A/N: Two things.
Me no own epicness that is the Doctor or anything related to that… Parallel universe.
I will probably be writing mostly one-shots for now. Simply because I want to make myself a little collection of short stories. So, again. If anyone wants to adopt anything, I really don't mind. Just tell me, so I can read them, and should I continue it, I will not intentionally steal your ideas.
I'm done, now onto the story. Which, by the way, has word for word dialogue for a while. I'll make a mini A/N to tell you when the dialogue deviates from the show.
BREAK ME
"Who put you in charge, anyway?" Val, a mother, currently panicking, asked of a man who calls himself The Doctor, accompanied by an entity currently possessing a woman named Sky Sylvestry.
"I'm sorry, but... you're a Doctor of what, exactly?" Professor Hobbes, a useless man, balding, egotistical, a narcissistic know it all. The creature that has the body of Sky synchronizes with his words as well.
"He wasn't even booked in. Rest of you, tickets in advance. He just turned up out of the blue." The hostess, a pretty woman, confused by what was happening around her. Her voice is joined by the thing, along with all of the others. The being has harmonized itself to all, keeping its purpose hidden.
"Where from?" Val, the mother, her voice rising steadily in pitch with an intense panic, is still joined by the empty voice of Sky.
"I'm just... traveling, I'm a traveler, that's all." The Doctor, a gangly man, eyes holding fear, coating the sadness of ages. His voice is harmonized by the being as well. He begins to back up against the wall, as if needs something, anything solid to hold up his world.
"Like an immigrant?" Val, the panicking woman, doesn't seem to grasp reality quite right. She's grasping for stable ground in the middle of an earthquake, and failing, flailing, trying to pin anything to her version of reality.
"Who were you talking to? Before you got on board, you were talking to someone, who was that?" The hostess again, demanding, her cool, kind exterior shattered as soon as the panic spread across the bus. Her mask of cool, professionalism abandoned when Sky's voice began.
"Just Donna, just my friend." The Doctor, saddened by the inability for the beloved humans to see through the fear of fog, has desperation lacing his voice, something that couldn't quite be heard in the voice of the beast.
"And what were you saying to her?" Biff, a largely built man, husband to Val, the mother. His voice clashes with the beast, making a sound similar to a minor chord, dissonance screeching at everyone's nerves. Then again, the dissonance could simply be psychological, a near-physical representation of the tangible fear lacing the air.
"He hasn't even told us his name."Val, the wife and mother, points out the inconsistency connected to the Doctor. She pins him to a wall, prepares him as if he were a simple specimen on a microscope slide.
(*A/N: DEVIATION TIME!*)
"THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE ONE!" The Doctor's icy sadness broke free, accompanied by the fiery rage he's kept locked in his double hearts for much to long, allowing it to contort into a convoluted tangle of pain and sorrow, soul-deep, like a cavity. The panicked people were shocked into silence, more afraid of his reaction than the current situation. The Doctor looks down, dragging his palm down his face. "I used to. I had a name. Now, it's just lost. Along with everything I ever knew. They're all DEAD!" He started in a near-whisper, voice quivering with restrained emotion, an echo reverberating for the last time, but his voice, still accompanied by the creature's, escalated to a soul-burning shriek, filled with an agony absent from the copier's voice.
"What happened?" Came the soft voice of Jethro, son of Biff and Val. He seemed to want the knowledge, not incrimination. He didn't act as his parents did. His parents, ready to pin the blame on the first one to oppose them, somehow made this boy, barely through his adolescence, a man that cared for what happened to people.
"War. Insanity. Megalomaniacs. Take your pick." The Doctor's voice was dead, emotions dulled by flashes of the Time War that flitted in behind his eyes, his eyes telling of the unimaginable pain it caused, something that the average human mind would collapse underneath. Something that he should have collapsed beneath.
"I'm sorry." Deedee. The assistant of Professor Hobbes, so easily over-ruled. Her voice, accompanied as everyone elses', was so easily overshadowed. Sadly, hers was the one that needed to be heard, that deserved to be heard.
"It's not your fault." The too-thin man said it with a calm, accepted air, though his seeming indifference was ruined by his helpless tugging at his hair as he continued with a whisper, "It's mine." He soon realized that what he had meant to keep in his head had wormed its way out and plastered a smile on. "We better stay quiet now. Just settle yourselves down, find a nice, comfy spot and sit down." At that he plopped, and said not one more word.
"But –" Val didn't approve, obviously, and began to rant. "Okay, so you tell us this, and expect us to leave it? Really? Could you be more… more… Oh, I don't know." She stopped, leaving off. She looked at her husband, pleading for some clarification.
"Either way, what are we supposed to do now?" Biff, asking the right question for once, looked around, seeing no obvious answer from anyone, looked at the doctor. "Doctor?"
"Just be quiet. Please?"
"It's-gone-it's-gone-it's-gone." The doctor continued his mantra, still having problems believing it.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." Val, who had been the most vulnerable to fear, attempted to console the man, looking even more thin in his position, gasping on the floor, barely moving. He simply looked up and nodded, when he had the chance.
"Is there anything you need?" Deedee asked, walking over to kneel next to the man's face. "Water, some sort of food? Or do you want to be left alone." She trailed off, looking at his drawn face for some sort of response.
"The Hostess… What was her name?"