Is It Tea Yet? Who: Tenth Doctor and Jeannie What: Arrival When: Afternoon Where: Hotel lobby Status: Complete
His eyelids snapped open like something high voltage kicked him on. Brown eyes opened unnaturally wide, staring up at golden chandeliers. They had the glazed appearance of being marbles rather than alive. The man who laid on the plush carpet didn't move. Freckles on his face were so fine they couldn't been seen from the sweat coating his skin.
"Doctor," he heard someone say. His dilated pupils tried to focus and it hurt but he couldn't move. Romana's face floated above him, soft and fuzzy in his vision. "One for casual, one for best...." Blonde Romana reached down to touch his chest but he couldn't feel her pale fingers splayed across the coat. Another violent jolt to his body, seeming to convulse his hearts--
What? WHAT? WHAT?!! His hearts hadn't been beating until she touched him. The sudden rush of Gallifreyan blood made him spasm. The Doctor convulsed onto his side, curling up in a ball of agony. Even with clothes on, he had a boney and depleted appearance. His elbows stuck out awkwardly from his self-embrace.
He heard voices in his head. One came closer, booming through the din of them all: "He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And... he's wonderful."
"No no NO! I'm not bloody WONDERFUL!" He looked utterly surprised, as if he couldn't fathom how he had pulled himself up to his feet while screaming back at the voice.
The Doctor seized his brown hair with both hands and pulled on it, forcing tears from his eyes. "That's better, think. You can think... chairs!" Pouncing in his plimsolls, he half fell while sinking onto a cushion. "Comfy chairs..." He ran his hands over the arms. Leaning over, he tasted the material with his tongue and the fuzzy view of the floor got his attention. "Carpet..." He leaned down to touch the blurry details of the fibres. "...tables... magazines..." He picked one of the publications up but wasn't able to read the words on the cover. It dropped from his hand as he peered around. "...hotel lobby? Which one when?" he uttered feverishly, pulling his jacket pockets inside out. Nothing. He reached into the coat and cried out in triumph, almost falling over in excitement. "Sonic screwdriver!" He kissed it, having missed the instrument all these centuries of hell, before shoving it back in a pocket. "What else-- psychic paper?"
The scene careened on its side until he realised he had fallen off the chair when he went "Oof!" hitting the floor. "Ouch!" he shouted after deliberately biting his tongue; he couldn't pass out, not now, not until he knew for certain if he had actually been freed or if he was irreparably insane.
"Tea," he uttered, his parched throat longing for the bracing brew. His ragged breathing seemed unnaturally loud in his ears. With a grunt, the Doctor pulled himself up until he was on all fours. He leaned back, managed to get his feet under him but he stayed there for several moments, crouched and hugging his knees, head down. The world was spinning, spinning....
"Oh look at him, unable to even navigate across a lobby," a voice disdained in his left ear. That sounded like... the Master? The Rani? His father? Then that laugh, that Master laugh ringing out from the bearded foe in black velvet. "So the Daleks won after all, Doctor!"
He lurched to his feet, hands covering his ears. His eyes were wild, bulging with terror and brunette Romana's voice soothed into his right ear: "Go to the desk, Doctor. Check in and get a cup of tea." He didn't remember crossing the distance. The next thing he knew, he tripped over his own feet and his hands slammed hard on the reception desk. When he slid them to the edge, gripping it so he wouldn't tumble over, he left streaks of perspiration on the highly polished wood.
"Hello!" he shouted as loud as he could. He rang the bell wildly. "Hello, I need some tea PLEASE!!!" His appearance was like a madman, with his tongue partially hanging out and his hair sticking up in crazy spikes. The pockets on his long coat were turned inside out. "Ouch!" he screamed again after biting his tongue; he couldn't faint, he couldn't faint, no no NO!!! A drop or two of blood plopped on the back of his hands which white-knuckled the desk.