![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
DW fic: What are you? What will you be? (2/2)
The second part of my 'meta-very-thinly-disguised-as-fic' story! :) Part 1 here. Major spoilers for the S4 finale, 'Journey's End'. Rating etc under cut.
The fic is a bit rough (and un-beta'd), because I just want it out of the way. Sorry.
Title: What are you? What will you be?
Characters/Pairing: Alt!Ten/Rose, Jackie.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: EVERYTHING! (4.13)
Genre: Character study.
Word count: 3000 words approx.
What are you? What will you be?
Part 2
Norway, the Doctor thought to himself, was nice. Bit windy, but definitely pretty. Slartibartfast had deserved his award - if he’d been real, that is. Focussing intently on the here and now so as to avoid other, more difficult and painful subjects, was thankfully something he was very good at. He was walking hand in hand with Rose, and the view was gorgeous, and things were good.
Then of course Jackie had to trample all over everything.
“So,” she said, looking him over, “what are your plans?”
“My... what?”
“Your plans. I mean, you can’t really go runnin’ around the universe like before, so are you going to get a job like a normal person or what?”
He stared at her flummoxed, thinking to himself that this was probably not the best moment to reveal that he was rather rubbish when it came to normal jobs, and that Martha had had to support him when they’d got stuck in ‘69. Which reminded him - were there Weeping Angels in this dimension? He needed to warn Rose about them...
Feeling Rose’s hand tighten around his own, he realised that he’d got lost in thoughts again. Thankfully Rose decided to answer.
“Mum - I think it’s a little early to think about all that. But,” she turned to him, “if you like, I’m sure Torchwood would be happy to employ you.”
He nodded slowly. “Suppose it’s a good idea. Protect the planet and all that. Last time I was properly stuck on Earth I worked with UNIT...”
She turned to him sharply. “You were stuck on Earth?”
“Oh it’s a long time ago - long, long time. I was so young...”
His voice drifted off, but she wasn’t going to let it go. “But you were stuck? How? Why?”
He grimaced - the painful memories of Zoe and Jamie reinforced after Donna’s fate. Although Donna’s mind wipe had been necessary for her survival - he’d already felt the first twinges of the neural breakdown as they’d said goodbye. With an internal sigh he thought that Jamie and Donna would have got on like a house on fire... His chest felt all hollow thinking about them, but maybe that was to due to the lack of a second heart.
“It’s... a long story. The short version is that Timelords exiled me.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I never could behave... the original rebel, that’s me! But - as I said, I kept busy giving UNIT a helping hand. They certainly needed it.”
Although part of all the trouble had probably come from him... the Master for one wouldn’t have developed such a sudden interest in Earth if it hadn’t been for his imprisonment. Not that he was likely to attract any trouble now, being TARDIS-less and somewhat less than pure Timelord. The Family of Blood came back to him, but this time he smiled.
“You know, maybe it’d be good to just get away from all the alien stuff - do something different. Last time I was human I was a teacher. I liked that - the teaching thing. And lots of young people. Kids are always brilliant. Yes, teaching would be fun-”
He stopped, the tugging on his hand making him aware that Rose had apparently grown roots. She was staring at him, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“What?”
“Last. time. you. were. human!” the words came slowly and incredulously, like she was forcing her mouth not to fall open.
“Oh - you wouldn’t know about that, would you? It was back when Martha travelled with me. Had to turn myself human to escape from these very nasty creatures - used this thing called a chameleon arc that rewrites biology. Spent almost 3 months in 1913 as a teacher...” he took a deep breath, letting the memories flood back.
“Poor Martha spent the whole while as a maid - god knows it wasn’t easy on her. No idea how she put up with me to be honest.”
Rose however was still staring at him, much in the way Martha had when she’d found his hand in Jack’s bag, brain obviously stuck in a loop. “But - you were human?”
“It’s... also a long story. And kinda complicated...”
