[ He'd dropped Clara off on her usual day, and generally, the Doctor just skips ahead to the next week quickly. The benefits of having your own time machine, you never have to wait! He's not good at that part, the waiting. Sometimes he gets pulled along to other adventures, though, and today happens to be one of those days.
He'd stopped off for an ice cream cone before making his way back to the TARDIS, only to discover an envelope taped to the TARDIS. ]
Oi! Whoever did this, you could've slipped it under the door. This better not smudge the paint, eh, old girl - [ The Doctor very carefully pulls the note off, taking great care, making sure no part of the TARDIS exterior is blemished in any way. ]
I do love a good mystery, though... [ He steps inside now, finishing off his ice cream cone and opening up the note. Scrawled on the parchment are coordinates, somewhere on Earth. He debates for a moment, going back for Clara. She loves a good mystery, too. He could just fast forward to next Wednesday and get her. But, this one gives him a bit of pause. A note taped to his door. Someone in need of assistance, possibly, but he's not stupid. Something about this feels off in a way that his instincts say, he needs to go it alone. At least for now. When he arrives at the site of what's simply an abandoned warehouse, he's even more convinced he made the right decision not involving Clara in this. When he steps through the door, slowly, he calls out- ]
No balloons or streamers? I thought this would be a surprise party! Bit of a letdown. That's okay. I'll stay for cake. If there's no cake, I'm rioting.
[ As he speaks, he approaches a table and two chairs in the middle of the room, and now his confusion builds when he finds two place cards marked, Doctor. ]
[After the Zygon invasion the Doctor had been reluctant to leave Clara back at her flat. He knew that she wasn't dead. She was there in front of him. But there was this sense of panic that arose in his chest when he thought about how she could have been dead; it was a reminder of her humanity and her temporary nature.
He had dropped her off in the end. She had a job to get back to and he felt like a sense of normalcy would be good for her. And then he had taken off, catapulting himself into the future so he could go and collect her again. But not before a spot of coffee. Much like his counterpart he had arrived back at his TARDIS with a coffee cup in hand and was just finishing a voice message to Clara.]
I'll by your flat shortly - make sure you're dressed sensibly. Something to run in. Can't guarantee that we won't be doing any of that. We might. Hard to say.
[His voice trails off as soon as he spots the note. Without so much of a word of goodbye he ends the voice mail to examine it. The note itself was rather unextraordinary but the coordinates were oh so tempting. And he loved a tempting, cryptic note. Could it be a trap? Absolutely. There's a 50% chance it is. But he needs to know what it is. Clara could wait, right? She was probably teaching or doing whatever it was that Clara did.
He isn't the first one to arrive at the warehouse. Or rather, he is. Just not the current version of himself. He'd recognize the floppy hair and chin anywhere. Slowly he approaches the table positing himself behind the other chair not daring to get too close.]
I don't like parties but this is more of a reason to not like them.
Nothing like being annoyed with your future self especially because he's right. ]
Older and grumpier. So much to look forward to!
[ Said with dripping sarcasm. He's going to ignore himself now in favor of approaching the table, leaning in and noting the carelessly tossed bags of jelly babies. An old favorite. Not something just anyone would know about him. Not anyone who would lure him here, in any case. There's only one person he can think of, in fact.
Sure, he has many enemies, all of whom would be eager to bait him. They wouldn't know about his very particular preference for one very particular item, nor would they care. Cybermen, Daleks, Sontarans, Silurians...none would go to this trouble. Only on. ]
[ Before they can get much further, the chairs seem to be on an invisible track that pushes them into the table and lock them in. No reaching for their sonics, no standing. No candy. Only then does music begin to play and spotlights begin to move so disorientingly that it's still difficult to make anything out. And then, the music starts. From the corner of a room a clown emerges, waving and doing a fun dance. Obviously, she's quite happy and lets the black balloons she's carrying float up, up and away.
Making her way to the Doctors, the mask obscures her features, but perhaps the eyes will be familiar to at least one of them. She leans in close and presses a firm kiss to the older one's cheek, leaving behind a smear of black lipstick. Then, she reaches into his pocket and takes the sonic screwdriver and glasses, putting the latter on. She moves around to the other and drags a finger along his jawline, over the end of his chin, and back up the other side before pressing a kiss to the opposite side of his face from the other's. His sonic goes too, and then she casually saunters to the middle of the room as the lights go off and one spotlight sends a splash of light directly over her.
