Jun 04, 2011 04:58
They were pushing their way through a crowded carnival-and-freak-show of sorts, sometime in the 1920’s, maybe, trying to find the main hive of a swarm of Glucites before they reduced the entire event to ashes. The Doctor, for once not looking out of place in his standard dress code of tweed and a bowtie, was attempting to keep track of Amy who was attracting some unwanted attention from male fair-goers in her leggings and jumper. As a result, he hardly even noticed the wizened old woman creep up beside him and grab a hold of his arm.
“Have your fortune read, yes?” she croaked at him, tugging him coaxingly in the direction of a set of chairs.
“Not now, thanks, in a bit of a hurry.” He replied, quickly, while scanning the sea of humanity for any sign of red hair. There was none. The Doctor became a bit nervous, hoping she hadn’t wandered into any trouble.
The fortune teller persisted, however,
“No, no, you want to know your future, fine young man like yourself….your friends will be fine without you.”
He looked at her at her mention of his friends, and was contemplating telling her that he was, in fact, about ten times as old as she was and therefore anything but a young man…but she’d already led him over to her place of business and forcibly sat him down, exhibiting more strength than he would have expected from one so frail in appearance. He opened his mouth to protest again, but was silenced by a sharp shh! from the woman as she snatched up his right hand and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and jacket. Turning it over, she peered intently at his palm, pulling at the skin and bending his fingers at moderately uncomfortable angles.
“See? This?” she said, jabbing at the middle of his hand with a long fingernail, “Your life line! Yours is long and deep, you’ll be around for a while! Hard to kill!” She looked up at him, smiling, tracing the line for him to see. He smiled in return, amused at the ironic truthfulness of her “prediction”.
“Marks on the line, they tell of happenings in the life to come….and in the past…many things in your past…deep in your past,” she peered up into his face again at this, “You’ve heard of reincarnation, hm?” He was curious, in spite of himself, and it must have shown on his face because while he didn’t reply the woman nodded knowingly.
“Yes, past lives…we have all lived many times…those lives are part of who we are now…part of who we always will be…life-energy is a constant thing…” she trailed off and resumed studying the lines on his hand, now hunched over so that her nose nearly brushed his fingers, “I see many hardships here.” The Doctor said nothing, this was the ploy of fortune tellers across the centuries, make a vague reference that anyone could relate to, and hone it based on their reactions…manipulations as old as time.
“Losses….triumphs…darkness…joy…busy, busy boy,” she chuckled, wrenching his entire hand to right. The Doctor winced. “Yes, yes….many changes…many challenges.” She paused suddenly in her inspection and looked directly into his eyes,
“I see you cried much in a past life.”
Surely this was just another random guess. She could have said that of anyone and never been accused of lying. But the Doctor had trouble believing such logic as the gypsy’s cloudy eyes bored into his own. Memories floated into his mind that had been stored securely behind the solid walls of a new regeneration: images of a fiery redhead that wasn’t his Amy Pond, the feeling of, again, being alone, the sounds of a busy schoolhouse, the smell of the ocean, the softness of blonde hair.
“Yes….I see you understand….you believe in the reincarnation…..others, they laugh….but you, you know….and you can still feel the pain of your last life, even if your cannot remember exactly what happened,” she continued staring at him, knowingly, still holding his hand between her bony fingers. The Doctor opened his mouth as if to respond,
“I…”
But at that moment there was a shout from behind him and Rory and Amy Pond were running towards him, pulling him to his feet and telling him breathlessly about how they’d discovered the Glucite hive in a vat of cotton candy. By the time they’d dealt with that problem, and the ensuing mess, and were making their way back to the TARDIS sticky and laughing, the Doctor had almost entirely forgotten about the fortune teller. However, as they passed the place where her chairs had been, now empty, he paused, wondering where the old woman had gotten off to and half wanting to question her as to her knowledge of alien life forms.
“Doctor?” said Amy, putting a hand on his arm and looking at him concernedly, “You alright?”
“Me? Fine! Perfectly fine! Well, sticky, but fine!” he gave her a bright grin, “Let’s get back to the TARDIS and get cleaned up, shall we? Though I don’t expect she’ll appreciate us tracking sugar across her floor…” and with that he bounded off in the direction of his blue box, which was a different shade of blue than it had been at Bad Wolf Bay and had a sticker on the door that hadn’t been there at the Medusa Cascade, but which was always where he returned to at the end of the day.
prompt fill,
fanfiction,
eleven