But he could see that look in her eyes, and any second she’d say that they had plenty of time, and he really, really didn’t want to tell her that story. He could feel the fire and anger touching the edges of his mind as he remembered how it had all ended. Think think think - distract her...
“Although, maybe, I could... oh! I could set up my own school - like Rattigan, but less Hitler Youth. I could maybe even name it after Rattigan - in his honour and all that. Oooh - or do you have a Rattigan in this world?"
Rose shot him a blank look, so he elaborated. "Luke Rattigan. Boy genius. Oh I hope you do - I'd like to meet him again. The things I could teach him - it’d be fun to have a protégé. He was the one who blew up the Sontaran ship - you know about the Sontarans, right? They made a clone of Martha by the way - I swear she attracts more trouble than even you. Weeeell, part of it is just her job... I'll have to tell you her story one day. You know there was a time when every person in the world knew her name. Martha Jones, The Legend. Saved the world single-handedly she did, my Martha..."
His voice trailed off as he wondered how he was ever going to tell of all the things that had happened - especially with the Master. She'd ask more questions, and he'd not be able to run away from them, but there were things that he quite simply didn’t know how to explain, and not just because there were no words for them in English... it’d be easier if he could-
"That's it!" he suddenly exclaimed, making Rose jump. "I'll write it all down." He turned to her, grinning. "My life's story. 'A Journal of Impossible Things' - that's a good name isn't it?"
She nodded cautiously, but then another thought hit him. "Rose - how old do I look?"
"Um... dunno. Thirty... thirty five maybe?"
There was a rather worried look on her face, like she wasn’t sure about his sanity, but he needed to distract himself somehow or he’d break again. And talking was by far the easiest way.
"Right - if humans live for... well around eighty years, although I might last a bit longer than that, I did very well when I was hundred-odd, although I did have a better body then... but fifty years at least." He considered this. "Blimey. Fifty years. Do you think fifty years will be enough to chronicle 900-odd years of adventures? OK, so the first few centuries were terribly dull, but I'd have to try to give some sort of background and-"
He was cut off by Jackie, who had suddenly stopped and turned, blocking their forwards momentum.
"Nine hundred? Did you say nine hundred?"
He frowned. "Yes..."
"You mean, that you are nine hundred years old?"
He nodded slowly, wondering why she was so shrill. "Nine hundred and a bit - it's a little hard calculating my actual age given the life I lead, but it's thereabouts. Why?"
"Why? Why do you think? I mean, I knew you were older than her, but this is beyond cradle-snatching. You're old enough to be her great-great-great-great- oh I don't know how many greats-grandfather. It's just ridiculous! Do you always go for them that young?"
The Doctor with dawning horror realised that he'd trespassed on one of Jackie Tyler's boundaries, and desperately tried to think of a way to calm her down.
“But... I like young people. As I said. They're so much more open minded-"
"And impressionable!" she cut him off.
"Yes!" he said. "They still look at the world with wonder. You humans are so good at just taking everything for granted, so stuck in your ways that you can't see all the incredible things all around you! So yes I travel with young people - as a matter of fact, my very first companion when I set off all those years ago was my actual granddaughter!"
Thinking back on Susan, the irony of his current situation was suddenly driven home again. He remembered abandoning her with the man she loved - making a choice, the right choice, on her behalf. One that he knew she’d never be able to make on her own. And now he found himself on the other end of the selfsame situation. What was it the humans called it? Poetic Justice.
Oh, he did love their expressions.
Realising he’d become lost in thoughts again, he looked up to find Jackie staring at him. “You had a family? Why did you never mention it bef-”
Her hand went to her mouth in horror, and suddenly he found himself wrapped up in a tight hug.
“Oh you poor thing! You should’ve said, I never realised.”
Abruptly pulling away she held him at arms’ length, studying him. “It was those Daleks, wasn’t it? Rose told me about that war, and I don’t blame you for killing them. Not one little bit, they deserved it! Murdering people’s children - I’d’ve killed them all myself if I could!”
