Christmas Open Thread

[rude_not_ginger]

•deck•the•halls•

• THE DOCTOR LEARNS THE TRUE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS •

~•~


Christmas Eve. 2009.

The Doctor loved Christmas! Back when he was a wee Time Lord, the first place he ever landed was London on Christmas Eve. He promised himself he'd never miss another Christmas ever, but that promise went into the same pile as "Lose weight" and "Regenerate a better hairline" and "Stop leaving companions in other universes". But the Doctor had never quite gotten the hang of New Years'. (He once spent several hours commiserating on the similarity between the confusing nature of New Years and Thursdays with one Arthur Dent, who will sadly not be appearing in this piece of narrative. -editor)

But! Through all his travels in space and time, he still hadn't quite figured out what Christmas was for exactly. Except as a yearly excuse for turkey, too much wine, and plum pudding (all of which the Doctor approved of). This year, though, as he strode the streets on this wonderful Christmas Eve, the Doctor decided he would figure out exactly what Christmas was all about.

This may or may not have included use of a intergalactic manipulative detector and a full pack of radio stellar isotopian crystals. Oh, and a cup of hot chocolate. In a festively-coloured cup.

There was a lovely light snow, and the Doctor grinned madly at the stars. Christmas. This year, he was going to figure out what it was all about.


~•~

OOC: Open thread, feel free to tag in as if your character is a passerby or as if your character is a long-standing companion! I'll be working on this thread up until the New Year, most likely! Everyone from any verse (or no verse!) is welcome, just let me know if you'd prefer it from a community or specific universe! And, for this thread, threadhopping is totally welcome!

Happy Holidays, everyone! &hearts

Comments

[alicecarter.livejournal.com]

“It’s like you’re alone,” Alice said, slowly.

It’s not that she chose her words carefully. That implied a conscious effort. It’s just that her words were inherently careful, as Alice acted carefully in everything. Even in memories. “Your entire life, even when you’re with other people. Even people you like, people you love. You know they’re not going to last, and you’re okay with it. But then one day…he’s there.”

And he’s small. You never believe how small they are. Alice cleared her throat, putting her hands in her pockets.

“And you aren’t alone anymore. And every Christmas is a reminder of the first time you realized that.” And now Christmas was a reminder of something else. Alice looked up at the man, knitting her eyebrows together. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I asked," he said, with a small smile.

The Doctor understood that initial feeling. Not from his own child, he didn't realize how important she was until she was gone, but from his granddaughter. All tiny and young and impossibly wide-eyed. He'd aged quite quickly in his first form, but she never let him feel his age, she made him feel important and special.

And then, she was gone, too. It was hard, knowing she'd never spend another Christmas with him. Knowing he'd never be able to feel that feeling of alone, gone with the presence of a loved one. He'd always be alone.

"I remember," he said, a small nostalgic smile on his face. "The first time my---" Think about how old you look to this woman, Doctor. "---daughter experienced Christmas. She told me it was like magic was bundled up in a couple of hours. I always loved it, but I could never explain it like she could."

[alicecarter.livejournal.com]

“My son said Christmas was wishing,” Alice said, looking forward, at something that wasn’t there and never would be again. “That for one night, you got to ask for anything in the world that you wanted. Even if you didn’t get it, you were still allowed to ask.”

Alice paused. Whatever she could do these days that sounded like laughter, that’s what Alice did.

“Of course, my son was very spoiled. Wasn’t any toy he asked for that we didn’t get him. Probably to make up for the things he asked for that he couldn’t have.” His parents together. His father there. A person, and not a phonecall. And his uncle. He always asked to have his Uncle Jack around at Christmas.

Alice stared a bit longer, seeing blonde hair out of the corner of her eye, and knowing it wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry about your daughter.”

Parents with living children didn’t speak in the past tense. Something new that Alice’d picked up on, this year.

((ooc: Sorry about the long reply time! Feel free to ignore this tag!))

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah." He felt his eyes burn, just a bit, thinking back on Susan. His tiny granddaughter, all grown up and gone with the rest of his world. Jenny never got to see a Christmas.

He pushed through the hurt, though, and managed a smile. "I like that. Christmas is wishing. Wonder what she'd wish for. Probably a record or something. One of those bands she always loved."

He had a feeling he was talking like the very old man he was, but it didn't really matter. Not around Christmas.

He picked up on her tense change. Was. So many deaths. But he stayed in the present, for her sake. "It's good, that you spoil him, though. Oooh, if I could, I would. Pick up the moon for her, if I could. I was never---" He looked back at the woman and felt suddenly, strangely self-conscious. He never talked about his failures as a parent and guardian. Never. Not even with his closest friends. It was just not spoken about.

Maybe it was the season. Maybe it was because this woman was sharing, too.


