In nine hundred years of Time travel, the Doctor had felt wonder many times. He had stood next to the Kinyepa Waterfall, gasping as the droplets sparkled under the setting sun before zooming up towards the violet stars in a gravity-defying ballet. He had crouched in front of the biggest chasm in the Universe, shivering as his voice rippled between the walls and died down in the darkness. He had flown amidst a flock of birds over the mountains of Thrai-me, breathing in clouds as his eyes travelled from peak to peak.
The Doctor had seen Beauty, and none of it compared to the sight of Rose Tyler in the morning.
She had left the bathroom door slightly ajar, so he had witnessed the occasional naked foot peaking in through the doorway, but that had in no way prepared him to her glorious entrance. She had wrapped a towel around her hair, which failed to conceal the lone strand curling cheekily beside her chin. Her skin gleamed in the morning light that seeped through the window, and the Doctor wanted nothing more than to glide his finger along her collarbone, breathing in the sweet perfume of her shampoo -
"Oh don't start, you big flirt," Rose interrupted his thoughts with a smirk.
"What?" His lips widened in a playful grin. "Haven't said anything!"
She bent down, ruffling her hands through his unkempt hair. The Doctor closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, prying a chuckle from Rose.
"Don't need telepathy to know what you're thinking, Casanova."
They stayed that way for a second, foreheads almost touching. The Doctor's senses had considerably lessened when he became part-human, but he could still perceive her heartbeat, racing and grounding and so, so precious.
Eventually Rose stood up, moving over to the wardrobe to pick up her clothes.
"Speaking of," she said, "how's your head?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Same as always. I'm sure it's nothing. Well, nothing serious – well, nothing I won't get used to."
He knew his smile wasn't fooling her, but he was grateful when she simply nodded, letting the subject go. Ever since his other self had left with the TARDIS (not his ship anymore, he thought with a twist of his singular heart), a dull pounding had lodged itself between his temples. And no amount of soothing massages, however welcome, could chase it away. The Doctor assumed his brain was still adapting to the meta-crisis, reconnecting synapses and refilling holes which were previously occupied by his Time-senses.
He missed his Time-senses. Feeling the planet's rotations, letting seconds flow from his fingers like sand through an hourglass. Without the constant push-and-pull, his body felt lethargic, heavy, and foreign. While his Time knowledge remained, the reality now felt much more… linear.
But every time he looked at Rose, every time she laughed and he felt that relieved rush of love through his veins, he reminded himself she was worth every minute of discomfort.
He stretched, popping his shoulders, before jumping out of bed and swiftly changing into his clothes. No matter how many times Rose teased him, he would always revert back to the blue suit, the silk folds draping neatly around his waist like a childhood blanket. Glancing at the mirror, he ran a hand through his hair, spiking up the front with expert technique.
"I'm going to try bonding with the TARDIS coral," he said.
Rose stopped her rummaging and looked at him. "You sure you're up to it?"
"She's reached her bonding stage. She'll need a telepathic presence to ground herself properly – "
"Not what I asked," she interrupted.
" – Of course, a full Time Lord mind would be best, but it's not like we have plenty of those at the moment. I reckon she'll put up with me, what with my natural charms and irresistible smile." He grinned.
"Doctor."
He sighed, meeting her pointed stare and ignoring the throbbing pain in his temples.
To be perfectly fair, the TARDIS could still have waited a week or two to bond with its pilot. Said pilot, however, desperately missed the constant presence buzzing in his mind. After centuries of symbiosis, his ship's absence felt like ants digging through his brain. His psychic senses were rusty, wearily probing around with the force of a toddler's fingers.
And deep down, under the practical excuses he made, the Doctor knew he desperately needed a new connection to his Time Lord self. One heart, no Time senses, no regeneration – telepathy was all he had left. And by the Suns, he would not let it grow dormant.
Not again.
"I'll be fine, Rose. It's just a little mental recalibration. Won't even take five minutes. Then she'll grow on her own, and before we know it we'll be soaring through the stars again!"
She raised an eyebrow. "And running for our lives on alien planets."
"That too," he beamed, head cocked to the side. "That too."
Machinery buzzed around the white walls as Rose entered the Doctor's lab. As her eyes wandered through the heap of eclectic scientific experiments, she breathed in the familiar scent. There had always been an aura around the Doctor's belongings. Something indescribable – faint traces of rust, oil, and another, utterly alien smell that for all her experience, Rose still couldn't quite place.
"Ever heard of cleaning up once in a while?" She peered over the corner, where the Doctor busied himself around a bundle of writhing wires. He looked up and beamed at her.
"It's called creative chaos. Nice phrase, that, I like it – pretty much sums me up, don't you think?"
He shuffled over to peer into an advanced microscope, where he whooped victoriously.
"Oh hello, there! My, you're brilliant, you are!"
"You know, some people talk to their plants," said Rose.
The Doctor's nose scrunched up. "Where's the fun in that? Plants won't tell them anything. You lot can't understand plant – well, not yet, anyway."
Rose had slid closer to the table, examining the wires that were now slowly reaching towards her fingers. She knew better than to touch them, but she still playfully waved her hand. They shifted, following her fingertips in elegant coils. Next to them stood a crystal, pulsing with pinkish white light – the TARDIS core, she remembered, the very first piece the Doctor had shown her, stars in his eyes, when he had embarked in his wild project.
