Disclaimer: RTDs' toys, not mine. I promise I'll put them back when I'm done playing.
Summary: When grabbing the trusty orange spacesuit the Doctor pauses to remember the last time he wore it.
Author Notes: My first shot at writing the Doctor so I would love any constructive criticism. Even "No, really, don't do that." Would be great :)
In the wardrobe of the TARDIS the air was still. Motes of dust fell slowly through the space; down, down, past the never-ending rows of clothes, spiraling downwards for what seemed like forever. All quiet except the gentle hum of the TARDIS, and the distant sounds of the Mars base outside. Gold light fell warmly on the rows of costumes, which stood like a memorial to past adventures.
A crash, the sound of doors being flung open.
The Doctor ran frantically through the TARDIS, leaving the metal floor clanging behind him.
"Spacesuit, spacesuit" he muttered running through the wardrobe, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "C'mon! I know its here somewhere." A glimpse of orange caught his eye "Ah ha!" he shouted pulling out the rough robe of a monk "Or not." Discarding the robe he set off running again glancing at the unending rows before finally diving into the clothes at the sight of a helmet. "Gotcha!" he barked feeling the familiar smooth fiber of the space suit in his hands, reading the painted Sanctuary Base logo on the chest. He knew he had to be quick; the people on the Mars base were depending on him.
Hurriedly the Doctor threw off his overcoat, and, jerkily hopping, pulled off his shoes. He bent down and scooped up the spacesuit when he caught the faintest trace of a familiar smell. A scent that made his chest tighten with loneliness. The crisis outside slipped from his mind as he pressed the material to his face, inhaling deeply the distant smell of Roses' perfume.
The Doctor thought back to the last time he'd worn the suit. Defeating the Beast, saving the day against all odds, holding Rose and chuckling as her feet waved in the air. Her body pressed against his, both so grateful the other was alive and thinking of nothing else.
For a while the Doctor stood alone with his thoughts, while the TARDIS hummed and the fine dust moved with his breath. Alone except the thousands of clothes, he wondered just how many of them would smell of her. He stood amongst his cast off overcoat and shoes, still holding the spacesuit, thinking how timeless the wardrobe always seemed and wondering just how long he'd been stood there for. There was nothing to mark time passing, just the quiet rows of clothes and the ever-falling dust. He noticed his feet were growing cold.
The Doctor was jolted from his thoughts by shouts from outside. The Timelords' eyes darkened as he remembered the danger beyond the TARDIS' doors. He pulled on the spacesuit and strode swiftly out of the wardrobe.
As he stepped out of the TARDIS and pulled on his helmet the Doctor noticed the faintest smudge of lipstick on the visor. He smiled. Closed the door of the TARDIS and felt ready for anything.
In the wardrobe the TARDIS the dust continues to fall. Forever moving on.