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Tweak says, "mercury is in retrograde, bewa"

The Eleventh Doctor thinks bow ties are cool. (the11thhour) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2011-07-24 17:27:00

Entry tags:

the doctor (10), the doctor (11)

WHO: Doctor²
WHAT: Technically, it's Ten getting medical attention, but you can't really stick two Doctor's into one TARDIS without crazy ensuing. It's impossible.
WHEN: Late afternoon.
WHERE: The TARDIS.
RATING: PG for now.

Tweed jacket tossed over one of the railings off to his right, the Doctor tugged at the leather braces running over his shoulders, the sharp snap of them being pulled upward and released twinging lightly against his skin. Distractedly, the oldest of the youngest (physically, at least) of his regenerations twisted a knob at the central console of the TARDIS, not particularly directing the TARDIS in any which location, but doing so out of the need to be doing something with himself. Why? The Doctor was all out of sorts, that was why. Another him had been tossed into the woodwork, hailed straight on into Lawrence from a time so recent that the Doctor could still practically taste the radiation poisoning that had done him in. Those final moments of his tenth regeneration had been dark. Angry. Filled with more sadness than he could bear, because he hadn't been ready. Not him. Not ready to change, not ready to go. To move on and become another, with different thoughts and feelings and perspectives on all things, ranging from the ones that mattered the most to which option was most sensible for supper (fish sticks and custard, without a single doubt).

The man that he had invited into his TARDIS - their TARDIS, if he was really going to be fair, which he (in that moment) honestly did not want to be, because he already had enough trouble trying to fight River off when it came to being in charge of his own ship - was not going to be terribly pleasant. His former self had his moments (many of which were absolutely brilliant), sure enough, but as of now, coming out from all of that, the Doctor didn't much expect for the past to greet him with open arms and a wide grin on his face.

Not that, generally, he would have wanted to hug any of his older selves anyway.

Nonetheless, the tenth of the Doctor's was currently venturing his way over to the blue police box, which had been carefully placed just off the end of a sidewalk a few blocks from the local park. Knowing himself - which he did - the directions that the Doctor had given the other Doctor would have been more than enough for him to manage finding the TARDIS, so the Doctor found that all he could do now, besides fidget and worry, was wait.

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dominustemporis
2011-07-28 12:41 am UTC (link)

"Could have gone worse," the tenth Doctor found himself saying, tone mild, almost dismissive as he set to rummaging in the various supplies that he kept on hand and only rarely used. It felt safer to be as emotionally distant as possible from his future self, at least while they were in such close company. He was too tired for a proper row just at the moment, though he expected one would happen eventually. It generally did, whenever he was faced with his former or future incarnations. At least this time it was only the two of them.

"You've been here with her longer than I have," he went on. "I'm sure you know better than I do how she feels about me." The Doctor felt strange, discussing Rose with the man he would one day become. A part of him was jealous of the time they had spent together, while another part of him was afraid of what had been said, and still another was grateful that at least Rose had had one of him to depend on. She seemed comfortable enough with the idea of his future self. Was she, truly? Was there something about the eleventh Doctor, floppy hair and all, that was more appealing than the battered man who had come before him?

The Doctor grimaced as he reached for one of the diagnostic tools and his shoulder informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he might not want to move his arm that way again for a good while. No more jumping from spaceships, he told himself, gritting his teeth and grabbing the scanner despite his body's protests. He wondered how deep the damage had gone. Clearly not deep enough to trigger a regeneration, but with the amount of pain he was in, he thought, for the first time, to worry about how much radiation he'd actually absorbed before he found himself in Kansas.

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the11thhour
2011-08-08 03:44 am UTC (link)

He was right. The Doctor did know, well enough, how Rose had likely reacted to interacting with the version of himself she was more familiar with. The last he had spoken with her, she had been cold. Angry. Bitter, because he had chosen to leave her behind with a man that was so very him, but so very not at the same time. Sort of like the two Doctor's standing in the same room now, though with less alien attributes, such as the bonus of having two whole, beating hearts. When confronted on the matter, the Doctor had tried to explain that it was what he thought she had wanted. That, for a second, it almost seemed as though she were finally happy, raking in the opportunity to settle into a life with the almost-Doctor without having to worry about chasing him across the stars in order to do so. She had seemed happy. He thought she had. He had been very wrong. Betrayed was a good word to describe it, really. She must have thought him very daft and foolish, to have believed she'd ever be happy living that life. Perhaps he was, even with all the knowledge he prided himself on carrying.

"She's got every right to be cross," The Doctor offered, turning round rather pointedly. It was a sensitive subject for himself, surely, but he knew that it was probably threefold worse for Other Him. Fresh wounds, those were, and he was fairly certain that picking at them wasn't going to make this whole 'getting along' thing any easier on either of their parts. That didn't mean that the topic wasn't one that interested him. As far as matters filed into the massively large folder of All Things Rose were concerned, the Doctor was always going to be more on the emotionally invested side of things. Which meant that it was very much in his nature to poke and prod at the matter, even when he knew that it was best that he shouldn't bother with it in the slightest.

He was going to keep on poking about it, that was for certain. But now, with Other Him in his current state, he thought to give it a temporary rest. He'd get off easy today, mostly on the default that he needed to rest and heal before taking on more headaches.

"She'll come around," the Doctor added, "she always does." He said no more than that, propping the bandages back down onto the table he'd snatched them away from and turned back around to look over the diagnostics that Other Him had been working on. It didn't much seem like Other Him was going to be playing the role of action guy anytime soon -- the radiation really had done a number on him. Noting that he was visibly grimacing from the pain, the Doctor moved away from the table he'd been lurking by and reached for the scanner. "Let me help," he insisted, hoping that Other Him wasn't going to be too proud to let his future self lend a hand.

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dominustemporis
2011-08-08 04:10 am UTC (link)

If there were one thing the Doctor understood without question in this new world, it was how justified Rose was in her anger at him. He'd been a high-handed old fool again, leaving her behind. He should have waited. At the very least, he should have said goodbye. She had deserved some sort of closure. Still, he wasn't certain he could have managed a life with her and his other self in the TARDIS. It was bad enough, watching the woman he loved grow old while he continued on, ageless by comparison to a human's lifespan. How much worse would it have been to watch his other self fade, as humans did? What else could he have done? He didn't know, and it didn't matter, not anymore.

Rose, brilliant, wonderful Rose, had given him more than he deserved by allowing him back into her life. He wondered if he were taking advantage of her kindness by accepting that invitation. Would it do more harm than good to attempt to reconcile all that had come between them? He didn't know, couldn't see that clearly when his own personal timeline was involved.

"She's not the one who needs to come around," he found himself saying. "It's me. I'm the one who made the mistakes. I'm the one who needs to make amends."

When his other self stepped forward to help him with the equipment, the Doctor silently stepped back, sore arm cradled close against his side. "Do I really have a choice?" he said, flashing a tired smile at his counterpart and the offer of assistance. "Another second or two in that booth and I'd have shown up here already regenerating. Isn't that so?" He cast a glance at the readouts and shook his head. Everything had happened so quickly after he'd opened the door to the chamber. He'd done his best to simply do, not to think. No chance for regrets, that way, and no chance to yet again take the coward's way out. For a moment, he felt sympathy for his older self. What he must have gone through, before he changed. The Doctor was sick at the thought of it.

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