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Fic: Remembering the Day I Died (1/1)
Didn't mean to vanish... But work & life have been busy, and in quiet moments I've been working on this.
Master post for the whole 'verse here. This is a one-shot dealing with the Seeker's first regeneration.
Summary: Shortly after the events of The Wedding of River Song the Doctor goes to see the Seeker. (Contains the story of the Seeker's first regeneration.)
Setting: Post-TWoRS. (In ‘verse: A few years pre-Last One Standing (Roda-centric) and Timely Lovers)
Characters: 11th Doctor (1103 years old), 2nd Seeker (203 years old) (Also 1st Seeker, 200 years old)
Rating: PG
Word count: 3500+ words
Beta: The always wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh (all mistakes mine!)
Dedication: This one's forenevarim
Remembering the Day I Died
The suns were shining, coffee was brewed, and it was yet another lovely day on the most beautiful planet in the universe.
Of course the Seeker was biased, but as he carried the coffee pot out into the garden and put it down on the little table, he felt very pleased. Three years into his second body, he was now more comfortable with himself than he’d ever been; growing up he’d been saddled with his father’s face, and all the issues of being raised on Earth amongst mortals. And even though he’d run away to the stars as soon as he could, the ties had been harder to cut… All the compromises that had torn him apart had never quite healed as they should.
But now - with his hair the colour of the burnt orange sky above, and his new self sharp like a crystal - he finally felt like he truly knew who he was.
Hearing the sound of the Doctor’s TARDIS he sighed resignedly, and went to fetch another cup, as well as the sugar bowl and a selection of buns and biscuits. He hadn’t seen the Doctor since his regeneration, and considering how unhappy he’d been at the time, he wasn’t surprised that the Doctor had kept away. Although there had been something… odd about that day.
This time, the Doctor was thankfully far less manic. As a matter of fact he didn’t say much except a non-committal ‘Good morning’ and ‘The garden is looking nice’, and then sat down with his cup of coffee and the biscuits, not speaking for nearly five whole minutes.
When he eventually broke the silence, he was almost hesitant.
“How long has it been… since…?”
He waved his hand vaguely towards the Seeker, and the Seeker suppressed a second sigh.
“Since-” (you got me killed?) “-the new face? Three years.”
In the three years since then he’d adjusted very well to his new temperament, swiftly updating his wardrobe to something more stylish and well-tailored, and casting around for something new to sink his teeth into. Something bigger.
His father had practically purred the first time he’d seen his new face and attendant outfit, but he couldn’t care less. He’d spent two hundred years deliberately distancing himself from both his father and the Doctor - now, he just wanted to be himself. And if his father happened to like it… Well he was sure he could use that to his advantage.
Now, sitting with their coffee in the balmy sunshine, the Seeker couldn’t help wonder why the Doctor had stopped by. But if it was to check up on him, the Doctor kept his opinions to himself. He didn’t comment on the Seeker’s crisp white shirt, sharply pressed trousers and exquisitely tailored navy coat (quite the contrast to the jeans and T-shirts he’d lived in before), merely nodding to himself before saying: “And you’re… OK?”
“Never been better,” the Seeker replied, watchful.
“I suppose you’re curious about... “ the Doctor seemed to catch himself, frowning and pulling his mildly unnerving trick of letting his thousand-plus years show, ancient eyes watching him from a youthful face. He folded his hands over his stomach, and the Seeker half-expected him to pull out a pipe. The young/old dichotomy was downright bizarre sometimes.
“You tell me,” the Seeker said, unsure where the Doctor was going with this. Although his next words were not what he’d expected.
“Well. I was going to die,” the Doctor started, and the Seeker’s hand paused on his cup. As the Doctor kept talking, the Seeker forgot all about his coffee, and by the time he’d finished the tale, both their drinks had gone stone-cold.
Having listened attentively, the Seeker still found it difficult to try to wrap his mind around what he’d heard. (How the Doctor had gotten out of the fix was genius - but the fix itself…)
“So… You were going to be killed. By this Silence organisation - religion, whatever. And you were just going to go and not tell anyone? Were you out of your mind?”
The Doctor studied him for a long time.
“If you had known would you have done anything? It’s a fixed point.”
There was a pause. A small brightly coloured bird landed on the table and began to eat the crumbs the Doctor had scattered.
“I don’t know.” (He loved the Doctor dearly, but he would not break time for him. Was that cold? Was that why the Doctor hadn’t said anything? Because he knew the Seeker would have looked at it objectively, so there was no point... ) “But you could at least have said goodbye.”
“I did.”
“Right. Yes, you said goodbye. You failed to mention that you were going off to be executed-”
The Seeker stopped, mid-sentence, the whole thing (the Doctor’s appointment with death, the world-saving and his own regeneration) suddenly slotting together into a seamless whole, the whys and wherefores fitting with perfect finality.
“You were auditioning me. Testing me! Seeing whether I could be trusted to look after the world after you were gone.”
The Doctor didn’t refute his claim, merely lowering his eyes.
“I had to be sure.”
