(no subject)
Inspired by this. This is the result of getting nostalgic and re-reading old threads. >:
Prompt: oh my god so many. Uhhh, Going Home; Song/Music; Memories/Remembering; Traveling; Time
Title: Memories of You
I.
The Doctor's eyes snapped open, focusing on the monitor in front of him; he must have just woken up from a nap in the jumper seat, though he couldn't recall having fallen asleep. He stood slowly, rubbing his face with his hands.
Something gnawed at the back of his mind, little more than the wisp of a memory. A fleeting dream, maybe? The mundane nagging of a door left unlocked or a sink left flowing? He shoved it aside in an ineffectual way as his hands passed over the surface of the TARDIS' console. For some reason, he couldn't suppress a relieved smile -- he couldn't help the feeling that he had missed an old friend.
He couldn't seem to help a lot of things today.
Finally, he spurred himself to pull a lever, then another -- and soon he was darting around the console in his usual haphazard manner. But despite his attempts at distracting himself with the places he would visit, he could hear the room filling with two songs -- one emitting from the TARDIS, and the other from the forgotten memory, haunting him like a half-remembered melody.
II.
The first thing he remembered was dancing.
It came to him suddenly, as he was timing jumps through fan blades and carefully leaping past swinging pendulums in what he could only call one of the most amazingly ill-conceived defense systems in a factory basement he had ever had the displeasure of encountering. He couldn't help a brief cry of triumph at the memory, though it quickly turned into a yelp as he dived out of a plummeting pendulum's path.
Still, it wasn't much to work on. A dance could lead to so many things -- coffee, drinks, awkward excuses to flee the scene -- but he could remember little more than that.
He gripped a bar overhead and swung himself over a gaping abyss.
Right, no time to dwell, he thought. He still had a ways to go until he reached the control panel, and he was hoping to keep all of his limbs intact.
III.
He remembered a feeling.
He stared up into the dark, open sky as he sat on the Winding Peak on the planet of Solstice. He gazed up at the four moons, determining their orbits, predicting when one moon would be obscured by another. He knew the name of practically every star, close to every galaxy -- on good nights, at least. He could describe the histories of so many people, the rise and fall of so many civilizations. He could estimate the population of most planets he stepped foot on, could guess how many lives there were in a galaxy, all based on the time period--
Yet it wasn't until times like these, where he sat silently observing the universe, that he truly felt humbled and small. It was these moments that made him remember each life he had saved, each life he had failed, and every time he had stuck his neck out just one inch too far and nearly paid for it. Gazing up at something both so near and beyond his comprehension, he felt so very grateful to be alive.
And it was then that he remembered that at some time, a time that kept skirting the boundaries of his memory, just one smile from one person had had the same effect.
IV.
He remembered a time.
He walked across the white sands of the beach in the hours between night and day. The sand gave way under his steps, shifting back together as he passed. It was almost as though he had never been there.
The forgotten memory sang at the back of his mind until something escaped from the melody -- a time. An agreement. A promise, really, that his mind had held on to when he had forgotten everything else.
And the memory tapered off. What had he forgotten? And what was he remembering now?
He stood before the crashing waves, facing the horizon without truly seeing it. The memories he tried to grasp slipped from him like shadows from light. He stood there until the sun broke away from the ocean's surface; and following suit, the Doctor broke his sightless gaze and moved on.
V.
He remembered a place.
It rose from the murk of his half-remembered daydreams while he stood before the TARDIS' console, and he couldn't suppress the smile that came to his face. After all, a remembered time, a remembered place, a time machine? Surely it was a winning combination if there ever was one. It certainly made choosing his next destination simple, at any rate.
He had a date to keep, after all.
VI.
The TARDIS landed in a park in the dead of night.
Earth, it seemed like -- some time around the 39th century, if the hovering bowl filled with wish-laden coins in the nearby fountain was any indication.
He shut the door of the TARDIS behind him, walking further into the park and inhaling the damp night air. For some reason, he felt nervous, antsy, and he found himself looking about him. Clearly he was anticipating something, but even the Doctor had no idea what it was he was waiting for.
Until, that is, he spotted her walking down the path towards him.
VII.
She stood before him, smiling a familiar smile and lauging a familiar laugh. His mouth was dry.
And then the dammed-up memories flooded his mind.
VIII.
"Why, Miss Didi," the Doctor said when he finally found his voice -- and even then, he could only manage something barely above a whisper. "You haven't aged a day."
"Flatterer." She laughed and shook her head. "I was almost afraid to come here." She sounded a touch self-conscious, but more teasing than nervous. She brushed back her dark hair with one hand, adjusted the ankh pendant dangling from her necklace with the other. "I was afraid you would've forgotten."
He swallowed and recovered himself; his usual confidence was back. The Doctor reached out, taking her hand.
He tugged her towards the TARDIS. "Of course I wouldn't have. How could I? And we've got so much to see and so much to do before the day's out."
Death allowed herself to be led, just this once. "Oh? And what's first on the list?"
"I thought you would've already known that one. August. 1935. Los Angeles." The Doctor grinned and ushered her into the TARDIS.
