This is the story of the 9th Doctor, immediately after he asks Rose to come with him the first time.
Between the Grains
By Aiya Quackform
The girl said no. That surprised him. She seemed to enjoy the excitement, but bowed out to take care of her little boyfriend. The Doctor had been alone for a long time now, surely he could do without Rose Tyler.
He wanted to witness the Grelak Conference, the meeting of three small powers who had warred for decades and would soon form the Golden Empire, a united force in the tip of that arm of the galaxy. Amidst clusters of warships, a single, slow-moving luxury barge carried delegates from one of the powers to the meeting place at planet Grelak.
The TARDIS pulsed into solidity with the sound of metal sharpening metal. The Doctor stepped out into the ship's interior, glowing with dim lights on soothing-colored walls. Not a sound was heard, not a breath of life, not a splash of drink on the carpet. Very strange. He had arrived at the right place, there was no doubt. A console stood a few convenient paces from the TARDIS. Bypassing its security codes, the Doctor looked over the delegates' room assignments. The upper decks of the ship appeared crammed with life; this deck alone kept its lights sleepy and rooms empty. Strange.
There, in the center of the deck, a secured room. Access denied. The Doctor shrugged and strode down the hallway toward the room.
It had been quiet for a long time now. Despite the adventures, the battles, the saving of worlds, it had been quiet. Rose seemed dissatisfied with her quiet life, but she chose to stay. Stay and take care of Ricky. He knew humans could be creatures of habit, but he'd thought Rose Tyler to be different.
"You could come with me, you know," he'd said.
She glanced to Ricky. "I can't, someone's gotta take care of this lump."
Her faced looked sad, as if she needed only a little nudge to run into the TARDIS and see the wonders of the universe. But travel through time and space is serious business, not something one should be talked into.
He had not mentioned the time travel. That was pure information, no persuasion about it.
The Doctor ended his jog through the ship at a high-security door, far beyond that equipped to a standard-issue model of this ship. A twist of his sonic screwdriver and he stepped into the room. Before he could be bothered for intruding, the Doctor ducked behind a column and leaned over just so his right eye could look into the dim room.
A single figured slumped against the far wall. The Doctor cautiously withdrew from his hiding place and approached the figure. It did not move. Through the dim light, he discerned it was female, of a species he could not immediately place. He kneeled next to her and examined her face. She was not asleep, nor did she seem awake, for her eyes focused on nothing. Her breathing was steady, her pupils betrayed no sedative. He snapped his fingers in front of her unresponsive eyes.
"What are you doing in here?"
The Doctor's eyes darted to a male standing by the doorway with a tray of food. "What's wrong with her?" the Doctor demanded.
"You, I'd imagine," said the male as he briskly set the tray on a small table and pulled out a handheld weapon. "How did you get in here?"
"I walked in."
"The door is locked."
"I unlocked it. And you have not answered my question. What is wrong with this woman? Why is she unresponsive?"
The male seemed genuinely surprised at his question. "If you don't know the answer to that question, then why in the galaxy are you here?"
"I asked you first."
"She's Tridarian," he said, his eyes carefully waiting to see the Doctor's response.
He whirled to look at the female with amazement. "Tridarian," he whispered. "And why is she here?"
"Obvious reasons," replied the male. "To help with the negotiations."
"But this is the Grahad Dynasty, slavery of Tridarians was banned years back. I made sure of it."
The man wrinkled his nose at the last statement, but defended himself. "They were, but this one is incapable of independent thought. The result of centuries of selective breeding, unfortunately. Most of the Tridarians alive today live on their own world, but Inari is not capable."
"So you say," said the Doctor in fury. "You used these poor people's abilities to sense motivation and thought for centuries, and you still use them. Console yourself with the idea that she is no more than an animal if you want, but she is a person."
"No she is not," said the male. "I already told you, it is unfortunate but true. Her brain was stunted as a result of the breeding programs, resulting in lack of independent thought. All she can do is feel other's emotions. Watch." His eyes narrowed in concentration.
The Doctor turned to look at the Tridarian named Inari. Her eyes wandered slightly before she whispered, "hungry."
"See?" the male said. "She would never eat if a hungry person did not enter the room." He picked up the tray and approached Inari.
The Doctor's stomach churned. "You believe what you have been told to believe, nothing more."
