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The Doctor's Post Box
Jan. 1st, 2013 12:01 amSir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls.
For, thus friends absent speak.
-John Donne
Night time, in an island October, and the Doctor was up on the roof of the compound, gazing up at the sky.
In perfect honesty, he usually tried not to look at the stars much, anymore. The restlessness that ensued wasn't pleasant for anyone, while it lasted, and he preferred to keep the peace when possible. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, most of the time.
But he'd assigned his students reading and viewing about the moon landing (not faked, for fuck's sake, though what they'd found had been glossed over for the public), and had them do some impromptu writing about what they thought people at the time felt about space exploration--imagining that no one else from their world had been up there and now people had gone so far.
It was only fair to have a good look himself, even if he'd need a beer in the Hub before going home. He sat and dangled his legs over the edge of the building, arms bracing himself, and looked up, really looked up.
For a minute, he smiled.
In perfect honesty, he usually tried not to look at the stars much, anymore. The restlessness that ensued wasn't pleasant for anyone, while it lasted, and he preferred to keep the peace when possible. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, most of the time.
But he'd assigned his students reading and viewing about the moon landing (not faked, for fuck's sake, though what they'd found had been glossed over for the public), and had them do some impromptu writing about what they thought people at the time felt about space exploration--imagining that no one else from their world had been up there and now people had gone so far.
It was only fair to have a good look himself, even if he'd need a beer in the Hub before going home. He sat and dangled his legs over the edge of the building, arms bracing himself, and looked up, really looked up.
For a minute, he smiled.
The Doctor had reverted to Plan C. Plan C was not particularly ideal, and in actuality it was hardly a plan at all, more a reactive mechanism until he could sort out what his actual plan was going to be, if he did at all, or until he couldn't take anymore.
Whichever came first.
Plan C was dealing with the issue by not addressing it head-on, by not engaging. Mostly it was because the Doctor had no energy to do so--Nate had been up nights again off and on with teething, and he'd been trying to write up a thesis on different theoretical reactions to the idea of being fictional, and how people would come to terms with it. He was thinking his project would be to come up with a set programme of therapeutic mechanisms for treatment of said issue...
Anyway.
So he didn't really look up when Chase came in, only mumbled a greeting and underlined some text with a pencil.
Subject lyrics by Bob Seger.
Whichever came first.
Plan C was dealing with the issue by not addressing it head-on, by not engaging. Mostly it was because the Doctor had no energy to do so--Nate had been up nights again off and on with teething, and he'd been trying to write up a thesis on different theoretical reactions to the idea of being fictional, and how people would come to terms with it. He was thinking his project would be to come up with a set programme of therapeutic mechanisms for treatment of said issue...
Anyway.
So he didn't really look up when Chase came in, only mumbled a greeting and underlined some text with a pencil.
Subject lyrics by Bob Seger.
for Jack (Sunday)
Dec. 28th, 2008 06:31 pmThe skies could have been dark or sunlit, the truth was that the Doctor didn't know either way and didn't care. He was looking for Jack; he was looking for Jack because he hadn't seen him, didn't know if he knew, and he didn't really know if Jack would care.
But he needed to know either way. Because part of it Rob understood and part of it Jack would understand, and the two didn't quite mix together. And Rob was busy feeding Nate, and he had a moment or two to breathe if his chest would allow it.
That was all right. As long as he could find Jack, stepping through the snow, his own figure a lost man in a dark coat swirling just against the surface.
But he needed to know either way. Because part of it Rob understood and part of it Jack would understand, and the two didn't quite mix together. And Rob was busy feeding Nate, and he had a moment or two to breathe if his chest would allow it.
That was all right. As long as he could find Jack, stepping through the snow, his own figure a lost man in a dark coat swirling just against the surface.
(for Jo, backdated to last week)
Aug. 25th, 2008 05:26 pmThe truth was all too difficult, and the Doctor didn't quite fancy thinking on it at the moment. Instead, he was sunning himself on the grass outside the TARDIS.
It wasn't clear what exactly he intended to accomplish, considering he was pale as a sheet for starters, and had been liberally smeared with sunscreen before venturing outside. He hummed to himself softly and closed his eyes, considering a nap.
Beautiful day, even if he wasn't still himself after the adventure as Dr Cameron.
