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Stand In
By : sss979
Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who
Views: 4884 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Dr. Who and don't make money off it.
Chapter List
- 1-Stand In
- 1
A/N: The idea of the Tardis as a consciousness with telepathic abilities intrigued me long before Series 6 because I'm a die hard Firefly fan and have no problem with the idea of a ship as a character. I also have very limited knowledge of canon, so feel free to comment/correct on any inconsistencies and/or things in this that are patently NOT British. I'm American-Australian, and although I have British friends/editors, they've all been missing for several weeks and I'm not waiting any longer to publish this. There is one other (slightly longer) piece I may or may not finish for the Dr. Who fandom, but there will be no books here. Just stopping by to vent a little emotion and then move on.
                For the first four hundred years or so of my life, sexual intercourse was one of those things that simply never made sense to me. By that, of course, I mean that while it made perfect sense for many people - the continued existence of humans and any number of other races was dependent upon the perpetual need to procreate - it was something that held no personal appeal to yours truly. Procreation amongst my own species was a significantly more formalized affair than all of the bucking and groaning and grinding that humans tended to do. I had known from the time I first met the humans that the parts were compatible - theirs and mine. But why on earth would I want to put that in there and thrust like mad until exchanging bodily fluids with another symbiotic being? What was the point?
                And then I tried it.
                Pleasure, one might say, is a universal language. One's ways of achieving pleasure vary; there's no doubt about that. But that's where the bit about the compatible parts comes in. It was a nice feeling; drugging in its intensity. And it got me into a fine lot of trouble as I learned the hard way that members of the human species had a tendency to view this act of copulation as more than a simple recreational activity. Wars were fought, people were murdered, families destroyed over such a simple thing. The first woman - I remember her well; her name was Delilah - to refer to this act as "making love" was also the woman who took her own life over the fact that I did not - could not - accept it as an act of binding contract. A few decades later was the first time I crossed paths, quite inadvertedly, with a man by the name of William Shakespeare. In any case, he cleared a few things up for me.
                Such was the end of that phase of my life.
                I've never had any particular interest in intercourse since then. I like the humans. They are not my people; they didn't think, act, or find motivation in the things that my people did. They do feel and empathize, and that makes them more like me than many creatures in the universe. And of course, they look familiar. When you're alone in the universe with an eternity of unfamiliar peoples and cultures, perpetually a foreigner in a strange land, it means a lot to have a conversation with someone who looks familiar. Perhaps that's why I have always - well, nearly always - kept a companion. It works out well for both of us; they see the universe and I experience it all over again as if it were the first time.
                But it's all temporary. There is little doubt in my mind that I will outlive them all. When emotions like "love" enter the picture - and yes, I am capable of such a thing - it's important to remember that. To love so completely, to make love... That is something that can only lead to -
                "This is stupid."
                The Doctor dropped the notebook and the pen beside it on the floor of the Tardis.
                "And not only is it stupid, it's not bloody helping."
                Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he pushed his hands back through his hair and clasped them behind his head.
                You miss her.
                He sighed. That much would be obvious to any random bloke who took a good look at him. Of course it would be obvious to the Tardis, who could see inside of his head. Still, it seemed like an utterly redundant statement.
                "That shouldn't be surprising. I miss them all when they're gone."
                Cynicism is not exactly becoming on you, you know.
                He gave another heaving sigh as he dropped his head back against the warm metal behind him. In nine hundred years, he'd felt a lot of things: love, hate, fear, joy. Those were the things that made life worth living - the good and the bad. They were the things that let him know he was real, that he was alive.
                He'd suffered through his share of loneliness, of guilt, of sadness. But this feeling was different from all of that. This feeling was strange and unpleasant. It was more than loneliness. It could not compare to the horrific feeling of realizing that he was the last of his kind; nothing could. And there was no guilt; she was safe, not destroyed. He felt sadness every time he watched another one of them go, and sometimes even a bit of regret at making them go. But this was different. They all had to go. But she'd gone before her time. Before he'd been ready to let her go.
                "I never told her," he finally said, quietly.
                You never do.
                "Yes, but she was different."
                Why?
                "Because I knew."
                He opened his eyes to trace the contours of the beams overhead, the beautiful arches that no architect could design as perfectly as she had created herself. Grown and not made, alive and conscious of her own existence and of his.
                "She's not the first, but she's the first that I knew before..." He swallowed. "Before she was gone."
                Why didn't you tell her then?
                "Because I knew what she would think, what she would want, what she would do."
                Would that have been so horrible?
                "It could have been. Would have been. Can you imagine how much more it would have broken her heart?"
