sapphire_child (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sapphire_child) wrote2009-01-08 02:40 pm
sapphire_child) wrote2009-01-08 02:40 pm
Entry tags:
Who Fic - Clock Tick, and Think Of You
Title: Clock Tick, and Think of You
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating/warnings: PG
Genre: angst
Character/s: 10.5/Rose, Eleven
Spoilers: casting of Eleven
Summary: Two men sitting on a bench at a playground. Both watching.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all it’s associated characters/situations etc do not belong to me, I’m just borrowing them. Title is stolen from the song “Time After Time”.
~*~
For all intents and purposes his name is John – and at this very moment he’s feeling nothing short of worn out as he drapes himself over the bench that overlooks the playground. It’s not a particularly nice day but...well it’s nice to be outside. The company is good in any case he thinks as he watches his family clambering nimbly over the metal bars and platforms, chasing each other and hiding behind the swings.
He sighs, wishing that he could be out there with them but in reality it’s getting harder for him to keep up with them. Every day he feels older and stiffer and it seems ridiculous because this body doesn’t look a day over forty. Well. Maybe he does look his age then.
His (fake) birth certificate indicates that he’s just turned forty one not long ago but on days like today when he’s beginning to think about being less than a decade away from fifty and...well what’s that going to be like he wonders? He’s already gaining wrinkles at an alarming pace but he thinks it’s the grey hair that’s going to really kill him. He’s always really liked this hair, it’s his crowning glory if you will and...
“Excuse me sir,” he starts, surprised out of his thoughts by a young man with a shaggy crop of dark hair that could rival his easily. He’s instantly a bit jealous of the stranger, him and his hair. “Do you have the time at all?”
“Two o’clock.”
And he goes back to watching and thinking.
“That’s interesting,”
“Hmn?” he turns back to the strange man who is still hovering by the bench with a curious expression on his face.
“How you knew the time without looking at your watch.”
He feels momentarily flustered. The watch is more ornamental than anything else but he doesn’t need all and sundry knowing that he has an indelible sense of time.
“I looked at it a few minutes ago,” he invents. “It was just before two then so...”
“Sorry but you didn’t,” the man interrupts. “I was watching.”
There’s a prickle of warning then as they stare each other down and then the younger man says something that surprises John.
“Can I join you?”
He shrugs in answer and the man flops down next to him with the most casual air. John glances at him and then squints myopically out into the playground where his children are playing.
“Yours?”
He’s definitely getting suspicious about this young bloke now – something about him just doesn’t feel right – but he nods anyway figuring that it can’t hurt.
“And that’s your...wife?” the man guesses on. “Partner?”
There’s a flash of blonde in the weak sunlight followed by a soft peal of laughter and John feels a wave of fondness.
“She’s my whole world,” he says frankly and the man beside him goes still. “They all are.”
“You’re very lucky,” the other man says quietly and finally John turns to him.
“You poor sad bastard,” he shakes his head. “What are you even doing here?”
The man beside him looks momentarily surprised. “I don’t know what...”
“Doctor,” he says simply and his counterpart shuts his mouth with an audible click. “That’s you isn’t it? The Oncoming Storm, destroyer of worlds, arrogant prick extraordinaire?”
The Doctor looks reproachful. “Mind out, I used to be you.”
“And I used to be you,” John says scathingly. “Thank god I’m not anymore.”
The Doctor smiles wryly. “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” John returns and together they gaze out at the playground again. “So how’d you get here then?”
“Oh I’m just very clever.”
John rolls his eyes. “I don’t doubt that. This incarnation of you is just as modest as the last one I see.”
“So you admit that you’re an arrogant git too do you?” the Doctor notes with amusement.
“Welll...at least I don’t look like a twelve year old.”
“Oi!” and now he looks wounded. “I’ll have you know that this body is at least late twenties. So there.”
“Doesn’t sound it,” John sniggers. “So there? Next you’ll be poking your tongue out at me and wiggling your fingers.”
The Doctor glares momentarily but then settles back into his seat and John takes his chance.
“Seriously though. What are you doing here?” a sudden inspiration seizes him and he grimaces. “You don’t need help saving the world again do you?”
“Not particularly,” the Doctor is inspecting his fingernails as he speaks. “Just popped by for a visit.”