Finally, she speaks over the music. ]
Thank you for coming to my humble little show, Doctors. We're an upstart, so any and all donations will be welcome. One of you may be familiar with my work already. [ She unbuttons the top of the costume and strips it away, leaving her in the top half of a business suit, the mask, and the ridiculous pants. ] The other, not so much, in fact. I went so long without seeing you, I missed that face. But that chin, when I say yikes. [ She laughs over her shoulder into the dark. ] Am I right, ladies?
[ There's sauntering, a strut. A confidence. She has him now and there's nothing he can do about it. It's so thrilling. ] Annnnnnnnywho, I won't keep you waiting any longer, the show simply must begin. [ Pulling off the mask and wig, Missy's face is completely revealed and she tosses the entire mask aside. ]
Ta-Da! [ Both hands go in the air like a game show host. ] Are you surprised? Go ahead, old man, tell him my name. Go on. [ Her grin is absolutely feral, and she finally strips away the pants so that a skirt billows out of them and she's dressed comfortably for the show. ]
[The sinking, gnawing feeling in his chest is an all too familiar one. It's one specifically reserved for Missy and he's certain to some degree that his younger self is feeling something similar.
Unlike his younger self though the Doctor is standing stock still like a statue.]
Missy.
[His voice is similar to a growing storm.] Enough with the theatrics what do you want?
[ The music stops abruptly and Missy walks to the table, the light still following her somehow. Grabbing a handful of jelly babies, she tosses the bag back on the table with enough force for them to scatter. She looks at 11 and grins. ] Look at you, in yer wee bowtie. [ The accent is strong. ] How adorable are you? I can see why that doe-eyed girl died for you like an idiot.
[ Looking between them both, she pops a few pieces of candy in her mouth and laughs. ] Now this is a threesome! Whadd'ye say boys, you, me, you? Handcuffs?
[ Leaning over to stare 12 in the eyes, she looks about as sane as she ever has. Which is to say: not at all. There's a small smirk before she finally shrugs, stuffing the rest of the jelly babies into his mouth. ] Well, killing Kate and Osgood was too 'hands off' for my taste. To really know I have your attention, I thought it might be prudent to see your face. Well, faces. There's nothing quite like the terror in your eyes when you realize what's happening. Really gets a girl going.
[ Hopping up, she claps her hands together and then walks around the table once more. ] I've taken the time to put together what I hope to be a thrilling show with audience participation. If all goes well, I might even take this show on the road. [ She rolls all her Rs dramatically. ] I have with me today not one but two special guests. All the way from different timelines.
[ Over the speakers, there's a low drumroll as Missy speaks. ] First, all the way from where you just left her: Clarrrrraaaa Oswaaaaaaald! [ She says it like an MC, the drumroll stopping. Another spotlight turns on to reveal a younger Clara, strapped to a wheel and already hanging upside-down, chained at the hands and feet, bound and gagged in a magician assistant's outfit.
The other Clara's torture is more personal and Missy picked what is, in her opinion, exactly the sort of eventual death the Doctor deserves to see. ] And to our right, a volunteer not quite bright enough to stop from being tricked STRAIGHT into a Dalek...the girl desperately in love with someone who can't love her back: Clara Oswald! [ There's fake audience applause; this spotlight reveals an older Clara, still in her pajamas and locked in a water tank. She's chained to the sides of the tank, not gagged. And she can very easily be heard shouting for the Doctor. There's nothing but fear in her eyes. ]
Now, I bet you're both wondering where the audience participation comes into play?
[ He's not going to abide this ridiculous show any longer. Not that there's anything he can exactly do right now, but he's as angry as he's ever been, the rage building quickly. He doesn't explode, not quite, no. That would have been his younger self. While he does have a temper and can snap in the most dire of situations, he's not going to give her the satisfaction just yet.
He knows what she wants, what the Master has always wanted; his pain, his suffering. As slow and painful as possible. Don't give her the satisfaction, he thinks, and maybe he can talk her out of letting Clara go. Both of them.
It's a ridiculous notion, he realizes immediately. It's a notion that would require a sane individual, a chance for a reasonable discussion. They're the furthest from that with the Master; Missy.
