The Eleventh Doctor || Doctor Who (
makeherblue) wrote in
trans_92011-01-15 01:09 am
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Entry tags:
Reflection [Open]
It doesn’t make sense. Or, rather, to be entirely truthful, it makes just enough to bother him and that basically amounts to the same thing.
The Doctor paces in front of the blast shield in the Observation Deck. Right now, he thinks he needs a good pace, something to help him think. No sign of Amy or Rory yet, which is surprising, in its own way. Amy has a habit of managing things all on her own, whether it’s saving him from that stint with the Time Vortex and the Entity or the whole of reality. Rory couldn’t be in better hands. If she is on the ship, he would have expected her to come dragging Rory after her by now. So no, it’s not really like Amy there. As for Rory…actually, the Doctor can see him getting lost here; between forgetting to check for gills, the plant-suits and meeting a load of aliens in a huge living ship, a human like Rory might feel slightly overwhelmed. Probably a bit distracting, yeah…
The howling nothing is still out there, the Doctor turning to look past the shield at it. It’s pretty, in the making-you-feel-slightly-nauseous kind of way.
Or maybe that’s just him.
Vaguely disturbing to look at or not, the Doctor glances out at the void outside of Stacy. It’s hardly the first time worlds, plural, have been destroyed or just generally threatened or in a peril-like sort of state. It's actually quite common. But there are signs or it’s meant to happen (history) except he knows as a fact that this isn’t one of those times. Amy and Rory's Earth has a very specific date of death and "death by Ohm" isn't right. This isn’t just a rogue black hole swallowing a dynasty’s system of planets or a quasar misbehaving. It’s…different. The Doctor turns away from the window, holding up the omnicomm in one hand. By now he’s stopped calling it a Thingie, even if it’s a much better name in his opinion. Useful thing, this omnicomm. Helps to keep in touch. He’s been trying to hack into it and get a direct line to Stacy but so far, no luck. Deadlocked, he supposes. Or maybe the new new sonic is still adjusting. Working out the bugs.
The sonic buzzes green in the Observation Deck as the Doctor continues to pace without looking before the blast shield. Occasionally he stops to twiddle around with the omnicomm, long fingers blurring, before he reads another setting on the sonic and then the cycle starts over. Every now and then he might make a full circle of the room, by some miracle not tripping over the fleshy seats, and might try listening to the walls or poking at where they meet the floor. Or what stands for a floor in a techno-organic ship.
[The Doctor is either poking around or looking serious business at the view, whatever works for you]
The Doctor paces in front of the blast shield in the Observation Deck. Right now, he thinks he needs a good pace, something to help him think. No sign of Amy or Rory yet, which is surprising, in its own way. Amy has a habit of managing things all on her own, whether it’s saving him from that stint with the Time Vortex and the Entity or the whole of reality. Rory couldn’t be in better hands. If she is on the ship, he would have expected her to come dragging Rory after her by now. So no, it’s not really like Amy there. As for Rory…actually, the Doctor can see him getting lost here; between forgetting to check for gills, the plant-suits and meeting a load of aliens in a huge living ship, a human like Rory might feel slightly overwhelmed. Probably a bit distracting, yeah…
The howling nothing is still out there, the Doctor turning to look past the shield at it. It’s pretty, in the making-you-feel-slightly-nauseous kind of way.
Or maybe that’s just him.
Vaguely disturbing to look at or not, the Doctor glances out at the void outside of Stacy. It’s hardly the first time worlds, plural, have been destroyed or just generally threatened or in a peril-like sort of state. It's actually quite common. But there are signs or it’s meant to happen (history) except he knows as a fact that this isn’t one of those times. Amy and Rory's Earth has a very specific date of death and "death by Ohm" isn't right. This isn’t just a rogue black hole swallowing a dynasty’s system of planets or a quasar misbehaving. It’s…different. The Doctor turns away from the window, holding up the omnicomm in one hand. By now he’s stopped calling it a Thingie, even if it’s a much better name in his opinion. Useful thing, this omnicomm. Helps to keep in touch. He’s been trying to hack into it and get a direct line to Stacy but so far, no luck. Deadlocked, he supposes. Or maybe the new new sonic is still adjusting. Working out the bugs.
