The Companions Handbook

Doctor Who. This is what you'll learn from the Doctor. Doctor+Companions.

Fic a day 4

It goes something like this.

A man, a hand and run (help me, what are you doing here, I can give you a ride home, just one trip). Run. He'll offer all you all of time and all of space. All the stars that ever were and ever will be. A fool would say no. A greater fool would say yes. It's not a choice. Not really. He'll hold out his hand and offer you the stars and this isn't a choice.

You leave them behind, friends, lovers, family for a chance to see the stars. Nobody could fault you for that. (They can and will. All of time and space and you didn't even say goodbye.) Simple things. Domestics. Not for the Doctor.

He's alien and strange and this bit, It's bigger on the inside!, is his favorite. He talks too fast and makes you want to pull your hair out, and scream. He's condescending (apes) and cruel (there is always a choice) and sometimes when you're running you can feel the thr-thrum of two hearts through his hand (clasped in yours). You won't understand half the things he spits out like a toddler hyped on sugar, and the half you do understand is enough to make your heart sink.

There will be obscene amounts of running. Invest in trainers and keep paracetamol in the cupboard in the bathroom that will spring up next to your room (never aspirin). You'll nearly die at least once a week but he'll never leave you behind, never not come for you. Companions believe in the Doctor because the Doctor believes in companions. It's not paradox. You'll learn to recognize those damn fast.

You'll see every corner of the galaxy and see magnificent, brilliant, fantastic things.

You'll see worlds end and every ugly, cruel, disgusting thing sentient life has ever created.

Most of the time it's worth it. You'll have days where everybody lives. Days where the galaxy keeps spinning and nobody dies.

Sometimes it's not. Most days people die and ships crash and civilizations burn. You'll realize how old he is, ancient and lonely and you'll realize this is the price for living forever. People die and everything ends and this is how the universe works and it hurts. Those days you'll long for the telly and chips. Safe comfortable little lives in a small home, unaware of the galaxy.

So small, disgustingly human. His contempt rubs off onto you.

When it gets really bad, you'll ask to go home. Just for an afternoon. A quick pop-by to grab something you forgot. To remember what you forgot, humanity is such a big word.

You'll go home and you won't fit anymore. Too big for your skin in the neat houses of your hometown. You've seen worlds end, and people die. Too big for the flat that used to be yours. Maybe you hesitated at the door. Maybe you didn't. Maybe you marched in like this was still your life and you hadn't been gone for months.

Maybe you hesitated at the door and realized this wasn't you anymore and walked away before you could break their (on the other side of the door they're waiting. You didn't even say goodbye) hearts again.

It would have hurt less.

You can go home again. But you can't pretend to be what you were.

He'll give you a TARDIS key then. Not before. And you'll run, run, run. You and him you'll never stop. He'll hold your hand and you'll promise him forever, 'til the end of me, you should say. He'll still be burning, a comet 'cross the sky, long after you're dust.

You'll love him. Somewhere between run and the promised forever, you'll look to him and his hand wrapped around yours (as if he's trying to prove you're real and he isn't alone). Love is a smile and the feel of your heart after you just nearly died, again. He'll love you too, brilliant girl, because you are unforgivably human.

The Doctor is gravity and you're falling.

The Doctor is a black hole and he'll recreate you in his image and you won't even notice too enamored of the stars.

The Doctor is forever and every possibility of what you could have been and with him you'll be fantastic. He makes you fantastic.

It'll be brilliant you and him.

Eventually though it ends. People die and everything ends. He taught you that but you thought you had more time. Never enough time for a human, years gone in a blink to him.

You leave, die, trapped in time, stuck in a parallel universe, burned up. You're gone and he's alone again. Someday you'll make a choice about how forever wasn't what you meant and you'll break his hearts. Companions always do.

He'll burn up a sun to say goodbye but he won't bring you back. Humans wither and die and he was always too kind.

So he'll run (run run run) until he finds another hand that fits into his and another child with a heart too big for their body. He'll show them the stars and make them fantastic.

It goes something like this.

A man, a hand and run.

You'll learn: people die and everything ends. There is no going back.