                A long silence answered him before the soft voice returned in his mind. I don't think I'm capable of imagining such things.
                "Oh, don't give me that. You forget, I've seen inside of your head, too."
                He almost found himself smiling, even though he knew there was little to smile about. Honest by design - the Tardis was incapable of lying - from time to time she somehow managed to say things that were so naïve, it made him laugh. A conscious being that understood so little of her own consciousness. She was at once a child who depended upon him, a mother who cared for him, a machine that needed a controller, and a partner that he could rely on.
                His eyes lowered to the grate beneath him, fingers lovingly tracing the edge where it met her wall. As she remained silent, he found himself rambling, quietly musing out loud - to her or to himself, it mattered very little.
                "I know what you feel. What you think. Perhaps not quite as well as you know my thoughts, but I have learned a thing or two in nine hundred and some-odd years about how to understand your psychic impulses."
                Then you know that I do not feel emotion the same way that you do.
                "No, but you do feel. You feel loyalty, and in some cultures, that's very close to love."
                Any good soldier is possessed by a sense of loyalty. Including those who destroyed your people.
                "Let's not talk about that."
                Of course not. I wouldn't dream of it.
                He sighed, moving his hand slowly up the wall, stroking the smooth interior walls with his fingertips. "No, you wouldn't, would you? Because you empathize. And that's something a creature who feels nothing can't do."
                Empathy is a marvelous gift.
                "It can be. It can also be quite painful."
                I prefer to think of the beauty of it. It is the closest I can come to those emotions you speak of. Hope, desire, love. You talk now about your feelings for her, but the energy that radiated from her when you were in the room was...
                "Please don't."
                I'm sorry. But it was truly beautiful to watch. I suppose watching it - watching you and her - was fascinating simply because it was so powerful. On her part more than yours. Or perhaps you just hide it better.
                "Of course I hide it better. I've had nine hundred years to learn how."
                And yet this is the very thing you regret.
                He closed his eyes, stretching one leg out in front of him but keeping the other knee bent to hold up his arm and his head. The silence lingered for a long moment before he spoke again.
                "Did you see inside of her head? The way that you see into mine?"
                Not at first. But the brief time I spent in her body was more than sufficient to familiarize myself with her neurological pathways.
                "Imprint her mind, you mean."
                In a sense.
                He smiled faintly, but remained quiet. The consciousness of the Tardis had merely passed through Rose, and even then, it must have been incredibly difficult not to kill her in the process. Yet another thing the Tardis possessed that so many advanced forms of consciousness lacked: mercy.
                Do you want to see it?
                "See what?"
                Her mind.
                He considered it for a moment. It was an invasion of privacy, and he knew how she would feel about that. But what difference did it really make now? He would never see her again. And he had never been one to turn and walk away when there was something before him that was worth experiencing. Of course, the experience itself had the potential to be very, very painful in the end. She was gone. Slowly, he was coming to terms with that. Was it worth it for the few moments of satisfying that need to embrace anything that reminded him of her?
                The answer seemed obvious. "Yes."
                Close your eyes, then, the soft, calming voice in his head directed. Place your hands on the wall behind you.
                "On the wall? What for?" She hardly needed his hands to be in any particular place to speak into his mind. The fact that he was having this conversation in the first place proved that much.
                Well, if you don't want to...
                "Alright, alright."
                He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sat up straighter as he slipped his hands behind his back and pressed them flat against the warm metal. He could feel the heat gather under his palms, and the warmth seemed to slowly travel up his arms.
                Clear your mind. The more control you can relinquish, the more I can show you.
                Slow, deep breaths - in and out. He let his mind wander to that confused place just before sleep, when one's guard was completely lowered and the body twitched with the firing of neurological impulses attempting to reassure the brain of life. To that place where he could hear his hearts beating, could feel the warmth of complete calm washing over him. There, he breathed. There, he thought of nothing but blackness.
                He wasn't sure if his eyes were actually open or closed, but he could see. Dark shadows were playing over the inside of the Tardis, but for a soft yellow glow from the console. It was in that glow that he saw her, standing there, watching him.
                His breath caught with the sight of her. Just an image, but so real. So very like her: hair, eyes, posture, that curious expression she got when she looked at him. He was afraid to speak for fear that it would destroy the projection. He knew she wasn't real. This was the Tardis' doing, in his mind, telepathically creating an image and an imprint on his brain that -
                And she was gone. And the room was light. He blinked, startled by the sudden shift. "What? What happened?"
                I told you to relax. If you override me with your analysis of just what exactly I'm doing, I can't possibly gain access to those parts of your brain that make it real.
                He breathed slow again, and closed his eyes. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Please..."
