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Doctor Who - BurdenWhat a burden. Oh, oh, what a burden.
Night was still, which was okay, because stillness was a feeling that she was still getting used to, even after all these years. She was never still. Running, laughing, fighting, winning, losing, crying, dancing, dying... It never ended. Even now, far from him, it never ended. One breath, hitching in her throat, jumping as she tried to breathe. One tear, one shiver, one ache that raced across her skin. The fear of not knowing what came next.
He was gone again. The fact that she had to put the word "again" at the end of that put a pang in her stomach. No matter how hard either tried, or no matter how little they did, they seemed unable to escape each other. It was beautiful, if a bit unreal, each time she saw him again, but... But it wasn't good. It was scary. It was terrifying.
It wasn't his regenerations. She'd seen so many of them... well, she could handle that now. It was him. His touch, his speech, his movements. The way he'd turn
Lost Companions Chapter 8The Doctor tapped the tip of his screwdriver against the TARDIS console thoughtfully as he transferred a skeptical look between the companions on board who were patiently waiting for him to say something.
"We need a heat source," he finally murmured, sitting back in his chair.
Donna shrugged. "Yeah, cause heat sources solve everything. We all knew that."
"No really," he said, sitting up again. "I need a heat source a really, really big heat source."
"And what are you going to do with it?" Amy said, giving him a withering look.
"I was looking into our problem last night,-" Rose and River shared a look. "-And I figured out that, with a really big, really hot heat source, the TARDIS might be able to track the signal causing us all this trouble."
"Might?" Donna clarified. "As in, 'either that, or we end up mucking about on some really hot planet for no reason'?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Planet, sure, but I was thinking more underground."
Rory made a face. "We already did underground. R
Lost Companions Chapter 1Across the universe, the stars glittered in unison, a perfect harmony of time and space, twinkling high above the planets. Alien galaxies and burning suns dappled the surreal scenery. Exotic planets of various color and shape orbited their own geometrical points, spinning in a near-perfect circle at thousands of miles per hour. The wind would have whispered coldly across the empty space, had there been any wind in space, and, if there was, the only thing there to enjoy it was a small box, colored TARDIS blue, which made sense, considering it was the TARDIS.
Inside the ship, things looked calm and normal, and the people within were familiar with their surroundings, except for the small problem that almost none of them were supposed to be there.
The Doctor leaned on his knees from where he sat, perched on the railing across from the TARDIS console. He narrowed his bright green eyes, examining the three young women squirming under his gaze. He kept them trapped under his eyes for at least
Lost Companions Chapter 6"Looks like this is turning into our base," Donna commented as they entered the diner again.
River sat down in a booth and scooted back to make room for the Doctor. "Well that's no good," she said. "Stick around here long and we'll end up accidentally destroying the place."
"We can worry about that later. Right now we need to find out what's going on," the Doctor said as everyone else sat down.
"I have a theory," Rory said.
"Maybe we should find out our enemy's purpose first," Martha suggested. "That will make how they're doing it easier to guess."
"Sure it will," Rose grumbled. "Except that we have no leads and no way of guessing who our enemy is, let alone their purpose."
"I have a theory," Rory stated.
"We do know that they're really powerful, Rose," Amy countered. "Which limits our options a lot more than you'd think."
"Can't be angels," River said, thinking. "They're clever, but not near as organized enough for this."
"Damn, that was my theory," Rory muttered, his comment going un
Lost Companions Chapter 3Nine minutes later, the six of them were sitting inside a small, homey diner down the block from Torchwood, mainly keeping to themselves. Donna and Martha were sitting together at the front bar, nursing coffees, while Rory and Amy were curled up in a booth, sharing a basket of chips. Rose found herself sitting in front of the Doctor at a different booth, a basket of chips between them.
She briefly wondered why she'd allowed herself to get into this position. It had been a long time since she'd last talked to the Doctor not to mention he was a different person now. He himself didn't seem to notice her predicament. He was gazing out the window, a faraway expression on his face. Being only human, she found the moment painfully awkward and had to say something.
"So..." She instantly regretted speaking.
He turned away from the window and his gaze focused on her. For a moment he looked excited, almost happy, but then his face fell, like the life had been sucked from it. Rose resisted
Lost Companions Chapter 2Martha was scared.
She didn't like admitting it to herself when she was, because she knew the Doctor liked strong, brave people and ever since the time she'd spent with him, she'd wanted to stay strong and brave, in his memory. But now, standing in front of the slick glass doors to Torchwood, Martha was scared. She didn't know what to expect. It wasn't often the Doctor didn't know what was coming, and now, being presented with one of those moments, she was really upset that she was the guinea pig.
Still, she knew she was their only option. They had to find out what was going on.
Martha glanced behind her, wishing she could see the TARDIS for support, but the Doctor had told her he would place it one second out of sync with the rest of time, so they could watch her without being seen. She rubbed her neck nervously before looking back at the glass doors. "Just go to the last place you remember being," the Doctor had said.
Making coffee, she thought. It was about an hour ago, an
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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