The sonic buzzes green in the Observation Deck as the Doctor continues to pace without looking before the blast shield. Occasionally he stops to twiddle around with the omnicomm, long fingers blurring, before he reads another setting on the sonic and then the cycle starts over. Every now and then he might make a full circle of the room, by some miracle not tripping over the fleshy seats, and might try listening to the walls or poking at where they meet the floor. Or what stands for a floor in a techno-organic ship.
[The Doctor is either poking around or looking serious business at the view, whatever works for you]
no subject
It was only a matter of time and from the way Tom the Human here was talking, he probably hadn't tinkered around with it just because he was bored or curious or just because. "Just because" was one of his personal favorites. Loads of things someone could find out from a few "just becauses". Anyway, he didn't believe Tom when he said he wasn't very creative: he'd just given three good reasons why he was creative with those names. All three of those names were far better than boring old Tom (he especially liked Barnabas. Barnabas was the antithesis of Tom in that it was cool. And Winston wasn't too shabby either). Barnabas the Human. Excellent name right there, one for the books.
Except Tom seemed downright determined to aim for a boringly normal life, kicking and screaming. It occurred to the Doctor that he would probably be good friends with Rory, if they ever met. They could talk about how fantastically normal their life was today. Or...something to that effect. Tom's wish for a normal, adventureless life made his coping with the void outside even more unusual, the Doctor's interest rising.
The Doctor grinned at Tom's question, "Something of an alien. To you, not me. So, Tom; normal life, no adventure (even if adventure's good for you), low expectations. Except you think flying in a big ship and the void are a dream and you're not going mad, so..."
He tilted his head, gazing at Tom. The Doctor's smile was encouraging. No, he didn't think Tom was as set for Normal as he said. He'd met normal humans. They didn't want to leave. They didn't dream about it either. All in all, they were incredibly boring and perfectly happy being that way. Considering their relative insignificance in an almost infinite universe? Not exactly his mental picture of what a normal human did. Maybe Tom was one of those humans who thought he wanted normal. It wasn't like there weren't plenty of those along with the boringly normal ones. The Doctor cleared his throat.
"Was there something on my back?" The Doctor suddenly asked, "Not that there's anything on yours, but it can't hurt to check."
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"Something of an alien? Well, yeah, to you I'm an alien, if you are an alien. It goes both ways. Not like saying you're from the States or anything, because no matter who you meet you will always be from the States. Alien is multi-directional, if you meet one you are one. I think, anyway, that probably didn't make any sense." The smile faded, just a little bit, quiet regret lining his face and making him look older. "Going mad wasn't an option. I had people to protect, so I had to hold it together. It's still not an option. But...yeah, I wanna go home. I'm just here to be a meat suit for someone far more useful than I am."
He blew out a breathe. "Have you ever have a nightmare? A horrible one, one you couldn't wake from, no matter how hard you fought and tangled the sheets around your legs, and all you wanted to do was scream, but you couldn't, so you had to stay in the nightmare. But in the nightmare, there was this one thing. This one amazing, wonderful, beautiful thing that filled you with such a sense of wonder that sometimes the reason you couldn't scream was because you were breathless? I wanted to go to space as a kid. But to get there, I had to go through hell first. That doesn't make it any less amazing. In fact, in some ways, it made it more. When everything is dark, the light of a single star seems awfully bright, don't you think?"
He grinned a bit ruefully, apologetic. "Well, you meet aliens all the time, don't you look for tells? The ones I've met have a bad habit of wearing others around. You can't really tell unless you see them feed, but the inclination to look is still there. Like maybe someday someone will install a neon sign or something."
no subject
Nightmares. Oh, he had plenty of those; centuries of them, in fact, and some still fresher than he would have liked. But there were plenty of amazing things, too, just like Tom said, and it surprised him how perceptive the human was (even with a name handicap like Tom; certainly wasn’t slowing him down, was it?). Except there was something else. Something aside from humans who should be Barnabas instead of Tom who were surprisingly eloquent and yet seemed to be a in hurry to get back to Earth for a boring, normal life. And something about a meat suit. Weird. Humans didn't generally make it a habit to call themselves meat suits, did they? The Doctor was more than fairly sure -- make that three quarters plus some -- sure they didn't.
Meat suit. Aliens wearing others. Human with a poor attitude (except it wasn't as poor as he'd thought), which --
He snapped his fingers as it dawned on him, everything slotting into place neatly. A mental click.
