follows this.

The Doctor woke only a few short hours later and found himself positively disappointed at his lack of dreams. He'd spent years asleep without dreams, and now, when he really wanted them, he still had nothing. No memories, no twisting nightmares, not even a good brain-dump of nonsensical mental garbage. Just nothing. He was asleep next to Jack on the bed, and then he was awake.

He sighed. His memory was still swiss-cheesed with missing parts of the last two hundred years, but there seemed to be more gaps filled in. And that was something, wasn't it? It meant maybe a few more nights of dreamless sleep and he'd be back to himself completely.

He just hoped there weren't more memories like Mars to discover.

He looked over to Jack, asleep next to him. This was what Jack loved the most, he said. Not sleeping alone. Not being alone. In that instant, the Doctor understood it.
It was the way of things. He traveled with someone. He traveled alone. He traveled with someone. He traveled alone. This, the eve of his 1,600th birthday (though, if prodded, it was definitely his 914th birthday), was one of those times where he was alone.

He landed on the bar at Milliways. It had been at least 100 years since he'd been here last, but it was about 600 before that. Time being what it was, of course. Jack didn't own this place yet, and that disappointed him, just a little bit. It would've been nice to see him, just once. Maybe, eventually, he'd figure out a way to break that prophecy and see him again. Maybe---

Well, there was no use in dealing with maybes, was there?

The bar was having a black tie special, so the Doctor vanished back into the TARDIS and reappeared in his tuxedo, which was just a little worse for wear after his last adventure in it. Still, it looked good, and he looked quite good, if he did say so himself. Even with the slight twinge of white in his sideburns and the small, puckered scars that dotted his cheek and forehead. He was getting used to aging in this body and watching himself change.

He headed off to the bar and ordered a bright pink drink with a peppermint stick in it. Very nearly midnight. After this, he'd get something birthday-cake-flavored.
Follows this.

The Doctor did not often shop.

There were plenty of other interesting places to go, things to do, people to see. Like, the crosswords. He could easily do the crosswords and that would be miles more interesting than shop. Or flossing! Good for the teeth, very fun, better than shopping.

Still, right now, the Doctor was shopping. The fact was, if he correlated going out for lunch (A) to the number of disasters he and Jack had to face (B), he'd come to the conclusion that B was directly related to A, meaning that (B|A) could be drastically reduced if he instituted C, groceries.

So, (B|A)=(A-C), would mean that B would have a negative quantity of C. So the Doctor attached a Follow Me drone to carry as many groceries as he could afford.

"One credit for a Churro," the Doctor commented, biting on the sugary concoction. "I'm not sure if that's even how much it costs to make one."
Follows this.

He was an immensely patient man.

The incarnation started out with a lot of impatience. Running around, causing trouble, saving the world. He'd learned patience through the victories he'd acquired. He'd learned to get what he wanted by waiting. Starving people out, taking choices away from others. He waited this long to gain this much of the universe, and he would acquire the rest of it through patience as well.

That being said, the Master was trying his patience.

A week ago, he'd brought the Master back. Now, he was about to land on one of his worlds and the Master was still not giving in.

This was really unacceptable. Didn't he know who he belonged to?

He picked up the communicator and spoke into the system.

"We're arriving," he said. "I've placed a suit in the main bay, you should wear it."
Follows this.

The warm air of the Pacific hit the Doctor as he pulled open the door to the TARDIS. A beach, as promised. It was about time he managed that. He'd always been so preoccupied with this disaster or that disaster, he'd often forgotten the little things in life, like watching the sun set over an ocean.

"Hawaii, as promised," he said, grinning to his companion. "The island of Maui, to be precise. Should be April 5, 1973. And not a bad landing, either."

He nodded back to the TARDIS, sitting comfortably in some soft, silty sand. It would be good for them, Jack and him, to stay somewhere touristy, he thought. To take away from the strange but very real fact that time had been altered, removing Jack and the Doctor from each other's timelines.

Jack must've meant a lot to the Doctor, considering how loudly his emotions rippled back to him.

"Had planned to land us in the morning," he said. "But! The nightlife in Maui can't be that bad, don't you think?"
Follows this.

The Doctor didn't really like doing things in halves.

So, he promised Jack a proper Christmas, so he plugged the keyword "Christmas" into the randomizer and set the TARDIS to land wherever she deemed would be appropriate. He thought they'd land somewhere on Earth, maybe a classic Victorian Christmas, or one of the neon-light Christmases of 4333. That would be nice.

As she flew, he opened up one of the compartments on the console and quietly tucked away the cufflinks Jack had given him. Sentimental, he'd said before. Sentimental, but they were a gift. For all the Doctor knew, with the Marquis chasing them they might be the last thing he ever got from Jack.