Still, his first instinct, as always, is to offer himself to spare Clara. ]
Look at you, a mockery of a person. Killing people, hurting people, just to get me. You have me, you have both of us. You could keep us here until the end of time. Isn't that what you want? Me. Suffering endlessly. Don't you want to hear my screams? Let go of Clara, both of them, and take us. Torture us. As long and as often as you want. I'm sure you've thought of endless scenarios, neverending pain. You have us, trapped, two Doctors for the price of one, and you're not even going to take advantage of that? You are an idiot, you always have been.
[ He knows his bluff is ultimately a bad one. His own pain means nothing to him. Unfortunately, Missy knows that, too.
He's too distracted right now to think much about the remarks on Kate and Osgood. Both of them gone in an instant, at the hands of this sadistic lunatic. ]
They settle into a more peaceful life here, he and Thomas, in this world and time they don't entirely belong to. All the terrible things that have loomed as constant threats for so long fade away. Life is...routine, dare he say it or think it. Peaceful. Quiet at times, but strangely not in a way that's boring to the Doctor, which is a tall order. He'd joked once about wanting a quiet life at the end of all things, but it was never going to actually be a reality for him. Yet — here they are, living a life together. Even something as simple as tea with Thomas' syrup is a matter of importance to look forward to.
He doesn't stop looking up into the sky for his blue box to come phasing in from a universe far beyond. He wouldn't leave Thomas, though. He doesn't mean to, not ever. They would go together, naturally. But the more time marches on and his TARDIS doesn't return, he assumes he's simply, unexpectedly, where he's supposed to be now. She told him that once, didn't she? She always takes him where he needs to go. Timelines have shifted to accommodate this anomaly, otherwise the universe would have collapsed by now, but it hasn't.
Everything is perfect, everything is...happy. Good. He's happy with Thomas, he will hold onto him as tightly and as long as he can. Until one night, there's an aurora again — and they fall asleep talking about the colors filtering in from the window, the stars, the planets. They fall asleep with the Doctor enveloping Thomas, and everything should be fine, routine. They'll wake up where they always do in the morning, except — halfway through the night, there's a wheezing, groaning sound around them. A noise he thought he'd never hear again. He tries to warn Thomas, shaking him awake, saying his name. It's only a moment or two later and they're suddenly deposited onto the floor of the console room.
"You couldn't knock?" Half-startled, half-asleep still, he calls out to the TARDIS herself.
Thomas starts thinking, more often than not, that perhaps this is heaven. A trial to get to this moment, this domestic normalcy, but here they are just the same. He's more than happy to spend eternity here, though there's always something he feels like he's missing. Something he doesn't seek out, but that he simply tells himself he's content to spend his life without. The Doctor is good enough. And he's happy with him.
When it happens, whatever it is, Thomas is awake in a moment, bolting upright as he reaches for a knife he keeps nearby. The noise is unlike anything he's ever heard before, but he doesn't have time to even ask before they are somewhere else and Thomas tries not to panic.
He looks around, eyes wide as he searches for the answer, comforted only by the Doctor's affronted tone.
"What is all this?" he mutters, pushing himself up to his feet.
There is no part of the TARDIS he hasn't missed and ached for. Tucking away the pain of missing the oldest and longest friend he's ever known, he'd tried so hard to convince himself that it might be okay if they were never reunited, if his eyes never again glimpsed the stars from up close, but like many things, it was simply another lie he told himself. He's wanted — all this time — to show Thomas everything he's told him about, anywhere and everywhere he's ever wanted to go.
In the deepest, darkest depths somewhere out beyond his own imaginings, she's found them. Like he would have found her, if he could. But then, it's always been the TARDIS taking care of him. She's exactly as he remembers and he could almost — almost weep.
"It's her, Thomas. My ship," his voice is filled with an abundance of emotion spilling over. "The TARDIS."
"Oh, you beauty," he speaks to the TARDIS now, circling around the center console with his palm flat, a tender touch as the emotion builds and builds and spills over and there's more joy than he can possibly contain. "My old girl — ha, you were always going to come, weren't you? Of course you were. You took long enough," he laughs in mock annoyance.
He finally raises his eyes to look at Thomas. "She found us."
Thomas has no fucking idea what the Doctor is going on about, but there's something so familiar about that word. Has it said it before? Has he told him about it - about her? He looks around, and realizes, even if he had, there would be no way to prepare him for what this actually is.