She got distracted by a soft exhale next to her, and glanced upwards to find a pair of mesmerised brown eyes. The Doctor was watching her with a subdued half-smile. His face was radiant, and his lashes caught the faint sunlight that waded through the windows above. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, she coughed and fixed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"So, how's it coming about?"
"See for yourself." He beckoned her to the microscope.
She peered into the hole, squinting. Underneath her gaze, glowing tendrils slithered and rustled between throbbing transparent globes. The sight was bathed in a golden light she immediately associated with the Doctor. The same energy he had regenerated with. Rose was no scientist, but she could appreciate the beauty of the spectacle – a constantly shifting assembly of interlocking parts, merging together in a flawless dance. A buzz echoed inside her skull and she blinked rapidly, trying to shake it out.
"You hear that?" came the Doctor's voice. She nodded, tilting back towards him.
"Figured you would," he said in a warm voice. "It's the TARDIS' mental call. The cells you're watching in the microscope – they're connecting their psychic patterns with each other, but also imprinting their identity into the universe itself. Informing it of their presence, collecting the data. But all of time and space, that's a lot for one system to absorb. So the TARDIS is reaching out for an anchor, to steady herself in the continuum." He exhaled, his eyes shining. "She's saying her first words."
God, he was beautiful in the soft lighting. She brushed her hand against him, grinning when he instantly laced his pianist fingers between hers.
"Well," she murmured, "aren't you gonna answer her then?"
His eyes twinkled as he squeezed her hand once more. He extended his arms towards the core, letting the wires coil around them like affectionate snakes. Rose held her breath. As soon as his fingers came into contact with the crystal, however, the Doctor gasped, his muscles jerking. His eyebrows furrowed.
"Doctor? You alright?"
"Fine, fine. Just – readjusting. It's been a long time…" He kept his hands steady around the coral. Slowly, he began to relax and his breath evened out. The corners of his lips quirking up, he finally opened his eyes to meet Rose's.
"It's working. She's accepting the bond." He broke into a giant grin, pearly white teeth shining through. Rose replied with an even wider smile, feeling her heart flutter treacherously.
Still grinning like a madman, the Doctor closed his eyes again, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He went silent, breath occasionally hitching when the mental link got a little strained.
The whole ordeal was taking much longer than five minutes, Rose thought. But then again, the Doctor still had trouble processing time in a linear fashion. She had to cut him some slack.
It was strange, watching him communicate with the core. Physically, there wasn't much to it: hands on a glowing crystal, metal coils wrapped around his arms, slight wrinkles just above his eyebrows. The steady whirr of machinery which she'd quickly learnt to tune out. Outside, the faint roar of afternoon traffic.
But Rose knew how important this was to him. In fact, she was sure her own heartbeat rivalled that of his previously-dual one. As much as she joked about their… intimate relationship, she had seen the care that seeped into the Doctor's every pull of the TARDIS' levers, every press of a button. She had sensed the ship's passionate, almost aggressive protectiveness ever since she had set foot inside this wonderful, bigger-on-the-inside curiosity. The TARDIS was more than a ship – she was the Doctor's confidante, his guide, his very first companion –
Suddenly the Doctor gasped, and he quickly broke contact with the crystal. The wires fell with a clang, still scrambling about like bodyless tentacles.
A lump formed inside Rose's throat. At the Doctor's cry of pain, she hastily moved towards him.
"…Doctor? What's wrong?"
"I- something's interfering… A third component… The TARDIS can't stabilise – lost…AGH!"
He sank down to his knees, clutching his temple with his right hand. His left hand was curled on the counter above him in a knuckle-white grip. She placed her own trembling one on his cheek, rubbing circles she hoped would be enough to ground him out of his head.
"Something?" she prompted.
He gasped. His muscles were spasming, and Rose felt tears prickle in her eyes. She had no idea what to do, goddamnit, she was helpless while her Doctor writhed on the floor and cried-
"Not something," he choked out. Eyes screwed shut and breath shallow. "Someone. But – it can't be, that's not possible, I-"
Her brain was in tunnel vision – the whole universe could go lose itself, there was only the Doctor, panting, and her own beating, beating, beating heart. She desperately tried to steady her breathing. For his sake. "Okay." Deep breaths, come on, Rose. "Doctor, how can I help?"
"Something's wrong. Someone. I – I can't – no. That's impossible. No."
His eyelids shot up, and suddenly Rose was faced with two round, absolutely terrified brown eyes.
"Rose."
She nodded, relieved. She had seen him retreat into his head more than once, and it could sometimes take hours to pry him back out. Rose didn't think she could stand watching him writhe on the floor much longer.
"Rose, it's him. I thought he was gone, he should be gone – but it's him. He's back."
There were few beings in the universe who managed to inject this much fear behind the Doctor's voice. In fact, Rose could probably count them on her fingers. Whoever he was, made her entire body shiver in dread and anticipation.
"Who?"
His gaze shifted back towards her, full of terror, awe, and something else – something utterly unique, a deep endless chasm filled with screams and chaos and desires-
The Doctor breathed out, a tiny whimper, and whispered in a half-choke, "The Master."
And so it starts... Hope you enjoyed, and please don't forget to leave a review if you liked it!