It wasn't clear what exactly he intended to accomplish, considering he was pale as a sheet for starters, and had been liberally smeared with sunscreen before venturing outside. He hummed to himself softly and closed his eyes, considering a nap.
Beautiful day, even if he wasn't still himself after the adventure as Dr Cameron.
Something had to give.
The Doctor had been holding off for far too long, had been thrown so badly by the whole damned switch business that there was nothing for it but to get his house in order. The damage that could have been done had the Master exploited the situation was something that weighed too heavily on his mind. He knew, then and there, that there could be no more waiting and sitting on it, and no more blank slate bollocks.
Waiting around would get people killed, at this rate.
Setting down his book, he slowly slid to his feet, taking off his specs and heading towards the door. He knew where to find someone who'd help him and someone who'd understand. This had to end now.
A premonition, maybe. Or maybe just paranoia.
The Doctor had been holding off for far too long, had been thrown so badly by the whole damned switch business that there was nothing for it but to get his house in order. The damage that could have been done had the Master exploited the situation was something that weighed too heavily on his mind. He knew, then and there, that there could be no more waiting and sitting on it, and no more blank slate bollocks.
Waiting around would get people killed, at this rate.
Setting down his book, he slowly slid to his feet, taking off his specs and heading towards the door. He knew where to find someone who'd help him and someone who'd understand. This had to end now.
A premonition, maybe. Or maybe just paranoia.
For Chase--omgyey: Sunday
Aug. 10th, 2008 05:36 pmWhen it came down to it, the last few days had probably been somewhere near unbearable for the residents of the Treehouse. The Doctor's sheer Glee Factor was enough to power half the island for electric light.
Admittedly, there'd been work to do and class to prepare for and mounds of paperwork, not to mention there would probably be a Council meeting sooner rather than later, so the Doctor hadn't spent all his time recently bouncing off the interior walls of the TARDIS.
He was currently flopped in the living room, sprawled out on the floor and idly fingering one of Nate's toy blocks (the letter H), while he scribbled notes for the next day's lecture on the Berlin Wall.
little did Kennedy know that 'Ich bin ein Berliner' was not only a misuse of dialect, but also indicative of the fractures to come in his own country after his death...
He tossed the block in the air and caught it, mood almost too good for the subject matter.
Admittedly, there'd been work to do and class to prepare for and mounds of paperwork, not to mention there would probably be a Council meeting sooner rather than later, so the Doctor hadn't spent all his time recently bouncing off the interior walls of the TARDIS.
He was currently flopped in the living room, sprawled out on the floor and idly fingering one of Nate's toy blocks (the letter H), while he scribbled notes for the next day's lecture on the Berlin Wall.
little did Kennedy know that 'Ich bin ein Berliner' was not only a misuse of dialect, but also indicative of the fractures to come in his own country after his death...
He tossed the block in the air and caught it, mood almost too good for the subject matter.
coffee, tea, or me: for Jack
Feb. 11th, 2008 05:45 pmThe Doctor, despite the unfortunate story he had to tell Jack, and despite the fact that this wasn't going to be easy for either of them, felt almost relieved as he headed up to the door of the hut. Clearing the air, perhaps.
He rapped hard on the door, only hoping that he wouldn't have to come up with some kind of sardonic reply to a Houseian comment. He wasn't quite in the mood.
"Jack?"
He rapped hard on the door, only hoping that he wouldn't have to come up with some kind of sardonic reply to a Houseian comment. He wasn't quite in the mood.
"Jack?"
Once more into the vortex
Jan. 30th, 2008 07:12 pmThe Doctor, despite having run into Martha and having given her several pieces of his mind, was still ridiculously angry. Furious. But with Martha, he'd played it far more nicely than he needed to with the real culprit. They had too much history for niceties.
'The Master.' He wouldn't give him the dignity of saying that name. Master what? Master of none. Save perhaps Martha Jones, which was a potentiality the Doctor didn't care to see reach fruition. He would have to be doubly cautious.
But first he was going to play fast and loose with his humanity. Provided he could even find the bastard he was looking for.
'The Master.' He wouldn't give him the dignity of saying that name. Master what? Master of none. Save perhaps Martha Jones, which was a potentiality the Doctor didn't care to see reach fruition. He would have to be doubly cautious.
But first he was going to play fast and loose with his humanity. Provided he could even find the bastard he was looking for.
She was just Miss Jones to me...