The Seeker could feel his jaw drop in outrage. He’d been angry before at the carelessness, although he’d helped out often enough to know that it was simply par for the course. But this? Deliberate manipulation to check his moral credentials was… Insulting on a level he found hard to vocalise.
“Well I bloody well died for your little experiment! I hope I passed. Was it even real? I can assure you that my pain was.”
The Doctor at least had the decency to look hurt at his words.
“Of course it was real. It’s always real. Seeker - you saved the world.”
At his words the Seeker felt his new face shut down into a cold mask, the anger like a shell around him:
“Oh yes. I’m a real hero.”
He could feel the reassuring heft of the laser now as it nestled in his inside pocket, wondering if the Doctor had the faintest idea what the outcome of his machinations had been.
- Never again would he go anywhere unarmed.
- Never again would he go anywhere unprepared.
The laser was an incredibly versatile tool, and had been built specifically as not just a weapon, but as a trigger mechanism for releasing other weapons.
He wasn’t sure exactly how to utilise it yet, but there was time. He was quite happy to save the world again, if need be. But it’d be on his own terms, in his own way.
Telling the Doctor any of this was out of the question, obviously. Nor would the Doctor ever understand why he was so spectacularly resentful at having been turned into a hero. Thankfully hardly anyone knew.
Although he supposed he ought to take into account that the Doctor had thought he was about to go get killed by the woman he loved, who had apparently been created to be a weapon… Couldn’t have been easy for him.
(Still, there were all sorts of things he wasn’t explaining. But the Seeker could research stuff later. Why did the Silence want the Doctor dead?)
Most of all, the Doctor was still looking hurt. The Seeker sighed deeply. Despite being royally pissed off he knew the Doctor had probably just done what made the most sense to him. The Seeker had lived with the Doctor’s idiosyncrasies and hero-complexes his whole life, and although they’d never actually managed to get him killed until now, he shouldn’t have been surprised really. Not that this made things any easier.
‘If you can’t be polite, say nothing at all. If necessary change the subject.’
His mother’s advice was still hard-wired into him, even if he was no longer very good at following it. He’d become very adept at conversational Quickstep in his first body, easily sidestepping problematic issues with smooth lines - but now it was nigh-on impossible, as if the regeneration had burned away all the soft corners. There was a bluntness to his new self that he liked, but which made moments like this quite trying.
So change of subject is was.
“Look - I’m happy you’re not dead, OK? And… apparently you got married? Congratulations. I always liked River. Although you took your time about it...”
“Thank you,” the Doctor said, seemingly a little thrown at the change in conversation (and apparent change in mood), but he readily enough grasped the new topic. The conversation flowed more naturally from then on, as they did a general catching-up session since they were more-or-less linear, and it felt good to just chat. The Seeker made more coffee and brought out some lunch, and things were... good.
When the Doctor finally left, the Seeker walked him out to the courtyard where the TARDIS was parked. Whilst talking, he'd turned everything over several times at the back of his mind. The new information had necessitated going over that day’s fateful happenings again, viewing it from the new angle. Bad planning was... a deep affront to all he valued, everything he was. But the lack of planning hadn't been the Doctor's (although that was his usual MO) - no, there had been planning aplenty, and on a much deeper level than the Seeker had suspected. He’d had an insubstantial hunch at the time, but nothing more, and was now left with what could only be described as grudging admiration.
As the Doctor said his goodbyes, the Seeker avoided the obligatory hug by instead taking the Doctor’s hand and holding it firmly, catching and holding his eyes.
"Doctor. I just wanted to say..." He hesitated, trying to find the right words; then: "Well played. I was outwitted, outclassed, out-foxed and outmanoeuvred. I’m too cocky by half, and this was a timely reminder that you have nearly a thousand years on me when it comes to manipulation and underhanded tactics. I have a lot to learn.”
The Doctor looked stumped.
"I didn't-"
"Oh yes you did. Credit where credit’s due. I can’t say I’m any happier about you getting me killed than I was before, but dammit, I’m impressed. So please - don’t be a stranger. Stop by. I’m always happy to put the kettle on. OK?”
Nodding, and looking as if he was going to say something more, yet not sure what, the Doctor shuffled on the spot before seemingly catching himself, eventually saying goodbye and then leaving.
Turning and walking back into his house, the Seeker smiled, pulling the laser screwdriver out of his pocket and absentmindedly tossing it into the air and catching it again.
Interesting day so far.
The issue of permanent death wasn’t one he had thought about much - and that gave him pause. What if the Doctor had been killed? He knew that on Gallifrey there had been a Matrix (and the Redjay had been severed from it when she was exiled), so no one was ever lost… And he didn’t like losing people.
He was currently preoccupied with another project, but a Matrix was an interesting idea. Filing the thought away into his mental Future Projects folder he switched on a screen in the central hub of the house, almost whistling.
He’d been caught napping once. It wouldn’t happen again.
Fin
Master post for the whole 'verse here. This is a one-shot dealing with the Seeker's first regeneration.
Summary: Shortly after the events of The Wedding of River Song the Doctor goes to see the Seeker. (Contains the story of the Seeker's first regeneration.)