He tucks his hair behind his ear again, panic replaced by wonder and a little amusement seeing the Doctor so - so pleased by this.
"Us?" he wonders with a smile, walking closer to him as if he might be able to see what the Doctor sees. "She found you. I was simply there. What - what happened to the rest of them?"
He keeps both hands flat on the console, almost to reassure himself of the solid weight there. All of this is real.
"She does get a bit uh, stroppy sometimes when there's more than just me here." Jealous. Possessive. But the TARDIS adjusts nonetheless. "Mind you, she's not vengeful, she won't kick you out or anything of the sort." Maybe sometimes they'll be out exploring and she simply won't open the door for Thomas, it's fine. But he does look to the center console again, speaking to her directly, "It's a package deal with this one," he nods to Thomas, "you'll have to cope."
To the question, though, the Doctor moves back towards the TARDIS doors, delight on his face. "You might think we're somewhere else entirely, and it would appear so," he nods to the expanse around them. "But see, she's simply phased into our plane of existence, where we were. Materialized around us. But she hasn't taken us away completely." He opens the doors and they've definitely moved a bit, but not far. He can see the lake from here. "We can go, though, anywhere for a quick trip, and end up back here as though we'd never left." He wouldn't leave anyone here behind, of course.
Thomas joins him at the console, though he seems to know better than to touch him. This - place - if she is the jealous sort, then he doesn't want to deliberately provoke her. "Are you - " He looks up and around again. "Does this mean we're free of this place?"
His heart skips a beat, in happiness, in wonder, in shock. "We can - go somewhere? Where will we go?"
He does finally put a hand on his shoulder, beyond thrilled.
"Somewhere," he smiles broadly in agreement. "Anywhere at all! Backwards, forwards, sideways, take a bow and wave at the stars. That first, maybe. The stars. Up close." A simple journey, that. Just floating amongst the broad expanse of sky. He wants to watch it all from his eyes this time.
"We're free," he reaches over and briefly squeezes his hand. "Come here, I'll show you if you like. Piloting her." Technically the TARDIS needs more than one pilot anyway, but he's always convinced himself otherwise.
He shakes his head, a little nervous. "She won't - think ill of me for it?" he laughs, though there's nervousness in it. He's overwhelmed by all of this strange technology, all of the lights and the sounds and the feel of it. He stands close to the Doctor now, willing to brave it but not quite sure of himself.
She's only occasionally been openly in a foul mood about others in here. He may be entirely deluded, but he'll choose to believe the TARDIS has missed him so much she'll tolerate anyone at all in his presence now.
"She knows a good heart when she feels it," he says with complete confidence. "And if she decides to get grumpy or play pranks on you, I'll set her to rights." He looks over at Thomas, though, finally cluing in that this is — a lot all at once. It's absolutely beautiful to him, his home, but they can take their time a moment. He reaches for Thomas' hand, intending to guide it towards the center near a series of levers. "Just rest your hand flat a moment. Listen and touch. She's humming with life, can you feel it?"
He spreads his fingers out on the console as the Doctor guides him. And Jopson is entirely trusting of what he's doing, finding, possibly with surprise, that the man is absolutely correct.
"I can," he admits, more in wonder than fear. More amazement than worry.
He wouldn't be able to put it to words in a way that would properly convey the importance of it, but watching Thomas just stand here in the TARDIS with his hand there against the console, it makes him ache a bit. That good kind of ache that's always so abundant when he's with him. He snaps his fingers briefly in delight, leans in close to press a quick kiss to Thomas' cheek, and then he's off and moving in a circle around the console.
"Stay right where you are," he instructs. "Just a moment and you'll pull that blue lever." He moves with lightning speed, pressing buttons, toggling switches, all in a flurry like the most delighted madman. Then, across from him on the other side of the console, he gives a little nod to Thomas, grinning. "Go on then, give it a pull."
Loud enough to be heard, he speaks with such joy:
"And now — now, this is the day it all begins, Thomas Jopson."
