Doctor Who Fic: Six Stages Sequel - Part 2 of 6
Title: The Six Stages of Meeting A Younger Looking Regenerated You (Or, Zen And The Art Of Metacrisis Maintenance)
Author: Gowdie
Characters: TenII/Rose, Eleven, Ten (briefly)
Rating: Teen for now. Adult in future chapters.
Summary: When The Six Stages of a Human Time Lord Biological Metacrisis ended, Rose and the Doctor were both feeling very magnanimous towards the full-fledged Time Lord. Sometimes reunions are easier in theory than in practice.
Author's Note: We are back to our regular scheduled program of fun. Tinged with angst. Yes, TenII is a bit grouchy. Don't worry, Eleven will get his fair shake, you'll just have to wait for it.
Stage Two: My Hair, My Hair, My Precious Hair
“If we’re late, Mum will murder us both.” Rose was peering down at him through the grating, with a fairly formidable expression that told him she was serious, though he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she was the one who would be blamed, or murdered.
The Doctor paused in his tinkering long enough to remove his sonic screwdriver from his mouth and answered her. “Rose Tyler, I would think by now you might have cottoned on to the idea that this is a time machine. As in a machine that travels in both space and time.”
Rose raised an unimpressed eyebrow in his direction. He suspected that eyebrow was making a point. Or an accusation, more like.
“Oh, all right,” he gave in, “just let me finish with these wires.”
Floating in the Vortex, the Doctor had been trying to encourage the baby TARDIS to grow in a few more practical directions. So far they had a library with a lovely fire, a wardrobe that seemed to get a little bit bigger each day, a kitchen, and a seriously spectacular bath. He had even managed to push the old girl, sorry, newly young girl, into finally granting them a bedroom after Rose had pointed out his tendency to have periodic bedroom emergencies. But they still lacked much of anything in a scientific nature. No medical bay, no lab, no giant storage area for collecting and cataloguing engineering curiosities. The Doctor suspected his ship had somehow detected the change in his makeup, and was plumbing his more human depths. Frolicking in them for creative ideas. Which was all well and good, but still, he wanted to find a way to remind her to reflect more of his Time Lord side as well.
Oh well, more work for another day. The Doctor pulled himself back up through the floor and replaced the panel.
As he started to spin some dials, Rose came to stand by his side. “Thank you,” she said, pressing a quick peck to his cheek and hugging his arm. “Just remember, we’re aiming for their ninth anniversary, not their tenth.”
He turned to glare at her, but found the way she was grinning, clearly enjoying trying to wind him up, disarmed him immediately. “You’re really never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not as long as it still works,” she teased, biting her lip.
The Doctor slightly adjusted another lever. “I imagine, of course, once we have our own children, we can expect the same on call babysitting in return?”
Rose snorted. “You’ll be lucky if she even spares you a chance to hold them.”
Ah, Jackie Tyler, fearsome momma bear. He’d had an inkling she would make an equally possessive grandmother, however, the Doctor had assumed he wouldn’t have to fight her off for access to his own children. He could see now how very naïve he had been. It had been years since Jackie had an infant to snuggle. He idly wondered how the baby TARDIS would feel about a nursery.
“You know,” Rose purred, standing up on her toes and pressed to his side, “it’s not a total loss of an evening. Once we get Tony tucked away, we can always,” she sucked his earlobe between her lips and gently pulled, “practice.”
Around six months ago, Rose and the Doctor had decided to try. Well, he says try, but they weren’t really trying in the modern conventional sense. They weren’t trying with any strategies that might include thermometers or hormones, or even any attention at all to date and time. What they were doing essentially amounted to throwing sexual caution to the proverbial wind, and seeing if a baby happened to get caught up in the breeze.
It was a step. A big step. A very, very big step. A step he would never have dreamed of before Jenny. Opening himself up to that much hurt, even if it were genetically possible, seemed like a bad idea. Not to mention the guilt he still carried. What did it mean for his Gallifreyan family, if he were to move on, and replace them?
But here, in this life, with this body, with Rose, the Doctor had soon realized family wasn’t such a terrible thing to fear. Rather, it was something he longed for. Longed for in that far off, distant, one of many possibilities, sort of way. Not immediately. Not until after they’d enjoyed each other’s company for a while. Enjoyed the traveling.
After five years, though, Rose and he had both come to the conclusion that they could travel together this way forever. Only they didn’t have forever anymore. And they both loved each other, loved life, so much, they wanted more.
So they’d decided to try.
Rose’s breath was hot as her tongue traced a tantalizing path along the shell of his ear, her teeth giving the occasional slight little nibble.
“Right!” the Doctor squeaked, adjusting the dial just a tick. “Eight o’clock, Jackie said.”
Rose instantly pulled away from him, exclaiming, “She wants to leave at eight o’clock!”
How her voice could lose that seductive tone so quickly was just not fair. He stared at her, pondering, his mouth hanging open a little, for the shortest, most insignificant of moments. But, of course, in that moment, they landed.
The Doctor sucked in a breath between his teeth, and rubbed a quick hand through his hair. “Sorry.”
Rose’s face lost all humour, and her hands were on her hips. “You’re kidding.”
“I think,” he offered, “what you want to focus on, is that we’re here, at your home, on the right day. The right time of day, even.”
Rose didn’t even bother to glare, she just ran for the door.
As Rose was reaching the end of the ramp, the feeling struck him. A twinge. Something was… Something was definitely not right. He couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but there, skittering across his mind, he could tell something was, well, off. “Wait!” he yelled.
She turned to him, completely exasperated. “What?”
The Doctor paused, still unsure. Unfortunately that uncertainty revealed itself through his voice. “Something is… Something is wrong.”
Rose hesitated, looked longingly at the door, then back at him, chewing her lip and clearly measuring her trust in him, her trepidation of Jackie’s anger, and the fact that it was perfectly obvious he didn’t know what he was talking about. Yet. “Is there,” she asked slowly, “an alien invasion between here and the house?”
He spared a glance at the monitor. “No.”
“Right then,” Rose made up her mind, always one to take chances, “you stay and figure it out. I’ve got to get to Mum.” And she was gone.
The Doctor twirled around frantically, and started pressing buttons. What was it? He looked up to make absolutely sure Rose was gone, and no one else would catch him, and started a scan for alien tech. It always felt a little like cheating, took all the fun out of the challenge, and, obviously, was completely impractical since most of the tech detected that made the scanner go ping was his own. But the niggling feeling was nagging away and making him downright uncomfortable, so it was either scan, or hop around like a three-year-old that had to potty.