Setting: Post-TWoRS. (In ‘verse: A few years pre-Last One Standing (Roda-centric) and Timely Lovers)
Characters: 11th Doctor (1103 years old), 2nd Seeker (203 years old) (Also 1st Seeker, 200 years old)
Rating: PG
Word count: 3500+ words
Beta: The always wonderful
kathyh (all mistakes mine!)Dedication: This one's for
enevarimThe suns were shining, coffee was brewed, and it was yet another lovely day on the most beautiful planet in the universe.
Of course the Seeker was biased, but as he carried the coffee pot out into the garden and put it down on the little table, he felt very pleased. Three years into his second body, he was now more comfortable with himself than he’d ever been; growing up he’d been saddled with his father’s face, and all the issues of being raised on Earth amongst mortals. And even though he’d run away to the stars as soon as he could, the ties had been harder to cut… All the compromises that had torn him apart had never quite healed as they should.
But now - with his hair the colour of the burnt orange sky above, and his new self sharp like a crystal - he finally felt like he truly knew who he was.
Hearing the sound of the Doctor’s TARDIS he sighed resignedly, and went to fetch another cup, as well as the sugar bowl and a selection of buns and biscuits. He hadn’t seen the Doctor since his regeneration, and considering how unhappy he’d been at the time, he wasn’t surprised that the Doctor had kept away. Although there had been something… odd about that day.
“Seeker!” The Doctor had been all arms and worried panic. “Quickly! I need you. Earth…”
He’d looked up from his work, sighing and dragging a hand through his blonde hair (temples going silver, but it was hard to tell).
“Earth is in grave danger, as it always is. Don’t you have companions? That married couple, I… Forget their names. Or River? Or Jack, since he is on Earth! Or the Redjay - she’s terribly heroic. Or… anyone who isn’t me?”
The Doctor had walked up to him then, laying a hand on his arm, and imploring him quietly:
“Seeker. Please.”
He’d never been able to pin-point what the look in the Doctor’s eyes had meant, but it had been such that he’d left his work and gone to save the world.
This time, the Doctor was thankfully far less manic. As a matter of fact he didn’t say much except a non-committal ‘Good morning’ and ‘The garden is looking nice’, and then sat down with his cup of coffee and the biscuits, not speaking for nearly five whole minutes.
When he eventually broke the silence, he was almost hesitant.
“How long has it been… since…?”
He waved his hand vaguely towards the Seeker, and the Seeker suppressed a second sigh.
“Since-” (you got me killed?) “-the new face? Three years.”
It wasn’t like the Seeker had a running tally of Bad Days (not officially at least), but so far this one was on its way to a Top Ten slot. The Doctor - as always - had leapt in armed with nothing but a screwdriver, and his fast-talking had only resulted in some brave idiots getting killed, and then - when they’d finally confronted the leader of the invasion, the typical moustache twirling evil overlord wannabe type whom his father could have eaten for breakfast - the result had been that the Doctor got knocked out, leaving the Seeker as the only thing standing between Earth and destruction.
He hated it with every single fibre of his being.
He had no resources, no plans, and his particular brand of genius wasn’t good at improvising in the way the Doctor’s was. The two of them were currently trapped behind a decidedly deadly force field - the leader had demonstrated how it worked by throwing another prisoner at it. The scream still rang in the Seeker’s ears.
And there was no way out; no way to switch it off. Glancing from the Doctor’s lifeless form slumped on the floor next to him, he lifted his eyes to study the leader (he’d dubbed him Ming the Merciless in his mind) who was now finalising his battle plans. There were mere minutes left, if that. (Of course Torchwood or UNIT might blow the ships out of the sky, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. They were very well shielded. Besides, that would still mean his own and the Doctor's deaths.)
If only he’d had a weapon… He gritted his teeth. If only he’d had a weapon, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation in the first place, as Ming would by now have been well and truly dead. He filed the thought away for later. Right now he - unfortunately for him - had a world to save.
Eliminating the impossible, he concentrated on the possibilities left to him. Meaning there was only one viable option by now.
(And the day went to Number Four on his list.)
Deep breath.
(It’s only excruciating, intense, molecular-level pain that awaits you… And a whole new self. All because of lack of planning.)
Shooting the unconscious Doctor one last, angry look, he vowed to never be caught in a situation like this again. No matter how much the Doctor pleaded.
Thankfully it was easy getting Ming the Merciless’ attention, as he had - like the idiotic stereotype he clearly did his best to emulate - a very inflated sense of his own importance and the attendant tendency to talk up his own brilliance, especially to captured enemies.
Pleased that his prisoners were now willing to talk, Ming walked right up the force field, smirking.
“One word from me, and the planet burns!” he said haughtily - and those were his last words.
Reaching out through the force field the Seeker grabbed him, pulling him close. Ming - desperate - tried to pull back, but the Seeker held on, the two of them caught in the middle of the force field, the energy ripping both of them apart in a moment that seemed to go on forever.
(His last thoughts were: ‘Never again!’ and: ‘Ginger! Just to piss off the Doctor, let me be ginger! Brighter than the sky when the suns rise, brighter than fire! Ginger!’)
