An unfinished journey.
Chapter one
Nearby the controls, he's been standing there for hours, so it seems, trying to repair the current of problems which has occurred. She won't budge, he knows it's deliberate, she's still mad from the last "upgrade" he did on her. The Tardis was a stubborn work of machinery, in many more ways than one, most of which were similar to him- but he would never admit to such a statement. He's gone over the wiring, and checked to make sure every last bolt was secured, yet she still is throwing a fuss, and every time he goes to send them into the time vortex, all he gets in return is a massive groan. "Come off it you old cow." He delivered a swift kick to the underside of her controls, this regeneration of the Doctor never was very patient, or kind. He was blunt, often he came off as insensitive, a real antagonistic prick, all of which he was. Even though he didn't mean to be that way. Blame the war. He honestly was just a damaged man, angry with the world- no, with everything. He had saved the universe countless times, but this, this was more. He had locked his friends and family in a war because of what they had done and become, leaving him with no one. Essentially, he was just a damned, broken being, because he wasn't just a man. A wandering vagabond because he had no home, all he had left was his Tardis and the planet which he seemed to favour more than the rest, Earth, his adopted child. It had taken him centuries to cope with the loss of Gallifrey, centuries before he even set foot on another planet again. He had been floating in the time vortex, dwelling on the evil that had corrupted many a good man, letting it just sit there and eat away at his insides. Maybe that was why the first time he had landed she refused to move. "You're not a cow, I know." With an exasperated sigh, he gave up, she wasn't moving, and she made him sure to know that. He grabbed his leather jacket and took a stroll towards the door, he needed the fresh air to calm him down before he ended up terrorizing his only possession.
London, so it smelled. Actually it was quite a refreshing smell, all the exhaust fumes, the wet streets, the subtle hint of chips, and the smell of water; he was parked right besides the river.
"Oh damn you, never wanting to work properly." He grumbled as he locked the door, turning on his heels to storm off in any general direction, she wanted to play that game, and so could he. It was mid-afternoon, and rather thick in the air, early fall. Thankfully he liked fall, maybe it would help dampen the mood he had been working on for years. It seemed busier than he last remembered, but it had been ages since he had last been to London, maybe it was just the year, which he hadn't bothered to check. He marched through the streets for hours, unsure where to go, or what to do, he had no purpose for being there except that his ship wouldn't take him. He stumbled across a bar, it at least looked appealing, and a drink never hurt anyone. That's what he needed, a drink.
It'd been a week now, and his ship was still denying him any movement, at times even access to enter. It had aggravated him that she would be so stubborn, but so was he, after a week of coping, he was beginning to except it. He had taken a flat nearby his new favourite bar, located just a few blocks off of it. It was a shabby flat, completely empty, except for a bed, he liked it that way, as he said, the place was only temporary, and he only got it because the Tardis was being a brat. If he actually put his mind to his situation, the Tardis was making him be more domestic than ever before. She made him go fend for himself "in the wild", he had to feed himself, even shelter.
He was about to make his daily routine of checking on his Tardis and spending the day in the bar, when there was a knock on his door. He didn't talk to anyone, especially not telling him where he lived, he was being an introvert in spite of himself. Being a curious man, he wondered who it was though, a strange knock on the door when he knew practically no one. He opened it, folding his arms as he brought his gaze from the ground up, eventually his cold, broody stare made its way onto the strangers features. It was a girl, young so she seemed, in her mid twenties at the most, or she had one hell of a complexion that older women would envy. He stared into her eyes, noticing how they were a darker shade of brown, with hints of honey in them; maybe it was how she was beaming at him through her eyes, but it had him momentarily captivated.
"You're quiet, aren't you." She interjected, as he opened his mouth to speak she had already piped up again. "We're neighbors, I've seen you around. Skulking mostly."
"What do you want?"
"Bitter, aren't we."
"I'm busy, shove off." He pushed past her, slamming his door as he made haste of his way towards the Tardis.
"Oi!" She quickly chased after him, only leaving a small gap of distance between them. "Busy with what? I've watched you go and disappear down those alleys."
"I'm fast."
"My names Oswin. I've asked around and even our manager doesn't know your real name, all he said was "the doctor." At that he paused, why did she even care what his name was or why he was there, doing what he did each day. "Doctor who?" Oswin asked; she stopped walking when he did.
"Doesn't matter, forget me, okay?"
"Ooh, lovely answer." She sarcastically commented, receiving a cold glance from him once again before he started walking off.
"So who are you?"
"You talk a lot." He quickly turned the corner through a small crowd of people, hoping to lose her in them.
"You don't." She was still right there, this time she grabbed hold of his arm, for what seemed like balance. He thought about pushing her into the nearby building wall to show he was dangerous, and not a man to mess with, but when he thought that, she took a tighter hold of his arm.
"I do, choose not to."
"And why's that, afraid of your own accent? You're not from here, I can tell that much. You sound northern."
"Very."
"So where are you from, 'Doctor'?" Every time she would mention his name, it seemed to strike a different chord. He wasn't used to hearing his name.
"Far away." The Doctor sighed out gloomily.
"So you're a traveler?"
"Used to be, something's keeping me."
"Oi, we're getting somewhere now." For the next few blocks he tried to ignore her, giving short, rude replies, trying to lose her.