There was something in the house. Well, that was an understatement; there were a lot of alien somethings in the house. The Doctor started eliminating items, narrowing down, until he found the culprit. Yes, there was definitely something new. Something sonic. What was it? His hand strayed to his pocket out of habit, feeling for his screwdriver.
No.
Yes?
No!
Oh, yes!
The ever humming tickle in the back of his head surged forward into a full blown presence. Oh yes, it was him. Himself. The other Doctor. Or the Doctor. No. No. The Doctor who just happened to still be a full Time Lord, practically immortal, but otherwise exactly the same in every way that really mattered. And he was in his kitchen.
The Doctor ran down the ramp and pulled on the door. It didn’t open. “What?” he exclaimed, confused. He pulled again, to the same result. “What?” he said louder. This TARDIS door had never stuck before. One last try. “What!” he shouted.
He turned his body all the way around, his back to the door, and reefed on the handle with all his might. Nothing. He stopped and stared, and worked very hard to overcome the severe urge to kick. Nothing good ever came from kicking his ship.
“Oh you are kidding me,” he declared with disgust. There was no denying it; he was locked inside.
The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. Sparks flew and burned his fingers, but the door still wouldn’t budge. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Some kind of neurological override. That cheeky bastard!
He ran back up the ramp, quickly removed the correct panel and dove into the wiring, all the while muttering soothing words to his TARDIS. Just who the hell had he turned into?
Almost a year ago, Rose had woken up in the middle of the night, sobbing in a blind panic. All the Doctor could get out of her as she’d clutched his shirt and cried was the repeated mantra, “He’s gone.”
Instantly, the Doctor had known exactly who she was talking about and he’d felt as though the world dropped out from under him. Impossible. The thought that the Time Lord had somehow died, permanently, nearly knocked the breath out of him. He would be all that was left; that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Fortunately, the shock had been so strong, he hadn’t truly had time to dip into the sadness, the unbearable fear and sadness, brought on by the suggestion that the other part of him was no more.
Breathing deeply, he’d tried to regain his senses; this could all still be a dream. He’d closed his eyes, concentrated on blocking the impending grief, and searched through his mind for that familiar murmur coming from the other side of the void. And it had still been there, as strong and silent as ever.
The Doctor had smiled. A dream! It had just been a silly old dream. “Rose, shh, shh, shh, shh, look,” he’d called, grinning from ear to ear. He’d pushed her slightly away, and tried to put his hands to her temples, to let her feel, but she’d slapped his fingers away.
“I know!” she’d said.
His shocked expression must have told her how much she had scared him, because one glance and Rose had instantly swallowed and gathered herself together. She’d touched his face and started apologizing, “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” She’d taken a deep breath. “I meant he’s changing. He’s… He’s not going to be you anymore.”
Relief had rushed through the Doctor, so much he’d actually let out a melancholy chuckle, realizing how desperately terrified he’d been. How strongly he’d reacted to being the only one left.
Rose had watched him, sniffling somewhat pathetically, and waited. He’d pulled her back into his arms and let her cry; trying to sooth her by repeating that he was sorry, until she was able to tell him what had happened.
The Doctor understood grief, better than anyone, considering how many he had lost. He understood how it left you cold, as you tried to stave it off. How it could swallow you down if you let it. And most of all, how years later, when you truly believed you were all right, some strange little moment, some memory, could trip you up and cause you to fall right back into the pain again. Sure, the heartache may be easier to conquer the more distance you had, but it could also strike just as strong when the least expected.
So the Doctor never begrudged Rose her grief, and understood that she would always love, always worry about the man in the other universe. Truth be told, he felt the same. He firmly believed that here, living this life with Rose, he had been miraculously granted the better deal. And he felt a wealth of gratitude, and sympathy, for the Time Lord who would never have this chance at simple happiness.
Of course, it was a hell of a lot easier to entertain all those squishy, warm, magnanimous feelings when the alien in question hadn’t bloody well locked him inside his own TARDIS.
So much for happy reunions.
Buried under the console, the Doctor tangled wires together, soniced various connections, and tweaked a few circuits, until finally, blessedly, the doors swung open.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He made the trek across the lawn in record time.
When he reached the kitchen door, the Doctor saw Rose chatting amicably, a picture of carefree good cheer, with a whole new man.
The first thing he noticed was the man was young. Impossibly young. Younger than he had ever been. Well, younger than he had ever been aside from the one time he had actually been that young. But suffice to say, young.
He was dressed mostly in black, with matching dark hair that hung almost completely off to one side. A bit silly, really, that hair. Well, he says silly, he means gut wrenchingly awful. What was he thinking? Sure, he’d had daft hair in the past, but after years with his glorious brown locks, it must be absolutely painful to walk around with a head of hair like that. He might not be able to completely control regeneration, but he could manage a comb. Had he lost all sense?
Humph. Moving on. His forehead was large, accented, obviously, by the exaggerated cowlick, and his chin was square. And his mouth, well, his mouth was formed into a wide smile.
Oh, the Doctor knew that smile. “Well, isn’t this just wizard,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped into the room.
Upon seeing him enter, Rose positively beamed in his direction. “Doctor! You’ll never guess, this is John Smith. A real John Smith.”
The Doctor knew the look he gave her was full of derision, but he couldn’t help himself. He could only hope she would forgive him. Or perhaps become so distracted by the drama that was undoubtedly about to unfold that she would forget.
“What?” Rose asked, confused by his response.
He continued the look. And added a little frowny, don’t-be-thick sigh for extra good measure.
She glanced at the younger looking man, then back at him. Then at the interloper again, who now, at least, had the decency to look uncomfortably guilty. Rose moved over to the familiar Doctor’s side, and tugged on his suit sleeve for support. “You’re kidding me, yeah?” she whispered.
The Doctor shook his head. And tried not to roll his eyes.
“Oh my god,” Rose gasped. “But Mum said you were from OK magazine and were covering one of her parties.”
The Time Lord pulled the physic paper out of his coat pocket and shrugged. “Hello,” he said, lamely.
“You physic papered my mum!” She took a shocked step forward, but the Doctor pulled her back to him, in a move that was not in any way possessive. At all.
