InsaneJournal

Who: Death and the Doctor...that sounds like an episode title.
What: Negotiations.
Where: The Doctor’s holding cell, which resembles his TARDIS.
When: While the Doctor was dead.
Rating: NC-17 for kittens. PG.
Status: Complete.

It was strangely quiet in the TARDIS, but it always was when there weren’t any companions around. Perhaps there should have been someone, but the Doctor knew himself well enough that he wouldn’t place anyone in this construct of his mind. Because that was all this was, just a construct. The Doctor had known his TARDIS for over a millennia and he could tell what was and wasn’t her. And this wasn’t her, it couldn’t be, because he had died and now he was trapped here. It was a novel thing, actually dying and having it stick. Of course, he hadn’t expected it for another two regenerations, but he supposed you couldn’t change what had already come to pass.

"Alone at last," said a voice to his left and he rolled his eyes. How terribly predictable. He shot the so-called "Dream Lord" a withering glance then returned his attention, if it could be called that with how very unfocused he was, to the console. "How does it feel, Doctor, to be all alone? They’re all better off without you, of course. You just put them in danger, risk their lives. You don’t even know how many of them are still alive out there...how many of them died for your sake. Even dead you’re still a danger to them, Time Lord."

"Oh, piss off," the Doctor responded, not even bothering to look at the being, the part of himself that he hated so much. The part of himself, he acknowledge, that was so very right. "Make up your mind, why don’t you! Am I a danger to them either way or are they better off without me?"

"You don’t think it could be both?" There was a laugh then, amused and patronising. "Oh come now, Doctor, I know you. I know you better than anyone. After all, who do we know if not ourselves. It’s good that you’re gone. The only way it could be better is if both of you were gone. You’re a danger to them. A worse threat than anything else that’s out there, than anything you’ve shown them. Because you draw them in, you make them love it, and then you cast them out. You abandon them in a world that’s too small. Of course, that’s only if they don’t die."

The voice was closer and closer, and the Doctor closed his eyes against the words. "Admit it, Thete," the voice changed seemlessly to another. "When you get right down to the bare bones of it, you are just. like. me." The Master smiled at his side. "Worse really. I don’t pretend to be anything but what I am. But you...you’re noble and good and right. Ha! If only they knew what you really are, what it’s like inside of you, they would run screaming."

"Shut up!" the Doctor said, not because the Master was wrong, or his projection of the Master rather, but because he was all too right. "Just shut up! Go away. I can’t think with you here." And, oddly enough (or not, since this was his own mind), the Master listened and left the Doctor alone again. Dropping his head to his hands, he took a deep breath and tried to gather his scattered thoughts. It wasn’t any better, but at least it was quieter.

It wasn’t quiet for very long, however.

Death had been patiently observing, waiting for a moment when the Doctor finally cleared his cluttered headspace enough that he could converse with the Time Lord alone. Yes, they were technically always alone as the creations of the ‘Dream Lord’ and the Master were merely mental constructs, but they were tangible enough that Death didn’t care to speak over them. However once they were gone, he finally made himself visible in order to get down to business.

Appearing near the doorway of the TARDIS, he cast a glance around. Things looked a bit different, when you were corporeal, even if this wasn’t technically a corporeal place. Finally his attention fixed on the Doctor, his voice vaguely amused as he murmured, “For someone who does so despise being alone, you certainly have quite an interesting concept of an afterlife, Doctor.”

Perhaps not the kindest of observations but it was nevertheless true.

The Doctor glanced over, unsurprised to see Death standing there. He was, after all, dead. Why shouldn’t the entity be there, either to observe or make some sort of offer? After all, dying didn’t seem to be a permanent thing in this city, so perhaps everyone had these sorts of meetings and just didn’t remember after the fact. It was a possibility to consider at any rate. Even though Death hadn’t made his physical presence known in the city, that in no way meant he hadn’t just been keeping a low profile.

"I’ve been around long enough to know that what we want and what’s best are two very different things," he said with a wry smile. "But then I imagine you know that much better than I do." After all, compared with Death, he was still just a child. They all were, really. It was a relief in some ways, not having to be the wise and all-knowing Time Lord with this being. It was a tiresome thing at times, being the one people looked to for answers. Looking back at Death, he gestured to one of the other seats. "Go ahead and have a seat if you like."

