Title: Days of Tears - Prologue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to BBC. No money is made...I'm just having a ball.
Author's Notes: I always wondered if the companions of the Doctor would have any lasting emotional or psychological affects from traveling as they do. This story, when complete, will hopefully address that and have a plot somewhere along the way . Takes place between Resurrection of the Daleks and Planet of Fire.
**
It all started much as it had the first time: unexpectedly and yet with a certain amount of fate. Her bags were packed and stacked by the door. The furniture was gone; only the television playing to an empty room remained. The woman sighed, putting down a picture book in a box when the knock came on her front door. Another friend saying goodbye, she supposed.
Her bare feet made a strange slapping sound on the wood floor as she padded to the door of the flat. She didn't bother to look in the peephole - forgetful, never trusting - and quickly flung open the door.
And her life changed with a quiet greeting of an old friend: "Hello, Tegan. It has been a while, hasn't it?"
**
Rainy, dreary, cold and unfriendly, the early Saturday morning that greeted her as she opened the door reminded her of depression long past and anxiety as potent as wine. Feelings of dread, fear, sorrow and regret flooded her as easily as the rain did the gutter in front of the flat. She supposed she should have known better than to open the door; remembering too late that she had not checked the peep hole.
There he stood, rain falling off the brim of his ever-present Panama hat in soft dribbles and his cream coat surprisingly waterproof to the insult of the water. His blond hair was darker than she remembered- an intermediate brown from the moisture. His face was a mixture of lurking happiness and uncertainty; his blue eyes wary and shy. He seemed a little older to her, if it was possible to see age in a Time Lord, and more mature. But, overall, he was the same undeniable, youngish Doctor she had known for years, and had missed for just as many.
In fact, the feeling of déjà vu was so strong that if it was not for the fact that she stood in her own doorway, clad in her favorite Saturday morning sweats ensemble, she could have sworn she was just coming awake on board the TARDIS.
She gasped quietly and leaned into the doorstop for support. "Oh no."
The Time Lord grimaced, whisking his hat of his head, oblivious to the falling rain. He offered a weak smile. "I'm afraid so, Tegan. But may I come in? It is rather wet out here."
Tegan Jovanka Jones stood in the doorway for a few moments, tempted to tell him no. She was tempted to shut the door with a loud, decisive bang. She was tempted to curl into a ball both mentally and physically. But a strong feeling of relief mixed with terror flooded her and she found her bare feet standing in the puddle that was her front stoop and her arms around her old friend. Her face was buried into his wet, but warm smelling sweater and his arms rounded her shoulders in a friendly embrace. She felt some of his uncertainty bleed from him and heard his voice rumble through his chest as he said: "Or you could join me out here. Misery loves company, I always say."
**
Disclaimer: The characters belong to BBC. No money is made...I'm just having a ball.
Author's Notes: I always wondered if the companions of the Doctor would have any lasting emotional or psychological affects from traveling as they do. This story, when complete, will hopefully address that and have a plot somewhere along the way . Takes place between Resurrection of the Daleks and Planet of Fire.
**
It all started much as it had the first time: unexpectedly and yet with a certain amount of fate. Her bags were packed and stacked by the door. The furniture was gone; only the television playing to an empty room remained. The woman sighed, putting down a picture book in a box when the knock came on her front door. Another friend saying goodbye, she supposed.
Her bare feet made a strange slapping sound on the wood floor as she padded to the door of the flat. She didn't bother to look in the peephole - forgetful, never trusting - and quickly flung open the door.
And her life changed with a quiet greeting of an old friend: "Hello, Tegan. It has been a while, hasn't it?"
**
Rainy, dreary, cold and unfriendly, the early Saturday morning that greeted her as she opened the door reminded her of depression long past and anxiety as potent as wine. Feelings of dread, fear, sorrow and regret flooded her as easily as the rain did the gutter in front of the flat. She supposed she should have known better than to open the door; remembering too late that she had not checked the peep hole.
There he stood, rain falling off the brim of his ever-present Panama hat in soft dribbles and his cream coat surprisingly waterproof to the insult of the water. His blond hair was darker than she remembered- an intermediate brown from the moisture. His face was a mixture of lurking happiness and uncertainty; his blue eyes wary and shy. He seemed a little older to her, if it was possible to see age in a Time Lord, and more mature. But, overall, he was the same undeniable, youngish Doctor she had known for years, and had missed for just as many.
In fact, the feeling of déjà vu was so strong that if it was not for the fact that she stood in her own doorway, clad in her favorite Saturday morning sweats ensemble, she could have sworn she was just coming awake on board the TARDIS.
She gasped quietly and leaned into the doorstop for support. "Oh no."
The Time Lord grimaced, whisking his hat of his head, oblivious to the falling rain. He offered a weak smile. "I'm afraid so, Tegan. But may I come in? It is rather wet out here."
Tegan Jovanka Jones stood in the doorway for a few moments, tempted to tell him no. She was tempted to shut the door with a loud, decisive bang. She was tempted to curl into a ball both mentally and physically. But a strong feeling of relief mixed with terror flooded her and she found her bare feet standing in the puddle that was her front stoop and her arms around her old friend. Her face was buried into his wet, but warm smelling sweater and his arms rounded her shoulders in a friendly embrace. She felt some of his uncertainty bleed from him and heard his voice rumble through his chest as he said: "Or you could join me out here. Misery loves company, I always say."
**