“Oh how lovely! Would you like to come back for tea? I’m sure Rose would delight in giving that lovely new nose of yours a good punching. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind having a go on her behalf either.”
The Doctor winces and stretches out long legs. “You sound like Donna.”
“You sound like a nonce,” he returns pleasantly. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here or not?”
The Doctor fidgets a moment longer before sighing. “Dunno. To make sure I hadn’t completely bollocksed things up by leaving you two here together? You seem to have made quite a go of it – you and Rose.”
“More than you ever would’ve,” John agrees then changes the subject abruptly as is his habit when he gets onto an uncomfortable topic. “Are you travelling with someone?”
He shakes his head. “Nobody special.”
“They’re all special.”
“Well of course they are. But not...” he gestures expressively with his hands, seemingly unable to find the words. “You know. They’re not...”
“Special enough?”
The Doctor sighs in resignation. “I don’t know. I should go.”
“Are you sure?” John asks lazily as the Doctor stands. “That beating is still on offer if you’d like it.”
“I think I’ll pass. Anyway,” the Doctor smirks. “Old man like you against me? You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I’m forty one, I’m not old,” John huffs. “If you actually looked your age...”
“Nine centuries and hardly a wrinkle,” the Doctor winks and then offers his hand. John takes it a little reluctantly and squeezes the new, cool fingers of the Doctor in his own. How strange – shaking hands with yourself.
“Take care of her,” the Doctor says solemnly as his parting words. “Take care of all of them. And have a fantastic life. For me.”
John raises an eyebrow at that. “I’m not living this life for you,” he tells him, very simply and unequivocally. “I’m living this life for me.”
The Doctor nods his head in a shallow bow and when he straightens John catches a sudden and rather frightening glimpse of the ageless and forever in his oh-so-young eyes.
As he turns to walk away, black coat swishing about dramatically, John calls out after him one last time.
“Find someone,” he implores him. “Please. Find someone.”
The Doctor pauses and turns to smile crookedly at his once old self, gratefully John thinks. Then, with a final nod he turns and is walking away again.
~*~
“Who was he?” Rose wants to know as they walk home later, each carrying an exhausted child. “The man you were talkin’ to?”
The truth teeters on his tongue for a moment but then his resolve crashes and burns.
“Just some bloke,” he says dismissively. “He wanted to know the time.”
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating/warnings: PG
Genre: angst
Character/s: 10.5/Rose, Eleven
Spoilers: casting of Eleven
Summary: Two men sitting on a bench at a playground. Both watching.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all it’s associated characters/situations etc do not belong to me, I’m just borrowing them. Title is stolen from the song “Time After Time”.
For all intents and purposes his name is John – and at this very moment he’s feeling nothing short of worn out as he drapes himself over the bench that overlooks the playground. It’s not a particularly nice day but...well it’s nice to be outside. The company is good in any case he thinks as he watches his family clambering nimbly over the metal bars and platforms, chasing each other and hiding behind the swings.
He sighs, wishing that he could be out there with them but in reality it’s getting harder for him to keep up with them. Every day he feels older and stiffer and it seems ridiculous because this body doesn’t look a day over forty. Well. Maybe he does look his age then.
His (fake) birth certificate indicates that he’s just turned forty one not long ago but on days like today when he’s beginning to think about being less than a decade away from fifty and...well what’s that going to be like he wonders? He’s already gaining wrinkles at an alarming pace but he thinks it’s the grey hair that’s going to really kill him. He’s always really liked this hair, it’s his crowning glory if you will and...
“Excuse me sir,” he starts, surprised out of his thoughts by a young man with a shaggy crop of dark hair that could rival his easily. He’s instantly a bit jealous of the stranger, him and his hair. “Do you have the time at all?”
“Two o’clock.”
And he goes back to watching and thinking.
“That’s interesting,”
“Hmn?” he turns back to the strange man who is still hovering by the bench with a curious expression on his face.
“How you knew the time without looking at your watch.”
He feels momentarily flustered. The watch is more ornamental than anything else but he doesn’t need all and sundry knowing that he has an indelible sense of time.
“I looked at it a few minutes ago,” he invents. “It was just before two then so...”
“Sorry but you didn’t,” the man interrupts. “I was watching.”
There’s a prickle of warning then as they stare each other down and then the younger man says something that surprises John.
“Can I join you?”