He stared at her wordlessly, feeling like the vortex itself had opened up inside him. Unable to look at her, his eyes drifted down and settled on his hand. The same hand that...
He swallowed, fervently wishing that he could have kept any other part of his original self. Why his hand? Twice regenerated, but still the hand that he had used to end it all - saving the universe but destroying his home, his everything...
He sensed that he was standing on a knife edge, suddenly terrified what would happen if he allowed himself to lose his equilibrium. The timelines fanned out in front of him - so much narrower than before, but still with such potential, so many possibilities at his fingertips; all he had to do was reach out and grasp them.
He had a sudden desperate urge to fix things - to somehow make up for all his shortcomings. Help people, change their lives for the better...
And, as if by magic, a voice sprang into his mind.
‘What this country needs - right now - is a Doctor...’
Oh it would be so easy... A little work (six words) and Britain could be looking at a new Prime Minister (and his charming, blonde wife) - except it was the whole world that needed help. All those ingrained problems that he always tried to ignore - the wars, the poverty, the destruction of nature... (He could have been President of Gallifrey, once...)
The voice in his head kept talking - tempting, mocking, challenging.
‘Time Lord and humans combined. Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?’
He would be changing history, but he was a Timelord - he had the right. The things he could do... making things better, setting humankind on the course to an easier future... the vista opened before him, but even as he indulged in the wished-for should-not-be, he remembered his own words.
‘The oldest and most mighty race in the universe…looking down on the galaxies below…sworn never to interfere…only to watch…’
Except he’d never been able to abide by that. How was he going to spend an entire life in one place without interfering? Maybe making a spaceship and running off really was the best option...
“Doctor?” Rose’s voice came from far away, and he almost sighed with relief as she took his hand again. But still he could hear that taunting voice:
‘The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?’
He turned to her abruptly. “I need a new name.”
Seeing the stricken look on her face, he hastily amended his statement.
“For, you know, everyday use and papers and passports and all that. As you know people get very funny about ‘Doctor’... So um, yes, something normal - ordinary. Usually I just go by John Smith, but...”
Echoes of other people in his mind...
‘Your real name.’
‘He's been lying to us, right from the start!’
‘No-one's called John Smith! Come off it!’
No... not John Smith. And also... the ‘real’, the human, John Smith belonged to Joan Redfern, and always would.
A new name. Something to reflect his Donna-ness? He pondered - not DoctorDonna, or Spartacus, but maybe if he borrowed something else...
“What about John Noble?”
“Guess that’s nice...” she replied, obviously still unsure. Her mother cut in again.
“So you really have no proper name? Like a... family name or anything?”
Even as he winced inwardly, he couldn’t help but marvel at the way the woman seemed to have some sort of innate instinct that steered her towards the part of a subject he wanted to stay clear of.
Evalina’s image sprung up in his mind, the words still cutting through him all this while later...
‘Even the word "Doctor" is false. Your real name is hidden. It burns in the stars of the cascade of Medusa herself. You are a lord, sir. A lord... of time...’
But she was pushed back by River - eyes so full of apology...
‘And I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry.’
His other self would be the one to discover how she had found out... But there was no way he could ever tell anyone else. Was it even his name anymore, or did it belong to the other him? In this world, there were no names written in the stars.
“No” he replied tersely; but seeing the look on Rose’s face, he felt guilty again. Despite everything, there were parts of him that she could never have... Though she had his hearts... heart. Single. How did humans cope with just one heart? But - he had other things to give her. Things that no one had known in centuries...
“Although - since you’re so curious - my nickname at school was Theta Sigma.”
A smile broke out on her face - the first genuine smile he’d seen since they’d been left.
“Theta Sigma?” She tilted her head and looked him over. “Yeah, that works. But seriously - you went to school?”
He chuckled. “Of course I went to school! I went to the Academy like every child on Gallifrey.”
She lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise, but instinctively avoided the painful questions.
“You in school... blimey! Bet you were a right little swot, Mr I-know-everything.”
