for theatrical_muse #312 (Rerun): #0: Introduction
i.
Regeneration is like dying.
Pain floods his system, it crashes through every cell. He feels himself crumbling, dying from the inside out. He can feel regeneration energy struggling to flow through his system. He can feel it, he's dying.
And it hurts. Oh, god, it hurts so much.
But it's not death. Not really. He's just going to sleep, in his own mind. To sleep in a room in his mind without windows or doors. To rest.
That will feel good, he thinks. To rest. This regeneration started out so happy, so full of life. But struggle and battle and heartsache left him crippled, a hollow shell of a man. He's too cold, now. Too cold and too cruel. Regeneration would be best. He can start over. Start anew.
And it's worth it, sacrificing himself for someone he loves.
He doesn't cry; he just tries to smile through the pain.
"You were fantastic," he says. "And you know what?"
She stands there, shaking her head, unsure.
"So was I."
It's good, he thinks, having her here. At least he's not alone.
And he's gone. Pulled away by light and energy. It's like a curtain pulls back in his mind, like another layer of him has been peeled away.
There he is. Bright-faced and big-haired and grinning as though he wasn't racked with pain seconds earlier. It takes him a moment to associate where he is and he grins over to Rose.
"Hello---Oh." He runs his tongue along his wider molars. "New teeth. That's weird."
It's just the beginning.
ii.
It's so good in the beginning, isn't it?
It's all smiles and adventure, occasionally infuriating the odd person while they run, hand in hand, from place to place. It's a mania really only reserved for children, but, well, he's a child in his own right, isn't he? Fresh faced new new Doctor. And he deserves a little fun!
It is just so much fun. Landing in cupboards and snogging famous women and just being generally magnificent. There's nothing quite like legging it through the halls with Queen Victoria to get the blood pumping, and there's no way he'd have realized that in his last life. Far too focused on the past!
There's pain, because there's always pain, and it hurts, but he's resilient now. He can hold his pain tightly inside and when he says, "I'm always all right," he can even manage a small smile to go with it.
And he's in love, now. He probably was in his last life, too, but he couldn't possibly run so gleefully around, flaunt it the way he does now. They find trouble together, because there's nothing better than a good bit of trouble on a Saturday evening. It's good for him. He hasn't felt this young or this stupidly happy in a long time. He thinks it will never end.
It does, of course.
Nothing short of the universe could put a wedge between him and her. So, of course, the universe takes a step forward. And there it is: a great big parallel world with her on one side and him on the other. And he stands there, alone in his TARDIS, telling her goodbye.
He almost tells her he loves her. Because he feels it, because he knows he feels it, and because there's no reason not to tell her.
But it's too late. His virtual calling card has run out and she's gone.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
iii.
It hurts, but it gets better.
He spends some time alone, because he feels like he needs it. One rejection from a new companion is quite enough, thank you. He runs about, but he's not really looking for trouble anymore, it just happens to find him. It's still fun, but he's not quite as loud when he proclaims that it is.
He doesn't even admit it to her, his new companion, once she starts traveling with him. They still grin madly at each other when something happens, still go running headlong into trouble, but there's less glee about it. There were just as many deaths before, but now he sees them. Now he knows just how very, very real they all are.
And he feels old. Old and lonely, which is probably ridiculous considering a beautiful young woman is standing across from him and loving him. And it's not that he can't love her back, it's just that right now, he doesn't want to. He loved too much and too easily before. He was hurt just as easily. He doesn't overwhelm himself with walls, he just knows when to put a few up.
They fall down when he turns human. Turns human, falls in love, and imagines that perfect, simple life. He doesn't have a head full of stuff, he doesn't feel like he needs a bigger head. And he's so happy, just for a little while.
But it's all so short lived. Everything is too short lived.
His one greatest enemy is back, as well as one of his greatest friends. And he spends a year, one horrible, horrible year, tortured, lost, and alone. Putting up walls, holding in screams, staying strong for the human race. He starts to think that maybe that's all he is, just a savior for the human race.
In the end, he loses everything. His great friend, leaving to live his own life. His companion, leaving because she can't stand to wait any longer. His best enemy, dying to get away from him. The TARDIS is cold and empty and silent.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
iv.
He buries the hurt.
It's bad, and every loss slices new, hard cuts into his hearts, but he's still going. Still moving, still running. Still trying to find fun in his travels, even though nowadays it's more of a job than a hobby, saving the universe.
Destiny demands he picks up a new companion, and she's more energetic and demanding than anyone from before. She has to be, because his feet drag along the ground as he runs from place to place. He's readier to give up on people, give up on saving things. What's the point, now? Too much of the universe is fixed; he's been in too many places. He's almost shocked when he meets someone who will be a future lover of his, he can't imagine he'll ever be the sort of man who can love like a lover again.
They travel for recreation more than pure adventure. They don't really want trouble; they're just two middle-aged beings faffing around, taking in the sights, seeing the universe. They shop and drink strange teas and are generally pretty magnificent together. She says she wants to be with him forever, but they're both too old and too well-seasoned to believe that forever for her is much longer than twenty years, but that's all right.
They don't even have a year.
His life seems to crash back around him, memories of how things were, how things used to be. All of his companions come back and he should be happy, but he's too old now to welcome them with smiles and hugs. He sends them away. Sends them off to live their lives. Off to be happy with others, because he's far too burdened to add happiness to the load.
When he might've told his lost companion that he loved her before, he can't choke the words out now. Too many walls close up his throat. And he loses his love, loses everything.
And, in a moment of desperation, he slices the memory from his best friend to save her life, losing her forever. He won't let himself regret the decision, because life is more important than happiness, it's something he's learned over his life in this incarnation. She will live, even if she can't live with him.
He stands in the console, freezing from the rain, alone.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
v.
His life is ending.
His life is ending, and while prophecies never meant much to him before, he knows this one is true. Everything that held him down before seems to positively weigh at him with the knowledge that it's all going to end.
Maybe it will really end. Maybe this time regeneration won't work. Maybe this time he'll just die forever. With his breeding, he can never be sure.
He tries to enjoy exploring, but the places aren't the same when he's alone. He doesn't have anyone to pull him along, no one to impress or excite. And he doesn’t have anyone to stop him.
The little pains bruise his hearts like spots to liver-diseased skin, but big ones, big terrible awful mistakes, they stay. They stay and they fester. They fester and they hurt and after a while he starts to think that he's always seeing the universe with tear-brimmed eyes.
And he's just waiting. Waiting for the prophecy to come true, waiting to hear those four knocks. Waiting to die.
And they do. They come and he isn't even remotely surprised to hear them. They come and he tries, desperately, to fight against them. To be the man he was before, the one who could laugh in the face of certain death, the one who wasn't held back by so much hurt.
But he isn't anymore. He isn't that same, happy man. He isn't new anymore. He's just old. Old and tired. He isn't who he was.
Still, no matter what's fair, no matter what he wants, he will do what's right. And when he stands in the chamber letting the radiation flood through him, it's almost a relief. Because such a sacrifice is really predictable for him, isn't it? He does what is right, he saves the life of little people, because they are just as important as big people and no matter how far he goes, he will never, ever forget that.
Because he is the Doctor, even if beyond that he literally does not know who he is anymore.
This regeneration is slow, but he is regenerating. He spends a few minutes running through time, saying his goodbyes. Each stop is more painful than the last, each half-smile and nod more difficult as the muscles in his body break down and he finds himself stumbling towards the TARDIS doors.
It's time to go to sleep.
But still, he loves this life. Loves the floppy hair and the bad skin and the mole in between his shoulderblades. He likes the way his shoulder fits against the console perfectly, though his ship would remind him that no matter what life he's in, it has always fit like that.
"I don't want to go." He doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to go to sleep. This incarnation could hardly stay still at the cinema, how could he go to sleep?
He wishes it could've been different. This could've been a perfect regeneration, if he just did it right. But now it's too late. Too late, and he's about to go.
Regeneration is like dying.
Pain floods his system, it crashes through every cell. He feels himself crumbling, dying from the inside out. He can feel regeneration energy struggling to flow through his system. He can feel it, he's dying.
And it hurts. Oh, god, it hurts so much.
But it's not death. Not really. He's just going to sleep, in his own mind. To sleep in a room in his mind without windows or doors. To rest.
That will feel good, he thinks. To rest. This regeneration started out so happy, so full of life. But struggle and battle and heartsache left him crippled, a hollow shell of a man. He's so lonely, now. So lonely and so cruel. Regeneration would be best. He can start over. Start anew.
And it's worth it, sacrificing himself for someone he cares about.
He just wishes he wasn't alone.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,010 <==Surprisingly appropriate
Regeneration is like dying.
