Doctor Who - The Virtual Series 5 - 01 - Past Future Continuous, Fanfiction Dr Who, Doktor Who - wirtualna seria piąta, ...
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CHAPTERS
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.1. ALONE IN THE BLUE BOX
Page 3
.3. SAFE DISTANCE
Page 10
.4. THE AWAKENING
Page 13
.5. WRONG COLOUR
Page 17
.6. BLOOD
Page 21
.7. THE PSYCHIC WALLPAPER
Page 23
.8. THE JOURNAL OF IMPOSSIBLE THINGS
Page 27
.9. DREAMS
Page 32
.10. TORCHWOOD IN CHISWICK
Page 35
.11. REVELATIONS
Page 38
.12. ICE AND DRUGS
Page 43
.13. DEUS EX MACHINA
Page 49
.14. TIME AND SPACE
Page 52
.15. A LEAP OF FAITH
Page 55
.16. DONNA NOBLE AND TARDIS
Page 59
.17. SNOW WHITE
Page 65
2
.2. I WILL FIND HIM
Page 8
.1.
There were not so many people who had ever seen the Doctor circling the
TARDIS’ steering room slowly; shoulders hunched, the face contorted in
pain. He really,
really
tried to avoid being spotted in one of his low moods.
Whenever there was this pain inside his old soul, the Doctor would try to
hide it underneath an airy, carefree mask. He felt it was easier to cower in
silence, alone and undisturbed, than to face pity of humans; just as it was
easier to pretend, than to face beasts howling in the depths of his
memory.
That was why he usually pirouetted tirelessly around the core of his ship,
rhythmically switching handles and pushing buttons, much like a
conductor and a musician in an orchestra of one. And usually he simply
wanted
to dance. He actually loved the TARDIS; he loved freedom she
offered; the whole of space and time spreading in front of him like a
blindingly multicoloured fan. And when he really
didn’t want to,
the
presence of his companions made him at least feel obliged to his constant
dance.
But this time he had no companion; the only background for his thoughts
being the singing of the TARDIS – the humming of the ancient machinery
and clicking of handles being moved.
Again, he faced the whole universe. The whole of time. All the places and
moments he had not yet seen; creatures he had not yet met; things cruel
and beautiful, funny and scary. Of course even now – if only he wanted to
– he could see the universe through miracle hungry eyes. He could
recognise cosmos in a blade of grass; perceive endlessness of a drop of
water. Undoubtedly there was always something worth living for...
Worth living for... Always...
3
He removed a sodden suit jacket, but a wet shirt was still clinging to his
skin. Drops of water were still dripping from his rain-soaked hair. Oh, how
grateful he was for that rain, so handy in hiding treacherous tears from
Wilfred, Donna’s Grandfather.
Ooooh, maybe not hiding...
Ooooh, who cared, anyway?
He had stood in front of the Noble’s house, talking to Wilf across the
threshold, but he had known that they were indeed separated by entire
worlds... universes. The cold rain, an unpleasant result of an atmospheric
agitation, had troubled the Doctor’s world. From the Doctor’s world you
could only peek through the half-open door into the house brimming with
soft, orange light, with smell of freshly brewed tea, with muffled sound of
voices. Well, you could even get inside. But you could not stay. Not for
long. Not forever.
I am just a traveller. That’s what I do – I travel.
And it means I can never stop for a long time.
(You are running away, Davros said. You are running away from yourself.)
Slowly, the Doctor moved away from the console, leaving the TARDIS
adrift; he did not set any destination – the blue box hovered in the
temporal orbit, sailing freely across time and space. If the TARDIS was
listening to the Doctor’s thoughts (
and usually she quietly did just that
)
she must have felt a painful consternation, because the only thing the
Doctor wanted was to go home. And his home – planet Gallifrey in the
Casterborous System – had burnt away in the fires of a great war, or
rather had been locked in time; always burning and always turning into
dust; and there was no way left for the TARDIS to fulfil her master’s wish.
The Doctor leaned against the pylon and pushed his fists deep into
pockets of his trousers. Big, dark eyes grew even larger in his pale,
narrow face as he looked ahead, unseeing, across the ship hull’s walls.
This time yesterday all his friends had been there. Gathered around the
ship’s cockpit they had flown her together, the way she was supposed to
be flown. Bound by one will, one feeling, one goal, one friendship.
Triumphantly hauling the whole planet, saving the world. Saving the
Earth.
For them.
Not for me
.
4
There was Sarah Jane Smith; magnificent Sarah Jane, whom the Doctor
had left in Aberdeen instead of Croydon so many years ago; to whom he
was unable to return after the Time War. Sarah Jane, who had been
waiting for him so long, she had almost missed the rest of her own life.
There was Mickey Smith – Ricky – Mickey the Idiot; who had become a
man as the Doctor had watched. Mickey, who had lost the love of his life
to the Doctor, but had found courage, strength and devotion instead.
There was Martha Jones – Doctor Martha Jones – trusty Martha, whom he
had led along the toughest path. Martha, in whose hand there was the
Osterhagen key and the destiny of the entire world.
There was Jack Harkness – charming, crazy Captain Jack of Torchwood,
who had once flown to the end of the universe holding for his dear life
onto the TARDIS’s door. Jack, who had died for the Doctor and whom
Rose willed back into endless existence.
Even Jackie Tyler was here, but the Doctor would not let her touch the
console – he wasn’t mad, or
domestic
enough, to hand over the steering
wheel to his companions’
mothers
.
And there were three people who, unintentionally, hurt him the most.
Hands, stuck deep in pockets, clenched into fists. The Doctor lowered his
head and turned the unseeing gaze onto his own worn converses. He
pursed his lips so hard they went white. The last raindrop disconnected
from the strand of his brown hair and sailed slowly towards the metal
mesh floor.
Three people who, unknowingly and without bad intentions, hurt him the
most.
The human Doctor.
Rose.
And Donna.
Oh, that crazy sprint towards Rose, sweet Rose,
his
Rose. The dark street
and that wonderful void in his head. Hundreds of years and fear of the
unknown lost somehow in this thoughtless run towards a dream come
true. Unexpectedly the universe – always so indifferent or jealous –
listened to his plea. Suddenly he imagined that someone or something,
somewhere, in some heaven he didn’t believe in, but always wanted to
have a hope for, turned a sympathetic eye towards the Doctor. But that
something – if it even existed – had twisted a sense of humour.
5
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