"Whatever you say, sir," he remarks, marveling at how lovely he looks like this. Marveling at how wonderful he seems. But he pulls the blue lever, just as instructed, grinning as he looks around to wonder exactly what it will do.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey~
He'd stopped off for an ice cream cone before making his way back to the TARDIS, only to discover an envelope taped to the TARDIS. ]
Oi! Whoever did this, you could've slipped it under the door. This better not smudge the paint, eh, old girl - [ The Doctor very carefully pulls the note off, taking great care, making sure no part of the TARDIS exterior is blemished in any way. ]
I do love a good mystery, though... [ He steps inside now, finishing off his ice cream cone and opening up the note. Scrawled on the parchment are coordinates, somewhere on Earth. He debates for a moment, going back for Clara. She loves a good mystery, too. He could just fast forward to next Wednesday and get her. But, this one gives him a bit of pause. A note taped to his door. Someone in need of assistance, possibly, but he's not stupid. Something about this feels off in a way that his instincts say, he needs to go it alone. At least for now. When he arrives at the site of what's simply an abandoned warehouse, he's even more convinced he made the right decision not involving Clara in this. When he steps through the door, slowly, he calls out- ]
No balloons or streamers? I thought this would be a surprise party! Bit of a letdown. That's okay. I'll stay for cake. If there's no cake, I'm rioting.
[ As he speaks, he approaches a table and two chairs in the middle of the room, and now his confusion builds when he finds two place cards marked, Doctor. ]
wheezing sound
He had dropped her off in the end. She had a job to get back to and he felt like a sense of normalcy would be good for her. And then he had taken off, catapulting himself into the future so he could go and collect her again. But not before a spot of coffee. Much like his counterpart he had arrived back at his TARDIS with a coffee cup in hand and was just finishing a voice message to Clara.]
I'll by your flat shortly - make sure you're dressed sensibly. Something to run in. Can't guarantee that we won't be doing any of that. We might. Hard to say.
[His voice trails off as soon as he spots the note. Without so much of a word of goodbye he ends the voice mail to examine it. The note itself was rather unextraordinary but the coordinates were oh so tempting. And he loved a tempting, cryptic note. Could it be a trap? Absolutely. There's a 50% chance it is. But he needs to know what it is. Clara could wait, right? She was probably teaching or doing whatever it was that Clara did.
He isn't the first one to arrive at the warehouse. Or rather, he is. Just not the current version of himself. He'd recognize the floppy hair and chin anywhere. Slowly he approaches the table positing himself behind the other chair not daring to get too close.]
I don't like parties but this is more of a reason to not like them.
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How are you here? Why are you here?
[ Well, he'd been invited, obviously. But why him.
How him, more to the point. ]
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Let me guess. You got the same one?
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You shouldn't exist. I - we - we were supposed to die on Trenzalore. You shouldn't be here. How.
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[Ugh, this is like going toe to toe with a younger, more embarrassing version of himself.]
And if I told you, that would be a spoiler now, wouldn't it?
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Nothing like being annoyed with your future self especially because he's right. ]
Older and grumpier. So much to look forward to!
[ Said with dripping sarcasm. He's going to ignore himself now in favor of approaching the table, leaning in and noting the carelessly tossed bags of jelly babies. An old favorite. Not something just anyone would know about him. Not anyone who would lure him here, in any case. There's only one person he can think of, in fact.
Sure, he has many enemies, all of whom would be eager to bait him. They wouldn't know about his very particular preference for one very particular item, nor would they care. Cybermen, Daleks, Sontarans, Silurians...none would go to this trouble. Only on. ]
It's almost too obvious...
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That being said he notices the jelly babies a beat later than himself. Wandering over he extends a hand for the pack.]
It couldn't be.
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Making her way to the Doctors, the mask obscures her features, but perhaps the eyes will be familiar to at least one of them. She leans in close and presses a firm kiss to the older one's cheek, leaving behind a smear of black lipstick. Then, she reaches into his pocket and takes the sonic screwdriver and glasses, putting the latter on. She moves around to the other and drags a finger along his jawline, over the end of his chin, and back up the other side before pressing a kiss to the opposite side of his face from the other's. His sonic goes too, and then she casually saunters to the middle of the room as the lights go off and one spotlight sends a splash of light directly over her.
Finally, she speaks over the music. ]
Thank you for coming to my humble little show, Doctors. We're an upstart, so any and all donations will be welcome. One of you may be familiar with my work already. [ She unbuttons the top of the costume and strips it away, leaving her in the top half of a business suit, the mask, and the ridiculous pants. ] The other, not so much, in fact. I went so long without seeing you, I missed that face. But that chin, when I say yikes. [ She laughs over her shoulder into the dark. ] Am I right, ladies?