Pain floods his system, it crashes through every cell. He feels himself crumbling, dying from the inside out. He can feel regeneration energy struggling to flow through his system. He can feel it, he's dying.
And it hurts. Oh, god, it hurts so much.
But it's not death. Not really. He's just going to sleep, in his own mind. To sleep in a room in his mind without windows or doors. To rest.
That will feel good, he thinks. To rest. This regeneration started out so happy, so full of life. But struggle and battle and heartsache left him crippled, a hollow shell of a man. He's too cold, now. Too cold and too cruel. Regeneration would be best. He can start over. Start anew.
And it's worth it, sacrificing himself for someone he loves.
He doesn't cry; he just tries to smile through the pain.
"You were fantastic," he says. "And you know what?"
She stands there, shaking her head, unsure.
"So was I."
It's good, he thinks, having her here. At least he's not alone.
And he's gone. Pulled away by light and energy. It's like a curtain pulls back in his mind, like another layer of him has been peeled away.
There he is. Bright-faced and big-haired and grinning as though he wasn't racked with pain seconds earlier. It takes him a moment to associate where he is and he grins over to Rose.
"Hello---Oh." He runs his tongue along his wider molars. "New teeth. That's weird."
It's just the beginning.
ii.
It's so good in the beginning, isn't it?
It's all smiles and adventure, occasionally infuriating the odd person while they run, hand in hand, from place to place. It's a mania really only reserved for children, but, well, he's a child in his own right, isn't he? Fresh faced new new Doctor. And he deserves a little fun!
It is just so much fun. Landing in cupboards and snogging famous women and just being generally magnificent. There's nothing quite like legging it through the halls with Queen Victoria to get the blood pumping, and there's no way he'd have realized that in his last life. Far too focused on the past!
There's pain, because there's always pain, and it hurts, but he's resilient now. He can hold his pain tightly inside and when he says, "I'm always all right," he can even manage a small smile to go with it.
And he's in love, now. He probably was in his last life, too, but he couldn't possibly run so gleefully around, flaunt it the way he does now. They find trouble together, because there's nothing better than a good bit of trouble on a Saturday evening. It's good for him. He hasn't felt this young or this stupidly happy in a long time. He thinks it will never end.
It does, of course.
Nothing short of the universe could put a wedge between him and her. So, of course, the universe takes a step forward. And there it is: a great big parallel world with her on one side and him on the other. And he stands there, alone in his TARDIS, telling her goodbye.
He almost tells her he loves her. Because he feels it, because he knows he feels it, and because there's no reason not to tell her.
But it's too late. His virtual calling card has run out and she's gone.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
iii.
It hurts, but it gets better.
He spends some time alone, because he feels like he needs it. One rejection from a new companion is quite enough, thank you. He runs about, but he's not really looking for trouble anymore, it just happens to find him. It's still fun, but he's not quite as loud when he proclaims that it is.
He doesn't even admit it to her, his new companion, once she starts traveling with him. They still grin madly at each other when something happens, still go running headlong into trouble, but there's less glee about it. There were just as many deaths before, but now he sees them. Now he knows just how very, very real they all are.
And he feels old. Old and lonely, which is probably ridiculous considering a beautiful young woman is standing across from him and loving him. And it's not that he can't love her back, it's just that right now, he doesn't want to. He loved too much and too easily before. He was hurt just as easily. He doesn't overwhelm himself with walls, he just knows when to put a few up.
They fall down when he turns human. Turns human, falls in love, and imagines that perfect, simple life. He doesn't have a head full of stuff, he doesn't feel like he needs a bigger head. And he's so happy, just for a little while.
But it's all so short lived. Everything is too short lived.
His one greatest enemy is back, as well as one of his greatest friends. And he spends a year, one horrible, horrible year, tortured, lost, and alone. Putting up walls, holding in screams, staying strong for the human race. He starts to think that maybe that's all he is, just a savior for the human race.
In the end, he loses everything. His great friend, leaving to live his own life. His companion, leaving because she can't stand to wait any longer. His best enemy, dying to get away from him. The TARDIS is cold and empty and silent.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
iv.
He buries the hurt.
It's bad, and every loss slices new, hard cuts into his hearts, but he's still going. Still moving, still running. Still trying to find fun in his travels, even though nowadays it's more of a job than a hobby, saving the universe.