The pain was so intense that the world ceased to have meaning, as if his very soul had been thrown into a furnace.
(He was pure energy. He was between, neither alive or dead. He was eternal and forever and all of time and space existed within him)
And then he was once more standing - feet on a floor, eyes that could see, a self that was just him, bright and clear and focussed like a laser…
After a second of trying to quite simply work out where he was and what was happening, he noticed that he was on the right side of the force field (as he’d hoped) and immediately sprang into action, the now-dead leader’s minions shrinking back in fear and awe.
‘Should have counted the hearts’ he thought to himself wryly, whilst swiftly familiarising himself with the ship’s systems and technology, before undoing the destruction codes, overriding various fail-safes and letting the weapons self-destruct safely.
As an afterthought he took down the force field, and seconds later - as he was carefully setting the ship’s course straight for The Shadow Proclamation with a full report on the day’s events - he suddenly found himself wrapped up in the Doctor’s arms, the joy and relief he radiated so overwhelming it almost tripped the Seeker up.
“You did it! Seeker - you saved the world!”
The Doctor kissed him on the forehead before studying his new face, beaming all over to such a degree that the Seeker felt downright unnerved. The Doctor saved a world on at least a weekly basis, why such vehement and vicarious celebration? (What was he hiding? And why? Or was it himself over-interpreting things because of his new senses/body, the Doctor’s regular enthusiasm and fervour coming across as exaggerated?)
Shoving the queries to one side, he fixed the Doctor with a cool, unblinking stare.
“Am I ginger?” he asked, and the Doctor briefly let his eyes travel upwards.
“... Yes. Very much so.”
He smiled for the first time with his new face, feeling the strange new angles of his cheekbones, and knowing that it was sharp and precise and uncompromising.
“Good.”
In the three years since then he’d adjusted very well to his new temperament, swiftly updating his wardrobe to something more stylish and well-tailored, and casting around for something new to sink his teeth into. Something bigger.
His father had practically purred the first time he’d seen his new face and attendant outfit, but he couldn’t care less. He’d spent two hundred years deliberately distancing himself from both his father and the Doctor - now, he just wanted to be himself. And if his father happened to like it… Well he was sure he could use that to his advantage.
Now, sitting with their coffee in the balmy sunshine, the Seeker couldn’t help wonder why the Doctor had stopped by. But if it was to check up on him, the Doctor kept his opinions to himself. He didn’t comment on the Seeker’s crisp white shirt, sharply pressed trousers and exquisitely tailored navy coat (quite the contrast to the jeans and T-shirts he’d lived in before), merely nodding to himself before saying: “And you’re… OK?”
“Never been better,” the Seeker replied, watchful.
“I suppose you’re curious about... “ the Doctor seemed to catch himself, frowning and pulling his mildly unnerving trick of letting his thousand-plus years show, ancient eyes watching him from a youthful face. He folded his hands over his stomach, and the Seeker half-expected him to pull out a pipe. The young/old dichotomy was downright bizarre sometimes.
“You tell me,” the Seeker said, unsure where the Doctor was going with this. Although his next words were not what he’d expected.
“Well. I was going to die,” the Doctor started, and the Seeker’s hand paused on his cup. As the Doctor kept talking, the Seeker forgot all about his coffee, and by the time he’d finished the tale, both their drinks had gone stone-cold.
Having listened attentively, the Seeker still found it difficult to try to wrap his mind around what he’d heard. (How the Doctor had gotten out of the fix was genius - but the fix itself…)
“So… You were going to be killed. By this Silence organisation - religion, whatever. And you were just going to go and not tell anyone? Were you out of your mind?”
The Doctor studied him for a long time.
“If you had known would you have done anything? It’s a fixed point.”
There was a pause. A small brightly coloured bird landed on the table and began to eat the crumbs the Doctor had scattered.
“I don’t know.” (He loved the Doctor dearly, but he would not break time for him. Was that cold? Was that why the Doctor hadn’t said anything? Because he knew the Seeker would have looked at it objectively, so there was no point... ) “But you could at least have said goodbye.”
“I did.”
He’d stepped out of the Doctor’s TARDIS and onto the firm ground of his own planet with enormous relief. He needed time, now - time to adjust and work out who he had become.
“Bye Doctor,” he said, unable to think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t be angry. Dying had not been on his itinerary that morning… Next time he regenerated he’d make sure to plan better. (A nice, clean suicide once he began getting on. Preferably in a zero room. And no world-saving to do the second he was on the other side of the fire and the pain. His head by now felt like it was swimming.)
“Alex,” the Doctor said, and he’d turned, surprised. No one had called him that in at least a century.
“You did well. I’m... very proud of you. Please - always remember that.”
The Doctor had reached out, cradling his cheek, studying him intently. Again he felt that something was off - something he couldn’t put his finger on.
“Thank you, I will,” he answered, hesitantly, and the Doctor had smiled, looking proud (like he’d said) but also terribly sad, and the Seeker was getting close to actually freaking out. (Maybe the Doctor was feeling guilty for getting him killed, but - being the Doctor - he wasn’t able to vocalise something so personal?)