“So,” the man-boy tried, turning his attention to him, “you’re still calling yourself Doctor, then?”
The Doctor glared and wrapped an arm around Rose’s waist. Such a question didn’t deserve a response. Not a polite one, at any rate.
Reading the tension in the room, Rose made an attempt. “How long… How long has it been, for you?”
“A couple of years,” was the nonchalant reply.
“Ha!” the Doctor gleefully exclaimed. It wasn’t until the word was out of his mouth, and the other two were staring and raising matching eyebrows at his outburst, that it occurred to him this was the first time he has spoken since entering the room.
“It’s been five for us,” Rose explained on his behalf.
He couldn’t stop himself. “So don’t go getting all superior with me, I’m still your elder,” the Doctor gloated, sticking his chin in the air.
“Clearly,” the baby-faced man smirked.
“And what’s… What’s… What’s with the hair?” the Doctor continued, on a roll. “Mishap at the barber’s? Or are you trying to pass yourself off as a moody teenager?”
Rose put her hands to her temples as though she had a headache already. “Don’t tell me this is what you do when you meet yourself. Bicker like jealous children?”
“Depends on the incarnation,” the Time Lord answered, in a tone meant to suggest he was above such childish reactions himself.
The Doctor pointed dramatically. “He started it!” He took a calming breath and crossed his arms. “You must reckon yourself pretty powerful, locking me in my own TARDIS. How did you even do it?”
“Snapped my fingers, just like River said.” He snapped to demonstrate. Lovely.
Rose crinkled her nose, the way she did when she was missing something. “What river?”
The other Doctor… The original Doctor? No. The other Doctor tilted his head and asked, “You didn’t tell her about River?”
He pointed again, this time trying for threatening. “Don’t you start.”
“Tea!” Rose shouted.
“What?” both Doctor’s asked in unison.
She cleared her throat. “I’m making tea. And you two are gonna play nice.”
As Rose busied herself with the kettle, both men sat at the table and appraised each other.
After several minutes of silence, the Doctor in black leaned forward. “You know, not too long after… well, when I was still you, I met a man I thought might be a future us, and I was quite fond of him. Not to mention very polite.”
“Marvelous,” the Doctor responded dryly. “I can only guess he didn’t introduce himself by conveniently getting you out of the way, so he could play emotional peek-a-boo with your wife.” Like a right tosser, he thought, but didn’t add. He had a suspicion name-calling might cause him to lose moral ground.
For a moment, the youthful eyes took on an expression that betrayed his true age. “No,” he said quietly and swallowed. “Though, you’re not as far off as you might think.”
Rose returned to the table, with all the fixings for tea. Much to his relief she sat close to the part-human Doctor and took his hand. The three sat, and sipped, contemplating where to start.
The visitor leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, what have you two been up to, then?”
Rose smiled and answered, “We just got back from trying to find the Opo, Oko…”
“Ogopogo, of Lake Okanagan,” the Doctor supplied. “Lovely name, Ogopogo. You’ve never seen the Ogopogo yourself, have you?” He knew the answer; he just liked saying the name. He’d made a point of saying it as often as possible during the trip, and the entire week before.
“No,” the other man shook his head.
“Yeah,” Rose teased, “but technically, neither have you.”
“I,” the Doctor said, drawing out the word and bopping her nose with his, “have experienced the effects of the Ogopogo.”
“Right,” Rose chuckled. Happy to have a safe topic of discussion, she turned to their audience and launched into their tale. They were so good at this. “So we’re canoeing out to Rattlesnake Island…”
“Though, of course, it wasn’t called that back in 1896,” the Doctor added.
“And we’re sorta bumped.” Rose demonstrated, hopping in her chair.
“Bumped?” the Doctor scoffed. “Lifted right into the air.”
“And when we crashed back down…”
“Soaking wet…”
“We’d lost both paddles! This one,” Rose poked his stomach with her elbow, “refused to swim for it.”
“I told you,” the Doctor explained, poking her back, “area natives believed you shouldn’t enter the water without first providing the creature N’ha-A-Itk an offering. Not a pleasant way to go; eaten by a lake monster.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “The next morning, we wake up safe and sound, back on the shore of Peachland.”
“Against the current,” the Doctor clarified. “Clear Ogopogo intervention.”
“So what?” Rose snorted. “It had remorse for stranding us in the first place?”
“Could be,” he shrugged and smiled. “Never underestimate the sentimental feelings of a descendent of the Basilosaurus, or a Skarasen, or whatever the Ogopogo turns out to be.”
“You didn’t track it further?” The interruption from the other side of the table pulled them both out of the story. “You just gave up?” The man’s voice was filled with disbelief.
“Well,” Rose blushed a bit, “it was a nice night.”
It was, the Doctor thought. Stuck with Rose Tyler in a wide bottom canoe, it wasn’t so bad. They’d been planning on camping on the island to keep lookout, so they’d had food, and blankets. It had been a lovely summer evening under a clear sky brimming with stars. And they’d found plenty of ways to fill their time. Experimenting to find the precise frequency to resonate hotdogs and marshmallows, so they were cooked to perfection. Laughing hysterically when they both finally admitted a desperate need to pee. Helping Rose balance so she could aim her bum over the edge of boat, all the while listening to giggling threats of what would happen if he ever told anyone about this, ever, and secretly thinking that this may become one of his most favourite memories. Snuggled up for extra warmth and drifting off to sleep, lulled by the gentle sounds of the water, and soothing rhythm of the calmly lapping waves.
All told, it was a grand adventure. Imperfect, but very real. Very them. And the Doctor suddenly didn’t feel at all like sharing. He sniffed. “It wasn’t like it was devouring any oil rigs.”
The narrative obviously over, the group was plunged back into silence.
Fortunately, Jackie chose that moment to bustle into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re still here are you?” she asked, nodding casually to the other man. “Not telling him anything too personal, I hope. Party details only. Pete’s turning fifty-five next month; that’ll be a party all of London will want to see.”
“What about you, Mrs. Tyler, you have an important birthday coming up, don’t you?” the Time Lord asked, smiling like a good journalist.
“Not for another year.” Jackie stopped and looked at him more closely. “How’d you know that?”
“Oh, you know, research,” he dodged.
“Well, I suppose with a daughter almost turning thirty, I can’t stay in my forties forever.” She squeezed Rose’s shoulder affectionately. “I was just a babe when I had her. Twenty-nine though, that’s plenty old enough to start thinking about children now a days, don’t you think?”