Jan. 25th, 2008 08:06 pmAnd now I've met Miss Jones
And we'll keep on meeting till we die
Miss Jones and I
- Rodgers and Hart, 'Have You Met Miss Jones?'
The Doctor was, in a word, appalled. Sickened, perhaps, and disgusted and completely and utterly furious. And ready to punch a recently-humanised Time Lord in the face, or puke, or both.
It wasn't like the TARDIS didn't have entry and exit recording, even as battered as she was, but the blatancy of what had happened made things ten times worse. And what it meant. And how he had been stupid and lacking in vigilance and never MIND the betrayal of it all that was like being slapped in the face.
This time, it was personal, and this must be what humans called seeing red because he felt it, felt nearly blinded by anger.
"Blank slate my arse," he cursed, and fairly ran down the path, willing to look anywhere to accomplish his mission.
And we'll keep on meeting till we die
Miss Jones and I
- Rodgers and Hart, 'Have You Met Miss Jones?'
The Doctor was, in a word, appalled. Sickened, perhaps, and disgusted and completely and utterly furious. And ready to punch a recently-humanised Time Lord in the face, or puke, or both.
It wasn't like the TARDIS didn't have entry and exit recording, even as battered as she was, but the blatancy of what had happened made things ten times worse. And what it meant. And how he had been stupid and lacking in vigilance and never MIND the betrayal of it all that was like being slapped in the face.
This time, it was personal, and this must be what humans called seeing red because he felt it, felt nearly blinded by anger.
"Blank slate my arse," he cursed, and fairly ran down the path, willing to look anywhere to accomplish his mission.
Thursday night, 20 September 2007
Sep. 21st, 2007 08:34 pmThe Doctor (and his hair) was awoke out of a sound sleep by the sound of fine pebbles hitting the porch outside. Letting Chase sleep, he poked his head out, dodged a new rain of pebbles, and then quietly slipped on boxers and a shirt before going downstairs and outside.
His hair, still sleepy, lay flat and slightly wavy against his head. "Jack," he said softly, squinting in the waxing half-moonlight. "What're you doing here?"
His hair, still sleepy, lay flat and slightly wavy against his head. "Jack," he said softly, squinting in the waxing half-moonlight. "What're you doing here?"
Meanwhile, elsewhere...
Aug. 26th, 2007 09:09 pmThere were more things to do on one's honeymoon than have sex or lie about, and while that would have been just fine, occasionally one needed to stretch one's legs. Which was why the Doctor, clad only in boxer briefs, and Chase, similarly less than clothed, were on the beach as the sun started to set, playing a rough and tumble rugby scrimmage.
There was no one else about to care about sand and dirt, and the beach was soft enough to make for decent landing. All in all, there was quite a bit of laughter and not so much fair play. But rules didn't really apply.
There was no one else about to care about sand and dirt, and the beach was soft enough to make for decent landing. All in all, there was quite a bit of laughter and not so much fair play. But rules didn't really apply.
The Doctor inhaled again, sharper this time (everything was clear to humans, and he loved it, loved the way his hearts raced without warning, loved the adrenaline rush). He opened his eyes further and looked at Chase. It was an invitation.
for Chase: 15 June
Jun. 16th, 2007 12:18 amPeter: You remember when we first met? It was on the beach. I thought you were everything I'd always wanted.
Mary: I thought you were so underfed.
The Doctor, when the talking was done, went down to the beach. He wasn't certain how much more talking he could do today, but this?
This he had to do. He had things to say. Things Chase had to know. And he was damned if he was going to let him go on thinking all the things he was certain to be thinking.
He stood on the shore and looked out towards the sea.
((Quote from On the Beach (Stanley Kramer, 1959).))
After a relatively restless night, the Doctor found himself not in the best shade of wakefulness when he went to boil up some water that morning in the fireplace. Coffee was necessary, that was certain, and while he wasn't as good as Ianto, it would do for first thing.
So he shuffled out of bed and downstairs, leaving his shirt off in the morning humidity left from the rain the day before, and started a tiny fire to boil up the water, then turned to go get the coffee he'd swiped from the kitchen.
Funny, he'd forgot that there were now women in the house again.
So he shuffled out of bed and downstairs, leaving his shirt off in the morning humidity left from the rain the day before, and started a tiny fire to boil up the water, then turned to go get the coffee he'd swiped from the kitchen.
Funny, he'd forgot that there were now women in the house again.