“If Gallifrey could see you now...” the Doctor eventually said, voice soft, and the Seeker told himself that it had to be guilt, because otherwise he didn’t have a clue what was going on. Then the Doctor let his hand fall:
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye Doctor.”
Quietly the Doctor shut the TARDIS door, and then the blue box faded away from the Seeker’s courtyard.
For a moment he closed his eyes, then turned and pushed open the door to his house. He needed a mirror. And some coffee. And at least a year of not seeing a single living soul.
“Right. Yes, you said goodbye. You failed to mention that you were going off to be executed-”
The Seeker stopped, mid-sentence, the whole thing (the Doctor’s appointment with death, the world-saving and his own regeneration) suddenly slotting together into a seamless whole, the whys and wherefores fitting with perfect finality.
“You were auditioning me. Testing me! Seeing whether I could be trusted to look after the world after you were gone.”
The Doctor didn’t refute his claim, merely lowering his eyes.
“I had to be sure.”
The Seeker could feel his jaw drop in outrage. He’d been angry before at the carelessness, although he’d helped out often enough to know that it was simply par for the course. But this? Deliberate manipulation to check his moral credentials was… Insulting on a level he found hard to vocalise.
“Well I bloody well died for your little experiment! I hope I passed. Was it even real? I can assure you that my pain was.”
The Doctor at least had the decency to look hurt at his words.
“Of course it was real. It’s always real. Seeker - you saved the world.”
At his words the Seeker felt his new face shut down into a cold mask, the anger like a shell around him:
“Oh yes. I’m a real hero.”
Jack’s face had been a picture when he’d materialised in the Hub.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Hey- Stop! Don’t touch that!”
He’d stopped (Torchwood’s experiments and equipment tended to be too volatile for his liking anyway), and tilted his head.
“It’s only me, Jack. Had a change of face.”
Jack had done what might be the world’s longest double-take.
“Seeker?”
“The one and only.”
“But how? I mean when? I mean how? What happened?”
He’d still been angry (it had only been three days, and although the face was nice, the sheer waste and stupidity of the whole situation was still infuriating) so he’d shaken his head.
“I’ll explain later. Right now, I want something of mine. Something I asked you to look after a very long time ago.”
It had taken a moment, then Jack had worked it out.
“You want your father’s laser screwdriver.”
“My laser screwdriver.”
Sensing Jack’s hesitation, he’d smiled bitterly.
“Don’t worry. I’m a real hero now - I died saving the world.”
He could feel the reassuring heft of the laser now as it nestled in his inside pocket, wondering if the Doctor had the faintest idea what the outcome of his machinations had been.
- Never again would he go anywhere unarmed.
- Never again would he go anywhere unprepared.
The laser was an incredibly versatile tool, and had been built specifically as not just a weapon, but as a trigger mechanism for releasing other weapons.
He wasn’t sure exactly how to utilise it yet, but there was time. He was quite happy to save the world again, if need be. But it’d be on his own terms, in his own way.
Telling the Doctor any of this was out of the question, obviously. Nor would the Doctor ever understand why he was so spectacularly resentful at having been turned into a hero. Thankfully hardly anyone knew.
Although he supposed he ought to take into account that the Doctor had thought he was about to go get killed by the woman he loved, who had apparently been created to be a weapon… Couldn’t have been easy for him.
(Still, there were all sorts of things he wasn’t explaining. But the Seeker could research stuff later. Why did the Silence want the Doctor dead?)
Most of all, the Doctor was still looking hurt. The Seeker sighed deeply. Despite being royally pissed off he knew the Doctor had probably just done what made the most sense to him. The Seeker had lived with the Doctor’s idiosyncrasies and hero-complexes his whole life, and although they’d never actually managed to get him killed until now, he shouldn’t have been surprised really. Not that this made things any easier.
‘If you can’t be polite, say nothing at all. If necessary change the subject.’
His mother’s advice was still hard-wired into him, even if he was no longer very good at following it. He’d become very adept at conversational Quickstep in his first body, easily sidestepping problematic issues with smooth lines - but now it was nigh-on impossible, as if the regeneration had burned away all the soft corners. There was a bluntness to his new self that he liked, but which made moments like this quite trying.
So change of subject is was.
“Look - I’m happy you’re not dead, OK? And… apparently you got married? Congratulations. I always liked River. Although you took your time about it...”
“Thank you,” the Doctor said, seemingly a little thrown at the change in conversation (and apparent change in mood), but he readily enough grasped the new topic. The conversation flowed more naturally from then on, as they did a general catching-up session since they were more-or-less linear, and it felt good to just chat. The Seeker made more coffee and brought out some lunch, and things were... good.
When the Doctor finally left, the Seeker walked him out to the courtyard where the TARDIS was parked. Whilst talking, he'd turned everything over several times at the back of his mind. The new information had necessitated going over that day’s fateful happenings again, viewing it from the new angle. Bad planning was... a deep affront to all he valued, everything he was. But the lack of planning hadn't been the Doctor's (although that was his usual MO) - no, there had been planning aplenty, and on a much deeper level than the Seeker had suspected. He’d had an insubstantial hunch at the time, but nothing more, and was now left with what could only be described as grudging admiration.