“So much for staying away from personal details,” Rose huffed.
Jackie started digging in her purse. “Rose, love, would you mind? Pete and I need to be off, and Tony’s refusing to go down. Something about giant spiders on the telly.”
Making a decision, the Doctor rose from his chair. “I’ll see to him, Jackie.”
She glowered at him. “Trying to get on my good side for being late? I know it was your fault.”
He put his hands in his pockets and backed out the door smiling. “Always.”
When the Doctor found Tony, he was sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, with every single light in his bedroom turned on, reading a book that seemed to have something to do with superheroes and underpants.
“So,” he started, entering the room, “what program were you watching with giant spiders?”
The blond headed boy smiled, shoving his book aside and answered enthusiastically, “Tentacle Spies.”
“Tentacle Spies!” the Doctor scolded. “Tony Tyler, I know for a fact that broadcasts from Metebelis Three and we agreed you’d stick to this galaxy when I’m not here.” Tony blinked at him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Suppose it’s my fault for teaching you how to use the universal remote control. Don’t tell your mother, she’ll have my head.”
The Doctor got down to his knees. “Alright, only one way to handle this, we look under the bed. Come on.”
Tony shook his head dramatically. “No way.”
“Hold old are you, again?” the Doctor asked, scowling.
“Eight and a half,” Tony answered, though notably, without the usual pride.
“Exactly,” the Doctor said firmly. “Old enough for scary telly from the other side of the universe, and old enough to look under your own bed.”
Tony scrunched his nose, looking remarkably like Rose. “Why are you so peaky?”
“I’m not peaky,” the Doctor objected. And even if he was, he had very good reason. Namely…
“Is it that man downstairs?”
“No,” the Doctor answered far too quickly. He took a breath. “All right,” he said slowly and calmly, trying to distract the child by reminding him he was supposed to be terrified. “You are perfectly safe. You know why? You’ve got me. And do you know what this is?” he asked, removing his beloved device from his pocket and showing the boy.
“It’s your sonic screwdriver,” Tony replied, with a suitable amount of awe.
“Precisely. And this,” he added, adjusting the dial, “is the giant spider setting. Turns them into dust bunnies. The harmless variety, not the rabid kind from Duchamp Three Three One. Not that you need to know that.”
“I don’t believe that,” Tony said, sounding skeptical.
“What?” the Doctor asked, surprised. “You don’t believe in Duchamp Three Three One? You should. And I wouldn’t recommend watching movies from there either.”
“No,” Tony explained, “I don’t believe your screwdriver will turn the spiders into dust bunnies.”
“But you do believe in the giant spiders in the first place,” the Doctor pointed out reasonably. “Seems to me you’re being rather selective in your belief systems.”
“Of course I believe in giant insects. I was at your wedding, wasn’t I?” They both shuddered slightly at the memory. “And you didn’t turn any of those into harmless balls of fluff.”
“Hmm,” the Doctor mused. Probably not the best bet to get the boy in bed by reminding him of actual alien bug creature invasions. The less said on the topic the better. At the same time, clarification was evidently necessary. “For the record, spiders are not insects.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
The Doctor responded by lifting the boy up, and plopping him on the floor. “Allons-y.”
They both had their heads under the bed, and the Doctor was shining the blue light from his screwdriver around when Tony offered, “You know, it might be handy if you made me my own sonic screwdriver.”
“Tony Tyler,” the Doctor started to rant, “I’m crawling under your bed because you couldn’t follow rule number one regarding your secretly modified telly. And you think now is a good time to ask me for a sonic screwdriver of your own?”
Tony propped his chin on his hand. “Is he an ex-boyfriend or something? I don’t remember Rose having any boyfriends aside from you.”
The Doctor clambered back out and got to his feet. “All clear. No giant spiders, insects or otherwise. Into bed with you.”
Tony did as he was told, but added, “I wouldn’t worry about him; his hair makes him look like a poof.”
“Not to mention the blind spot,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. “The word you’re searching for is ‘homosexual’ and unfortunately no, I have it on very good authority that he’s not.”
“Who is he?”
The Doctor sat down with a sigh, giving up. “He’s me. Or who I could have been.” There but for the grace of Donna.
Tony wrapped his arms around the Doctor’s middle, giving him a sympathetic squeeze.
If he hadn’t sprung up into existence, Rose would have stayed with the full Time Lord version. He would have changed. He would now be the youngster downstairs. But he never would have tasted this human life. And the Doctor loved this life.
He had a family again. And Rose. Their relationship was in so many ways exactly as it had been, but in so many other wonderful ways completely different. He never would have experienced any of that. He would have kept on traveling as he had been, ignorant and happy as a lark. Well, he says happy as a lark, he means happy, if with the occasional bout of brooding. Then again, with Rose by his side he had been pretty damn joyful. The point is, he would never have realized what he had been missing.
No, scratch that. He wouldn’t have known anything at all. He wouldn’t have even existed. Never known life. As part human, or Time Lord.
The Doctor shuddered. And tried a little desperately to shake those thoughts away. Now was hardly the time to leap hand first into an existential crisis.
The Time Lord had said he had run into a man he thought was a future self. That he had been fond. Yet, here the Doctor was, having the same experience and not being fond at all. Acting territorial and defensive.
The Doctor had run into future and past selves a number of times, and he had always enjoyed it. Sure, they nattered and bickered, having different habits, ways of doing things, but underneath all the bravado, if there was any at all, was affection. A sentimental warmth for who he had once been. Or a curious fascination for what he would become.
This meeting today, was altogether new. And deeply unsettling. This was meeting someone he would never be. He will never know what it is to be this young man. His other self was moving further and further apart from him. They would never be the same again.
This was ridiculous. He still had a Time Lord brain. He had been through this with friends, with family. He was being narrow-minded. Or, maybe it was the human in him. Weakness. Insecurity. A desire to hold onto the familiar. Emotionally grieving for the incarnation he knew.
Whatever it was, for the first time in his very long life, the Doctor was meeting a regeneration, and it felt like he was talking to a stranger. He didn’t like it. He missed his old self.
Having finally tucked Tony in, the Doctor slowly walked back downstairs. When he entered the kitchen, the pair were still sitting at the table, talking.
Rose smiled up at him. “He’s staying the night.”