"Look, Oswin, don't you have something better to do than chase after an older man?" She frowned at that.
"I'm not chasing, I'm curious."
"Don't be." He then entered the bar, sitting at his usual stool, and ordering a shot of whiskey, actually, a double. She didn't enter, instead she spun around, with a small giggle, and made her way down the street to an appointment she had set up anyways, arriving early.
Damn, she had gotten on his nerves, so eager and curious. He pounded down roughly four more doubles before handing the bartender his psychic paper, something he often used as a form of payment, like an unlimited credit card, and looked around to make sure his new "follower" wasn't around before he headed to the Tardis. The Tardis unlocked today, actually letting him inside, although when he stroked the main console, she groaned, clearly not happy with him. The Tardis most certainly was alive, and had a mind of her own, when she wanted to be stubborn, she was stubborn. She tested his patients much like the young brunette he had just met did, although he was used to the Tardis being that way; she never would take him where he wanted to go, or even when. And she always gave him rough landings, breaks on and all.
"Come on old girl, please work? Can't have you dying on me too." As he thought back to the war he couldn't prevent his eyes from having tears swell up, naturally as anyone's would have when thinking about war, pain, and loss. Although he didn't let them fall, he forced his body to reabsorb the hot liquid, egging on any pains he already had. The Tardis made a deep hum, a rather sympathetic hum, but still wouldn't budge.
"At least she's responding, maybe I'll be able to talk some sense into her.." he thought, fully knowing that if she didn't want to move, she wasn't going to, and she didn't.
Hours later, he awoke, apparently he had passed out under the console because of the alcohol, he didn't have much, but enough to induce sleep. It was more peaceful sleep then at the flat, because he was used to the sound that the Tardis would make, a beautiful melody. At his flat, it was empty, just him and a bed, with the sounds of the busy streets echoing around, usually sirens, he didn't pick the most posh section of London to live in, even though he potentially had unlimited resources of money, thanks to his Sonic Screwdriver. He was sober now, awake, not even a hint of exhaustion, but he was still lacking. His life was always empty, especially since he wasn't traveling with companions, or even traveling (but that wasn't necessarily his fault). As he tried going through the corridor towards another room which had his tools, most of which were odd earth objects which would always work, the Tardis kept sending him through her mazes, every exit and door ended up being the main cockpit, the room which had the controls. She wasn't permitting him to be anywhere else, except near the heart of her. He became angry, naturally anyone would, if they had been in his predicament. He slammed the door as he left her, cursing loudly at his oldest friend. He eventually made his way back to his favourite seat, in the bar. Buying a whole bottle of whiskey, and rather fast, he began pounding down the shots.
"Someone wants to get wasted." A voice commented from behind him, it was similar, but he hasn't heard it enough to know exactly who it was, so he didn't bother showing any respect by turning around, instead taking another chug of the alcohol.
"What's it to you anyway." He said coldly, in a low, angry voice.
"Cheer up, 'Doctor' I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you?" Oswin, the girl from earlier that day, asked.
"What's it to you?" He repeated, actually surprised she even cared. "I never know why." He groaned inwardly, looking at how much left he had to finish off before he could go. Sadly, it was a third of the bottle left, and Oswin didn't seem to be leaving as she coaxed the man next to him to give up his stool, sitting right next to The Doctor. The bar was crowded tonight, like every other night, no more than ordinary; the crowd full of younger people, roughly her age which is why it was easier for her to charm /anyone/ in to doing something for her, especially with a smile like hers. Even though The Doctor would deny it at all costs, she was quite attractive, young, very naive to him, but he couldn't help the attraction for her, and frankly the way she was flirting relentlessly with him wasn't helping his case of persistently pushing her away. She was a change, not the one he wanted, but one he probably needed. Even if he was shunning everyone around, he needed someone to put him in line, be his friend, an assistant as he used to call them, when he traveled, before the war, but all good things come to a rest, those days were over.
"Are you going to pour me a shot?" With a soft smirk, she was raising an eyebrow towards the bottle. It took him a while, not because he was drunk, but it was cause he was reluctant to doing so, eventually he reached behind the counter and grabbed her a glass, pouring the both of them a shot. "See? Already sharing."
In unison, not on purpose though, they picked up the drinks, and poured the liquid down their throats. It stung hers at first, a deep burn, she wasn't keen on whiskey, more of a vodka drinker, but she didn't show. He set his glass down on the counter and gave her a softer glare, he was still annoyed at Oswin, with the amount of alcohol coursing through his veins, pumping throughout his body, nulling his senses, the Doctor was becoming less tense. It took a lot of alcohol to make a Timelord even begin to get drunk, but it was possible around the amount he had in him periodically, one bottle would do, give or take. He silently poured her another, himself one as well, and began drinking at his usual pace.
"So why do you drink, anyway? There's got to be a reason." Oswin asked.
"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" The Doctor poured another set of drinks, she met him with each one going down the hatch, and she began giggling.
"Nope. Seems you're almost out." She tilted her head towards the bottle, flashing him a cheeky grin. He nodded, acknowledging he was low, full intentions of leaving when he was out so he silently kept pouring until it was dispersed between them. As he stood up to leave, she did as well, throwing her coat back on, and never leaving his side, even though he was steering away from her.
"Walk me home." She asked softly, looking into his cool blue eyes. "No."
The Doctor spoke coldly.