[ There's sauntering, a strut. A confidence. She has him now and there's nothing he can do about it. It's so thrilling. ] Annnnnnnnywho, I won't keep you waiting any longer, the show simply must begin. [ Pulling off the mask and wig, Missy's face is completely revealed and she tosses the entire mask aside. ]
Ta-Da! [ Both hands go in the air like a game show host. ] Are you surprised? Go ahead, old man, tell him my name. Go on. [ Her grin is absolutely feral, and she finally strips away the pants so that a skirt billows out of them and she's dressed comfortably for the show. ]
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No.
No.
NO.
This cannot be happening. This really cannot. ]
What have you done? Why are you alive? How are you alive??? You should be dead, you should have been dead...
Oh no. No, no, no. Gallifrey- and you-
[ No. Why???
He looks over to his future self with wide, wild, disbelieving eyes. ]
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Unlike his younger self though the Doctor is standing stock still like a statue.]
Missy.
[His voice is similar to a growing storm.] Enough with the theatrics what do you want?
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[ Looking between them both, she pops a few pieces of candy in her mouth and laughs. ] Now this is a threesome! Whadd'ye say boys, you, me, you? Handcuffs?
[ Leaning over to stare 12 in the eyes, she looks about as sane as she ever has. Which is to say: not at all. There's a small smirk before she finally shrugs, stuffing the rest of the jelly babies into his mouth. ] Well, killing Kate and Osgood was too 'hands off' for my taste. To really know I have your attention, I thought it might be prudent to see your face. Well, faces. There's nothing quite like the terror in your eyes when you realize what's happening. Really gets a girl going.
[ Hopping up, she claps her hands together and then walks around the table once more. ] I've taken the time to put together what I hope to be a thrilling show with audience participation. If all goes well, I might even take this show on the road. [ She rolls all her Rs dramatically. ] I have with me today not one but two special guests. All the way from different timelines.
[ Over the speakers, there's a low drumroll as Missy speaks. ] First, all the way from where you just left her: Clarrrrraaaa Oswaaaaaaald! [ She says it like an MC, the drumroll stopping. Another spotlight turns on to reveal a younger Clara, strapped to a wheel and already hanging upside-down, chained at the hands and feet, bound and gagged in a magician assistant's outfit.
The other Clara's torture is more personal and Missy picked what is, in her opinion, exactly the sort of eventual death the Doctor deserves to see. ] And to our right, a volunteer not quite bright enough to stop from being tricked STRAIGHT into a Dalek...the girl desperately in love with someone who can't love her back: Clara Oswald! [ There's fake audience applause; this spotlight reveals an older Clara, still in her pajamas and locked in a water tank. She's chained to the sides of the tank, not gagged. And she can very easily be heard shouting for the Doctor. There's nothing but fear in her eyes. ]
Now, I bet you're both wondering where the audience participation comes into play?
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He knows what she wants, what the Master has always wanted; his pain, his suffering. As slow and painful as possible. Don't give her the satisfaction, he thinks, and maybe he can talk her out of letting Clara go. Both of them.
It's a ridiculous notion, he realizes immediately. It's a notion that would require a sane individual, a chance for a reasonable discussion. They're the furthest from that with the Master; Missy.
Still, his first instinct, as always, is to offer himself to spare Clara. ]
Look at you, a mockery of a person. Killing people, hurting people, just to get me. You have me, you have both of us. You could keep us here until the end of time. Isn't that what you want? Me. Suffering endlessly. Don't you want to hear my screams? Let go of Clara, both of them, and take us. Torture us. As long and as often as you want. I'm sure you've thought of endless scenarios, neverending pain. You have us, trapped, two Doctors for the price of one, and you're not even going to take advantage of that? You are an idiot, you always have been.
[ He knows his bluff is ultimately a bad one. His own pain means nothing to him. Unfortunately, Missy knows that, too.
He's too distracted right now to think much about the remarks on Kate and Osgood. Both of them gone in an instant, at the hands of this sadistic lunatic. ]
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singillatim au -
He doesn't stop looking up into the sky for his blue box to come phasing in from a universe far beyond. He wouldn't leave Thomas, though. He doesn't mean to, not ever. They would go together, naturally. But the more time marches on and his TARDIS doesn't return, he assumes he's simply, unexpectedly, where he's supposed to be now. She told him that once, didn't she? She always takes him where he needs to go. Timelines have shifted to accommodate this anomaly, otherwise the universe would have collapsed by now, but it hasn't.
