Who: TARDIS and Tenth Doctor When: After this text conversation. Where: Tara’s place. What: Tara brought someone back from the dead. A little too much. She’s distressed and shit. Rating: G. Innocent. Status: Complete
Tara hadn’t gotten out of bed since she’d gotten back from the Agency. She’d spent most of the night (and well into the day) staring at her ceiling, in disbelief. Disbelief at what she’d done, and at what implications it had on the universe.
She’d known what she was capable of when she’d agreed to help heal those who had been injured. She’d been aware that her control over Time and Space was using the incorrect verb to describe her abilities. Beyond everything, she knew better than to do what she’d done. She was a TARDIS, a Time Lord -- they shunned everything that she’d just caused in the world. And she’d done it to a near stranger.
It was so wrong. She couldn’t even begin to explain how it had happened. She had been in control... And then she hadn’t. The Time Vortex had taken over with its unimaginable power and revived Alex Summers forever. And she couldn’t take it back.
Tara Smith didn’t know what to do. So she laid in bed and hid from the world.
I bring life. It was Rose’s voice that the Doctor remembered from the last time. The beautiful glow of the time vortex in her eyes and on her skin. That was Tara, now, that glow. And she’d gone and done the same thing, even though she should have known better.
The Doctor wasn’t angry, although some Time-Lordy part of him said that he should have been a bit more miffed about it all. He couldn’t seem to fully find that part of himself though. Tara hadn’t meant to to do it -- she’d only been trying to be a gentle, helpful soul. Botching charity work didn’t mean the work still hadn’t been done for a good reason.
Sometimes he was sure he was still detached from that other part of himself. Because what, really, did John Smith care about a wrinkle of wrong in the universe? People made mistakes just as much as mistakes made people.
He’d taken the bus -- still never having bothered getting his own car or form of transport that wasn’t Tara in one way or another, and so it’d taken a while. But he’d warned it’d be a half hour so no harm done there.
Once he arrived, he let himself in with his own key -- one Tara had made for him some time before, but that he rarely needed to put use to -- and closed the door behind him. “Tara?”
Tara wasn’t keeping track of the time, really. Apart from answering text messages, she hadn’t done much but stare and think. Think on the wrongs that she’d done, how they could never be fixed, and how she should have known better. She’d been inside of Rose’s mind the last time this had happened. She should have known how to stop it.
It was a cycle of self-loathing the brunette had caught herself in. She would be glad to have John around at least to yell at her and justify that. At the sound of his entry, Tara winced a little. She didn’t know how John was feeling about this all.
“Upstairs!” she called, curling into her covers and pillows. She was comfortable, and bed truly was the best.
In retrospect, John thought maybe he should have brought her some grilled cheese. But there wasn’t much turning back at this point, and so sandwichless, he made his way up the little flight of stairs. She was where he’d expected to find her, under what looked like a massive amount of blankets (of course she’d have that many). “Hey,” he greeted carefully, even as he crawled up onto the bed to lay next to her.
Nearly everything but Tara’s eyes was covered by her blankets when John entered. She mumbled her “hello” and, grabbing at the sheet covering her face, pulled it down so he could at least see that part of her. Watching him with big brown eyes, she was silent for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “Um. How are you?”
“Just me, luv,” John said, smiling at her in a way that was more kind than it was his usual excited over-hyper. The time for that was not now. “Fine. Not mad. You shouldn’t be either.” Because she clearly was beating herself up over this.
He was being over-nice. As good as that was right now, it made her frown. He should be mad at her, not nice. She’d known better. When this had happened before, it hadn’t been Rose’s fault. This time, Tara knew she should have stopped it. “I’ve got to be mad,” she pointed out, petulant. “What else could I be?”
John gave a sigh at that, and then flopped over onto his back, wiggling until his head was firmly resting on what he assumed was her hip underneath all those blankets. “Half human? Learning still?”
She made a humph noise at that, wiggling so that she was comfortable with his head on her hip. Why’d he have to keep being so nice? “I shouldn’t have agreed to help,” she said, which really was quite true. She didn’t have much control over her glowy gold powers yet. It was all a bit scary -- the Time Vortex -- especially when you couldn’t rein it in.
“No?” John stared up at the ceiling, and then folded his hands together neatly on his stomach. This was sort of a slippery slope, a weird conversation, because he knew that part of him should probably be a little angry. But he just … wasn’t. “Rather just let someone die off, then?”
Tara made a face at that. “No,” she said, as if that was the worst thing that John could suggest. But, in reality, it would have been the only thing that could have happened had she done nothing. Alex would have died without her help.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t been the only healer on hand.
“I don’t know, Doctor. I think I’m too human sometimes.” The Time Lady in her would have let Alex die. Humanity always seemed to have a desire to do the right thing, rather than the correct thing.
That had always been something that her Doctor did though. He’d always been different than the rest of the Time Lords -- he always stuck his nose in places it didn’t belong. He always helped. Never, once, had he allowed himself to just sit back and observe if he could do something to fix it. How could he blame Tara for basically doing something that he did, too? And sure, there was another possible spot of wrong in time now - but the universe hadn’t seemed to end when it happened with Jack. “We’re both here,” he said, after a time. “Not quite sure what that means, but -- you know, Tara. You don’t just have to be one or the other. You’ve got a life here.”
Tara, at some point in their conversation, had wriggled a hand out from under the covers and was running her fingers through John’s hair. It was nearly a reflex to always be touching him -- this was no different, even if her mood was sour.
“It’s kind of scary,” she admitted all of a sudden. Then, to clarify: “This power. Scary and weird.”
He didn’t mind all the touching -- obviously -- and honestly liked little more than he did the vague head pettings, and so let her continue without a word on the matter at all.
“I imagine it is,” he said, thoughtfully. He didn’t have power like that. Sure, there were differences between Time Lords and humans, but -- not in the same way that there was between them and someone like Tara. He wouldn’t ever have powers like that. “No real getting around it, though.” Nor did he want her to, if he had to be honest. It would be good to travel again, when she knew how.
She let out a breath, just enjoying John’s companionship for the moment. He really was her best friend, her most loyal companion, and her greatest confidant. It was refreshing just having him around, even if he should be cross with her. A part of Tara was selfishly tickled that he wasn’t, though.
“Do you think it will be the same as Jack?” she asked, still staring at the ceiling. She felt a pang of guilt hit her stomach, and she squirmed at the feeling while making a noise. The girl was terrible at hiding these things.
She really was. John had a suspicion that all of Tara’s over-emotions and wriggles and bouncy smiles were possibly just the TARDIS trying to make up for all the time she couldn’t do things like that.
In all honesty, the Doctor had to admit he kind of loved it.
“Don’t know. I didn’t feel anything different at the time.” But then, he hadn’t been there. And he wasn’t as in tune with things like that as he was in the dream. “We can’t very well ask him to give it a go, though.”
Tara made a face. “I wasn’t thinking we should test it out!” she exclaimed, the thought of doing just that being off-putting to say the least. She made that same groany noise, and letting his head free for a moment, placed a hand on either temple and shook her head. “How do I tell him?” It was a thought that had been plaguing her for hours.
That was a pretty rough question, actually. John chewed and worried at his bottom lip for a time, considering it. “Well,” he dug his palm into his eye, wiping it in frantic thought. “You don’t know you did if for sure...”
It really was a rough question. Which is why she was asking for advice, hello! Tara covered her eyes, as if shutting and covering them could help her ignore her problems.
Yes, she was definitely going to act like a child on this one. At least until she figured it out.
Pouting, the brunette whimpered and wiggled. “I need a hug,” she told her best friend, sounding like the saddest Time Traveling Machine in the world.
She kind of was the saddest Time Traveling Machine in the world. But then, to be fair, she was usually always the happiest in the world, too. He wiggled around, sitting up and opening his arms toward her. “Give us one, then.” So British, John.
Incredibly British. It took a minute, but Tara dug herself out of her covers and scooched up toward John. Tucking her head into the curve of his neck, she fastened her arms around her Doctor and let out a breath. Yes, this was better. Much better. “Thank you,” she mumbled into the part between John’s neck and shoulder. For what? Everything. For being her best friend, for being her Doctor, for understanding. Just everything.