He hoped not.

Ding. The console fell quietly and the Doctor raced over to the monitor.

Not even Earth. Odd.

"Christmas Eve," he said, grinning despite it all. "12136 AD. Not a bad year for Christmases, I think."
Follows this.

Somewhere fixed and somewhere sunny. And, the Doctor decided, somewhere they could have a good time. So, scratching off a number of natural disasters and wars, he picked out a particularly famous and particularly fixed large concert in New York.

He even had a tie-dyed tie that clashed beautifully with his suit.

"It's a bit muddy," he said as he attached an 'Out of Order' sign to the TARDIS. "But I think we're just in time to listen to Santana. Janis should be up in a bit, I might be able to introduce you two." A beat. "If she's met me yet, I can never remember, what with that whole mix-up with time..."

Still! No reason not to have a good time. He tinted his glasses and slipped them on, grinning madly at Jack as he did so. At least three days of fun, without the worry of something terrible happening, just so long as they stayed within the concert.
Follows this.

It was one thing, watching your companion be ripped apart.

One very terrible thing, mind you, but one thing. The Doctor stayed prone on the ground, the sound of Jack's death screams ringing in his ears as that thing, whatever it was, tore him into several unpleasant pieces. It reminded him of the Year That Wasn't, of Jack's screams while the Master tortured him and the Doctor's frail body keeping him from helping. That was torture, far more brutal than anything the Master's tools could produce.

Once the loud stomps of the creature faded away, the Doctor struggled to get to his feet and limped to the place where Jack had been.

It was another thing, having to find his body for it to regrow.

It took some time to find his upper torso, limp and lifeless. It didn't take too terribly long to drag said upper torso to a safe, empty cave not far from the forest's edge (after all, what Jack no longer had in height, he also lost in weight. It didn't take long for time to start snapping around him and his body to start to regrow.

That was something else all together. Muscle and bone formed out of nothing, and while Jack wasn't coherent, he was still alive, screaming and thrashing as he reformed. The Doctor pressed his fingertips to Jack's temple and tried to take away the pain, but when that failed, he pressed his mind into a quiet, comatose state.

While Jack repaired, the Doctor covered him with his coat and sat, waiting. For all that they'd fought, for all that the Doctor swore he'd never want Jack back on the TARDIS again, he did care about him. He wanted him happy, even if he wasn't certain he could handle having him so close. Jack was willing to die for the Doctor, and this was just another example of how he could.

But the Doctor wouldn't leave. Not this time.
Following this. &hearts

The Doctor dreamed.

He didn't often dream, as Time Lords didn't often dream, but seeing as his mind was slowly reconstructing events of his life, he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised.

The first dream was pretty standard brain-dumping. The Doctor was late for class and looking for Zac Efron at a Beatles concert, and Ringo Starr chased him around with a hypodermic needle. Dreams of that level of absurdity were pretty easy to ignore.

The second dream, not so much. He was standing on a beach. It was Norway, or was it Boeshane? It was hard to tell. Everything was fuzzy at first, but the further he walked along the beach, the clearer it became. The single sun (or the twin suns) obscured by clouds, the biting cold. He tucked his hands into his pockets for warmth, but it kept getting colder. The lights kept fading.


He spun around, and there was Jack. Standing with his feet in the icy water. The Doctor knew Jack was supposed to be a fact, but he couldn't shake the strong, petrifying worry that Jack might die of hypothermia. The tide rose quickly, too quickly.

"Jack," the Doctor said. "Get away from there."

"Doctor, it's coming," Jack said. Only, Jack didn't call him Doctor. He called him his name, the name he never used, the name he'd all but forgotten after so many years.

Curiosity overtook worry for one moment. "Who's coming?"

Jack shook his head, but didn't move. The water level kept rising, quickly overtaking his companion. The Doctor raced towards the shoreline, but it wasn't getting closer.

"Jack!" he called. "Jack!"

"He will knock four times," Jack said, firmly, right as the water overtook his head.


The Doctor sat up from his curled position in the center of the Zero Room. It was colder than he remembered, but he could feel the TARDIS had fallen back into a restorative hibernation. Jack hadn't come back and from the amount of stubble on his chin, the Doctor imagined he'd actually slept a good few hours this time.

He struggled to his feet and hobbled to the door. With a tug, it came open to reveal the dark, cold corridors lit by fuzzy, organic nightlights. He headed back towards the bedrooms, intent on his own room for a shower and a long-needed shave. He stopped as he passed Jack's room. Would he be in here? Would he be gone?

He gave the door a quiet knock.
Follows this.

