It was one of those moments after they stumbled into the TARDIS, Rose breathless, and the Doctor only slightly fatigued due to his hearts. Even so, he collapsed onto the padded seat by the controls, but not only to appear to commiserate with his companion’s physical state. He couldn’t pass up another opportunity to be next to this human woman ( Read more... )

His cry startled her at first-- she looked about and found him leaning into the brick wall behind her-- it was a cry of anguish, she realized. It was a strange sound to hear on a night of celebration. Stranger still, she felt concern for him, and it impulsively fired her heart ( Read more... )

The Doctor was aware of an added consciousness and stiffened in response. His senses had an extension, his thought opened as if shared with another, yet he couldn’t quite grasp the additional thoughts of this mind parasite ( Read more... )

He is the towering god himself, separate from his own race, ever the surveyor --the bringer of justice, the lone savior, forsaken for so long ( Read more... )

A shoe went whizzing by his head as he dove to his left.

“Oi, Donna!” The Doctor shouted.

“Don’t you ‘oi, Donna’ me, Spaceman!”

As she bent to take off her other shoe, he decided to take his chance. He made a break for the only place inside the Tardis with a proper door: the toilet. A thump vibrated through the door when the shoe hit ( Read more... )

The impact jarred her every time, but Rose grudgingly liked the exhilarating high of jumping to another universe.  If the situation weren’t so desperate, she might have let out a whoop.  But she straightened up and remembered why she was there.

She frowned and looked down.  The added weight of a ginormous gun hanging across her chest didn’t ( Read more... )

Donna couldn’t sleep.  Too many adventures in one week should’ve had her snoring, but there she was, wide awake under her duvet.

A faint echo reached her ears.  It was odd to hear anything when the TARDIS knew Donna needed rest, so she took it as a reason to question it.

“What’s going on, girl?” she asked softly.

The TARDIS had kindly ( Read more... )

“Where am I?”

The man didn’t reply.  He found it difficult to talk to a child.

“Where are we?” the girl asked.  A frown on her face as the winter wind billowed her long blonde hair.

To give her an answer would compromise his position.  She could say “I want to go home” . . . but he could say little as to how she got here or where here ( Read more... )

Rose stared harder as if the TARDIS would screech its way back to the spot on the beach.  She sighed loudly in a huff.  From her seat on the sand, she tried to imagine a life a little different:  the universe open to her, the Doctor’s hand in her, and the opportunity to stand up for what’s right.

And this isn’t right, she told herself.  Her heart ( Read more... )

RTD sits at his desk, laptop on, and prints out his draft for the “Journey’s End” screenplay.  He’s quite proud of it, to be honest-all stops pulled for this gem.  His last regular Doctor Who episode before he gives the Head Writer’s position to Moffat.  Time to give it up; it’s all quite tiring, he must admit.  He sighs and leans back in his chair ( Read more... )