Laughing he shook his head. “Oh no. Only scraped through my final exam on my second attempt. School and I... didn’t really agree. Too dull, too boring, too many rules.”
“But...” she studied him, wary, “what was it like... if... you don’t mind talking about it?”
Her voice trailed off, a little uncertain, but he just smiled, letting his eyes drift out over the landscape around them.
“When I was a little boy, we used to live in a house that was perched halfway up the top of a mountain...”
The rest of their walk he kept up a stream of tales - legends and fairy tales, ghost stories, the life of Salyavin - Rose hanging on his every word. Every story he could think of, except the Toclafane...
‘Do you remember all those fairy tales about the Toclafane when we were kids? Back home. Where is it, Doctor?’
‘Gone.’
Even he himself was no more than an echo now...
Maybe it was the human part of him, he thought, that made the sharing easier. Storytelling was such a deeply ingrained habit of the species - a trait probably developed to make up for the low psychic ability, since every race needed a way of communicating the past to the future.
When they finally got to the nearest town Jackie began to fret because to get to the nearest zeppelin port they had to rent a car or catch a train or something, and she didn’t have clue where they had to go. So - sighing deeply - the Doctor stopped a passer-by and inquired what their best option was.
Having gathered the necessary information he turned to Rose and Jackie, discovering that they were staring at him with very odd looks on their faces.
“What?” he said.
“You... talked to him in Norwegian...”
“Well yes... I figured - when in Norway do as the Norwegians!” He grinned, but Rose was still frowning. He tilted his head.
“Oh come on! Five billion languages, I told you that already!”
She mirrored him, tilting her head, and somehow the simple gesture made something catch in his throat and almost miss her question.
“When?”
“Back on Satellite 5, when we first met the Dalek Emperor, remember? You, me and Jack?”
A moment, then her face cleared. “Yeah... never really thought about that - thought you meant the TARDIS.”
“Well who do you think made it?” He grinned again, but saw her face cloud over again.
“Wait - Jack. The Daleks shot him. I mean, back in Dalek Headquarters or whatever that place was, earlier on - he tried to attack the Supreme Dalek and it killed him. How...”
He laughed. “Oh - now there’s a story you need to hear. The story of Captain Jack Harkness - because it’s your story too!”
“Mine?” Her eyes widened in that adorable way that inevitably turned parts of him into jelly.
“Oh yes! Come on, the train station is this way! And Jackie - just wait ‘till you hear this. Your daughter is fantastic! I mean, even more fantastic than you think!”
As they walked he related the tale of Immortal Jack, which provided a very nice distraction from brooding over how very, very slow human modes of transport were.
The slow path indeed.
He could do it. He had to - it wasn’t like he had a choice. Vigorously he stomped down on the parts of him that were still panicking over being trapped in such a muted, short-lived body. He’d spent a whole year as an ancient man already, stuck in a wheelchair whilst the world was slaughtered. Growing old should be a doddle in comparison.
‘Should’ of course not being the same as ‘would’.
Later, on the train, Rose fell asleep, her head resting on his right shoulder. He bent down and softly planted a kiss in her hair, a sudden feeling of peace and rightness flooding through him. After a while he realised that it was because he could feel her heartbeat - his own having automatically fallen into sync - and the harmony was pure bliss.
Maybe humans’ eternal quest for love was quite simply a subconscious drive to right a physical shortcoming?
But it was risky business, this giving and taking of hearts, this relying on others for your happiness - a very risky way of living indeed. And one of those things that had always fascinated him about humans.
With something of a start, he realised that he’d given his heart away himself already; said those fatal three words without a second’s hesitation. The implications were something he’d been hiding from - out of fear, or hope, he didn’t know...
Pulling Rose closer still, he let another memory resurface.
‘I've travelled to all sorts of places. Done things you couldn't even imagine, but... you two... street corner. Two in the morning. Getting a taxi home. I've never had a life like that.’
He could have a life like that now.