As the Doctor said his goodbyes, the Seeker avoided the obligatory hug by instead taking the Doctor’s hand and holding it firmly, catching and holding his eyes.
"Doctor. I just wanted to say..." He hesitated, trying to find the right words; then: "Well played. I was outwitted, outclassed, out-foxed and outmanoeuvred. I’m too cocky by half, and this was a timely reminder that you have nearly a thousand years on me when it comes to manipulation and underhanded tactics. I have a lot to learn.”
The Doctor looked stumped.
"I didn't-"
"Oh yes you did. Credit where credit’s due. I can’t say I’m any happier about you getting me killed than I was before, but dammit, I’m impressed. So please - don’t be a stranger. Stop by. I’m always happy to put the kettle on. OK?”
Nodding, and looking as if he was going to say something more, yet not sure what, the Doctor shuffled on the spot before seemingly catching himself, eventually saying goodbye and then leaving.
Turning and walking back into his house, the Seeker smiled, pulling the laser screwdriver out of his pocket and absentmindedly tossing it into the air and catching it again.
Interesting day so far.
The issue of permanent death wasn’t one he had thought about much - and that gave him pause. What if the Doctor had been killed? He knew that on Gallifrey there had been a Matrix (and the Redjay had been severed from it when she was exiled), so no one was ever lost… And he didn’t like losing people.
He was currently preoccupied with another project, but a Matrix was an interesting idea. Filing the thought away into his mental Future Projects folder he switched on a screen in the central hub of the house, almost whistling.
He’d been caught napping once. It wouldn’t happen again.
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– So. Much. Love.
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– Fancy the Seeker forgetting that.
This whole scene. Leaving aside the echo in the Seeker’s anger of Harriet’s anger at Philip Boyes, this whole scene. Have to run now and will be out for a few hours, but there will be more enthusiastic comments when I get back.
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Not so much forgetting, as now questioning everything.
This whole scene.
Knew you'd like it. Told you this would be relevant.
Leaving aside the echo in the Seeker’s anger of Harriet’s anger at Philip Boyes, this whole scene.
That... was not a parallel that had occurred to me. At all. But am glad you like the scene. (Specifically thinking about what you said about the Doctor being manipulative/River forcing him to be more open.)
Have to run now and will be out for a few hours, but there will be more enthusiastic comments when I get back.
Looking forward to it.
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– !!!
“Since-” (you got me killed?) “-the new face?
– !!!
The Doctor - as always - had leapt in armed with nothing but a screwdriver, and his fast-talking had only resulted in some brave idiots getting killed, and then - when they’d finally confronted the leader of the invasion, the typical moustache twirling evil overlord wannabe type whom his father could have eaten for breakfast - the result had been that the Doctor got knocked out, leaving the Seeker as the only thing standing between Earth and destruction.
He hated it with every single fibre of his being.
– And here we have one root of the Seeker making such careful plans before A Good Day…
If only he’d had a weapon, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation in the first place, as Ming would by now have been well and truly dead. He filed the thought away for later.
– !!!
Shooting the unconscious Doctor one last, angry look, he vowed to never be caught in a situation like this again. No matter how much the Doctor pleaded.
– Loving this whole scene into little mint balls…
Was Ming the Merciless in Flash Gordon, or was it in the Dan Dare in the Eagle cartoon?
(He was pure energy. He was between, neither alive or dead. He was eternal and forever and all of time and space existed within him)
– First what it’s like to see with a Time Head, now what regeneration feels like from the inside. Excellent.
What was he hiding? And why? Or was it himself over-interpreting things
– No. As you said earlier, it isn’t paranoia if they really are out to get you…
“Am I ginger?” he asked, and the Doctor briefly let his eyes travel upwards.
“... Yes. Very much so.”
He smiled for the first time with his new face, feeling the strange new angles of his cheekbones, and knowing that it was sharp and precise and uncompromising.
“Good.”
– Game, set, and match.
His father had practically purred the first time he’d seen his new face and attendant outfit, but he couldn’t care less.
– Good lad.
And you were just going to go and not tell anyone? Were you out of your mind?”
The Doctor studied him for a long time.
“If you had known would you have done anything? It’s a fixed point.”
– The Doctor is lying to the Seeker here, right? Because it was only a still point in time, according to Dorium, until the Silence tried to make it a fixed point. Still not sure if/how they succeeded…
“Alex,” the Doctor said, and he’d turned, surprised. No one had called him that in at least a century.
“You did well. I’m... very proud of you. Please - always remember that.”
– Yes. Letting go. Or not letting go of his feelings, but letting go of using them to manipulate. (Also, there’s a crucial moment in the Fifth Century stuff where someone calls Ash/Horsa by his childhood nickname... bah. Too much explanation required. Will get back to it when I finally collate that stuff. But, yes. Liked it very much.