Everything is perfect, everything is...happy. Good. He's happy with Thomas, he will hold onto him as tightly and as long as he can. Until one night, there's an aurora again — and they fall asleep talking about the colors filtering in from the window, the stars, the planets. They fall asleep with the Doctor enveloping Thomas, and everything should be fine, routine. They'll wake up where they always do in the morning, except — halfway through the night, there's a wheezing, groaning sound around them. A noise he thought he'd never hear again. He tries to warn Thomas, shaking him awake, saying his name. It's only a moment or two later and they're suddenly deposited onto the floor of the console room.
"You couldn't knock?" Half-startled, half-asleep still, he calls out to the TARDIS herself.
Re: singillatim au -
When it happens, whatever it is, Thomas is awake in a moment, bolting upright as he reaches for a knife he keeps nearby. The noise is unlike anything he's ever heard before, but he doesn't have time to even ask before they are somewhere else and Thomas tries not to panic.
He looks around, eyes wide as he searches for the answer, comforted only by the Doctor's affronted tone.
"What is all this?" he mutters, pushing himself up to his feet.
Re: singillatim au -
In the deepest, darkest depths somewhere out beyond his own imaginings, she's found them. Like he would have found her, if he could. But then, it's always been the TARDIS taking care of him. She's exactly as he remembers and he could almost — almost weep.
"It's her, Thomas. My ship," his voice is filled with an abundance of emotion spilling over. "The TARDIS."
"Oh, you beauty," he speaks to the TARDIS now, circling around the center console with his palm flat, a tender touch as the emotion builds and builds and spills over and there's more joy than he can possibly contain. "My old girl — ha, you were always going to come, weren't you? Of course you were. You took long enough," he laughs in mock annoyance.
He finally raises his eyes to look at Thomas. "She found us."
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He tucks his hair behind his ear again, panic replaced by wonder and a little amusement seeing the Doctor so - so pleased by this.
"Us?" he wonders with a smile, walking closer to him as if he might be able to see what the Doctor sees. "She found you. I was simply there. What - what happened to the rest of them?"
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"She does get a bit uh, stroppy sometimes when there's more than just me here." Jealous. Possessive. But the TARDIS adjusts nonetheless. "Mind you, she's not vengeful, she won't kick you out or anything of the sort." Maybe sometimes they'll be out exploring and she simply won't open the door for Thomas, it's fine. But he does look to the center console again, speaking to her directly, "It's a package deal with this one," he nods to Thomas, "you'll have to cope."
To the question, though, the Doctor moves back towards the TARDIS doors, delight on his face. "You might think we're somewhere else entirely, and it would appear so," he nods to the expanse around them. "But see, she's simply phased into our plane of existence, where we were. Materialized around us. But she hasn't taken us away completely." He opens the doors and they've definitely moved a bit, but not far. He can see the lake from here. "We can go, though, anywhere for a quick trip, and end up back here as though we'd never left." He wouldn't leave anyone here behind, of course.
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His heart skips a beat, in happiness, in wonder, in shock. "We can - go somewhere? Where will we go?"
He does finally put a hand on his shoulder, beyond thrilled.
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"We're free," he reaches over and briefly squeezes his hand. "Come here, I'll show you if you like. Piloting her." Technically the TARDIS needs more than one pilot anyway, but he's always convinced himself otherwise.
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"She knows a good heart when she feels it," he says with complete confidence. "And if she decides to get grumpy or play pranks on you, I'll set her to rights." He looks over at Thomas, though, finally cluing in that this is — a lot all at once. It's absolutely beautiful to him, his home, but they can take their time a moment. He reaches for Thomas' hand, intending to guide it towards the center near a series of levers. "Just rest your hand flat a moment. Listen and touch. She's humming with life, can you feel it?"
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"I can," he admits, more in wonder than fear. More amazement than worry.
"She's lovely. What - now?"
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"Stay right where you are," he instructs. "Just a moment and you'll pull that blue lever." He moves with lightning speed, pressing buttons, toggling switches, all in a flurry like the most delighted madman. Then, across from him on the other side of the console, he gives a little nod to Thomas, grinning. "Go on then, give it a pull."
Loud enough to be heard, he speaks with such joy:
"And now — now, this is the day it all begins, Thomas Jopson."
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