"Oh!" the Doctor blurted and he was suddenly back in Tom's face, "We've already met! Slugs? Space slugs? I promised you proper ones; actually, I was going to promise you some, I didn't get around to the actual promising bit. You're a lot more cheery in person than I thought you'd be."
Not that he missed the faint lines in his face.
Tom was young for a human, he thought, but those lines weren't from premature aging and judging from what he knew of Tom, it wasn't just from the unfortunate boring name, either. The Doctor's expression softened slightly, despite the glare from the blast shield.
no subject
He leaned back, a flinch reaction he couldn't hide when the other man, spark of interest fading from his eyes like a snuffed candle.
"You're the man from the comms. The one with the glow in the dark slugs who leave people with tabs. Hi." He couldn't manage guarded, it didn't sit right on his face, for so long he had been able to hide nothing, and he still didn't know how, but his face could manage defeat quiet well, sliding into the expression almost unconsciously. "Cheery? I don't think anyone has ever called me cheery."
If anything, the lines were more obvious now. Stress had made him old, and if his face settled into the patterns of a trapped animal, that was only training. His lips twitched, trying hesitantly to repay the gentle look with a smile.
no subject
Maybe that wasn’t the more reassuring thing he could’ve said.
Now Tom got it. All of it, not just the little bits. The Doctor beamed at Tom the Human as he came to the same conclusion. Right, yeah. Hi, hello, he’d ask how Tom was, but he was looking almost ill at the moment. The sort of face when someone was trying to keep on and act like everything was perfect; even had that weak smile down perfectly, the one the Doctor always thought looked queasy. Considering what he’d learned about the human’s history, the Doctor couldn’t say he blamed him. Bad first encounter with aliens. Extremely bad. Really, of all the luck he could have on this alternate Earth, he had to have colossally bad luck.
Which really made his attitude toward the void and his place in the universe stand out that much more.
“Always time for a first,” the Doctor said, eyes on his companion, “Human with a name like Tom -- you’re not letting that stop you -- on a big interdimensional ship. Sorry, interdimensional ex-prison ship. No fear of the void. Survived Yeerks. Surprisingly positive, I’d say.”
Shame he hadn’t had a different first contact. Those glow in the dark slugs would have been much less…invasiony. The tabs would’ve been horrendous and they would have probably eaten Tom out of house and home easily, but they would have repaid the favor. Helped humanity to the stars, even suffered through their baby steps. Not take Tom over like he was just another body.
no subject
He shifted uncomfortably, looking away. He wasn't sure how he felt about the look, or about anything that was being said.
"Always time....what's my name got to do with anything? I just survived. That's not in any way positive."
It didn't matter that he'd watched adults he'd known and trusted through his entire life break and shatter as the years rolled on. It didn't matter that most of the hosts that had broken had been adults, not children. All he had done was survive.
That was in no way admirable. "I've just done my best. It wasn't like I chose to do any of those things." He paused, looking back out the window, unable to hide the untarnished wonder in his eyes. "Who would be afraid of that? It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
no subject
The Doctor frowned at the human. “And clever isn’t something to be proud of? Because of one alien species, you think that’s all you’re good for, prey or tools?” He glanced back at the void, then sidelong at Tom. “You’re right. Maybe you lot just happen to be only selectively clever. Surely that gives other species automatic rights to keep invading you.”
Right now he wasn’t interested in explaining to Tom in no uncertain terms that his name had to go. Barnabas was the way of the future…although that could be for later. Maybe. The Doctor waved his hand dismissively, not even thinking it worth his time to explain about names when Tom still seemed to be acting like there was a slug in his head. Unhealthy, that was what. Surviving in itself was plenty positive. Actually, he thought it was a fine thing to aim for. Well, that, and making it fun, entertaining, anything but boring or…well, dead. Left a lot of room there to go with. So Tom the Human seemed to be (selectively) clever, (selectively) creative with names but not with what to do with surviving, and he was stubborn about sticking with what he knew. The Doctor blew out an exasperated breath, his hair flopping back into his eyes. Really. Humans!
“You chose to keep sane and keep going,” the Doctor still gave Tom that look as if he was disappointed in him somehow. “There’s so much more out there, I know,” he nodded toward the window, “but I think somewhere here you’re missing something obvious, which is rather surprising considering how perceptive you are.”