For a moment he closed his eyes, then turned and pushed open the door to his house. He needed a mirror. And some coffee. And at least a year of not seeing a single living soul.
– !!!
“You were auditioning me. Testing me! Seeing whether I could be trusted to look after the world after you were gone.”
The Doctor didn’t refute his claim, merely lowering his eyes.
“I had to be sure.”
The Seeker could feel his jaw drop in outrage. He’d been angry before at the carelessness, although he’d helped out often enough to know that it was simply par for the course. But this? Deliberate manipulation to check his moral credentials was… Insulting on a level he found hard to vocalise.
– !!!!!
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Indeed. He's always disliked the Doctor's shambolic attitude towards word saving, but knowing that it might all come down to him (the Seeker) if just one thing goes wrong... He never wants to be in that position again without a plan. (If the Doctor had pulled a plan out of thin air on the Crucible, the Seeker would probably have done nothing.)
– Loving this whole scene into little mint balls…
*beams* (Also love the turn of phrase!)
Was Ming the Merciless in Flash Gordon, or was it in the Dan Dare in the Eagle cartoon?
FLASH GORDON!
– First what it’s like to see with a Time Head, now what regeneration feels like from the inside. Excellent.
I... might have borrowed a little from from a fic which I now have problems locating. Darn. I'll get back to you, it's excellent.
– No. As you said earlier, it isn’t paranoia if they really are out to get you…
Indeed.
– Game, set, and match.
Very well put.
– Good lad.
And indeed he wraps his father around his little finger in this regeneration. (See Timely Lovers. Chapter 4, His Father's Son.)
– The Doctor is lying to the Seeker here, right? Because it was only a still point in time, according to Dorium, until the Silence tried to make it a fixed point. Still not sure if/how they succeeded…
Oh no, no lying at this point. This'll have to be in two parts:
1) The Silence create a fixed point from the still point in time. And it is a fixed point, time breaks when River refuses to play her part. The way I see it is that fixed points contain narrative. Which is why the Silence have the whole performance with the Impossible Astronaut rising from the lake, striking the Time Lord on a specific date/day/time/place. It's a story they can embed in the fabric of the universe, and thus it becomes a fixed point (the Doctor - and River - being such an important space/time event). He cheats his way out of it, but only by keeping the narrative intact. As far as the world knows, he dies.
2) When the Doctor comes the first time (and drags the Seeker off to save the world) he does not know it's a set-up. Of course he doesn't tell ANYONE what's going on, because he knows they'd try to stop him. When it comes to the Seeker, however, he could probably have told him, as the Seeker would have been sad to lose the Doctor, but would not have run off doing anything stupid. He knows fixed points are fixed points, and there's nothing to be done. (You can see how the Doctor's cheat influences his future thinking about this in Last One Standing.) But at the time, the Seeker would have been sad, but accepting. Except the Doctor didn't tell him, because he was lying to EVERYONE.
– Yes. Letting go. Or not letting go of his feelings, but letting go of using them to manipulate.
Hmmm. He is at that moment at his most manipulative the Seeker will ever see him... Not quite sure I follow you. (As far as the Doctor knows, he's off to get killed and will never see the Seeker again.)
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Oh, got it. I thought that was Eleven and therefore after River sorted him out, but of course it wasn’t, it was just before TWoRS and the last lesson of River Song, so you’re right, this is his most manipulative ever, hence the Seeker’s grudging later respect. Okay. I was somehow collapsing this ’verse’s Eleven as all post-TWoRS, even though this story makes it explicitly clear that this one wasn’t. My bad.
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Why would that be manipulative? As far as the Doctor is aware, it's this will be his last words to something-like-son-by-proxy. He *is* proud (that's the whole point - he's testing the Seeker, and the Seeker passes the test with flying colours). When the Seeker learns that he [the Doctor] has died, he [the Doctor] wants him [the Seeker] to remember that the Doctor's last words to him were that he [the Doctor] was proud of him. That the Doctor loves and approves of him - and that if Gallifrey were still there, so would the Time Lords.
(OH GOD PRONOUNS I HATE YOU SO MUCH!)
I was somehow collapsing this ’verse’s Eleven as all post-TWoRS, even though this story makes it explicitly clear that this one wasn’t. My bad.
No worries. There's a lot of story. Although I can see how that would make it confusing.
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I stole it fromThat inspired me:Distances.
One of the single best Doctor Who stories I have ever read [about all of him].
Written between End of Time & Eleventh Hour, hence Eleven's appearance being so brief.
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ETA: Just realised that it had been edited! Or added to, rather. This is the original. (Just for my own records, really. *g*)
ETA2: No no no no no! The new one has cut out the part with the Daleks! Part 9 of the original!!! It is... *waves hands* :D
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"Ah, Brigadier, you are presupposing the existence of fate. I have been to possible futures, and possible pasts. I am in a possible now as we speak. Very few events are truly fixed. Things can be altered, paths may diverge; an apple will roll downhill but the precise route it takes is always subject to change."
"...Quite."
– Sure, elegantly retrofit classic Who to include the concept of fixed points, and make it look easy, why don’t you?
