It has been an absolutely mad day.

The Doctor stands there, finally having found the crystal shard of Mandubas II and destroyed it, saved Rose from the evil forces of Getrishak, and kept Mickey generally out of trouble. The three of them stand now at their long-sought destination: The hidden UNIT watering hole outside of London.

This was, of course, where they had originally intended to go, before the forces of Getrishak stepped in the way, their commandeered vehicle was commandeered by UNIT, and Rose’s brain was nearly suffocated by an evil telepathic force.

“Not as impressive as I thought it’d be,” Rose says, letting out a little exhausted sigh as she looks around the tiny pub, adorned with black-and-white photographs of UNIT personnel, with a few old-fashioned pistols and alien artifacts framed up as well.

“Oi,” the Doctor says, looking over to her. “When I worked for UNIT, this was the prime place to go after work. We used to have the entire group here! Me, Liz, Benton, Yates---“

“Doesn’t look like it’s such a hot spot now,” Mickey says, wiping the entrails off of his face. It’s true. The entire pub is empty, save for a tired looking bartender, who has long since learned not to be impressed with anything the old scientific advisor might pull while here.

“That’s because everyone’s gone on a 24-hour workday schedule,” a booming voice says from behind them. “Leaves very little time for recreation.”

The trio turns around. Behind them stands an older man, probably in his late seventies, dressed smartly in an old UNIT uniform. It doesn’t fit him like it used to, but he’s still quite formidable. An old soldier, back in his old stomping grounds.

“That’s him!” Mickey says. “That’s the bloke who took the car!”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” the man says, handing over a set of keys. “But this young man was stealing a UNIT vehicle during a UNIT crisis. We had no choice but to take it back in order to carry our people out.”

“You pointed a gun at me!” Mickey squeaks.

The Doctor, unaffected by Mickey’s squeaking, takes the keys. “Brigadier,” he says. “You recognize me, then?” He breaks into a huge, toothy grin.

“Of course,” the Brigadier says. “Who else could it be?”

Fair point.

“You know this guy?” Rose asks, leaning into the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart,” the Doctor says.

“The Doctor was our scientific advisor,” the Brigadier says. “And the moment old Arty back there saw you’d arrived, they called me. In case of disaster.”

“I can’t imagine why,” the Doctor says, and by the tone of his voice, it’s apparent he really doesn’t.

“But I’m getting too old for this, Doctor,” the Brigadier says. “I think it’s about time I left this life for the new generation. Including that doctor you sent over to us.”

“What doctor?” the Doctor asks.

The Brigadier, perhaps unwittingly being pulled by the fabric of time, doesn’t answer, he merely turns to head towards the door.

“Where will you go?” Rose asks.

“Nevermind that!” Mickey says, flailing. “He pulled a gun on me!”

The Brigadier smiles, then pulls out a pair of sunglasses, which he smoothly slips on.

He grins. “Deal with it.”

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 538
For Nicholas Courtney, who was the most badass companion ever. He deserves his own meme.
He is not a sexual man.

It's not because sex is unpleasant for his species. On the contrary, he's had encounters with those of his own kind that've brought him to mind-blowing pleasure. Even with a human, or another alien species, sexual acts are (in general), incredibly pleasing. The rush of blood, the heightened nerves, it's all very nice.

It's also not because of the general taboo about sex in his culture. Yes, it's ingrained in the minds of all Time Tots that sex is a barbaric and disgusting act, and yes, he sat in on a number of those classes. And yes, he did wear the high-neck head garment of the Time Lord, the one that blocked from view the immensely taboo back of the neck, where a Gallifreyan derived a good deal of sexual pleasure. But, really, the disgust his people found in sex fueled his desires, in his youth. His need to be rebellious made him far more promiscuous than his fellows, occasionally taking a lover (or even two!) every decade or so.

It's not even because of how messy the act is. Fluids and sweat and all sorts of things going into it just make the whole thing seem really unappealing, but he's been through far worse, really. And, if one charted out sexual pleasure versus messiness, the pleasure is far greater than the cost of a shower and a change of clothes or bedcovers.

It's just that the act…doesn't really interest him.

There are far more fascinating things out there, far more worlds to explore, more thoughts to have. Aliens and stars and nebulas and oh-yes-the-world-is-ending-didn't-you-notice? He can't really focus on that sort of thing when he's got so much thinking to do.

But humans! It's like a bloody disease with them! Cut for explicit sexual situations. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,234

I miss you, you hurt me
You left with a smile
Mistaken, your sadness
Was hiding inside
Now all that's left
Are the pieces to find
The mystery you kept
The soul behind a guise

Where are you
I need you
Don't leave me here on my own
Speak to me
Be near me
I can't survive unless I know you're with me.

Rose thinks it will be hardest when she's standing there, saying goodbye, but it isn't.

Oh, it's hard. It's very hard. She begs him to stay, to come back. She needs him, and maybe she didn't realize it before, maybe that's why she pushed him away so often. But please. Please don't go.

Or maybe it's please go, with us, don’t stay.

But he says he has to.

And who is she to argue? It's not as if he has anything waiting for him back at home. Her mother'll be heartbroken, but she's gotten over far worse. Oh, it'll be hard telling her, and telling his stupid estranged mother, too, but this goodbye should be the hardest.

It isn't.

Rose thinks it will be hardest when the TARDIS takes off, but it isn't.

She hides in her bedroom and slams her eyes shut, trying to block out the hum of the walls and the whirring sensation when she knows they've finally taken off. Taken off and left him behind. Her oldest friend, first lover, favorite cook---why did he have to go? Doesn't he get it?

The Doctor, he gets it. He knows she can be sassy and mean and self-centered but he doesn't care. He doesn't need to be shown love and affection, so why does she have to for him? Can't he get it, too?

But it's too late, and the TARDIS is gone, leaving him behind. That should be it, she thinks. That should be the hardest moment.

It isn't.

Rose thinks it will be hardest when he tries to comfort her, but it isn't.

He's gone, and she didn't realize how important he was until he left. Maybe she didn't get it, didn't realize how much she loved him, or how much he loved her. But now, now that she has no way to say she'll go back to him later, now she wishes he was here, now.

"Maybe it isn't about you," the Doctor says, leaning against the door, watching her cry silently. He sighs. "My first mate, he ran off when we were young. Well, I ran off, but when I came back he was gone. It hurts, but it isn't about---"

"Take me home."

He hops off from where he's leaning, looking at her sadly. "Home?"

"Not forever," she corrects, immediately. "Just to tell my Mum. She needs to know."

He nods, and heads to the console room.

They never discuss it again. She thinks that should be the hardest it will be.

It isn't.

Rose thinks it will be hardest when she has to tell her mother, but it isn't.

Her mum doesn't cry, and that's hard. She just sits there, her brow creasing up in worry, but she doesn't sob, she doesn't even tear up.

"Is he going to be happy, you think?"

Rose can't answer, but the Doctor speaks up. "He will," he says, with all of the confidence of a man who knows time.

"And he'll be safe?" Rose's mum asks. Her voice cracks, just slightly, under the weight of how much she's had to lose, but she still doesn't cry.

The Doctor doesn't answer, because he doesn't know. It's worse, somehow.

And she thinks that will be the hardest, the hardest ever.

It isn't.

It's hardest when he grieves.

It only happens once. Two weeks after they've left, and they've packed up from the place that couldn't possibly have had the real Satan living inside of it, and they're all smiles and excitement.

"And let me tell you," he says. "Mickey the Idiot will be really impressed when I tell him that---"

And that's when he remembers. The smile on his face vanishes.

Mickey the Idiot is gone. He's gone, and they've told everyone who knew him that he's dead. For all they know, he could be.

Without a word, he turns and leaves the console room. He doesn't say where he's going, and she doesn't think to ask him. She just watches him go, wondering what it's like when a Time Lord misses someone.

She wonders what Mickey would think, knowing he's missed.

She doesn't cry this time, she just sits in the console room, lonely.

That's when it's the worst.

Muse: Rose Tyler
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count:
The screen crackled with disuse as it powered on slowly. So slowly. Too slowly.




Then the face of a man appeared through the haze of static. He was lean, wiry, with scruffy brown hair and deep-set brown eyes. His brown suit was torn with globs of dried blood in places. He kept his head down as he spoke into the small microphone and tapped on the camera into which he was speaking. A blue mist streamed through the ventilation system on the wall behind him and out into the room.

"This is a distress call. We need immediate medical and possibly military help at base 24601 Theta Zed. Repeat. Immediate---" He coughed, thick and wet, and left a splatter of blood across the screen. With a panic, he wiped it away. Then, he took a deep breath and looked straight at the camera.

"This is a distress call. There is a hostile nanogene contagion on this base. Use extreme caution when approaching." He shook his head. "I haven't got much time before I'm infected. Well, probably already infected at this point. Too many injuries." The laugh the man gave was dark and humorless. "The point is, we need help. I need help. I can't stop this alone."

And, from the dark look in the man's eyes, it was apparent that he was alone, now.

"My name is the Doctor. I need immediate assistance at Sanctuary Base 24601 Theta Zed. I need the nanogene code---"

From off camera, there was the sound of a shuffled footstep, and then the distinctive click of a shotgun being set.

The Doctor looked away from the camera to something directly behind it.

He breathed. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

And with that, the camera went dead with a blaze of static. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 6,210 YA RLY
Special thanks to [ profile] galeforcehero for beta.
So, this trip didn't go nearly as well as he'd hoped.

Though now that he thinks about it, that's not anything very new.

He's standing before a large pillar. On the pillar is a great face looking down at him and his three companions. In his hand is a broken broomstick, procured by unpleasant methods. On his feet are bright red Converses. The Converses, while both stylish and comfortable, are possibly the most frustrating footwear he's ever owned. When the TARDIS landed here, wherever here is, it crushed an evil sorcerer who was wearing the shoes. The sorcerer death passed the shoes on, and since the TARDIS belongs to the Doctor, the Converses transferred themselves to the Doctor's feet. Even though he was originally wearing quite lovely white Converses and red clashes with a brown suit. And another evil sorcerer---this one with a wide, terrifying smile and a habit of drumming his fingers---became obsessed with killing the Doctor to obtain them. The Doctor tried to direct him to a local shoe shop to buy his own, but seeing as he wasn't certain where he was it made giving directions difficult.

But a bucket of water and some unpleasantness later, the Doctor and his companions bested the Sorcerer and came to this face in the stone, this...Wizard bloke in order to obtain directions back through the rift. His companions have their own desires, all of which are valid, but he needs to leave this place and seal the rift behind him. He doesn't want to think what damage he is doing to this brightly-colored world and its inhabitants by staying.

There's the Straw Man, of course. Straw Idiot, the Doctor likes to call him. He can't figure out why, "Idiot" seems like a rather harsh term. And the Straw Man is trying to find a brain, after all. The material used to bind him is dark, and he has straw sticking out of the places where the stitching doesn't quite mesh in. He's in a Nintendo t-shirt that's torn a bit in places from all of their adventuring, and some ratty jeans.

The Tin Man, he's a bit of a mystery, even to the Doctor. His skin is grey, just about matching the long grey coat he always wears. He's all bright smiles and boyish good looks, but he tells the Doctor he's been rusting in those Cardiffian Woods for 150 years. He's looking for a heart, or a way to feel after all these years.

And the Lioness. All wild ginger hair and a sour expression on her face. She was supposed to be married, though something happened that made her run away. She's trying to find courage. Real courage, not just the shouting and ordering about she does to cover up her fear. The Doctor's rather fond of her, even though she's rather fond of slapping him.

And now they're all here, talking to a giant green head. )

Muse: The Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,098
He wanted him to have a purpose.

He always called him an idiot, but he knew that wasn't true. For all that he bumbled and fawned over Rose and bumbled some more, he had a good mind on him. He tried.

Far from the tin dog. No matter how much he teased. The Doctor just wanted him to feel like he was part of the universe. Took him traveling. Got a spaceship on his first go, he said. All that excitement, all that energy. The Doctor envied that. If that energy could be put to some good cause...well, he didn't think there was anything Mickey couldn't do if he really wanted to.

And then he found it. His purpose. To become Mickey the hero under the guise of Ricky. He found a home. Something the Doctor never had. Maybe another reason to envy Mickey. A family, a home, and a purpose.

The Doctor got what he wanted.

He wanted her to have the family she deserved.

He never had a chance with a family. Family like his, anyway. By the time he realized he wanted children they'd already up and grown. Susan was all he had, but she grew up too fast, too. And now…now they're all gone. He wanted her to have her parents, have her friends. Have everything he couldn't.

He nearly sacrificed the world in his last incarnation to keep her father alive, promised her mother he'd always keep her safe. He even went so far as to spend time with that irritating mother of hers. Took Mickey along. Had tea with one of her more boisterous aunts.

Everything seemed to unravel. Couldn't save Pete. Mickey left. Rose's mother just kept getting sadder and sadder. He just wanted them to be happy.

Then they had it. Pete had Jackie and they both wanted Rose and…well, it only made sense. Even as he stood where the breach had been, his head pressed against the cold wall, all he could think was that it was what he wanted. He wanted her happy.

The Doctor got what he wanted.

He wanted him to be a hero.

Someone as bloody brilliant as Jack Harkness? He had to deserve more than just being a run-of-the-mill con-man with slicked-back hair and a Chula warship. He was cowardly yet dashing and the Doctor could see so much more in him.

He saw him change, over time. Hold a bomb in order to save everyone in that field. Rewire the TARDIS like he was born at the controls. Call those who were afraid to fight against the Daleks. Sacrifice himself to give the Doctor more time.

He did change. Hundred years…well, give or take. And he's suddenly telling the Doctor that he's got a good fight to fight. Can't run off and be irresponsible. Can't have drinks on the coast of Pentastico 2 while wearing full plate mail. Have to be strong. Have to be brave. Have to be a hero.

The Doctor got what he wanted.

He wanted her to be independent.

She was smart and capable. He watched her run around, making decisions and barking orders. But she was always attached to that cell phone, to her family. Then she grew attached to him.

She loved him, she said, once. Oh, Martha. Didn't she realize his hearts were too dried up to love anyone back? He wanted her to just…just get over him. Adoring his companions was always easier when they didn't want something back. Like love.

And then, there was a year where she was on her own. Completely. Cut off from him. She saved the world. All by herself. And then she stood there and told him she was ready to get out. Ready to move on with her life.

She was being her own Martha Jones. And who was he to say no? Who was he to hold her hand anymore? She saved the world, and now she was carving her own path.

The Doctor got what he wanted.

He wanted her to travel the universe.

He knew what it was like to be trapped in a position, trapped without any way of getting free. She didn't have a TARDIS junkyard to hop into and steal a ship, so the escape was so much harder for her.

Oh, but when she looked at the stars, he saw himself in her. Longing for another sky. For another world. To touch the alien sand and hear the cry of strange birds and watch them wheel in another sky. She'd have given anything for that.

He took her down to Earth, and she caught the bug. Silly old Doctor, interfering in Astrid's life. Making her push traveling to the forefront of her brain now and forever. She'd never be the same again.

And when he pushed the button to the sonic screwdriver that twisted the window open, the little pieces that were left of Astrid had the whole universe at their command. To travel forever.

The Doctor got what he wanted.

He wanted to have companionship. He wanted to never be alone again.

The Doctor didn't always get what he wanted.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 844
You hear girls in the toilets of clubs saying, 'Yeah, he fucked off and left me. He just couldn't deal with love. He was too fucked up to know how to love me.' Now how did that happen? What was it about this unlovable century that convinced us we were, despite everything, eminently lovable as a people, as a species? What made us think that
anyone who fails to love us is damaged, lacking, malfunctioning in some way? And particularly if they replace us with a god, or a weeping Madonna, or the face of Christ in a ciabatta roll--then we call them crazy. Deluded. Regressive. We are so convinced of the goodness of ourselves, and the goodness of our love, we cannot bear to believe that there might be something more worthy of love than us, more worthy of worship. Greetings cards routinely tell us everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves clean water. Not everybody deserves love all the time.

"This is stupid." Rose sighed, scowled, and dropped onto a splintery wood bench. "We have all of space and time, including the Renaissance period, and you're taking us to the bloody Renaissance Faire? In 2006? I could've taken the Tube here, didn't have to take a TARDIS."

She had been complaining the entire time the Doctor had been bouncing around, gobbling up chocolate-covered bananas on a stick, talking human physiology with the tightrope walker, taking the piss on Mickey when he fell off the Climb-A-Wall contraption, and generally making a fool out of himself.

"You have to remember," he said, "This is a time period all in itself. It's how people see the past. It's what they think the past was like."

"I don't think they had chocolate bananas in the past," Mickey said, "Or credit cards."

"The whole thing is completely commercial," Rose pouted and crossed her arms.

The Doctor sighed, "Just can't have any fun, can you? And while chocolate bananas may not be of the era, Mickey, they are delicious, so there is no reason to complain."

"Yeah, well, I like the chocolate cheesecake on a stick best," Mickey all but bounced down the street.

"It's gonna stick to your arse," Rose warned. She had already consumed two of those herself, despite the protesting.

'Yeah, you're one to talk,' Mickey replied. He pointed to a large, canopied building, 'Oh, brilliant, a fortune teller. Always wanted to go to one of those.' )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,846
rude_not_ginger: (ooc: reinette/rose)
( Sep. 3rd, 2007 10:15 pm)
In response to this exceptionally…special Reinette!Hate fic found on Teaspoon & An Open Mind...with, uh, respect to the original author (sort of)...a little bit of a re-write to suit my own devious mind...

It had been months since Reinette joined the TARDIS crew. Two agonizing, painful, ridiculously horrific months. Rose had reached something very near a breaking point.

Bloody stupid Madame de Pompadour. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,758
Captain’s log, supplemental. We are traveling in the Chantal system, after our encounter with the Tamarians. Our goal is to establish peaceful relations with the people of this system, and attempt to futher understand their culture, so as to further understand the Tamarians when we encounter them again.

I stepped onto the bridge and was quickly informed by Mr. Data that while we had made it to the Chantal system without incident, we were being hailed by an unknown and rather unseen vessel.

"We’ve picked up a small signal," Lt. Worf informed me, "Possibly a life form."

"A life form but no ship?" Commander Riker glanced behind himself at the Lieutenant.

Lt. Worf appeared put out by the concept himself. "The computer reads life signs but no vessel."

"They could be in distress," Counselor Troi offered to me, "Without ship, only in a suit for protection. They could be reaching out."

"Or luring us into a trap," Lt. Worf retorted, "Their ship could be cloaked."

"Whatever is out there is hailing us, it can only mean they wish to communicate," I said, moving myself to the center of the bridge, "Get them on the screen, Mr. Worf."

Lt. Worf complied, and the screen that once held the shimmering planet of Chantal 3 was now filled with a glowing, central chamber of a ship. Roundels covered the walls, very like a Resorcuian vessel, but the creature in the vessel was most definitely humanoid in shape.

As a matter of fact, my distinct impression upon looking at the man was that he was human. He dressed in late 20th century attire, a brown business suit with a blue tie, and his hair was a bit overlong, standing up in various directions. He also appeared very young. Not as young as Wesley Crusher, but most certainly younger than Commander Riker or most of the crew members on my ship.

The man on the screen took a step forward and gave the viewing device he was looking into an irritated tap.

'Is this thing working yet?' he grumbled, 'Hello? Can you hear me?' )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,186
"No, Doctor, I'm telling you, you will love it."

"Really, Jack, no matter how much I love history, there is probably nothing in that museum that will even remotely interest me."

"You have so little faith." It was always rather annoying to the Doctor when Jack would grin like that, because it meant he was up to something and that meant the Doctor would have to follow him. To make sure he didn't get into trouble of course. In this case, Jack had informed the Doctor he had found something 'really cool' to show him, in the Preternatural Research Bureaus' Museum of Paranormal History.

Which, really, sounded more like the sort of place where the Doctor would take a nap, not find 'really cool'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 3,578
Based on this questionnaire.
You find a magic lamp and free the Genie. What are your three wishes? You can not wish for more wishes.

"Look, Doctor! A lamp!"


"A lamp, look!"

"Whaddya know! It's all buried in the sand."

"Looks quite old."

"Mhmm. Yes, Mickey, it does. Got something written, here, do you see----"


"Doctor! It's's a...!"

"It's a genie! Brilliant!"

"You can wish for a way out of this desert! Back to London!"

"Yes, not yet. I wish for a bag of jelly babies that never runs out!"


"What?! That's it, Doctor? You have three wishes! Anything you could desire!"

"Yes, I really desire a few jelly babies. Ooooh, still full."

"You could wish for a TARDIS that functions properly. Or money! Why not ask for wealth! An army of beautiful, lingerie-clad warriors to help us defeat the Daleks and Cybermen waiting back in London! Maybe just a superweapon, though I like the idea of the warrior women a bit better."

"What do you know? Still full."

"Or why not just an army of beautiful lingerie-clad women for me, huh? Why don't you ever think about me, Doctor? I could use a bit of money, you know! Garage doesn't pay well enough, and travelin' with you certainly don't."

"Still full."

"Why not a personal jet, eh? A scooter that has GPS? Something useful? At the very least, a map out of this place? We could use that!"


"Oh, this here is brilliant. I'll take two more of these."




"Jelly baby, Mickey?"

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 263
He's making a list, and he's checking it twice. So give Santa a list of the people in your life who are naughty...or nice...and tell him what to give them.

Dear Santa,

Dear Mr. Claus,

For Father Christmas,

To whom it may concern:

As you are quite aware, the Christmas season is rapidly approaching. I know that this is an especially busy time for you, so it is my wish to simply help out with your whole "naughty or nice" problem, and offer you some support in regards to who should get what presents among the people whom I have encountered this last year.

As my opinion is the most important, you will, of course, understand and take into account what I'm saying, right?

Here's the list. I went in alphabetical order, hope that helps.

The List For Your Consideration, Mr. Claus. )

That's the list, in the short of it. Oooooh, and as for me? Well, let's just say I've been very, very nice this year. Saved the universe a good couple of times, always managed to treat the TARDIS and my companions in good fashion and, oh yeah, saved the universe a good couple of times. I'm not going to ask much, just a token, really. A trifle. I would like a set of warm socks and a repair kit for my coat. Thing's got a hole in the elbow and it's been bothering me.

Happy Christmas!

The Doctor

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,676
It used to be Mickey. I think that's why I hated him---no, no, I didn't hate him, I merely disliked him immensely---because of how innocent he was. Smiles and crushes, and an obnoxious good-natured personality that didn't even try to hide.

He was…good, in many ways. I suppose I can understand why Rose dated him, he's not so bad. Smart in a stupid sort of way, easygoing, and curious. And…innocent.

It was watching himself die that changed him, I think. He's not…he's not Mickey, not really. Not anymore. Not an innocent, smiley boy. No more laughs, no more jokes. He's a man, now. A darker, meaner man. He smiles when a Cyberman dies, and that's all. I suppose I can understand…I've…I've been there myself. I remember the War, I remember…I remember how…everything changes when you become a soldier.

Another soldier not afraid to die.

How is it I am the one to take that innocence from those I care about?

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 162
Rose is jealous of Reinette.

Jealous of her unflappable poise, jealous of her education, jealous because her shimmering blonde comes from nature and not a bottle like Rose's does. She wears a corset well when they land in the 15th century and learns foreign customs fast enough to save their lives more than once and commands a room with just the sound of her voice even if the Doctor is in control of the situation. She's brilliant and confident and so very right for the Doctor.

It would be comical---and, indeed, Mickey finds it to be the most uproariously funny thing quite often, but he's a jilted boyfriend, one would expect those things of him---but the Doctor is more than a little…concerned by it.

"Things ain't the same," Rose says, glancing down at the console and not meeting his gaze, "Not since she showed up. I mean, it's not like she's not nice, she's just…she's too nice, an' it gets grating. And you…you just…you used to talk to me, you know? We used to be, I mean, I thought we were...but I obviously got it wrong, eh?"

Reinette is the perfect companion in every sense. Skilled, trained, ridiculously talented and educated. She knows how to lift a conversation and keep it, and she adapts quickly so the conversation is never awkward or dull. And she's new, newest companion, newest piece of the Doctor's life.

"You just gonna toss me out then?" Rose looks up at him, meeting his eyes with slightly bloodshot ones. She's been crying and his hearts ache at that knowledge and he…he'd do anything to take that away. But he doesn't know how. It's not really as though it would make it any better.

After all, Reinette is just as jealous of Rose.

Jealous of her wit, jealous of her freedom, jealous because she doesn't have to practice for conversation with the Doctor, it simply comes, as do the inside jokes and the smiles. She fills out a set of jeans and always manages to find the most interesting mysteries and when she does something as improper as tossing her arms around the Doctor in a hug, it's so comfortable and natural. She's smart and fun and so very right for the Doctor.

Reinette's jealousy is the burning silently kind, but the room can get so insanely hot when the two of them are together that even the Doctor doesn't know how to cope with the heat. She never ever says anything, just lets the waves of dislike flow from her, and the Doctor is more than a little uncomfortable with it.

"She's so very young," Reinette says, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear in one of those rare moments where she is relaxed, leaning against the door to his study, "Had I the ability to turn back time and come to you in my youth, would you be as happy with me as you are with her? Would we have that friendship that my station in Versailles never allowed me?"

Rose is the perfect companion in every sense. Brave, curious, amazingly sharp and yet completely easygoing. She knows when to wander off and when 'don't wander off' is to be followed. She asks the questions that get answers and pushes until the Doctor tells her what she needs to know. She's familiar, a comfortable friend to the lonely Doctor.

"Would things be easier if I were to depart?" Reinette's eyes meet his, and her makeup is unsmudged, her face controlled and perfect. It's so perfect a mask that the Doctor feels an ache in his heart for understanding. She won't show him because she doesn't think any good will come of it. It's…not really as though it would make it any better.

Mickey can't help the grin on his face and he drops into the chair in the console room. He's all smugness and self-righteousness, but he's always been jealous of the Doctor and the unhappiness in the TARDIS is like some very ironic sort of payback.

"You're such the playboy, aren'tcha?" Mickey grins, "Now neither of 'em like you 'cause both of 'em want you. Sarah-Jane, Cleopatra, Madame de Pompadour, Rose…you just can't make up your mind, can you?"

The Doctor's gaze is more than slightly cold, "Are you here for a reason, Mickey the jilted Idiot?" He's trying to wind Mickey up, and on an average day it would without an issue, but Mickey's far too happy with himself to feel it.

"Just basking in the happiness of the I-Told-You-So dance I did for Rose a few minutes ago," he says, "She got all angry and slammed the door in my face." He tilts his head and looks at the older man curiously, "Both of 'em got their hearts broken cause of you. You happy with always being the center of the universe, Doctor?"

He doesn't answer, but the silence is enough.

After all, how could he be?

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 829


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The Doctor


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