                Muscles unclenched. His hands fell loosely to the floor beside him as his thoughts wandered over colors and shifting shapes that meant nothing. Running his tongue on the back of his teeth - he didn't know why that strange habit was so very calming - he felt the confusion taking over again, drawing him back to the darkness. He let it come, welcomed it.
                When he opened his eyes again, she was standing right where she had been moments before. Or maybe it was days. Or years. It was difficult to tell. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about how or why she was there. It was enough just to know that she was.
                With a deep breath, he steadied himself and spoke softly. "Rose?"
                She smiled back - a softer smile than her "let's see what kind of trouble we can get into" one. "Doctor."
                It was her voice. As she stepped forward, it was her scent that he caught, so real he could almost taste it. She knelt down, crouching on her heels. Her eyes, her hair, her lips. He wanted to touch her - to fully engage all of his senses - but she was just out of arm's reach. Instead, he stayed very still and studied everything about her. That soft scent of jasmine, the gentle contours of her face, her body. She was exactly as he remembered her. Exactly as he wanted to remember her.
                This was not what he had expected, when the Tardis had offered to show him her mind, but he was certainly not arguing. Real or not, she was there with him now. That was all he let himself think as she slowly rocked forward, onto her knees. His eyes slid closed as her hand stretched out, and he felt the warmth of her body even before her soft skin touched his cheek. The feel of her took his breath away. Tactile comfort, the heat of human flesh, so much warmer than his own.
                "I miss you," he admitted, finally finding his voice.
                Her thumb stroked over his cheekbone, fingers trailing along his jaw. "I miss you, too."
                Slowly, he raised his hand over hers, holding it to his cheek. So close, so real, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, just the way he had wanted to do the last time he'd seen her.
                "You were on a beach," he breathed. "I could see you, in my mind. I wanted so badly just to hug you one more time. To tell you... what I couldn't say."
                "You didn't have to say it. I know it."
                He opened his eyes slowly to look at her again. "You deserved to hear it."
                She smiled softly. "Tell me now, then."
                He could feel the tears blurring his vision at the memory of her standing there, blonde hair blowing in the wind, choking on her words as she finally managed to admit what wasn't safe to say. It was never safe to say those things. Not even now.
                "I..." His words caught in his throat, and he lowered his eyes.
                Her hand moved, out from underneath his, up into his hair. "All I wanted was to touch you," she whispered. "Those dark eyes, messy hair blowing in the wind. It was your voice, your eyes that say so much. But it wasn't you. I couldn't touch you. You were right in front of me and I couldn't touch you."
                Her fingers raked slowly through his hair, caressing as she moved down to his neck. Eyes still down, he said nothing. Somehow, it was so hard to speak.
                "I want to touch you now, Doctor. I want to touch you everywhere. Please..."
                Very slowly, he looked up again, reading her eyes like a book. Burning need for closeness, for intimacy. For the first time in a long time, he could feel those human-like impulses awakening inside of him. It was the way that humans were closest to each other. And it was a way to feel even more of her than he'd ever felt before.
                This was going to hurt when it was over. But he'd known that from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. It hadn't stopped him then, and it wouldn't stop him now. Eyes locked on hers, he raised his hand slowly to cup the side of her face.
                "Rose Tyler, you are so beautiful."
                A familiar, brilliant smile crossed her lips, and she leaned in closer, wrapping both arms around him and hugging him tight. The tears overflowed as he returned the embrace, holding on for dear life for a few long minutes. The texture of cotton under his fingers, the scent of her shampoo, and the warmth - oh, god, the warmth.
                Finally, she shifted, crawling into his lap as she turned her head to kiss the soft skin just below his ear. He shivered involuntarily. Those feelings were coming alive inside of him, more and more with each passing moment, each warm kiss she placed on his neck, on his jaw. He could feel her fingers slowly unbuttoning his jacket and the hot, raspy sound of her breathing in his ear. Finally, she made words. Words that brought the last little piece of long-buried pleasure back to life.
                "Make love to me, Doctor."
                He shrugged his shoulders out of his jacket with more haste than strictly necessary and laid it out on the grate as she stripped her shirt over her head. His eyes were drawn to her, as were his hands. Warm skin, so close and so her. Her hands were moving down the buttons on his shirt, and by the time he'd pushed her back onto his jacket, they were both naked from the waist up.
                Full skin-on-skin contact made him gasp. Exploring slowly, his hand moved down her torso, all the way to the waistband of her jeans. Unfastening them with nimble fingers, he slid his hand down further and paused, surprised.
                "Are you not wearing any knickers?"
                She smiled up at him with one of those mischievous looks. "Is that a problem?"
                He laughed. It felt good to laugh. It felt even better to see that smile in her eyes. "Not at all. I suppose it's less to take off."
                It was a slow process, stripping her jeans down her legs. And then, she was naked, lying spread out in front of him on the floor of the Tardis. The sight of her skin, the feeling of her vulnerability was making the blood pool in his groin. The Tardis' empathetic nature somehow made him feel all of her emotions as well as his own. And it felt simply incredible.
                "You're so beautiful," he whispered, hands running up the inside of her thighs, spreading them wider, opening her to him. Her scent was overwhelming, and as he lowered himself to kiss the same path his hands had taken, it grew even stronger. The scent of a woman's pleasure. He smiled. He'd forgotten how intense this could feel. How good...
                He inhaled deeply, and slowly lowered himself to touch the very tip of his tongue to the fluids that were gathering between her legs. Pleasure sensors fired rapidly in his brain. God, she tasted as good as she smelled. As she buried her hands in his hair, he lowered himself further, sliding his tongue into her body, licking and urging her body to produce more of the warm, salty fluids. He could hear her moaning, feel her writhing with pleasure as his own body throbbed with her rhythm. His own arousal and excitement was rising to heights he had never felt before. By the time he pushed himself up again, he was flying.
                Her hands moved from his hair to his waist, fingers fumbling in their haste to remove his pants. He used his toes to pry off his shoes and socks and kicked off his slacks as soon as she pushed them down. Finally, he was naked beside her, then beneath her as she grabbed his shoulders and turned him onto his back. His eyes widened in surprise as they were suddenly in motion, but he didn't resist her. Instead, he smiled up at her as she straddled him.
                "My my, aren't we aggressive?"
                "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," she answered with a smirk.
                "Oh, I think I do."
                "I'll bet you don't."
                The uneven, scratchy surface of the grate should have hurt against his bare back, but it didn't. Instead, he felt only pleasure, building and building with the pressure in his groin.
                "I saw it in your eyes, Rose." He was grinning at the memory as he stared up at her. "That very first time you fantasized about me."
                Naked over top of him, she was actually blushing. "Excuse me?"
                "It caught you off guard. And for a moment, you just stared. Then you got that little smile, and that look in your eye." He slid his hands slowly up her thighs to her hips. "The same look that you have right now."
                She opened her mouth to answer, but she didn't have a chance. In a flash, he'd tightened his grip and pushed up, turning with her until he had her pinned again. She squealed in surprise, pushing back - of course she would - and they rolled one over the other all the way to the console. And there, when they finally hit the wall with a soft thud, he ended up on top.
                She was laughing. He couldn't help but smile. "Look at us," she giggled. "Rolling around on the floor of the Tardis like children playing in the mud."
                "In the mud?" he asked, amused. "Is that what you did for fun when you were a child? Roll around in the mud? Somehow I don't find that hard to believe."
                Still smiling, she moved her hands from his shoulders to his hair, tightening her fingers together. "Shut up and kiss me."
                It would have been impossible not to oblige her request. Those feelings of pleasure and warmth and intimacy and desire were so strong now, they were drowning out all else. But as his lips touched hers, he paused for a moment just to taste her breath, to feel her life and the anticipation that grew to overwhelming proportions. He could feel her heart pounding against his hand as he rested it over her breast. Such a beautiful creature, inside and out.
                His lips closed over hers, claiming her, coaxing her open. He could feel her skin slide on his, hot and smooth, as she pulled her legs up, then wrapped them around his waist. He gasped, and his entire body quivered as he felt her wetness, slick and ready for him. There was no need to ask what she was thinking, what she was feeling, if she was ready. He could feel it in his own body, in every corner of his mind, racing along every nerve.
                Their bodies joined as if they were made for each other, and she groaned into the kiss, stroking her tongue along his. For a moment, he was dizzy. Never, even in all the times past, had sex ever felt this simply, incredibly good. It was so much pleasure, tickling every corner of his brain that was capable of registering gratification, he could hardly stand it. And neither could she.
                "Oh, my god. Doctor..."
                He could feel the blood singing in his ears as he finally broke the kiss to bury his face in her neck, drawing in the scent of her pheromones and feasting on them. She was unbelievably tight, and pulling him in. His hips were moving on hers as if his body had been fashioned for this very moment and nothing else. It was right, and beautiful, and so irrationally natural.
                "Am I hurting you?" he asked breathlessly, realizing how hard he was thrusting into her. He could feel the perspiration breaking out on his forehead, on the back of his neck.
                "No." Her hands smoothed down his back, gentle and firm and oh-so-warm. "No, it feels incredible."