His last and greatest adventure. If only he could be human (be Donna) enough...
The end
The fic is a bit rough (and un-beta'd), because I just want it out of the way. Sorry.
Title: What are you? What will you be?
Characters/Pairing: Alt!Ten/Rose, Jackie.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: EVERYTHING! (4.13)
Genre: Character study.
Word count: 3000 words approx.
Part 2
Norway, the Doctor thought to himself, was nice. Bit windy, but definitely pretty. Slartibartfast had deserved his award - if he’d been real, that is. Focussing intently on the here and now so as to avoid other, more difficult and painful subjects, was thankfully something he was very good at. He was walking hand in hand with Rose, and the view was gorgeous, and things were good.
Then of course Jackie had to trample all over everything.
“So,” she said, looking him over, “what are your plans?”
“My... what?”
“Your plans. I mean, you can’t really go runnin’ around the universe like before, so are you going to get a job like a normal person or what?”
He stared at her flummoxed, thinking to himself that this was probably not the best moment to reveal that he was rather rubbish when it came to normal jobs, and that Martha had had to support him when they’d got stuck in ‘69. Which reminded him - were there Weeping Angels in this dimension? He needed to warn Rose about them...
Feeling Rose’s hand tighten around his own, he realised that he’d got lost in thoughts again. Thankfully Rose decided to answer.
“Mum - I think it’s a little early to think about all that. But,” she turned to him, “if you like, I’m sure Torchwood would be happy to employ you.”
He nodded slowly. “Suppose it’s a good idea. Protect the planet and all that. Last time I was properly stuck on Earth I worked with UNIT...”
She turned to him sharply. “You were stuck on Earth?”
“Oh it’s a long time ago - long, long time. I was so young...”
His voice drifted off, but she wasn’t going to let it go. “But you were stuck? How? Why?”
He grimaced - the painful memories of Zoe and Jamie reinforced after Donna’s fate. Although Donna’s mind wipe had been necessary for her survival - he’d already felt the first twinges of the neural breakdown as they’d said goodbye. With an internal sigh he thought that Jamie and Donna would have got on like a house on fire... His chest felt all hollow thinking about them, but maybe that was to due to the lack of a second heart.
“It’s... a long story. The short version is that Timelords exiled me.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I never could behave... the original rebel, that’s me! But - as I said, I kept busy giving UNIT a helping hand. They certainly needed it.”
Although part of all the trouble had probably come from him... the Master for one wouldn’t have developed such a sudden interest in Earth if it hadn’t been for his imprisonment. Not that he was likely to attract any trouble now, being TARDIS-less and somewhat less than pure Timelord. The Family of Blood came back to him, but this time he smiled.
“You know, maybe it’d be good to just get away from all the alien stuff - do something different. Last time I was human I was a teacher. I liked that - the teaching thing. And lots of young people. Kids are always brilliant. Yes, teaching would be fun-”
He stopped, the tugging on his hand making him aware that Rose had apparently grown roots. She was staring at him, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“What?”
“Last. time. you. were. human!” the words came slowly and incredulously, like she was forcing her mouth not to fall open.
“Oh - you wouldn’t know about that, would you? It was back when Martha travelled with me. Had to turn myself human to escape from these very nasty creatures - used this thing called a chameleon arc that rewrites biology. Spent almost 3 months in 1913 as a teacher...” he took a deep breath, letting the memories flood back.
“Poor Martha spent the whole while as a maid - god knows it wasn’t easy on her. No idea how she put up with me to be honest.”
Rose however was still staring at him, much in the way Martha had when she’d found his hand in Jack’s bag, brain obviously stuck in a loop. “But - you were human?”
“It’s... also a long story. And kinda complicated...”
But he could see that look in her eyes, and any second she’d say that they had plenty of time, and he really, really didn’t want to tell her that story. He could feel the fire and anger touching the edges of his mind as he remembered how it had all ended. Think think think - distract her...