Destiny demands he picks up a new companion, and she's more energetic and demanding than anyone from before. She has to be, because his feet drag along the ground as he runs from place to place. He's readier to give up on people, give up on saving things. What's the point, now? Too much of the universe is fixed; he's been in too many places. He's almost shocked when he meets someone who will be a future lover of his, he can't imagine he'll ever be the sort of man who can love like a lover again.
They travel for recreation more than pure adventure. They don't really want trouble; they're just two middle-aged beings faffing around, taking in the sights, seeing the universe. They shop and drink strange teas and are generally pretty magnificent together. She says she wants to be with him forever, but they're both too old and too well-seasoned to believe that forever for her is much longer than twenty years, but that's all right.
They don't even have a year.
His life seems to crash back around him, memories of how things were, how things used to be. All of his companions come back and he should be happy, but he's too old now to welcome them with smiles and hugs. He sends them away. Sends them off to live their lives. Off to be happy with others, because he's far too burdened to add happiness to the load.
When he might've told his lost companion that he loved her before, he can't choke the words out now. Too many walls close up his throat. And he loses his love, loses everything.
And, in a moment of desperation, he slices the memory from his best friend to save her life, losing her forever. He won't let himself regret the decision, because life is more important than happiness, it's something he's learned over his life in this incarnation. She will live, even if she can't live with him.
He stands in the console, freezing from the rain, alone.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
v.
His life is ending.
His life is ending, and while prophecies never meant much to him before, he knows this one is true. Everything that held him down before seems to positively weigh at him with the knowledge that it's all going to end.
Maybe it will really end. Maybe this time regeneration won't work. Maybe this time he'll just die forever. With his breeding, he can never be sure.
He tries to enjoy exploring, but the places aren't the same when he's alone. He doesn't have anyone to pull him along, no one to impress or excite. And he doesn’t have anyone to stop him.
The little pains bruise his hearts like spots to liver-diseased skin, but big ones, big terrible awful mistakes, they stay. They stay and they fester. They fester and they hurt and after a while he starts to think that he's always seeing the universe with tear-brimmed eyes.
And he's just waiting. Waiting for the prophecy to come true, waiting to hear those four knocks. Waiting to die.
And they do. They come and he isn't even remotely surprised to hear them. They come and he tries, desperately, to fight against them. To be the man he was before, the one who could laugh in the face of certain death, the one who wasn't held back by so much hurt.
But he isn't anymore. He isn't that same, happy man. He isn't new anymore. He's just old. Old and tired. He isn't who he was.
Still, no matter what's fair, no matter what he wants, he will do what's right. And when he stands in the chamber letting the radiation flood through him, it's almost a relief. Because such a sacrifice is really predictable for him, isn't it? He does what is right, he saves the life of little people, because they are just as important as big people and no matter how far he goes, he will never, ever forget that.
Because he is the Doctor, even if beyond that he literally does not know who he is anymore.
This regeneration is slow, but he is regenerating. He spends a few minutes running through time, saying his goodbyes. Each stop is more painful than the last, each half-smile and nod more difficult as the muscles in his body break down and he finds himself stumbling towards the TARDIS doors.
It's time to go to sleep.
But still, he loves this life. Loves the floppy hair and the bad skin and the mole in between his shoulderblades. He likes the way his shoulder fits against the console perfectly, though his ship would remind him that no matter what life he's in, it has always fit like that.
"I don't want to go." He doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to go to sleep. This incarnation could hardly stay still at the cinema, how could he go to sleep?
He wishes it could've been different. This could've been a perfect regeneration, if he just did it right. But now it's too late. Too late, and he's about to go.
Regeneration is like dying.
Pain floods his system, it crashes through every cell. He feels himself crumbling, dying from the inside out. He can feel regeneration energy struggling to flow through his system. He can feel it, he's dying.
And it hurts. Oh, god, it hurts so much.
But it's not death. Not really. He's just going to sleep, in his own mind. To sleep in a room in his mind without windows or doors. To rest.
That will feel good, he thinks. To rest. This regeneration started out so happy, so full of life. But struggle and battle and heartsache left him crippled, a hollow shell of a man. He's so lonely, now. So lonely and so cruel. Regeneration would be best. He can start over. Start anew.
And it's worth it, sacrificing himself for someone he cares about.
He just wishes he wasn't alone.
The loneliness hurts worse than any injury ever could.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,010 <==Surprisingly appropriate