The Doctor gave a hard grin, hands deep in his pockets. “Brilliant.”
Previous Chapter - Stage One: Genuine Shock and Drama
Author: Gowdie
Characters: TenII/Rose, Eleven, Ten (briefly)
Rating: Teen for now. Adult in future chapters.
Summary: When The Six Stages of a Human Time Lord Biological Metacrisis ended, Rose and the Doctor were both feeling very magnanimous towards the full-fledged Time Lord. Sometimes reunions are easier in theory than in practice.
Author's Note: We are back to our regular scheduled program of fun. Tinged with angst. Yes, TenII is a bit grouchy. Don't worry, Eleven will get his fair shake, you'll just have to wait for it.
Stage Two: My Hair, My Hair, My Precious Hair
“If we’re late, Mum will murder us both.” Rose was peering down at him through the grating, with a fairly formidable expression that told him she was serious, though he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she was the one who would be blamed, or murdered.
The Doctor paused in his tinkering long enough to remove his sonic screwdriver from his mouth and answered her. “Rose Tyler, I would think by now you might have cottoned on to the idea that this is a time machine. As in a machine that travels in both space and time.”
Rose raised an unimpressed eyebrow in his direction. He suspected that eyebrow was making a point. Or an accusation, more like.
“Oh, all right,” he gave in, “just let me finish with these wires.”
Floating in the Vortex, the Doctor had been trying to encourage the baby TARDIS to grow in a few more practical directions. So far they had a library with a lovely fire, a wardrobe that seemed to get a little bit bigger each day, a kitchen, and a seriously spectacular bath. He had even managed to push the old girl, sorry, newly young girl, into finally granting them a bedroom after Rose had pointed out his tendency to have periodic bedroom emergencies. But they still lacked much of anything in a scientific nature. No medical bay, no lab, no giant storage area for collecting and cataloguing engineering curiosities. The Doctor suspected his ship had somehow detected the change in his makeup, and was plumbing his more human depths. Frolicking in them for creative ideas. Which was all well and good, but still, he wanted to find a way to remind her to reflect more of his Time Lord side as well.
Oh well, more work for another day. The Doctor pulled himself back up through the floor and replaced the panel.
As he started to spin some dials, Rose came to stand by his side. “Thank you,” she said, pressing a quick peck to his cheek and hugging his arm. “Just remember, we’re aiming for their ninth anniversary, not their tenth.”
He turned to glare at her, but found the way she was grinning, clearly enjoying trying to wind him up, disarmed him immediately. “You’re really never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not as long as it still works,” she teased, biting her lip.
The Doctor slightly adjusted another lever. “I imagine, of course, once we have our own children, we can expect the same on call babysitting in return?”
Rose snorted. “You’ll be lucky if she even spares you a chance to hold them.”
Ah, Jackie Tyler, fearsome momma bear. He’d had an inkling she would make an equally possessive grandmother, however, the Doctor had assumed he wouldn’t have to fight her off for access to his own children. He could see now how very naïve he had been. It had been years since Jackie had an infant to snuggle. He idly wondered how the baby TARDIS would feel about a nursery.
“You know,” Rose purred, standing up on her toes and pressed to his side, “it’s not a total loss of an evening. Once we get Tony tucked away, we can always,” she sucked his earlobe between her lips and gently pulled, “practice.”
Around six months ago, Rose and the Doctor had decided to try. Well, he says try, but they weren’t really trying in the modern conventional sense. They weren’t trying with any strategies that might include thermometers or hormones, or even any attention at all to date and time. What they were doing essentially amounted to throwing sexual caution to the proverbial wind, and seeing if a baby happened to get caught up in the breeze.
It was a step. A big step. A very, very big step. A step he would never have dreamed of before Jenny. Opening himself up to that much hurt, even if it were genetically possible, seemed like a bad idea. Not to mention the guilt he still carried. What did it mean for his Gallifreyan family, if he were to move on, and replace them?
But here, in this life, with this body, with Rose, the Doctor had soon realized family wasn’t such a terrible thing to fear. Rather, it was something he longed for. Longed for in that far off, distant, one of many possibilities, sort of way. Not immediately. Not until after they’d enjoyed each other’s company for a while. Enjoyed the traveling.
After five years, though, Rose and he had both come to the conclusion that they could travel together this way forever. Only they didn’t have forever anymore. And they both loved each other, loved life, so much, they wanted more.
So they’d decided to try.
Rose’s breath was hot as her tongue traced a tantalizing path along the shell of his ear, her teeth giving the occasional slight little nibble.
“Right!” the Doctor squeaked, adjusting the dial just a tick. “Eight o’clock, Jackie said.”
Rose instantly pulled away from him, exclaiming, “She wants to leave at eight o’clock!”
How her voice could lose that seductive tone so quickly was just not fair. He stared at her, pondering, his mouth hanging open a little, for the shortest, most insignificant of moments. But, of course, in that moment, they landed.
The Doctor sucked in a breath between his teeth, and rubbed a quick hand through his hair. “Sorry.”
Rose’s face lost all humour, and her hands were on her hips. “You’re kidding.”
“I think,” he offered, “what you want to focus on, is that we’re here, at your home, on the right day. The right time of day, even.”
Rose didn’t even bother to glare, she just ran for the door.
As Rose was reaching the end of the ramp, the feeling struck him. A twinge. Something was… Something was definitely not right. He couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but there, skittering across his mind, he could tell something was, well, off. “Wait!” he yelled.
She turned to him, completely exasperated. “What?”
The Doctor paused, still unsure. Unfortunately that uncertainty revealed itself through his voice. “Something is… Something is wrong.”
Rose hesitated, looked longingly at the door, then back at him, chewing her lip and clearly measuring her trust in him, her trepidation of Jackie’s anger, and the fact that it was perfectly obvious he didn’t know what he was talking about. Yet. “Is there,” she asked slowly, “an alien invasion between here and the house?”
He spared a glance at the monitor. “No.”
“Right then,” Rose made up her mind, always one to take chances, “you stay and figure it out. I’ve got to get to Mum.” And she was gone.
The Doctor twirled around frantically, and started pressing buttons. What was it? He looked up to make absolutely sure Rose was gone, and no one else would catch him, and started a scan for alien tech. It always felt a little like cheating, took all the fun out of the challenge, and, obviously, was completely impractical since most of the tech detected that made the scanner go ping was his own. But the niggling feeling was nagging away and making him downright uncomfortable, so it was either scan, or hop around like a three-year-old that had to potty.