For all that the Doctor hated the Time Agency (even more so after dealing with their fiasco regarding the Friera system), he had to admit that their vortex manipulators were surprisingly resilient. Also, fantastically waterproof, as he discovered after losing his lunch on the one he had post-flight, and rinsing it off in a stream.

He really, really missed the TARDIS.

Still, Sapiad Delta was an excellent local system, the planets tropical and wild, with only a few human settlements speckled about to change the landscape. He'd been here in his second incarnation, and he remembered the settlements well enough to plant one in particular into Jack's mind. Now, hopefully, he could meet Jack there.

Hopefully. Time Agency wipes did terrible things to a mind. Even Jack's.

He found the settlement fairly quickly and obtained himself a hut and let it be rather well known that his friend, an "ambassador with the Shadow Proclamation" might be dropping in. Hopefully that would mean Jack, not an actual Shadow Proclamation ambassador.
Follows this.

Jack might've been a brilliant pilot all on his own, but the Doctor never did like giving up control of the wheel. Or the positronic space manipulator, in this case. He steered them swiftly down to Gamma Beta 9, where they were promptly arrested for endangerment of the crew. But, the Doctor still had the sonic and Jack had his charm, so that wasn't really all that long lived a stay. Once everything was sorted out, they were sent on their way with an additional 600 credits in their pockets, and the keys to a brand-new space hopper. With Jack's vortex manipulator attached to the helm, it would be the perfect TARDIS-chaser.

Well, would be, if it moved as fast as a TARDIS.

And would be, if the sonic actually managed to exactly pinpoint the TARDIS location. Instead, they wound up on the right planet (Assiap 7), but nowhere near where the ship was. They could've been miles away for all he knew. So, torch in hand, the Doctor led the way out of the hopper and out into the pale twin-moonlight of the new world.

"Right, we're not too far away, I can feel her out there," he said to his companion.
[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 [ profile] sarahs_attic!
Nightmare...Your muse is awakened in the middle of the night from a horrific nightmare. The details of the dream are little more than raw emotions. It's up to their family, significant other, or a complete stranger to deal with the after-effects depending on where it happens.
There's a first time for everything.

Follows this.

He couldn't sleep, of course. It wasn't as if he'd truly tried. He'd stripped off his clothes, showered, shaved, puttered about in his jim-jams, but never really found his way to his own bed. His arm didn't hurt nearly so bad anymore, but he couldn't seem to stop his stomach from aching. Too much had gone on. His room felt far too empty.

As with most nights, he wandered the TARDIS alone. Rose slept a ridiculous amount of time and there was always so much to do. Still, tonight he just put the kettle on and made some tea and watched it get cold without drinking any. He wished that he could've saved Rose's friend. His friend, in some ways. He felt as if he'd failed. And he worried about Rose. She looked heartbroken and that made failure worse. His failure hurt her. He should've just focused on the fact that he FAILED and that should've been enough, but it made it that much worse. Just a little bit more to push it over the edge into unbearable.

He left the mug of tea on the table and walked around a little more, felt the TARDIS vibrate beneath his feet. He wandered a few more corridors, eventually finding himself at Rose's door. The TARDIS must've been worried about her, he most certainly wasn't walking in the direction of the bedrooms. Was he? No, no, he wasn't.

She was probably sleeping. It wouldn't hurt to check on her, would it? He gently turned the knob on her door and pressed it open, just a little.
Follows this.

Backdated to May 18.

By the time it's over, he's just tired. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 6,440
Written with the amazing [ profile] banished_dame, who resparks my Ten/Rose love when it dwindles and dies under the evil gaze of Rosefen.
Following this.

He wondered if she knew.

Knowing her...well, he wasn't exactly indiscrete. He wasn't a braggart, and he certainly straightened himself up afterwards. Still, she was Reinette, and she quite literally knew him better than anyone in the world.

It was disconcerting, all this knowledge she had over him. She knew his secrets and part of him truly feared her for that.

But this wasn't something to be ashamed of. The girl---what was her name?---was attractive enough. And Reinette had no real claim over him. And he was lonely. What harm did it---see, this was why he rarely engaged in sexual acts. They were always so confusing.

He downed a few glasses of wine to get rid of the taste of waxy lipstick and waited for the ball to end. A carriage ride home, then some reading, maybe even three hours of sleep.
One of you has just been forced to confront your biggest fear, choose another muse to be on the receiving end of that and what comes after.

A trip to Gallifrey before the war breaks out…PART ONE. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Total Word Count: 13,002
Written with non-WM muse: [ profile] banished_dame


rude_not_ginger: (Default)
The Doctor


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags