"You've visited here before, haven't you?"

"Hmm? Yes."

"The Prime Minister's wife?"


"Never thought she wanted to see you, though. Hard to tell with her. And then she had the accident..."

"Where else do I need to sign?"

"Here. And there. Things were different back then, weren't they? Before all these aliens showed up. I mean, there were aliens before, but I didn't realize how many."

No one really had, even after the Dalek invasions in 2010, the planets in the sky, and all of the other strange things that should've been obvious to everyone. As the nurse led the way down the dark hallway, she continued rambling on about alien invasions and the missing children of London. He'd stopped listening pretty much from the moment she started talking to him.

London had changed. He used to think he could take a holiday from Earth, leave the world in the very safe hands of a Cardiff team up north and a small group of investigators off of Bannerman road. It was very like having a large, extended family.

It was. But now that capable team in Cardiff was gone and the very capable investigators of Bannerman road were reduced to one. Cut for spoilers to SJA 3.04 'The Mad Woman In The Attic'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who / The Sarah Jane Adventures
Word Count: 1,957
[ring, ring]
Is anyone there?
Sarah? Sorry, uh, is this the Smith residence?
Last time I checked?
And one would think you wouldn't forget my voice that quickly, Doctor.
Are you there?
Sorry! Sorry! Yes!
How are you?
Fine. Fine.
Doubly fine! That's...well, that's fine!
And you?
You sound a little odd.
In which Sarah Jane and the Doctor consume alcohol, have dinner, and leave the world-saving to Torchwood. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,961
Written with the supersweet [livejournal.com profile] sarahs_attic!
Name: Rachel/rachelbeann
Request 1: Joan Redfern, post-John Smith. What was her life like, did she fall in love again, did she often think about the Doctor/John Smith?
Request 2: I would LOVE some good Milo/Cheen fic (Gridlock). Preferably post-ep.
Request 3: Quintus and/or Evelina after watching the destruction of Pompeii. How does it change them?
One thing you really don't want to receive: Uh...smut? :)

She will move on, of course.

A woman of her time, perhaps, but Joan is far from weak. Tears might run down her cheeks as she clutches to the words of a man that's now left her forever, but she's grieved before. She's felt the aching empty hollow feeling that settles to her chest like a cough that won't quit. She knows the way doing even the simplest things seem so hard because she's been exsanguinated of all of her blood, energy, and feeling. She knows how it eventually melts into a blanket of hurt that will always be there when she closes her eyes. She knows how one day she will forget what his hair felt like when she touched it. She will move on. She knows how it works now.

One might say she is an expert at grief.

There is scandal, of course. Rumors that he was the reason for the attacks and she won't deny them. If the Doctor is John Smith, then in a way they are. In a way, things would've been better if she'd never met John Smith. Sometimes she thinks that maybe she didn't. Maybe he never was (or maybe he still is and one of the Doctor's hearts still beats for her). Or maybe he was just an oasis in the desert of a country barely coping with its own hatred. Maybe she knew it wasn't water but she kept drinking anyway.

At night, she dreams that she sees them, all of them. The other women that have been left to grieve. When she learned of the Doctor, she knew she wasn't alone in her pain, but she never knew of the size of it all.

He was my protector and my Angel, the woman says, smoothing her skirts. She is regal and elegant and makes Joan feel impossibly plain.

I did not love
him, she replies. She thinks for a moment, then asks: Would you have gone with him?

I would not hesitate, the elegant woman replies. Though her eyes are dark, and Joan knows she must have.

It doesn't take long for her to move from denial and depression to anger. She hates the Doctor, she tells the cat that curls up on her lap. He mewls in a way that says 'Human, get me some cream,' but she always misinterprets his words as agreeing with hers. The cat doesn't care about her misplaced anger, he only knows that when she plays certain records at night she drips wet from her eyes onto his fur and the cream doesn't go into his dish, and instead it is mixed with brandy. Eventually it is dumped down the drain because she doesn't drink and by this point if she tried to numb away her feelings it would make her hollower than the grief itself. But she always considers and he loses the cream for it.

White mixes in with the blonde of her hair and she studies to become a doctor. It's a silly idea, the other nurses tell her, but she knows that one day even colored women will become doctors. She can't hate Martha Jones for convincing her love to kill himself in order to bring the Doctor back. If the positions were reversed, or if Joan could hold herself like the young servant could, then she would've left Martha to the hollow grief. She can't hate Martha, instead she understands her and she hopes that the Doctor is everything Martha dreamed of.

This night, the woman before her is lean and tanned with beads braided in her hair. She smiles in a calm, loving way, though her eyes sparkle with mischief.

We shared cocoa and mutual adoration, she says. He was daft and mad, but he was blessed with youth in his heart. You must have seen it.

I did not love
him, she replies. She thinks for a moment, then asks: Would you have gone with him?

To see the stars that were tattooed across his heart? I wish he had asked me. The woman longingly looks away, and Joan wonders if he is capable of as much longing.

She rides a boat with her sister's family and the cold English air bites at her face and she feels young. Her nephews dance around her and she thinks of the children she and John might have had. There is no anger, simply fondness. It is the first time she has thought of them like this, she thinks. Usually when she thinks of those children, of feeling a kick in her belly and holding a warm life that she's created with the man she loves, all she does is grieve. Her youngest nephew finds a dying bird on the deck and as it dies he says that he will imagine a friendship with the bird, that way it will live forever in his mind.

Ian is a fool sometimes, but she can't help but think it is something that John might have said. She is unsurprised to find that as he gets older he studies to become a teacher. She pours some cream in the cat's dish and tells him that if those watch-children had souls, one of them most certainly went into her nephew. The cat mewls in a way to say 'You're stroking my hair back the wrong way, stop it' but she misinterprets his words as agreeing with hers.

He has always been a fool, he's never seen what's before his eyes; that does not stop our affections. This woman is in a boating dress with a straw hat, but she sits with a presence of the like Joan has never experienced before

I did not love
him, she replies. She thinks for a moment, then asks: Would you have gone with him?

I did, once, she says with no small hint of nostalgia. But what woman could compare to the stars? Certainly not I.

By the time that her cancer metasocizes, she is capable enough to diagnose herself. Her sister sits by her bed and feeds the cat and fetches her tea and plays her old records for her. The dance she danced with her husband at their wedding plays first and she feels his big hands on her arms. Then the waltz from the dance with John.

It is so foolish, to still grieve for a man whom she only spent weeks of her long life with. She has always been a simple woman, but he made her life seem like so much more. It is so difficult to explain.

You loved the man he could never be. It's a terrible way to live. Me? I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

She wonders if she is the only one who never considered 'yes' as an option. She unrepentantly hesitated, wished he'd never asked her, longed for the man who saw her as more than the stars, and missed it all for the simple life.

She wraps herself in a robe and it is soft and comfortable, with the little fuzzballs tied together with the foil-plastic wrap from her sister's cigarettes.

He loved you, he loved you so much that he was willing to become me again to save you. Feel.

Two hearts.

And is one of them his?

I think that both my hearts are mine.

He's wrong. One of them is hers. She gave it willingly to John Smith and she would never want it back.

The stars seem a long way away.

She steps to a window and stares outward to the horizon, where the Doctor's stars meet John's winter countryside. That's the world she straddles now, the dark horizon in the middle.

It is not a place for moving on, but it is what she has.

Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,279
The box is placed very carefully on K-9's back, and perhaps attached with a little bit of tape to make sure it doesn't fall off and break. There is also a note:

Happy birthday, Sarah! Now, I know I've been neglectful in years past, so here's a little something, hopefully to cheer you!
The Doctor

What is inside the box... )
You have picked up a distress signal, and followed it to a hotel in London. All you are able to determine is that it is coming from someplace inside the hotel, and is not terrestrial in origin. What will you do? What will you find at the other end of the signal?

"But I've found a...oh, nevermind."

The receptionist was exceptionally unhelpful, so the Doctor darted down the hallways of the hotel, knocking on doors. One of them would be the person who sent the distress signal.