There was something in the house. Well, that was an understatement; there were a lot of alien somethings in the house. The Doctor started eliminating items, narrowing down, until he found the culprit. Yes, there was definitely something new. Something sonic. What was it? His hand strayed to his pocket out of habit, feeling for his screwdriver.
No.
Yes?
No!
Oh, yes!
The ever humming tickle in the back of his head surged forward into a full blown presence. Oh yes, it was him. Himself. The other Doctor. Or the Doctor. No. No. The Doctor who just happened to still be a full Time Lord, practically immortal, but otherwise exactly the same in every way that really mattered. And he was in his kitchen.
The Doctor ran down the ramp and pulled on the door. It didn’t open. “What?” he exclaimed, confused. He pulled again, to the same result. “What?” he said louder. This TARDIS door had never stuck before. One last try. “What!” he shouted.
He turned his body all the way around, his back to the door, and reefed on the handle with all his might. Nothing. He stopped and stared, and worked very hard to overcome the severe urge to kick. Nothing good ever came from kicking his ship.
“Oh you are kidding me,” he declared with disgust. There was no denying it; he was locked inside.
The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. Sparks flew and burned his fingers, but the door still wouldn’t budge. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Some kind of neurological override. That cheeky bastard!
He ran back up the ramp, quickly removed the correct panel and dove into the wiring, all the while muttering soothing words to his TARDIS. Just who the hell had he turned into?
Almost a year ago, Rose had woken up in the middle of the night, sobbing in a blind panic. All the Doctor could get out of her as she’d clutched his shirt and cried was the repeated mantra, “He’s gone.”
Instantly, the Doctor had known exactly who she was talking about and he’d felt as though the world dropped out from under him. Impossible. The thought that the Time Lord had somehow died, permanently, nearly knocked the breath out of him. He would be all that was left; that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Fortunately, the shock had been so strong, he hadn’t truly had time to dip into the sadness, the unbearable fear and sadness, brought on by the suggestion that the other part of him was no more.
Breathing deeply, he’d tried to regain his senses; this could all still be a dream. He’d closed his eyes, concentrated on blocking the impending grief, and searched through his mind for that familiar murmur coming from the other side of the void. And it had still been there, as strong and silent as ever.
The Doctor had smiled. A dream! It had just been a silly old dream. “Rose, shh, shh, shh, shh, look,” he’d called, grinning from ear to ear. He’d pushed her slightly away, and tried to put his hands to her temples, to let her feel, but she’d slapped his fingers away.
“I know!” she’d said.
His shocked expression must have told her how much she had scared him, because one glance and Rose had instantly swallowed and gathered herself together. She’d touched his face and started apologizing, “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” She’d taken a deep breath. “I meant he’s changing. He’s… He’s not going to be you anymore.”
Relief had rushed through the Doctor, so much he’d actually let out a melancholy chuckle, realizing how desperately terrified he’d been. How strongly he’d reacted to being the only one left.
Rose had watched him, sniffling somewhat pathetically, and waited. He’d pulled her back into his arms and let her cry; trying to sooth her by repeating that he was sorry, until she was able to tell him what had happened.
The Doctor understood grief, better than anyone, considering how many he had lost. He understood how it left you cold, as you tried to stave it off. How it could swallow you down if you let it. And most of all, how years later, when you truly believed you were all right, some strange little moment, some memory, could trip you up and cause you to fall right back into the pain again. Sure, the heartache may be easier to conquer the more distance you had, but it could also strike just as strong when the least expected.
So the Doctor never begrudged Rose her grief, and understood that she would always love, always worry about the man in the other universe. Truth be told, he felt the same. He firmly believed that here, living this life with Rose, he had been miraculously granted the better deal. And he felt a wealth of gratitude, and sympathy, for the Time Lord who would never have this chance at simple happiness.
Of course, it was a hell of a lot easier to entertain all those squishy, warm, magnanimous feelings when the alien in question hadn’t bloody well locked him inside his own TARDIS.
So much for happy reunions.
Buried under the console, the Doctor tangled wires together, soniced various connections, and tweaked a few circuits, until finally, blessedly, the doors swung open.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He made the trek across the lawn in record time.
When he reached the kitchen door, the Doctor saw Rose chatting amicably, a picture of carefree good cheer, with a whole new man.
The first thing he noticed was the man was young. Impossibly young. Younger than he had ever been. Well, younger than he had ever been aside from the one time he had actually been that young. But suffice to say, young.
He was dressed mostly in black, with matching dark hair that hung almost completely off to one side. A bit silly, really, that hair. Well, he says silly, he means gut wrenchingly awful. What was he thinking? Sure, he’d had daft hair in the past, but after years with his glorious brown locks, it must be absolutely painful to walk around with a head of hair like that. He might not be able to completely control regeneration, but he could manage a comb. Had he lost all sense?
Humph. Moving on. His forehead was large, accented, obviously, by the exaggerated cowlick, and his chin was square. And his mouth, well, his mouth was formed into a wide smile.
Oh, the Doctor knew that smile. “Well, isn’t this just wizard,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped into the room.
Upon seeing him enter, Rose positively beamed in his direction. “Doctor! You’ll never guess, this is John Smith. A real John Smith.”
The Doctor knew the look he gave her was full of derision, but he couldn’t help himself. He could only hope she would forgive him. Or perhaps become so distracted by the drama that was undoubtedly about to unfold that she would forget.
“What?” Rose asked, confused by his response.
He continued the look. And added a little frowny, don’t-be-thick sigh for extra good measure.
She glanced at the younger looking man, then back at him. Then at the interloper again, who now, at least, had the decency to look uncomfortably guilty. Rose moved over to the familiar Doctor’s side, and tugged on his suit sleeve for support. “You’re kidding me, yeah?” she whispered.
The Doctor shook his head. And tried not to roll his eyes.
“Oh my god,” Rose gasped. “But Mum said you were from OK magazine and were covering one of her parties.”
The Time Lord pulled the physic paper out of his coat pocket and shrugged. “Hello,” he said, lamely.
“You physic papered my mum!” She took a shocked step forward, but the Doctor pulled her back to him, in a move that was not in any way possessive. At all.
“So,” the man-boy tried, turning his attention to him, “you’re still calling yourself Doctor, then?”
The Doctor glared and wrapped an arm around Rose’s waist. Such a question didn’t deserve a response. Not a polite one, at any rate.
Reading the tension in the room, Rose made an attempt. “How long… How long has it been, for you?”
“A couple of years,” was the nonchalant reply.
“Ha!” the Doctor gleefully exclaimed. It wasn’t until the word was out of his mouth, and the other two were staring and raising matching eyebrows at his outburst, that it occurred to him this was the first time he has spoken since entering the room.
“It’s been five for us,” Rose explained on his behalf.
He couldn’t stop himself. “So don’t go getting all superior with me, I’m still your elder,” the Doctor gloated, sticking his chin in the air.
“Clearly,” the baby-faced man smirked.
“And what’s… What’s… What’s with the hair?” the Doctor continued, on a roll. “Mishap at the barber’s? Or are you trying to pass yourself off as a moody teenager?”
Rose put her hands to her temples as though she had a headache already. “Don’t tell me this is what you do when you meet yourself. Bicker like jealous children?”
“Depends on the incarnation,” the Time Lord answered, in a tone meant to suggest he was above such childish reactions himself.
The Doctor pointed dramatically. “He started it!” He took a calming breath and crossed his arms. “You must reckon yourself pretty powerful, locking me in my own TARDIS. How did you even do it?”
“Snapped my fingers, just like River said.” He snapped to demonstrate. Lovely.
Rose crinkled her nose, the way she did when she was missing something. “What river?”
The other Doctor… The original Doctor? No. The other Doctor tilted his head and asked, “You didn’t tell her about River?”
He pointed again, this time trying for threatening. “Don’t you start.”
“Tea!” Rose shouted.
“What?” both Doctor’s asked in unison.
She cleared her throat. “I’m making tea. And you two are gonna play nice.”
As Rose busied herself with the kettle, both men sat at the table and appraised each other.
After several minutes of silence, the Doctor in black leaned forward. “You know, not too long after… well, when I was still you, I met a man I thought might be a future us, and I was quite fond of him. Not to mention very polite.”
“Marvelous,” the Doctor responded dryly. “I can only guess he didn’t introduce himself by conveniently getting you out of the way, so he could play emotional peek-a-boo with your wife.” Like a right tosser, he thought, but didn’t add. He had a suspicion name-calling might cause him to lose moral ground.
For a moment, the youthful eyes took on an expression that betrayed his true age. “No,” he said quietly and swallowed. “Though, you’re not as far off as you might think.”
Rose returned to the table, with all the fixings for tea. Much to his relief she sat close to the part-human Doctor and took his hand. The three sat, and sipped, contemplating where to start.
The visitor leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, what have you two been up to, then?”
Rose smiled and answered, “We just got back from trying to find the Opo, Oko…”
“Ogopogo, of Lake Okanagan,” the Doctor supplied. “Lovely name, Ogopogo. You’ve never seen the Ogopogo yourself, have you?” He knew the answer; he just liked saying the name. He’d made a point of saying it as often as possible during the trip, and the entire week before.
“No,” the other man shook his head.
“Yeah,” Rose teased, “but technically, neither have you.”
“I,” the Doctor said, drawing out the word and bopping her nose with his, “have experienced the effects of the Ogopogo.”
“Right,” Rose chuckled. Happy to have a safe topic of discussion, she turned to their audience and launched into their tale. They were so good at this. “So we’re canoeing out to Rattlesnake Island…”
“Though, of course, it wasn’t called that back in 1896,” the Doctor added.
“And we’re sorta bumped.” Rose demonstrated, hopping in her chair.
“Bumped?” the Doctor scoffed. “Lifted right into the air.”
“And when we crashed back down…”
“Soaking wet…”
“We’d lost both paddles! This one,” Rose poked his stomach with her elbow, “refused to swim for it.”
“I told you,” the Doctor explained, poking her back, “area natives believed you shouldn’t enter the water without first providing the creature N’ha-A-Itk an offering. Not a pleasant way to go; eaten by a lake monster.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “The next morning, we wake up safe and sound, back on the shore of Peachland.”
“Against the current,” the Doctor clarified. “Clear Ogopogo intervention.”
“So what?” Rose snorted. “It had remorse for stranding us in the first place?”
“Could be,” he shrugged and smiled. “Never underestimate the sentimental feelings of a descendent of the Basilosaurus, or a Skarasen, or whatever the Ogopogo turns out to be.”
“You didn’t track it further?” The interruption from the other side of the table pulled them both out of the story. “You just gave up?” The man’s voice was filled with disbelief.
“Well,” Rose blushed a bit, “it was a nice night.”
It was, the Doctor thought. Stuck with Rose Tyler in a wide bottom canoe, it wasn’t so bad. They’d been planning on camping on the island to keep lookout, so they’d had food, and blankets. It had been a lovely summer evening under a clear sky brimming with stars. And they’d found plenty of ways to fill their time. Experimenting to find the precise frequency to resonate hotdogs and marshmallows, so they were cooked to perfection. Laughing hysterically when they both finally admitted a desperate need to pee. Helping Rose balance so she could aim her bum over the edge of boat, all the while listening to giggling threats of what would happen if he ever told anyone about this, ever, and secretly thinking that this may become one of his most favourite memories. Snuggled up for extra warmth and drifting off to sleep, lulled by the gentle sounds of the water, and soothing rhythm of the calmly lapping waves.
All told, it was a grand adventure. Imperfect, but very real. Very them. And the Doctor suddenly didn’t feel at all like sharing. He sniffed. “It wasn’t like it was devouring any oil rigs.”
The narrative obviously over, the group was plunged back into silence.
Fortunately, Jackie chose that moment to bustle into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re still here are you?” she asked, nodding casually to the other man. “Not telling him anything too personal, I hope. Party details only. Pete’s turning fifty-five next month; that’ll be a party all of London will want to see.”
“What about you, Mrs. Tyler, you have an important birthday coming up, don’t you?” the Time Lord asked, smiling like a good journalist.
“Not for another year.” Jackie stopped and looked at him more closely. “How’d you know that?”
“Oh, you know, research,” he dodged.
“Well, I suppose with a daughter almost turning thirty, I can’t stay in my forties forever.” She squeezed Rose’s shoulder affectionately. “I was just a babe when I had her. Twenty-nine though, that’s plenty old enough to start thinking about children now a days, don’t you think?”
