He's Fire And Ice And Rage

"Don't make friends who are comfortable to be with. Make friends who will force you to lever yourself up." - Thomas J. Watson

Majenta Pryce does not sleep.

It's part of her species' genetic makeup (or so he figures), so she never feels tired, not beyond her usual self-indulgent laziness. It's actually quite fun, for the most part. There's no need to stop in the middle of a series of adventures for eight hours of companion-rest time and there's no worry about making camp in the middle of an alien forest. She's even gone so far as to pull her bed out of her bedroom on the TARDIS and replace it with a lounger for when she sits up to watch the late-night soaps on ITV (The Intergalactic Television Viewer).

The only time it bothers the Doctor is when he needs to rest. The few hours he needs a week used to seem like nothing, but now that he's the only TARDIS traveler who needs sleep, he finds that time before he falls into trance more worrying than anything. What is Majenta up to while he sleeps? Is she behaving herself? Is she toying with the console? Sometimes, he stays up as long as he thinks he can, before collapsing wherever he was out of exhaustion for a few hours.

It's not that he doesn't trust her---well, no. The term "as far as he could throw her" might apply to the Doctor and Majenta if the Doctor wasn't absolutely certain Majenta would knock him out cold before he managed to even try to throw her anywhere. Majenta's not a willing companion, and she's not even a companion he's certain he wants around most days. And while he's sleeping…she could be up to anything.

And, after she kicked down her bedroom door when he tried to lock her in that first time, he's learned that he has no choice but to trust her while she's on board.

It's early. He blinks and finds he's fallen asleep at the edge of his bed in a somewhat awkward position that's left his neck a little sore. He straightens, rubs the back of his neck, and tries to remember where he was when he went out.

Working on the console? No, no, talking to Majenta. Her instructing him where they'd go next while he insisted that her ordering the TARDIS about would do no good. He then said something along the lines of "I'm tired," to which she replied, "Then get to your bedroom, because I'm just leaving you on the floor if you fall asleep on it again. Lazy Time Lords."

And, apparently he made it to his bedroom and she went off to do whatever it was she did while he slept. This must be what it's like for his human companions, he thinks. They're never certain what the Doctor's up to while they sleep.

He starts towards the console room because, really, wherever she's ended up she'll go back there. The TARDIS is deep, but there's only one way out.

"---no regretting stuff, all right? I chose this---"

The Doctor can hear the recording playing in the console room and the slow walk turns into a run. ( Of all the bloody things that ridiculous woman could've gotten into… )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,734 not including dialogue from Comic #399 "Time of My Life"

It all came about rather suddenly, he thinks. After he left the Master's body burning, after Martha took her shivering parents home, they met back up at the TARDIS. It was still red and painful with the remainder of the paradox machine, but Martha went immediately to her bedroom, where everything was turned over and poked through by the Master while he had it.

He followed, of course. Stepped inside and watched as she righted a chair and picked up the glass from a broken frame. She stopped, suddenly, and turned to face him.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

There was nothing witty to say, he simply nodded. She stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him. But she was always better at showing emotion than he was. Her mouth pressed against his and his body responded without prompting. He had a brief thought that he really should deny her again, but why? The way he saw it, they were all each other had in that moment.

And now, they lay together on her bed, his arms around her tiny shoulders that held up the world. She breathes on the bare skin of his chest and listens to the sounds of his hearts.

( 'Never get used to that,' she says, and he can feel her lips curve into a smile. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,198
Partner: Martha Jones (canon)

She usually slept very deeply while on the TARDIS. The first week she stayed on board, the natural hum of the engines and vibration of the ship bothered her. After that, it was almost like a lullaby, like her mother's white-noise meditation tapes. The motion of the ship was almost like a cradle rocking.

Their sudden absence made her blink awake. The TARDIS was perfectly still and completely quiet. The TARDIS wasn't in flight, which usually meant they'd landed somewhere.

Wait.

That usually meant they'd landed!

She leapt from her bed and tugged on a pair of jeans and a top. There was no way she was sleeping through a new place and there was no way she was going to let the Doctor run off without her! He was always doing that; not telling her things and running off and doing things without her. It was enough to make a girl think she wasn't wanted. She didn't like thinking that.

The lights in the hallway as Martha headed towards the console were off. Even with her red leather jacket on, it was still cold throughout the corridors. The TARDIS wasn't just sitting there, parked. It seemed almost as if the TARDIS was off.

She was used to it being darker, even a little colder, at night. The TARDIS, Martha figured, worked along the Doctor's limited sleep schedule. That whole symbiotic thing he mentioned once. But this was more than just a sleepy TARDIS. What could it be? The Doctor would've woken her if something went wrong. Exotic messages and trips to Metabilis Three? Oh, she could sleep through those. But if the TARDIS was about to go out, well, he'd have told her.