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, 'not everything can be explained in your limited human tongue.'"
"Not everything can be explained in mine," he said. "And mine has a lot more bells and whistles. Still, it's always worth a try.
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He'd hang the pendulum here, if he could, fixed and forever, the two of them, a perfect moment in time.
Because the show is always moving from one of these moments to another... (Everything has got to end some time, otherwise nothing would ever get started.)
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– I get that it wasn’t deliberate, but for me it totally brings back Harriet’s complaint about Philip in Strong Poison: “He wanted devotion. I gave him that. I did, you know. But I couldn’t stand being made a fool of. I couldn’t stand being put on probation like an office-boy, to see if I was good enough to be condescended to. I quite thought he was honest when he said he didn’t believe in marriage – and then it turned out that it was a test, to see whether my devotion was abject enough. Well, it wasn’t.” And they are totally different situations, but the wholly justified anger arising off of both offended characters feels of a similar order.
At his words the Seeker felt his new face shut down into a cold mask, the anger like a shell around him:
“Oh yes. I’m a real hero.”
– pets the Seeker carefully, but it’s already far too late at this point…
What happened?”
He’d still been angry (it had only been three days, and although the face was nice, the sheer waste and stupidity of the whole situation was still infuriating) so he’d shaken his head.
– !!!
I wondered how the Seeker ended up with the screwdriver, just as Missy had wondered…
wondering if the Doctor had the faintest idea what the outcome of his machinations had been.
- Never again would he go anywhere unarmed.
- Never again would he go anywhere unprepared.
– And when he finds out, it will break his hearts…
He was quite happy to save the world again, if need be. But it’d be on his own terms, in his own way.
Telling the Doctor any of this was out of the question, obviously. Nor would the Doctor ever understand why he was so spectacularly resentful at having been turned into a hero.
– !!!
Although he supposed he ought to take into account that the Doctor had thought he was about to go get killed by the woman he loved, who had apparently been created to be a weapon… Couldn’t have been easy for him.
– “A beast, but a just beast.”
The Seeker had lived with the Doctor’s idiosyncrasies and hero-complexes his whole life, and although they’d never actually managed to get him killed until now, he shouldn’t have been surprised really.
– !!!
He’d become very adept at conversational Quickstep in his first body, easily sidestepping problematic issues with smooth lines - but now it was nigh-on impossible, as if the regeneration had burned away all the soft corners. There was a bluntness to his new self that he liked, but which made moments like this quite trying.
So change of subject is was.
– !!!
Also one wonders at this point if Lucy had had more influence of Alex’s upbringing if things would have gone any better…
Bad planning was... a deep affront to all he valued, everything he was. But the lack of planning hadn't been the Doctor's (although that was his usual MO) - no, there had been planning aplenty, and on a much deeper level than the Seeker had suspected. He’d had an insubstantial hunch at the time, but nothing more, and was now left with what could only be described as grudging admiration.
– !!!
"Doctor. I just wanted to say..." He hesitated, trying to find the right words; then: "Well played. I was outwitted, outclassed, out-foxed and outmanoeuvred. I’m too cocky by half, and this was a timely reminder that you have nearly a thousand years on me when it comes to manipulation and underhanded tactics. I have a lot to learn.”
The Doctor looked stumped.
"I didn't-"
"Oh yes you did. Credit where credit’s due. I can’t say I’m any happier about you getting me killed than I was before, but dammit, I’m impressed. So please - don’t be a stranger. Stop by. I’m always happy to put the kettle on. OK?”
– !!!
You so want the next scene after this with the Doctor in the TARDIS, whether he lets the words sink in or whether he shrugs it off as he shrugged off Donna’s sometimes you need someone to stop you.
Loved this to pieces. Thank you very much indeed.
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Oh yes, I worked out what you meant. It was just a little out of the left field. But agreed. :)
I wondered how the Seeker ended up with the screwdriver, just as Missy had wondered…
He does explain in Dating Chapter 33. (And how he got the laser in the first instance is explained in Not the Last: Big Brother.)
– And when he finds out, it will break his hearts…
Ah yes.
– “A beast, but a just beast.”
Oh, good quote.
Also one wonders at this point if Lucy had had more influence of Alex’s upbringing if things would have gone any better…
... No
You so want the next scene after this with the Doctor in the TARDIS, whether he lets the words sink in or whether he shrugs it off as he shrugged off Donna’s sometimes you need someone to stop you.
I'd say that's not quite the thing... I'm thinking of what you said about the Doctor lying to everyone before he died, and then opening up after River forced him to. It's essentially the same here - he lied to & manipulated the Seeker like there was no tomorrow (and there wasn't, as far as he knew), but afterwards he comes back, makes a clean breast of it all. And the Seeker... admires the manipulation. The 'lesson' he takes from it is not to be more trusting, but to plan/lie better (like the Doctor did). It's that old thing of the two of them just talking past each other. The Doctor senses it, but doesn't quite know how to tackle it.
Loved this to pieces. Thank you very much indeed.
♥ Oh absolutely my pleasure!
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