He shrugs in answer and the man flops down next to him with the most casual air. John glances at him and then squints myopically out into the playground where his children are playing.
“Yours?”
He’s definitely getting suspicious about this young bloke now – something about him just doesn’t feel right – but he nods anyway figuring that it can’t hurt.
“And that’s your...wife?” the man guesses on. “Partner?”
There’s a flash of blonde in the weak sunlight followed by a soft peal of laughter and John feels a wave of fondness.
“She’s my whole world,” he says frankly and the man beside him goes still. “They all are.”
“You’re very lucky,” the other man says quietly and finally John turns to him.
“You poor sad bastard,” he shakes his head. “What are you even doing here?”
The man beside him looks momentarily surprised. “I don’t know what...”
“Doctor,” he says simply and his counterpart shuts his mouth with an audible click. “That’s you isn’t it? The Oncoming Storm, destroyer of worlds, arrogant prick extraordinaire?”
The Doctor looks reproachful. “Mind out, I used to be you.”
“And I used to be you,” John says scathingly. “Thank god I’m not anymore.”
The Doctor smiles wryly. “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” John returns and together they gaze out at the playground again. “So how’d you get here then?”
“Oh I’m just very clever.”
John rolls his eyes. “I don’t doubt that. This incarnation of you is just as modest as the last one I see.”
“So you admit that you’re an arrogant git too do you?” the Doctor notes with amusement.
“Welll...at least I don’t look like a twelve year old.”
“Oi!” and now he looks wounded. “I’ll have you know that this body is at least late twenties. So there.”
“Doesn’t sound it,” John sniggers. “So there? Next you’ll be poking your tongue out at me and wiggling your fingers.”
The Doctor glares momentarily but then settles back into his seat and John takes his chance.
“Seriously though. What are you doing here?” a sudden inspiration seizes him and he grimaces. “You don’t need help saving the world again do you?”
“Not particularly,” the Doctor is inspecting his fingernails as he speaks. “Just popped by for a visit.”
“Oh how lovely! Would you like to come back for tea? I’m sure Rose would delight in giving that lovely new nose of yours a good punching. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind having a go on her behalf either.”
The Doctor winces and stretches out long legs. “You sound like Donna.”
“You sound like a nonce,” he returns pleasantly. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here or not?”
The Doctor fidgets a moment longer before sighing. “Dunno. To make sure I hadn’t completely bollocksed things up by leaving you two here together? You seem to have made quite a go of it – you and Rose.”
“More than you ever would’ve,” John agrees then changes the subject abruptly as is his habit when he gets onto an uncomfortable topic. “Are you travelling with someone?”
He shakes his head. “Nobody special.”
“They’re all special.”
“Well of course they are. But not...” he gestures expressively with his hands, seemingly unable to find the words. “You know. They’re not...”
“Special enough?”
The Doctor sighs in resignation. “I don’t know. I should go.”
“Are you sure?” John asks lazily as the Doctor stands. “That beating is still on offer if you’d like it.”
“I think I’ll pass. Anyway,” the Doctor smirks. “Old man like you against me? You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I’m forty one, I’m not old,” John huffs. “If you actually looked your age...”
“Nine centuries and hardly a wrinkle,” the Doctor winks and then offers his hand. John takes it a little reluctantly and squeezes the new, cool fingers of the Doctor in his own. How strange – shaking hands with yourself.
“Take care of her,” the Doctor says solemnly as his parting words. “Take care of all of them. And have a fantastic life. For me.”
John raises an eyebrow at that. “I’m not living this life for you,” he tells him, very simply and unequivocally. “I’m living this life for me.”
The Doctor nods his head in a shallow bow and when he straightens John catches a sudden and rather frightening glimpse of the ageless and forever in his oh-so-young eyes.
As he turns to walk away, black coat swishing about dramatically, John calls out after him one last time.
“Find someone,” he implores him. “Please. Find someone.”
The Doctor pauses and turns to smile crookedly at his once old self, gratefully John thinks. Then, with a final nod he turns and is walking away again.
“Who was he?” Rose wants to know as they walk home later, each carrying an exhausted child. “The man you were talkin’ to?”
The truth teeters on his tongue for a moment but then his resolve crashes and burns.
“Just some bloke,” he says dismissively. “He wanted to know the time.”