The male rolled his eyes and held up a piece of food for the Tridarian. She turned her head away. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" mumbled the male. "I haven't eaten since—" he jumped up and looked at the Doctor with fear. "How are you doing that?"
"What do you mean? I haven't touched her. But don't think I won't get her out of here and to her people."
"Her mind is linked to mine, I have been with her for ten years. But she took to your thoughts, not mine. How are you doing that? You haven't been here more than a few minutes."
The Doctor wasn't hungry, come to think of it. "I have a way with people. Now stand back, if you won't believe me when I say she is capable of independent thought, maybe you'll believe her." He pushed the male out of the way as he set a hand on each of her temples. Her eyes did not focus, she did not flinch at the coldness of his fingers. His heart flared in anger at the slave masters whose breeding programs who had reduced an amazingly gifted race to this servitude. "Listen to me, Inari," he whispered. "It's okay, you can listen to your own thoughts now." With his mind he reached into hers, carefully, gently, never to harm her thought patterns. He blocked out the male, Hego, for they were indeed linked. She did not recoil. She must have suffered under his domineering for years now. He also screened off his own thoughts, leaving her to find her own gentle trickle of thought for the first time in many years.
"Oh," she whispered in pain. "So alone, for so long . . ."
"What are you doing to her?" demanded Hego.
"Letting her speak her own thoughts," said the Doctor in a warning tone. "Be quiet and listen to her."
"My family, taken from me," she continued and a tear formed at her eye. "The sky is gone, the very sky, my sky. Oh, I am so tired. So alone. Why am I alone?"
"Do you hear her, Hego?" said the Doctor. "Do you hear the voice you have crushed with your own thoughts for a decade?"
Hego was silent, skeptical, but listening.
She squirmed in the Doctor's grasp, and he released her, but still carefully held up the walls that kept outside thoughts from drowning her own.
"It hurts," she whispered. "I smile but it hurts."
"There you see," said Hego. "She never smiles. She must be picking up someone else's thought. I told you Doctor, her brain is capable only of receiving, not creating."
"Quiet!"
Inari continued. "I have walked across the empty land, lost in the sands of time."
The Doctor's back straightened in reflex.
"I'm getting old, I need someone to rely on," she said with tears in her eyes, soft and cold brown eyes that suddenly met his own. "Tell me when you will let me in. Tell me when you will be my friend. Why didn't you come? Why? Am I that bitter? Am I so old that I cannot feel? I should have said it. I should have told you of the life you could have with me."
"Stop it!" shrieked the Doctor as he leapt to his feet. "How are you doing that?"
"I told you Doctor," whispered Hego, pity now in his voice. "She can only say what others feel. Her own mind is devoid. She sees your thoughts as if she were reading them on paper. There is no escaping her."
The Doctor looked at the limp figure as she continued to speak.
"Please come, I need you!" she cried out, tears streaming down her face. She clenched her stomach and bent over. "Oh, it hurts! Make it go away. Rose! Help me! Rescue me from this loneliness!"
The Doctor ran out of the room and slumped against the hallway's wall. His whole body trembled, his stomach sick. A moment later Hego joined him, soft pity on his face. "I am sorry you had to experience Inari's honesty, Doctor. As I said, she can feel only what others feel."
"No, I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered. "She cannot feel on her own."
Hego shook his head. "It is very sad. Her fellow Tridarians tried to help her, but they couldn't, so they are letting us use her to bring peace to our solar systems, as only a Tridarians' understanding can. She is an invaluable aid in diplomatic efforts."
The Doctor nodded.
"Meeting a Tridarian can be a life-altering experience," continued Hego. "Being confronted with our own inmost thoughts is disarming. But perhaps it is not too late for you to benefit from her honesty, Doctor."
The Doctor looked him in the eye and nodded. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. I'll be leaving now." Forcing a smile on his face, the Doctor walked back to the TARDIS.
As soon as the TARDIS materialized, he opened the door. Rose had turned around to look at him again, that same look was on her face. 'Give me a reason to go,' it said. The Doctor grinned at her. "Did I mention it also travels though time?"
She smiled, kissed the boyfriend on the cheek and ran into the TARDIS with him. Oh, the fantastic adventures they would have together.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading my very first Doctor Who fan fiction! It was long ago inspired by the Keane song, "Somewhere Only We Know," and if you know the song, you'll notice a couple references to it in Inari's dialogue. Comments are much loved and rewarded with brownies.