{{OOC: As if I would!}}

[alicecarter.livejournal.com]

If the man was speaking older than he looked, Alice was hardly one to point it out. She'd been old since she was twelve, since she'd realized that she was dying, everyone was dying, save her father.

She didn't talk about these things. Didn't even think of them, on her better days. But it was Christmas, and this man was no one. She looked at him, encouragingly. Like she looked at her students, when they were just on the cusp of something.

"I didn't teach him to tie his shoes," Susan said. "When he was at the age where you learn that sort of thing. I didn't spend much time around children before him, and it slipped my mind that people weren't born knowing how to tie shoes. It wasn't until last year, at breakfast. We're sitting at the table, and he tells me about the time that Gram taught him how to tie his shoes."

Felt like it'd happened this morning, but to someone else. A different Alice. She'd been split in two the moment that Steven died, and one Alice was off, staying in her memories and not having to move forward in the present.

"I forget things like that. Obvious things. Always have."

((ooc: You minx!))

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Nah, it's all right, you were learning," the Doctor said. "I'm sure he doesn't think ill of that. Everyone makes mistakes when they're learning."

He'd made so many with Susan's mother, it was almost easy when he took care of Susan. Almost like he'd had a rough draft and he was finally able to properly write the essay. It was...cruel, he thought. Cruel to think of his own child that way.

"I was never a good dad, though," he said, continuing on his thoughts. "Always figured I knew what I was doing. Always thought I had more time."

And then time ran out.

[alicecarter.livejournal.com]

“He isn’t old enough to think ill of me. Isn’t old enough to think anything other than I’m his mother, and I’ll look out for him.” Which she hadn’t, of course. He’d of been better off if she’d given him up when he was born. Let some other family take him. Some family that had a real name and a real history. Someone safe.

She looked away from the man. Not because of what she saw in his face, but because of what she didn’t want to be seen in hers.

“We always think we have more time. But I’m sure you’re a better dad than you think. You’d be amazed, what children will forgive their fathers.”

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Too late now.

Not that he'd say that aloud. He barely let himself think it. But days like this, they reminded him of just how little he had. Other people had turkey dinners and presents and that moment of quiet in the morning this woman spoke about.

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Still. Bright new day tomorrow. Christmas Day, presents and turkey and the works. Well, for someone. Still."

He gave the woman a small but genuine smile. "You helped me a lot. Thank you."

[alicecarter.livejournal.com]

"For someone," Alice agreed, eyes going just that little bit red. And a lot of those someones -- almost all of them -- had Steven to thank for that. Or Jack. Steven hadn't had much of a say in it.

Maybe it should have filled Alice with...what? Pride, that so many children were alive for Christmas? Because of her son. She knew what it meant for the world that Steven'd been killed (killed. Not sacrificed. Sacrifice was too big a word, for too small a boy.) But, call her selfish, she just didn't care. Not tonight.

She looked back up at the man, honestly surprised. What about that had been helpful?

"You're welcome." She hesitated, but eventually held out a hand. "I'm Alice, by the way."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I'm the Doctor."

He reached out and took her hand, giving it a firm shake. Alice. It was a good name, down the rabbit hole and all that. Part of the Doctor wondered if she believed three impossible things before breakfast. He had a feeling with the life she'd lived and the things she'd lost, she probably hadn't.

At that moment, he wanted to ask her to come with him. Not to travel, but to...somewhere. Martha's house for dinner, a restaurant where it would be warm and cheery. Somewhere that they didn't have to be alone.

But grief over a lost child wasn't something he imagined she wanted to share. Especially not with a strange man asking her about the meaning of Christmas.

[alicecarter.livejournal.com]

Alice did believe in impossible things, funnily enough. But she believed -- and had learned -- that impossible things were named such for a reason. That if man wasn't supposed to do something, then the universe saw that man didn't. Her son had been impossible, in a way. She'd certainly never meant for him to happen.

But he had. And then he hadn't. And now Alice was on a street corner on Christmas Eve with a man she'd never met, and she didn't even raise an eyebrow when he said he name was "The Doctor". It was name enough.

"Doctor," she confessed. "It comes to this. The only real thing I know about Christmas right now is that I wish it wasn't Christmas right now."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He gave her a small, understanding smile. No one wanted to spend their holidays alone, or live alone. The Doctor did that on a daily basis. No family, no friends, no one but himself. It wasn't fair that this woman should have to feel the same.

"Don't give up yet, Alice," he said. "There are beautiful things out there in the universe. Even here on this world. Starlight and miracles and the quiet of Christmas morning. It's all...really there. It doesn't seem like it, but it is. You just have to see it. Wait for it." It was a terribly sentimental speech, but he didn't regret speaking it to the woman. "It's what's worth going on for. It's what I keep going on for."

And with that, he turned to leave.