“So much for staying away from personal details,” Rose huffed.
Jackie started digging in her purse. “Rose, love, would you mind? Pete and I need to be off, and Tony’s refusing to go down. Something about giant spiders on the telly.”
Making a decision, the Doctor rose from his chair. “I’ll see to him, Jackie.”
She glowered at him. “Trying to get on my good side for being late? I know it was your fault.”
He put his hands in his pockets and backed out the door smiling. “Always.”
When the Doctor found Tony, he was sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, with every single light in his bedroom turned on, reading a book that seemed to have something to do with superheroes and underpants.
“So,” he started, entering the room, “what program were you watching with giant spiders?”
The blond headed boy smiled, shoving his book aside and answered enthusiastically, “Tentacle Spies.”
“Tentacle Spies!” the Doctor scolded. “Tony Tyler, I know for a fact that broadcasts from Metebelis Three and we agreed you’d stick to this galaxy when I’m not here.” Tony blinked at him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Suppose it’s my fault for teaching you how to use the universal remote control. Don’t tell your mother, she’ll have my head.”
The Doctor got down to his knees. “Alright, only one way to handle this, we look under the bed. Come on.”
Tony shook his head dramatically. “No way.”
“Hold old are you, again?” the Doctor asked, scowling.
“Eight and a half,” Tony answered, though notably, without the usual pride.
“Exactly,” the Doctor said firmly. “Old enough for scary telly from the other side of the universe, and old enough to look under your own bed.”
Tony scrunched his nose, looking remarkably like Rose. “Why are you so peaky?”
“I’m not peaky,” the Doctor objected. And even if he was, he had very good reason. Namely…
“Is it that man downstairs?”
“No,” the Doctor answered far too quickly. He took a breath. “All right,” he said slowly and calmly, trying to distract the child by reminding him he was supposed to be terrified. “You are perfectly safe. You know why? You’ve got me. And do you know what this is?” he asked, removing his beloved device from his pocket and showing the boy.
“It’s your sonic screwdriver,” Tony replied, with a suitable amount of awe.
“Precisely. And this,” he added, adjusting the dial, “is the giant spider setting. Turns them into dust bunnies. The harmless variety, not the rabid kind from Duchamp Three Three One. Not that you need to know that.”
“I don’t believe that,” Tony said, sounding skeptical.
“What?” the Doctor asked, surprised. “You don’t believe in Duchamp Three Three One? You should. And I wouldn’t recommend watching movies from there either.”
“No,” Tony explained, “I don’t believe your screwdriver will turn the spiders into dust bunnies.”
“But you do believe in the giant spiders in the first place,” the Doctor pointed out reasonably. “Seems to me you’re being rather selective in your belief systems.”
“Of course I believe in giant insects. I was at your wedding, wasn’t I?” They both shuddered slightly at the memory. “And you didn’t turn any of those into harmless balls of fluff.”
“Hmm,” the Doctor mused. Probably not the best bet to get the boy in bed by reminding him of actual alien bug creature invasions. The less said on the topic the better. At the same time, clarification was evidently necessary. “For the record, spiders are not insects.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
The Doctor responded by lifting the boy up, and plopping him on the floor. “Allons-y.”
They both had their heads under the bed, and the Doctor was shining the blue light from his screwdriver around when Tony offered, “You know, it might be handy if you made me my own sonic screwdriver.”
“Tony Tyler,” the Doctor started to rant, “I’m crawling under your bed because you couldn’t follow rule number one regarding your secretly modified telly. And you think now is a good time to ask me for a sonic screwdriver of your own?”
Tony propped his chin on his hand. “Is he an ex-boyfriend or something? I don’t remember Rose having any boyfriends aside from you.”
The Doctor clambered back out and got to his feet. “All clear. No giant spiders, insects or otherwise. Into bed with you.”
Tony did as he was told, but added, “I wouldn’t worry about him; his hair makes him look like a poof.”
“Not to mention the blind spot,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. “The word you’re searching for is ‘homosexual’ and unfortunately no, I have it on very good authority that he’s not.”
“Who is he?”
The Doctor sat down with a sigh, giving up. “He’s me. Or who I could have been.” There but for the grace of Donna.
Tony wrapped his arms around the Doctor’s middle, giving him a sympathetic squeeze.
If he hadn’t sprung up into existence, Rose would have stayed with the full Time Lord version. He would have changed. He would now be the youngster downstairs. But he never would have tasted this human life. And the Doctor loved this life.
He had a family again. And Rose. Their relationship was in so many ways exactly as it had been, but in so many other wonderful ways completely different. He never would have experienced any of that. He would have kept on traveling as he had been, ignorant and happy as a lark. Well, he says happy as a lark, he means happy, if with the occasional bout of brooding. Then again, with Rose by his side he had been pretty damn joyful. The point is, he would never have realized what he had been missing.
No, scratch that. He wouldn’t have known anything at all. He wouldn’t have even existed. Never known life. As part human, or Time Lord.
The Doctor shuddered. And tried a little desperately to shake those thoughts away. Now was hardly the time to leap hand first into an existential crisis.
The Time Lord had said he had run into a man he thought was a future self. That he had been fond. Yet, here the Doctor was, having the same experience and not being fond at all. Acting territorial and defensive.
The Doctor had run into future and past selves a number of times, and he had always enjoyed it. Sure, they nattered and bickered, having different habits, ways of doing things, but underneath all the bravado, if there was any at all, was affection. A sentimental warmth for who he had once been. Or a curious fascination for what he would become.
This meeting today, was altogether new. And deeply unsettling. This was meeting someone he would never be. He will never know what it is to be this young man. His other self was moving further and further apart from him. They would never be the same again.
This was ridiculous. He still had a Time Lord brain. He had been through this with friends, with family. He was being narrow-minded. Or, maybe it was the human in him. Weakness. Insecurity. A desire to hold onto the familiar. Emotionally grieving for the incarnation he knew.
Whatever it was, for the first time in his very long life, the Doctor was meeting a regeneration, and it felt like he was talking to a stranger. He didn’t like it. He missed his old self.
Having finally tucked Tony in, the Doctor slowly walked back downstairs. When he entered the kitchen, the pair were still sitting at the table, talking.
Rose smiled up at him. “He’s staying the night.”
The Doctor gave a hard grin, hands deep in his pockets. “Brilliant.”
Previous Chapter - Stage One: Genuine Shock and Drama