Between conversations with those who either didn't believe he was who he claimed to be, didn't particularly care who he was, or simply wanted to be difficult because of it, it was a much welcome relief to speak with someone who understood that he was hardly the mild-mannered, kindly old man he appeared to be and who didn't require an introduction nor an explanation. It was ironic, really, that he would likely get along best with the Doctor considering how hard the Time Lords as a species had worked to find a way to elude him for as long as possible. Still, he had to admire their determination and ingenuity and, when it came to the Doctor, their sheer stubbornness. The other Time Lords had grown too powerful for their own good, too violent in their own way to be allowed to continue. The Doctor had recognized such a fact and made a very difficult decision because of it. Death would have respected him for that alone, even if he wasn't singularly responsible for saving the whole of the universe many times over.

Tipping his head in acknowledgement of the offer, he simply made his way further into the TARDIS but declined sitting just yet. Yes, it wasn't the actual ship - merely a mental representation - but she was still quite a sight to behold even to a being as old as Death.

"You're right, of course," he spoke after a moment, his gaze flickering back to the Time Lord. "To an extent. You neither want to be here nor need to remain here." He paused. "Once the situation with the Toclafane has been sorted, that is. I can hardly have you popping back up only to find yourself here once more after all." Which, he knew, was quite likely what would happen. For even if the Doctor agreed to pay the price that he was going to ask, or perhaps especially if he did so, he would still toss himself right back into the thick of it all and would almost certainly wind up dead for a second time in the same invasion. A ridiculous thought, to be sure, and one Death intended to avoid.

Making his way to the chairs but not taking a seat quite yet, he turned his attention to the consoles. "Such a complicated bit of machinery all to achieve something none of you've any business doing in the first place," he murmured, fingers dancing across the smooth surface before he drew away and looked back to the Doctor. There was a very vague smile upon his face as he added, "And to think there are those who consider humanity a race advancing far faster than they've any right to do."

“One might think you would be glad to be done with one of me,” the Doctor pointed out, as if commenting on the weather. “After all, one of me is more than enough hassle. Two? I’m not sure how the universe stands it.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Not, of course, that I’m saying I don’t wish to go back. I’ve hardly got a death wish, no matter what some folks might tell you. Just saying some people might think it’s better this way. And, objectively speaking, they might be right. Goodness knows I’ve done more than my fair share damage in my time.” But he’d also done more than his fair share of good, even if he chose not to acknowledge that part.

“Be a little more respectful,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Death’s comments about the TARDIS. “She’s more than just a machine, thank you very much.” He could be defensive when it came to the old girl, but then they had been through a lot together. At the next comment, he shook his head and laughed. “They’re still young. Give them a few more millennia and they’ll really give the universe something to talk about.” He liked humanity, whatever some might say. They had spirit, and more importantly they were never boring.

“So,” he said, his tone coloured the sort of casualness that took a lot of work and was never really casual, “what’s the price? I can’t imagine you just go about bringing people back to life all willy-nilly, free of charge. Runs rather counter to your job, I would say.” His expression turned serious, and he took a moment to silently regard Death before he continued speaking. “I sincerely doubt you’re going to just take a regeneration and call it a day. No, if that was the case, we wouldn’t even be having this talk. That would just be a regular day for us. So, what say we get down to the business of it, shall we? We’re both old enough not to dance around it.”

Death didn’t comment on being glad to be rid of the Doctor. Truth be told, Death was rarely glad to be rid of anyone. That was taking things a bit too personally, which was precisely what he tried to avoid. However if he were going to allow his own opinions and feelings toward the Time Lord to affect him, he would honestly have to say a small part of him was almost disappointed that he’d been killed. After all, while the Doctor wasn’t even close to Death’s age - and never would be - he was a rather old being who did his absolute best to help others. It was commendable, if a bit irksome at times. After all, the Doctor was also known for putting the chaos in an uproar and that... well, personal or not, that was certainly a thorn in Death’s side far more than not.

He also didn’t apologize for what he’d said about the TARDIS but merely tipped his head in acknowledgment. He had said it rather deliberately, to get the subject off of the Doctor for the briefest of moments. It worked, as did the backhanded compliment toward humanity. Then finally things were steered in the direction Death had wanted them to go. Down to business, just like that, but directed there by the Doctor. Perhaps a small, petty thing to most but Death knew the Time Lord was much more inclined to focus fully on something if he was the one who brought it up, so this would do quite nicely.