                The pleasure was dizzying. As their bodies fell into a rhythm as old as time itself, it was as if they were surrounded in some sort of safe bubble that nothing could penetrate. No pain, no fear, no unpleasant thoughts or memories. Just him and her and their bodies intimately entwined.
                She was lifting and lowering her hips to meet his steady, rhythmic thrusts. Breathless, he kissed her, he watched her. He felt the muscles in his abdomen and in his back begin to grow sore. He barely even noticed the discomfort through the beautiful tension that was coiling tighter and tighter around him. His whole body was on fire, and still her skin was hot to his touch.
                And then her eyes were open, and locked on his. The look that passed into them was vacant, as if she had somehow left her body to soar on the wings of pleasure and passion. At the sight of it, at the feel of her inner walls clenching down around him, he let his own eyes roll back, relinquishing control as his whole world lit up white. Dizzy and tense and excited and riding on a tidal wave, he buried his face into her neck, smelling her scent - sweat and pheromones and jasmine and sex and that smell that was just her.
                "Oh, Rose, I love you."
                She cried out in pleasure. Everything that had been building up inside of him enveloped him in bliss. He had seen hell in all its forms. But now, more than ever, he knew he had seen heaven. The release swept over him, through him, into her. He felt as if every fluid inside of his body was being drained. In his mind was nothing but pure bliss - bright white and radiant. He couldn't think, and he didn't want to.
                His strength gave out. He barely caught his weight on his arms to keep from crushing her. Gasping for breath, completely spent, his head was swirling. Cupping his hand around the back of her head, he lifted her and brought her lips to his, kissing her softly as the aftershocks roiled through him.
                "Doctor?"
                He moaned softly, unable to manage any more response.
                "I can't feel my body," she panted breathlessly. Her hand trembled as she raked through the back of his sweaty hair. "But it feels like there's electricity running all through me at the same time."
                He smiled. He knew what she was feeling. He could feel it too. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
                "Yes."
                He moved to her side slowly, gathering her close to his chest, wrapping his arms around and holding her tight. He could feel the exhaustion welcoming him into sleep.
                "Doctor?"
                He was almost gone when he heard the soft sound of her voice, whispering through his thoughts. "Yes?"
                "Are you happy?"
                Holding her tighter, he smoothed his hand up and down her back, tracing the contour of her spine. "Rose Tyler," he breathed softly, letting himself drift away, "I have never been happier."
*X*X*X*
                The Doctor's eyes opened slowly. The room was shadowed, as dark as it had been just moments before. If, in fact, it had been moments. For all he knew, it could have been hours. But no, it was moments. It had to be. He could still feel the residual effects of... what? Orgasm? He checked himself over quickly. Still dressed, no mess. All in his mind, but he could feel it in his body, physically, just the same.
                How do you feel, Doctor?
                He closed his eyes again, dropping his head back against the warm metal behind him. "Tired."
                Yes, you look it.
                He breathed deep and slow, letting the post-orgasmic bliss relax every muscle in his body.   As thoughts slowly returned, curiosity got the better of him. "How do you know how to do that?"
                What do you mean?
                "You've never felt that - even empathetically, because I've never done it here."
                Not yet. But someday you will.
                "Oh ho!" He smiled broadly, still relaxed, eyes still closed. "The Tardis has a few secrets of her own!"
                Soft laughter in his head.
                "I never thought you were so interested," he mused.
                Your brain lit up like a hundred million tiny little lights in the sky. In what way is that uninteresting?
                "You like that, huh?"
                The energy is... exciting.
                His smile faded to one of relaxed contentment as he turned and slowly lowered himself, resting his head on his arm as he lay on his side. "Someday, maybe you and I should have a go. Now wouldn't that be interesting?"
                She laughed again, softly. I wouldn't know where to begin.
                "Ah, but that's what makes it fun."
                She didn't respond, and he opened his eyes slowly. He wasn't entirely sure where they were, but he wasn't terribly worried about it. Floating off on some uncharted route somewhere, sometime in space was probably one of the safest places in the universe as long as nothing came within close proximity. If anything did, she would be sure to tell him.
                Taking a deep, slow breath, he closed his eyes again. He could get up, go to bed. But just now, he wanted to stay right here, close to her warmth and awareness.
                "Thank you," he finally whispered.
                My pleasure.
                "No, I really mean it." She sounded just a bit too casual. "Thank you. For everything."
                This time, she paused for a long moment before responding in that soft voice in his mind. Sleep well, Doctor. And good night.
                One final, deep breath, and he let his mind drift off again - this time into sleep.
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Stand In	By : sss979 Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 4884 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Dr. Who and don't make money off it.

Stand In