"We're going dancing," he said, and the door clicked shut behind them.
Prompt: oh my god so many. Uhhh, Going Home; Song/Music; Memories/Remembering; Traveling; Time
Title: Memories of You
I.
The Doctor's eyes snapped open, focusing on the monitor in front of him; he must have just woken up from a nap in the jumper seat, though he couldn't recall having fallen asleep. He stood slowly, rubbing his face with his hands.
Something gnawed at the back of his mind, little more than the wisp of a memory. A fleeting dream, maybe? The mundane nagging of a door left unlocked or a sink left flowing? He shoved it aside in an ineffectual way as his hands passed over the surface of the TARDIS' console. For some reason, he couldn't suppress a relieved smile -- he couldn't help the feeling that he had missed an old friend.
He couldn't seem to help a lot of things today.
Finally, he spurred himself to pull a lever, then another -- and soon he was darting around the console in his usual haphazard manner. But despite his attempts at distracting himself with the places he would visit, he could hear the room filling with two songs -- one emitting from the TARDIS, and the other from the forgotten memory, haunting him like a half-remembered melody.
II.
The first thing he remembered was dancing.
It came to him suddenly, as he was timing jumps through fan blades and carefully leaping past swinging pendulums in what he could only call one of the most amazingly ill-conceived defense systems in a factory basement he had ever had the displeasure of encountering. He couldn't help a brief cry of triumph at the memory, though it quickly turned into a yelp as he dived out of a plummeting pendulum's path.
Still, it wasn't much to work on. A dance could lead to so many things -- coffee, drinks, awkward excuses to flee the scene -- but he could remember little more than that.
He gripped a bar overhead and swung himself over a gaping abyss.
Right, no time to dwell, he thought. He still had a ways to go until he reached the control panel, and he was hoping to keep all of his limbs intact.
III.
He remembered a feeling.
He stared up into the dark, open sky as he sat on the Winding Peak on the planet of Solstice. He gazed up at the four moons, determining their orbits, predicting when one moon would be obscured by another. He knew the name of practically every star, close to every galaxy -- on good nights, at least. He could describe the histories of so many people, the rise and fall of so many civilizations. He could estimate the population of most planets he stepped foot on, could guess how many lives there were in a galaxy, all based on the time period--
Yet it wasn't until times like these, where he sat silently observing the universe, that he truly felt humbled and small. It was these moments that made him remember each life he had saved, each life he had failed, and every time he had stuck his neck out just one inch too far and nearly paid for it. Gazing up at something both so near and beyond his comprehension, he felt so very grateful to be alive.
And it was then that he remembered that at some time, a time that kept skirting the boundaries of his memory, just one smile from one person had had the same effect.
IV.
He remembered a time.
He walked across the white sands of the beach in the hours between night and day. The sand gave way under his steps, shifting back together as he passed. It was almost as though he had never been there.
The forgotten memory sang at the back of his mind until something escaped from the melody -- a time. An agreement. A promise, really, that his mind had held on to when he had forgotten everything else.
And the memory tapered off. What had he forgotten? And what was he remembering now?
He stood before the crashing waves, facing the horizon without truly seeing it. The memories he tried to grasp slipped from him like shadows from light. He stood there until the sun broke away from the ocean's surface; and following suit, the Doctor broke his sightless gaze and moved on.
V.
He remembered a place.
It rose from the murk of his half-remembered daydreams while he stood before the TARDIS' console, and he couldn't suppress the smile that came to his face. After all, a remembered time, a remembered place, a time machine? Surely it was a winning combination if there ever was one. It certainly made choosing his next destination simple, at any rate.
He had a date to keep, after all.
VI.
The TARDIS landed in a park in the dead of night.
Earth, it seemed like -- some time around the 39th century, if the hovering bowl filled with wish-laden coins in the nearby fountain was any indication.
He shut the door of the TARDIS behind him, walking further into the park and inhaling the damp night air. For some reason, he felt nervous, antsy, and he found himself looking about him. Clearly he was anticipating something, but even the Doctor had no idea what it was he was waiting for.
Until, that is, he spotted her walking down the path towards him.
VII.
She stood before him, smiling a familiar smile and lauging a familiar laugh. His mouth was dry.
And then the dammed-up memories flooded his mind.
VIII.
"Why, Miss Didi," the Doctor said when he finally found his voice -- and even then, he could only manage something barely above a whisper. "You haven't aged a day."
"Flatterer." She laughed and shook her head. "I was almost afraid to come here." She sounded a touch self-conscious, but more teasing than nervous. She brushed back her dark hair with one hand, adjusted the ankh pendant dangling from her necklace with the other. "I was afraid you would've forgotten."
He swallowed and recovered himself; his usual confidence was back. The Doctor reached out, taking her hand.
He tugged her towards the TARDIS. "Of course I wouldn't have. How could I? And we've got so much to see and so much to do before the day's out."
Death allowed herself to be led, just this once. "Oh? And what's first on the list?"
"I thought you would've already known that one. August. 1935. Los Angeles." The Doctor grinned and ushered her into the TARDIS.
"We're going dancing," he said, and the door clicked shut behind them.