The Doctor regarded him, mouth pursed, as if daring him to make him spell it out. No, he expected Tom to figure it out on his own and he was willing to leave him to his own devices. Clever boy like that, he should get it in the end.
no subject
The truth was very simple, when Tom was fourteen his brain had been invaded by a sadist who mocked every hope and dream he could have hoped to have, taken apart his every shame, every nightmare he'd ever had and forced him to relive them until all he could do was scream in the back of his mind. 'No' and 'don't' had long ago ceased to have meaning. Even now, part of him was expecting someone to walk up and demand he take the Yeerk back. He'd been free on this ship twice before, and twice before people had asked him to take the Yeerk back. Even when people knew, they still wanted Iniss.
He was still just a body, in his own mind, waiting for its master to return.
"That wasn't a choice either." His voice was soft, lip caught between his teeth. "My brother. My parents. I had a deal with Iniss, so long as I didn't make trouble for him, he wouldn't infest them. But I couldn't break, if I did, if I became one of the crazy ones, it would put them at risk. I couldn't allow that." He sighed, wanting to go back to the view, and thinking about everything and nothing. "I don't know what you think I'm missing, guess I missed that day at school."
no subject
He didn’t say anything at first, simply taking it in and giving Tom a bit of time to enjoy his view of the void beyond the blast shields. It sounded…complicated with this parasite. Well. Complicated was an understatement, not that understatement didn’t have its place. Form a pattern with creativity. Yeah, that sounded about right for humanity, even if they got it wrong as often as they got it right: creating patterns sometimes when there weren’t any or even changing perfectly good ones into plain wrong ones. But they always bounced back and that…that was what the Doctor also loved about their species. They didn’t need claws or sharp teeth. At least, the Doctor didn’t think so. Not that humans wouldn’t try those on for size in the future.
His future. He wasn’t so sure about Tom’s.
The Doctor leaned up against the side of the blast shield, taking those two seconds to make sure he wasn’t going to hit any fleshy switches with his elbow. “What I think is that’s less of a deal and more general, old fashioned threatening. Maybe you did miss that day at school. But you’re Yeerk-free right now. Time to catch up.”
Still, coated threats or not, the Doctor was still interested in a chat with their missing slug. He was inclined to trust Tom the Human here, but he did also want Iniss’s side of the story. Considering Earth’s INVADE ME signs they were practically broadcasting, he did believe there was an alien invasion. Earth was simply too tempting of a target.
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He looked back at the Doctor, grimacing faintly, lips still twisted in a smile. "There's a difference? He kept the deal, or whatever it was. I'm not. That makes me less honest than Parasitic brain slugs from space." He pressed his hands against the window, bowing his head and looking away.
Like a believer come to confession, right? Being free meant he alone was responsible for his choices, for what happened. Things could go wrong and there was no one to blame but himself. Things could go right, and there was no one to interfere if he wanted to indulge in them.
Was that selfish? To want that. Even if he failed, he wanted to try. He had the chance to try, if he didn't give it back.
For once, since this entire stupid thing had started, he just wanted to live. "I'm selfish."
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Surprising one, though. So this brother knew too. Odd thing to do, have the brother make a decision like that for Tom. The Doctor stood by, watching Tom’s face in the light from the void outside.
“Not much of a deal to keep, I’d say,” the Doctor said quietly. Seemed like Tom was still determined to be selectively clever; not that the Doctor could blame him. Human, right. Yeah. Usually a trait of the species, for everything else that was beautiful about them. “What else could you say, ‘sure, infect my family and then infect me while you’re at it’? If everyone had your attitude, they wouldn’t have needed to invade quietly.”
All they had to do was just walk right in -- not that a space slug could walk -– and make a few threats. Watch humanity throw themselves at their nonexistent feet. Maybe there were some species out there that were like that, but he’d expected better from humans.
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He swallowed, turning and smiling, though it looked more like he was trying not to be sick. "Jake made a deal. At the end of six months, Iniss moves out. I-he-there was this girl-she-they...were...are...friends." He swallowed, feeling like his mouth was full of glass, hardly able to force the words out. "She wanted to protect him. It didn't seem like a big deal. I should keep it. It's just a little longer, right? Then I can come back to my friends."
He should keep Jake's deal, and Dani's deal, and everything that came between. Not run off and be reckless and stupid and selfish.