“That we are,” he finally spoke, his tone mild and laced with the vaguest of amusement. It wasn’t often someone could say they were both old and have it be true. Relatively speaking, that is.

“And the price is a simple one, Doctor. I don’t want one regeneration, no. I want them both.” The briefest of pauses as his gaze flickered briefly to the console once more before he cut his dark, unreadable eyes back toward him. “As well as everything else that makes you a Time Lord.” Turning so he was facing the Doctor directly, he finally summarized.

“In short, Doctor, if you are to return to life you will only do so if you become human.”

The Doctor listened at Death named his price and was quiet for a long moment. After all, he was hardly the sort of person to just agree to something like that without thinking it over. His mind went back to his conversations with himself earlier, the concerns he couldn’t have voiced anywhere but his own mind. Honestly, becoming human would alleviate many of the concerns he’d had regarding his influence on his companions. If he was a normal human (or not normal, since he’d always be himself, but at least human), he was hardly the threat to them he was otherwise. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe this was a natural progression of things. Or maybe he was just justifying it to himself to have a reason to go back.

“Now you’re just making your job easier,” he said in a joking way, giving Death a small smile.

But he would do it, and not just because it would make him less of a danger to the people in his life. There were selfish reasons too. His mind turned to Reinette and the relationship they had begun. Living a normal human life with her had never been in the cards, but maybe that could change. Maybe he could walk the slow path with her. The idea made the decision almost too easy, and he wondered if perhaps he was agreeing to this for the wrong reasons. Frankly though, when the alternative was to remain dead, it wasn’t really a matter of deciding. Even human, he’d do more good alive than dead.

“All right,” he said thoughtfully, once he’d weighed the options. “I’ll do it. I’ll be human if that’s what it takes.”

Truth be told, Death likely could have requested just about anything and he had a feeling the Doctor would have not only agreed but found a way to justify whatever the price happened to be. Of course, Death could hardly blame him for such a thing. There were only a very select few who wanted to die, particularly in a permanent capacity, and the Doctor was certainly not one of them. Odd, really, considering that he risked his life so often to safe others, but no martyr had ever wanted to die for their cause. They'd simply been willing to do so if necessary and, as this wasn't necessary, it was completely natural that the Time Lord would prefer to undo it as soon as possible.

"My job will certainly be easier," Death agreed, vaguely amused at the statement, "but far less interesting, I'm afraid. You do tend to find quite unique ways to die, after all. Although I am curious to see just what sort of...situations you'll manage to get yourself into while stuck on the slow path, as you put it." Honestly, he doubted even being human would slow the Doctor down very much. Yes, he would have a few difficulties along the way, but he also stood much to gain from the change and Death hoped he acclimated to it well enough.

Until he figured out some way to undo the process, that is. Because Death didn't imagine for one second that the Doctor wouldn't find some way to return to the race he was meant to be. No, if there was any possibility of this being a permanent situation, he likely wouldn't have made the offer to begin with.

"Now," he added after a second, "I want you to be absolutely certain about this. Once you find yourself returned to the city, I will not be able to reverse the process." Not that he would, even if he could, but some things were even beyond Death's control.

"I do enjoy making things interesting," the Doctor acknowledged with a grin. "I suppose I’ll just have to think of this as a challenge to find other ways to be interesting. I’ve never been especially good at being boring." And at least he’d had that little adventure in normality with Craig, to give him some idea of the requirements of being human. Like eating regularly. And sleeping. And showers and brushing teeth. And he was sure Reinette and Lucy and Rose could explain things, once they were done being cross with him for dying of course. He was sure there was quite a bit for him to learn and he planned to treat this like just another adventure. He was good at those, after all.

"I'm certain," he assured Death. "After all, it's this or staying dead. And dead's a bit more permanent than human...and living is generally better than dead in my experience. Mostly. Not always." He nodded decisively. "Yes. I'm sure. I'll be human." It would be difficult, and undoubtedly challenging, but he'd always liked difficult and challenging things so that wasn’t actually a mark against it. "This is me agreeing to your terms. Do we have to shake hands? Or do I sign something? Do I have to repeat after you? Or is that just it?"

And then he was all alone again.

"Huh..." he said. "Guess that is it. Okay then."