"Doctor!" she called. He had to be in the console room. Had to be trying to put life back into the TARDIS, yeah?

No, no. There was light coming from inside the console. Very faint, but it was definitely there. But the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. Not even his feet poking out from the grates.

"Doctor?" There was no response, except perhaps the temperature of the room dropping very slightly. Martha tugged her jacket tighter around her and headed for the door. It was open just a bit, and while there was mostly darkness outside, she could see a few very faint lights. They looked like…

Table lamps. In fact, they were table lamps, lined up along a display in what appeared to be a furniture store. Martha stepped out onto the plush carpet and looked around in confusion. The TARDIS was parked in the display room of a furniture store. As a matter of fact, it looked like the furniture store two blocks over from her flat, where she bought her desk.

(  Well, that was disappointing. She was hoping for a furniture store in the future, at least. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,879

Let our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say its me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the masochism tango.
--Tom Lehrer, Masochism Tango



Rose,

Hi.

It's been a while since I've actually sat down and had a good long think. Even longer since Canary Warf. The TARDIS tells me it's been just over two months vortex-time since…well, since. My slightly more masochistic side came out today and here I am. Thinking about you and me and everything. Decided to write you a postcard, I'm going to see if I can get it to slip through the seam on the universes. If it doesn't, well…no harm done.

50% of this postcard has been preamble. Let me tell you what this postcard is. I'm on Storocora, a planet inhabited by beings who look a lot like humans except they have power conduit controls in the back to help them "recharge" rather than eat. Nearly stabbed in the back of the neck several times by gentlemen just trying to give me a recharge because I look too thin.

Oh, and they occasionally burst into song and dance. Today I walked past a line of men and women just dancing the tango. Just dancing! Music from the city seems to well up here and they atune themselves to it, breaking into chorus.

I know you'd like it here.

Anyway. So! I hope all is well with you and Jackie and Mickey and all of everybody. Give them my love when you see them and all that.

I miss you.

The Doctor

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 230

Jack is in love with the Doctor.

The Doctor is a lot of things, but blind isn't one of them. He's known since before Cardiff, since a few days after they left 1942. Of course, Jack works very hard to tease and act relaxed about it, but the emotion is there, sitting heavy on Jack's shoulders.

He used to think it wasn't love. No, it was just Jack's way of loving someone. A rather large crush of sorts. It would go away eventually. Time would make him find someone else.

(  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,507

He is not an angry person.

Not in general.

Not if he can help it.

He thinks of anger as a problem, as a part of his personality he can push away to make room for better emotions. He can feel anger, he wouldn't want to make it go away, but he knows that letting it control him would make him less than who he is.

He's the Doctor. He's a rock. Strong. He never seeks revenge, never lets his blood boil. He has a temper, but the explosions are small despite the short fuse. He gets momentarily irritated, but never angry.

Except now.

Because some part of him, some little human part of him, loved Joan.

Loves Joan.

Loves her and this tiny little town and that school and those boys. And they could've all been spared if the Family just stopped.

But they didn't. They followed, they pursued, they interfered. They hollowed out the bodies they're living in. The snotty schoolboy, the smiling maid, the overworked father, the little girl. They were all people. Once.

He can feel every beat of his hearts as he steps towards them. He can feel his pulse rise on his wrists, on his throat. His anger is a living thing running underneath his skin.

And they look up at him with a little shock, but mostly confusion.

Because they have no idea what's going to happen next.

He does.

Every neuron, every part of his oversized Time Lord brain is electrified with anger. Working on overtime. Ready to hurt. Where he'll trap them. Where they'll stay and live out their bloody forever and ever and never ever hurt anyone again. He'll hurt them the way they hurt Joan and Martha and those people and his frightened little human self.

And he doesn't usually hurt others.

Doesn't like revenge.

Right now he craves it. He wants to hear them scream in agony. Wants to know the pain is theirs.

His hearts beat and steps on the hand of Son of Mine who isn't getting away as easily as he thinks he is. The boy cries out. The sound isn't enough. He's so angry. So very, very angry.

He looks at Daughter of Mine, who has little tiny tears running down her little girl's face. That little girl is dead. He thinks about the tears on Joan's face. Those tears were real. Whatever his eyes say when he looks at Daughter of Mine silence her tears. Her face contorts into something like fear. It's good. Fear is good. She has every reason to be afraid and no way to get away.

Mother of Mine used to be Jenny. John Smith knew Jenny. Martha cared for Jenny. Jenny is dead and Mother of Mine is cowering.

Father of Mine still looks so confused. He'll learn soon. They will all learn what the fury of a Time Lord is like.

His hearts beat a little faster.

Ba-bump ba-bump. Ba-bump ba-bump.

They sound like drums.

Keeping time with his anger.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 506

He shaves with a single-blade razor.

(  A straight razor. A cut-throat razor. An open razor Whatever name it goes by, it's what he uses. Has for centuries. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,404