OOC: Open to all. Any universe, any time. If you want to have your pup be in this hotel and answer the door, just go for it! I won't be up toooooooo much later this evening, but I won't leave anybody hanging, I'll catch you asap tomorrow afternoon!
All right, so I'm not exactly a connoisseur of Earth music, though I do like the occasional concert or so (if I can make it to one). But, to do this list, I went through some of my companions' old rooms and picked out a song I thought suited them best from their collections.

Excluding the loud, annoying tribal music from Leela's old room, the fact that we no longer have Romana's room, and that Steven had a ridiculous amount of liquor stored in the record bins his room, these are my findings:

1. Vicki: "Ticket to Ride" by the Beatles (1965). Hardly classical!
2. Ace: "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" by REM (1988) Because she's cool in the face of danger. And the end of the world. Which we seemed to face...quite often, in fact.
3. Peri Brown: "Material Girl" by Madonna (1985) I think this is incredibly appropriate music for one of my favorite Americans. And she owned a ridiculous number of shoes, I've discovered. 45 pairs of shoes! That's 90 heels! Who needs that many blisters??
4. Jamie McCrimmon: "Mist Covered Mountains" on Pipin' Hot Compilation (circa 1746) Classic music from an era post-Battle of Culloden. I shouldn't be surprised he picked bagpipes.
5. Sarah Jane Smith: "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick" by Ian Dury and the Blockheads (1978). We saw them in concert, didn't we? Six months before she left (a year afterwards in Earth-time)...I do wish, on occasion, that we lived time linearly in the TARDIS, just for reference's sake.
6. Captain Jack Harkness: "Moonlight Serenade" by Glenn Miller (1939), even though technically it is his and Rose's song or something.
7. Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright: "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" by Louis Armstrong (1950). This was the first dance at their wedding, too, if I'm not entirely mistaken.
8. Donna Noble: "White Wedding" by Billy Idol (1986). It's appropriate! No, really!
9. Mike Yates: "Copacabana (At the Copa)" by Barry Manilow (1978)…I'm not entirely sure why Mike had Manilow's entire collection. This one has a good beat, at least, and isn't as depressing as "Mandy".
10. Martha Jones: "Have You Met Miss Jones?" (covered) by Robbie Williams (2001) I have, in fact. And I think she's quite brilliant.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 386
Does History Repeat Itself?

"One day, I shall come back. Yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine."

With those words, his aged fingers flipped shut the monitor, and he pulled the TARDIS back out into orbit. Away from his grandchild. Leaving her.

Oh, but she wasn't alone. She'd never, ever be alone. She loved a human, he saw it, he knew it. He knew love, he'd seen love, felt it. She couldn't deny it, but she would deny it to herself, if he'd've let her. She was willing to sacrifice her happiness, sacrifice a chance at life---something the Doctor never would have---to stay with him. To keep him from being alone.

But it was too late. He knew what was best for her, and he did it.


"I can't miss Gallifrey!" The way she said the words showed that she was never really serious about leaving him, that the personal objects in her hands---what was it with that stuffed owl?---were just a way for him to notice her, to pay attention, to realize she was hurt.

There wasn't a choice. A call was a call, and he had to go alone. Completely alone. No matter how much she would've loved Gallifrey, would've loved just being part of his home world, he couldn't give that to her. Humans weren't allowed. It was the rules, and if he tried to break this one, it would get her killed.

The way she said good-bye was almost physically painful. She didn't want to be apart. She wanted to give him her whole life, dedicate it to helping him, protecting him. Keeping him from being alone. As she walked down the street towards her home, he knew she would've, too. And a life with Sarah Jane wouldn't have been too bad, not at all.

But it was too late. He knew what was best for her, and he did it.


He had, honestly, never found a more difficult companion. Probably best, because he was rather difficult, himself. They argued, they bickered, they saved the universe. No matter how much they fought, though, she loved him. Wouldn't have left him, not for the universe. She stayed with him, because no one else would. She kept him from being alone.

Without her, though, the world was suddenly, just...empty. She was missing. Gone. The Timelords said she was dead---his fault. His fault. The guilt racked through him, shooting through his every vein, and it was all he could do to stay standing at the podium during his trial. Peri. What had he done?

No, no. The Matrix was meddled with, she was alive. Alive and surviving. Trapped in a strange planet, but surviving. Alive. Too close a call, in the end. He couldn't go back, couldn't risk just knowing that she could've died again. She would never understand.

But it was too late. He knew what was best for her, and he did it.


The whole bloody world was coming to an end. Daleks, Cybermen---he wasn't exaggerating when he told the Cyberman that the only thing he could think to do was to hop into his TARDIS and watch the whole planet burn because there was nothing else he could think to do.

But then again, there was another way. Open up the breach, suck the monsters into hell. The breach would open, everyone would just be sucked through. End of it. No more monsters. Suck him and Rose through, too. Unless one of them went to the other side of the breach. Was there, was safe before they opened it.

"I've had a life with you for nineteen years. But then I met the Doctor and... all the things I've seen him do for me. For you. For all of us. For the whole... stupid planet and every planet out there. He does it alone, mum."

She was making the wrong choice for him, because she thought it was what's right. She wanted to keep him from being alone. He had a transporter, though. She didn't know about it.

"But not anymore, cause now he's got me." The transporter chain went around her neck, and with the press of a button, she was gone. She would hate him, later. For taking her from him, for giving her a life she'd wanted.

But it was too late. He knew what was best for her, and he did it.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 661 (not including dialogue from Dalek Invasion of Earth, Hand of Fear, Trial of a Timelord, and Doomsday.)
When the dance starts, you are alone.

You expect this, of course. You're used to being alone.

A woman takes your hand, pulls you onto the floor, whisks you off your feet. You shouldn't care for her, shouldn't love her---after all, you are so different from the rest of them. Eventually a little girl dances between you, and you're happy. Blissfully, unapologetically happy. Then they spin away, and you're alone again.

Jo. Another woman spins back to you, curly blonde hair and an elfish face. She grins up with a bright, enthusiastic smile, and for the first time in years, you feel young. Another man taps her on the shoulder---he's like you, but more human, and he pulls her away.

Sarah Jane. A bright and innocent brunette pulls you into the dance this time. She's all bold and brave, with big smiles and a heart that is sturdier and surer than the two that beat beneath your chest. She's got big patchwork suns on her striped vest, and you feel brilliant and brave when you spin her out. She doesn't come back from the spin, of course.

Romana Blonde and bright-eyed, another woman spins back, instead. She is your match, in many ways. Wit, intellect. She knows the dance so very well, and she's not ashamed to tell you that she knows it better than you. You only grin back that crooked grin of yours and twirl her, letting her schoolgirl skirt (so silly and immature for one as old and wise as she) spin around her. She takes her own leave from you, wishing to explore the ballroom rather than keep your hands linked in dance.

Nyssa. A fairy-skirted princess with long, raven curls tugs you into the dance this time. She's like you in many ways, yet so very different. You're shyer, now. It's harder to accept that she wants you, that her biting words and brilliantly know-it-all ways are only to impress you. You do, of course, figure it out---but only as she's spinning away.

Grace. An older woman spins back, shoulder-length ginger hair and a beautiful teal opera gown. She's experienced, and when she wants you to kiss her---which she does---she just tells you, doesn't wait, doesn't hesitate. She took your life, it's only proper you save hers. She wants you to leave the dance floor with her and it's tempting---oh, so tempting, but you don't. You can't. You're not ready.

Reinette Her opera gown spins out, and a corseted blonde beauty spins back. She, too, holds the mark of experience, having known you all her life, she's put a claim on you, one you easily accept, want, need. Your hand on her hip, her fingers entwined with yours, and you would like nothing more than to learn her dance as she teaches it to you. You're distracted for a moment and she's gone. That's always the way that it is.

Rose You take the hand of another blonde, this one insanely young and far too naieve. Your dance is joyful, happy, complete. She melts the ice that's settled around your hearts and makes you more...human, again. Heals the wounds that the War left behind. You dip and spin her, but neither of you can hold on, and before you know it, she's gone.

And you're alone again.

You expect this, of course. You should be used to being alone, by now.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 576


rude_not_ginger: (Default)
The Doctor


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags