, never for our entertainment).
The list of what I learned on my own during my time with the Doctor could have stretched my expansive corridors and then some. For example: breeding human women have a strange predilection for pickles and react quite negatively when your stores run dry (thankfully the first and last time the Doctor brought a pregnant companion on board), it often becomes necessary to create entire rooms to house your pilot’s hobbies, and a TARDIS’ bond to her Time Lord can have unexpected consequences. It’s this last one I wish I had been told of, more than the quirks of various species who wandered my halls over the years. I wish I had been prepared.
The Nurses told us very little about regeneration, apart from that it was a natural occurrence and generally a very smooth process. Traumatic regenerations were uncommon for most Time Lords; my previous pilot had regenerated twice while he was with me, and indeed it had barely registered as more than a jolt in our psychic connection. The first time the Doctor regenerated it was no different. But his lifestyle had grown more and more dangerous over the years; he began taking greater risks on his adventures, and finally the Time Lords exiled us to Earth and forced him to regenerate. I felt every nuance of his agony, the death of his former self jarring my consciousness like never before. Because we were Bonded, his pain became my pain, and I ached in a way I hadn’t thought possible for a TARDIS. We just weren’t prepared for things like this in the Cradle.
And it never gets any easier. I have learned to read the signs over the centuries, sensing when he has become weary with one body or another. Sometimes, I try to calculate when and where it will happen, seeking out the best place for him to find his end, but my Doctor has always had a knack for finding trouble in the most peaceful of places. When he is within my walls, I can do nothing more than fill our connection with warmth and love. It is all I can do to let him know he isn’t alone, that although he changes I am still here, his one constant. And always he has pulled through, my Time Lord who risks so much, always he comes back to me.
But they never tell you in the Cradle that, one day, your pilot will not come back to you. And I fear the Doctor’s time is coming soon.
I can see the signs in him now. His companions gone, he is weary of this body, longing to be rid of it. But this time is different. His recklessness is out of hand and I fear for once I am helpless to keep him from harm’s way. Every day he grows more distant, our Bond weakening for the first time since he first brushed his hands across my console in greeting. I am losing him to his own arrogance. A TARDIS is not taught how to deal with failure.
We press on through the vortex, locked in a struggle of ship against pilot, and I don’t know how much longer I can fight him. His will has become as strong as mine.
He has taught me many things over our centuries together, my Time Lord: sorrow, compassion, joy, and not least of all love. He taught me that sometimes one must fight for someone they love, when they cannot clearly see the best path for themselves. Sometimes, a TARDIS must forget what they learned in the Cradle and take control. Sometimes we carry on, even when there is no hope left.
Even if it is our last act in this universe.