“Although, maybe, I could... oh! I could set up my own school - like Rattigan, but less Hitler Youth. I could maybe even name it after Rattigan - in his honour and all that. Oooh - or do you have a Rattigan in this world?"
Rose shot him a blank look, so he elaborated. "Luke Rattigan. Boy genius. Oh I hope you do - I'd like to meet him again. The things I could teach him - it’d be fun to have a protégé. He was the one who blew up the Sontaran ship - you know about the Sontarans, right? They made a clone of Martha by the way - I swear she attracts more trouble than even you. Weeeell, part of it is just her job... I'll have to tell you her story one day. You know there was a time when every person in the world knew her name. Martha Jones, The Legend. Saved the world single-handedly she did, my Martha..."
His voice trailed off as he wondered how he was ever going to tell of all the things that had happened - especially with the Master. She'd ask more questions, and he'd not be able to run away from them, but there were things that he quite simply didn’t know how to explain, and not just because there were no words for them in English... it’d be easier if he could-
"That's it!" he suddenly exclaimed, making Rose jump. "I'll write it all down." He turned to her, grinning. "My life's story. 'A Journal of Impossible Things' - that's a good name isn't it?"
She nodded cautiously, but then another thought hit him. "Rose - how old do I look?"
"Um... dunno. Thirty... thirty five maybe?"
There was a rather worried look on her face, like she wasn’t sure about his sanity, but he needed to distract himself somehow or he’d break again. And talking was by far the easiest way.
"Right - if humans live for... well around eighty years, although I might last a bit longer than that, I did very well when I was hundred-odd, although I did have a better body then... but fifty years at least." He considered this. "Blimey. Fifty years. Do you think fifty years will be enough to chronicle 900-odd years of adventures? OK, so the first few centuries were terribly dull, but I'd have to try to give some sort of background and-"
He was cut off by Jackie, who had suddenly stopped and turned, blocking their forwards momentum.
"Nine hundred? Did you say nine hundred?"
He frowned. "Yes..."
"You mean, that you are nine hundred years old?"
He nodded slowly, wondering why she was so shrill. "Nine hundred and a bit - it's a little hard calculating my actual age given the life I lead, but it's thereabouts. Why?"
"Why? Why do you think? I mean, I knew you were older than her, but this is beyond cradle-snatching. You're old enough to be her great-great-great-great- oh I don't know how many greats-grandfather. It's just ridiculous! Do you always go for them that young?"
The Doctor with dawning horror realised that he'd trespassed on one of Jackie Tyler's boundaries, and desperately tried to think of a way to calm her down.
“But... I like young people. As I said. They're so much more open minded-"
"And impressionable!" she cut him off.
"Yes!" he said. "They still look at the world with wonder. You humans are so good at just taking everything for granted, so stuck in your ways that you can't see all the incredible things all around you! So yes I travel with young people - as a matter of fact, my very first companion when I set off all those years ago was my actual granddaughter!"
Thinking back on Susan, the irony of his current situation was suddenly driven home again. He remembered abandoning her with the man she loved - making a choice, the right choice, on her behalf. One that he knew she’d never be able to make on her own. And now he found himself on the other end of the selfsame situation. What was it the humans called it? Poetic Justice.
Oh, he did love their expressions.
Realising he’d become lost in thoughts again, he looked up to find Jackie staring at him. “You had a family? Why did you never mention it bef-”
Her hand went to her mouth in horror, and suddenly he found himself wrapped up in a tight hug.
“Oh you poor thing! You should’ve said, I never realised.”
Abruptly pulling away she held him at arms’ length, studying him. “It was those Daleks, wasn’t it? Rose told me about that war, and I don’t blame you for killing them. Not one little bit, they deserved it! Murdering people’s children - I’d’ve killed them all myself if I could!”
He stared at her wordlessly, feeling like the vortex itself had opened up inside him. Unable to look at her, his eyes drifted down and settled on his hand. The same hand that...
He swallowed, fervently wishing that he could have kept any other part of his original self. Why his hand? Twice regenerated, but still the hand that he had used to end it all - saving the universe but destroying his home, his everything...
He sensed that he was standing on a knife edge, suddenly terrified what would happen if he allowed himself to lose his equilibrium. The timelines fanned out in front of him - so much narrower than before, but still with such potential, so many possibilities at his fingertips; all he had to do was reach out and grasp them.
He had a sudden desperate urge to fix things - to somehow make up for all his shortcomings. Help people, change their lives for the better...
And, as if by magic, a voice sprang into his mind.
‘What this country needs - right now - is a Doctor...’
Oh it would be so easy... A little work (six words) and Britain could be looking at a new Prime Minister (and his charming, blonde wife) - except it was the whole world that needed help. All those ingrained problems that he always tried to ignore - the wars, the poverty, the destruction of nature... (He could have been President of Gallifrey, once...)
The voice in his head kept talking - tempting, mocking, challenging.
‘Time Lord and humans combined. Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?’
He would be changing history, but he was a Timelord - he had the right. The things he could do... making things better, setting humankind on the course to an easier future... the vista opened before him, but even as he indulged in the wished-for should-not-be, he remembered his own words.
‘The oldest and most mighty race in the universe…looking down on the galaxies below…sworn never to interfere…only to watch…’
Except he’d never been able to abide by that. How was he going to spend an entire life in one place without interfering? Maybe making a spaceship and running off really was the best option...
“Doctor?” Rose’s voice came from far away, and he almost sighed with relief as she took his hand again. But still he could hear that taunting voice:
‘The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?’
He turned to her abruptly. “I need a new name.”
Seeing the stricken look on her face, he hastily amended his statement.
“For, you know, everyday use and papers and passports and all that. As you know people get very funny about ‘Doctor’... So um, yes, something normal - ordinary. Usually I just go by John Smith, but...”
Echoes of other people in his mind...
‘Your real name.’
‘He's been lying to us, right from the start!’
‘No-one's called John Smith! Come off it!’
No... not John Smith. And also... the ‘real’, the human, John Smith belonged to Joan Redfern, and always would.
A new name. Something to reflect his Donna-ness? He pondered - not DoctorDonna, or Spartacus, but maybe if he borrowed something else...
“What about John Noble?”
“Guess that’s nice...” she replied, obviously still unsure. Her mother cut in again.
“So you really have no proper name? Like a... family name or anything?”
Even as he winced inwardly, he couldn’t help but marvel at the way the woman seemed to have some sort of innate instinct that steered her towards the part of a subject he wanted to stay clear of.
Evalina’s image sprung up in his mind, the words still cutting through him all this while later...
‘Even the word "Doctor" is false. Your real name is hidden. It burns in the stars of the cascade of Medusa herself. You are a lord, sir. A lord... of time...’
But she was pushed back by River - eyes so full of apology...
‘And I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry.’
His other self would be the one to discover how she had found out... But there was no way he could ever tell anyone else. Was it even his name anymore, or did it belong to the other him? In this world, there were no names written in the stars.
“No” he replied tersely; but seeing the look on Rose’s face, he felt guilty again. Despite everything, there were parts of him that she could never have... Though she had his hearts... heart. Single. How did humans cope with just one heart? But - he had other things to give her. Things that no one had known in centuries...
“Although - since you’re so curious - my nickname at school was Theta Sigma.”
A smile broke out on her face - the first genuine smile he’d seen since they’d been left.
“Theta Sigma?” She tilted her head and looked him over. “Yeah, that works. But seriously - you went to school?”
He chuckled. “Of course I went to school! I went to the Academy like every child on Gallifrey.”
She lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise, but instinctively avoided the painful questions.
“You in school... blimey! Bet you were a right little swot, Mr I-know-everything.”
Laughing he shook his head. “Oh no. Only scraped through my final exam on my second attempt. School and I... didn’t really agree. Too dull, too boring, too many rules.”
“But...” she studied him, wary, “what was it like... if... you don’t mind talking about it?”
Her voice trailed off, a little uncertain, but he just smiled, letting his eyes drift out over the landscape around them.
“When I was a little boy, we used to live in a house that was perched halfway up the top of a mountain...”
The rest of their walk he kept up a stream of tales - legends and fairy tales, ghost stories, the life of Salyavin - Rose hanging on his every word. Every story he could think of, except the Toclafane...
‘Do you remember all those fairy tales about the Toclafane when we were kids? Back home. Where is it, Doctor?’
‘Gone.’
Even he himself was no more than an echo now...
Maybe it was the human part of him, he thought, that made the sharing easier. Storytelling was such a deeply ingrained habit of the species - a trait probably developed to make up for the low psychic ability, since every race needed a way of communicating the past to the future.
When they finally got to the nearest town Jackie began to fret because to get to the nearest zeppelin port they had to rent a car or catch a train or something, and she didn’t have clue where they had to go. So - sighing deeply - the Doctor stopped a passer-by and inquired what their best option was.
Having gathered the necessary information he turned to Rose and Jackie, discovering that they were staring at him with very odd looks on their faces.
“What?” he said.
“You... talked to him in Norwegian...”
“Well yes... I figured - when in Norway do as the Norwegians!” He grinned, but Rose was still frowning. He tilted his head.
“Oh come on! Five billion languages, I told you that already!”
She mirrored him, tilting her head, and somehow the simple gesture made something catch in his throat and almost miss her question.
“When?”
“Back on Satellite 5, when we first met the Dalek Emperor, remember? You, me and Jack?”
A moment, then her face cleared. “Yeah... never really thought about that - thought you meant the TARDIS.”
“Well who do you think made it?” He grinned again, but saw her face cloud over again.
“Wait - Jack. The Daleks shot him. I mean, back in Dalek Headquarters or whatever that place was, earlier on - he tried to attack the Supreme Dalek and it killed him. How...”
He laughed. “Oh - now there’s a story you need to hear. The story of Captain Jack Harkness - because it’s your story too!”
“Mine?” Her eyes widened in that adorable way that inevitably turned parts of him into jelly.
“Oh yes! Come on, the train station is this way! And Jackie - just wait ‘till you hear this. Your daughter is fantastic! I mean, even more fantastic than you think!”
As they walked he related the tale of Immortal Jack, which provided a very nice distraction from brooding over how very, very slow human modes of transport were.
The slow path indeed.
He could do it. He had to - it wasn’t like he had a choice. Vigorously he stomped down on the parts of him that were still panicking over being trapped in such a muted, short-lived body. He’d spent a whole year as an ancient man already, stuck in a wheelchair whilst the world was slaughtered. Growing old should be a doddle in comparison.
‘Should’ of course not being the same as ‘would’.
Later, on the train, Rose fell asleep, her head resting on his right shoulder. He bent down and softly planted a kiss in her hair, a sudden feeling of peace and rightness flooding through him. After a while he realised that it was because he could feel her heartbeat - his own having automatically fallen into sync - and the harmony was pure bliss.
Maybe humans’ eternal quest for love was quite simply a subconscious drive to right a physical shortcoming?
But it was risky business, this giving and taking of hearts, this relying on others for your happiness - a very risky way of living indeed. And one of those things that had always fascinated him about humans.
With something of a start, he realised that he’d given his heart away himself already; said those fatal three words without a second’s hesitation. The implications were something he’d been hiding from - out of fear, or hope, he didn’t know...
Pulling Rose closer still, he let another memory resurface.
‘I've travelled to all sorts of places. Done things you couldn't even imagine, but... you two... street corner. Two in the morning. Getting a taxi home. I've never had a life like that.’
He could have a life like that now.
His last and greatest adventure. If only he could be human (be Donna) enough...
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Yay! (All my fic - well, 95% of it - is meta fic.)
You definitely gave me some aha moments!
Oh that's pleases me no end! :D