Author's Note:
A new chapter in which a new species will be introduced.
Their origin and occurence will be enclosed in another story soon (for those who'd like to know what they actually are).
Also I thought I'd take the opportunity to thank all my dear readers for the reviews. It makes me really proud to recieve them.
The Doctor moved over to the controls, ready to set the Tardis off to another dimension... or century... or at least a different time zone.
Just somewhere where he wouldn't be forced to see Jack.
The Doctor sighed as he rested on the settee.
He'd never experienced travel sickness. But with that brat growing inside of him...
The Doctor hoped; he just hoped that, at last, things wouldn't change from bad to worse.
Though he knew that they always did.
But he assumed that wasn't asking too much.
Well, he thought glumly, at least Jack could have cheered him up by actually making a fool out of himself.
But he didn't.
He didn't want to. And though the Doctor couldn't hold it against him he was still disappointed.
If Jack only had the confidence to finally say it.
Finally say those words with the meaning they should have...
The Doctor lifted his head as a familiar sound brought him back into the Tardis, back into the here and now.
Wherever that was.
He'd set the coordinates to random and would soon land on something so that he could step out of the Tardis and say things like, "Ah... the beautiful all-destructive rocks of Dh'Alenoxiys," or something else he'd just made up.
Coming to think about it, the Doctor had to admit that he would be actually leading a rather dull life without making it more interesting from time to time.
There was a quite purring noise which made the Doctor turn his head around.
Tossing and squirming between the levers and buttons was...
"Hello little friend," the Doctor jumped from his seat and retrieved the paneopal puffy from underneath the switches.
"That's not a safe place for sleeping."
The small ball of fur had nothing to reply but a quite yawn and a rattling noise as the Doctor cradled it in his arms.
"I bet Jack put you there because he didn't know what to do with you... Oo, what to do with you? Oooo, what to do with you?" The Doctor kept on cooing until the fuzzy creature curled up in his arms and the rhythm of its heart decreased.
The Doctor slowly went downstairs while he wouldn't stop stroking and cuddling his paneopal puffy.
After deciding that the cupboard wasn't an ideal place for his furry friend to sleep in, he turned left and headed over to stairs leading to the mezzanine, the only secret passage in the Tardis of whose existence the Doctor actually knew.
(Of course there were innumerable other passages that the Doctor didn't even know existed. But he wasn't really interested in exploring the Tardis and falling into a hole where you'd might end up in another dimension where you were forced to walk around on your head or follow strange white creatures into small cavities.)
The Doctor typed in a code to unlock a sealed door. Normally he would have used his sonic screwdriver on it, causing the electronically locked door to emit delightful sparks in blue and purple.
But being short of it he was forced to open it 'correctly'.
The Doctor sighed as he heard the unlocking sound.
Well, where was the fun in that? he asked himself.
He pushed the door open and the rumbling from within stopped in an instant.
The Doctor walked in slowly and squatted down near the door.
Cushions and small plastic toys of odd and dubious shapes were scattered around the room. Soothing music played quietly and the giant furry creature in the middle of the room had stopped moving but rocked a bit back and forth as it waited expectantly for a command.
The Doctor grabbed a colourful pillow, fluffed it up and placed the paneopal puffy carefully on top of it. He stroked it one last time before he gave a small sigh and focused on the creature in the middle.
The creature in fact was coming apart, disintegrating into a multitude of four legged, nosy and playful little beasts; each of them encountered two big and mournful eyes, glistening like an adorable pair of daedal emeralds. Their fur was the colour of butter caramel and after the first of them had dared to move the others followed and trotted towards the Doctor.
The Doctor watched the herd of *Baublee papals thoughtfully.
The first that dared to approach him placed a foot... a paw... probably even a hoof** on one of his knees, possibly suggesting that the Doctor should kneel down. And stay.
One thing the Baublee papals had definitely learned: as long as you weren't standing on your own legs you couldn't run away...
The Doctor sighed and smiled reassuringly at the Baublee papal in front of him.
It was one of the bigger ones. It must have been from the first litter, the Doctor assumed. There was a mere moment when he thought he'd once even bothered giving those creatures individual names...
But he couldn't remember it; and it would have been stupid anyway.
They looked all they same. In fact they were all the same.
Whatever they were.
"Some other time," promised the Doctor as he stroked it behind its calf-like ears; a promise he knew he wasn't going to keep.
He pushed his head against the little one's forehead and closed his eyes as he felt it pushing back strongly.
The Doctor smiled at the rest of the accumulation as they watched him with wondering eyes.
"Be careful with it," he exhorted the first playful ones that gathered around the sleeping paneopal puffy. A Baublee papal's end-of-a-leg was placed on the small ball of fur before it stepped down on it.
The paneopal puffy didn't budge. Neither produced it any sounds apart from its constant snoring.
The Doctor wasn't quite sure if the Baublee papals had understood his words; neither did he know if they bothered to understand him at all. After all they've once been nothing but his imagination, when he too was part of the non-existence of the universe.
And he couldn't quite remember how he'd imagined them.
Well, at least they wouldn't be able to break the paneopal puffy. And in no way would they be able to wake it up.
A paneopal puffy – probably the best gift for a small child. Fuzzy, sleepy, nearly indestructible and without small parts that can be easily swallowed.
If he would consider having children again, the Doctor reassured himself, he'd definitely try to build some more of them.
The Doctor sighed and petted one or two of the little ones that dared to approach him.
His stare sagged back onto the untidy floor; he looked aside and watched the open door out of the corner of his eyes.
His eyes closed. He sighed again.
A smaller and rather feeblish specimen of the strange species got picked up by the gloomy Doctor and was given a gentle belly-rub. It snorted delightfully.
The Doctor felt a soft kick in the stomach as the creature he had picked up moved its head repeatedly against his bulged abdomen.
The Doctor hissed through gritted teeth and bit back a snarl.
Of course... clever little bastards they were...
The Doctor's eyes had sagged again as he set the Baublee papal down again; it pushed against his hands eagerly.
What are they for? the Doctor found himself wondering, They just grow up and break...
The Doctor turned around at the sudden creaking of the door behind him. The Baublee papal, that had peeked through it curiously got picked up firmly and shoved into its littermates' direction.
"Stay in here," he commanded quietly and finally got to his feet.
Without much of a fuss the Doctor left the room, darting one last mournful glance at the scuffling creatures before he closed the door and typed in the code.
The Doctor sighed loud-voiced and placed one hand on the door as it sealed automatically.
"How long have you been following me?" he asked without even turning around.
The figure behind the Doctor didn't even shrug at his sudden remark.
It knew it would have been detected sooner or later.
The Doctor found the lights around him dimming slowly. His head had sagged a bit as his eyes closed out of pure hopelessness.
"You stole my narcotics, didn't you?" he hissed between gritted teeth and assumed that the figure behind him had just nodded its assent.
"Then use them correctly."
A twinge flashed through the Doctor's body as he buckled forward.
With his hands inevitably reaching for his back he managed to get his eyes open.
He lay on the floor near the controls of the Tardis in a face-down position; his body wouldn't stop twitching.
The Doctor's eyes snapped open again as the pain in his lower abdomen increased.
He bit his lower lip and finally managed to sit up.
His swollen abdomen was the most bulged and disgusting thing he'd ever seen. He concentrated hard on not just giving it a blow out of sheer amazement.
It must have been growing... it must have grown over the past hours. Or days. Or whatever time he'd been unconscious.
The Doctor supported his heavy and disgusting body on his weak palms. He spat on the floor and gritted his teeth.
The Doctor hated sleeping. He hated the sensation of time passing without him even taking any notice, he couldn't stand the feeling of his body changing and aging by hours he hadn't spent; or at least not spent awake. The time that must have passed rushed through his body, crashing against him, splitting his aching head open and ripping his mind apart, piece by piece.
The Doctor moaned quietly as he buried his face in his fingers.
He got to his feet to lean over the controls.
They had taken his meds with them. And they had known the right dosage.
The Doctor breathed heavily and tumbled around in the hub, helplessly searching for anything that would ease the pain and turn the throbbing thing inside his skull back into a clear and composed mind.
He yelped as he palpated the walls for a handle – or anything else that would keep him from swaying.
And the pounding and grinding and aching inside of him proceeded mercilessly.
And there was nothing that would relieve the pain.
And knowing that he had no more pain killers, no more sedatives or even homoeopathic meds drove the Doctor mad.
He felt the hours, the minutes, the seconds, every hundredth of a second splashing back against him at the same time, squeezing into his body and flashing past with the rest of the time he'd called his bodily existence.
Or he had simply lost his mind.
Due to the pain in his abdomen. Or the twisted thoughts in his mind. Or the debasing feeling of being helplessly at somebody's mercy; somebody who'd grant him neither dignity nor self-value.
Or a baneful mixture that had caused his brain to shut off minutes before he'd awoken.
The Doctor felt the touch; he felt the touch of someone else, pressing against his skin, feeling his skin... touching him as he lied on the operating table;
Naked.
Helpless.
Weak.
The Doctor gasped for air as he caught a glimpse of the things that had happened... must have happened...
He snivelled and felt his eyes burning.
His eyes were still burning, they were red and dry. He'd cried them dry and empty.
And yet they were still burning.
And the caucus race in his head increased, picked up speed and smashed against each side of his skull.
And then there was the knocking.
The Doctor lifted his head a bit and stared at the door in front of him.
The Tardis' door. He stood by the Tardis' door.
And there was a knocking without.
And the knocking wouldn't stop.
The Doctor reached down and found the key still blocking they keyhole. After several senseless attempts to open the door the Doctor managed to remove the key.
He stared at the door as it swung open.
Jack stood in front of him, his face falling apart into an expression of pure shock.
He stared at the red-eyed Doctor who leaned against the door frame and folded his arms.
"Jack?" asked the Doctor hoarsely as he met his gaze motionless.
Jack was too surprised to take a look further down. He could see nothing but the Doctor's eyes, the Doctor's terrified and hopeless eyes.
He'd always thought he'd never be able to watch the Doctor cry.
But seeing him with red-rubbed eyes was far worse.
The Doctor caught a glimpse of the black jewellery box Jack was currently clutching at.
His hollow stare met Jack's again.
"Yes, Jack?" repeated the Doctor nearly voiceless and shifted a bit at the door.
Jack stood there with his mouth open; as some sort of reflex he stretched his arms and presented the box to the Doctor.
The Doctor's gaze wouldn't drift from Jack's frightened eyes.
"I wanted to give you this."
Jacks words broke the oppressive silence. But the crushing hush that followed was far worse.
"How lovely," replied the Doctor eventually and smiled; it was the maddened smile of someone who'd lost not only his mind but his pride and self-respect as well.
The Doctor snatched the box from Jack's hands, still smiling and sighing quietly.
He opened it in silence and stared at the ring as unimpressed as he stared back at Jack; the Doctor removed the ring from its velvet bed and put it on.
He smiled even brighter as he found the ring to fit perfectly on his ring finger.
Jack backed away cautiously.
The Doctor lifted his head again. Tears were running down his cheeks as he focused on Jack to meet his aghast stare with empty but moist eyes.
The Doctor tasted the salt of his own tears as his smile became broader.
"Thanks Jack," wheezed the Doctor and stumbled two steps backwards, hurriedly slamming the door.
Jack could hear the Doctor crying from the inside after he'd turned the key in the lock again.
"Thank you so much, Jack!"
Jack wasn't offended by the Doctor's slight sarcasm that resonated in his words.
It was his pure hopelessness and blank honesty that scared him.
*The term 'Baublee papal' was generated from English 'bauble' and Gallifreyan 'papal' meaning 'small thing'. The Doctor misspelled bauble to make it sound more like 'bubbly' to underline that... well, actually it's a made-up word because the Doctor couldn't think of anything else.
The Baublee papals came into existence as the Doctor dragged them out of the Derreality, the non-existing nothing hiding on the other side of reality itself by lining its reverse side like an unimaginable thin piece of silvery silk.
Baublee papals are nothing but the Doctor's imagination coming to life as he brought them into reality himself, simply by pushing them over the edge of non-existence; they are small calf-like creatures with big beckoning eyes and snouts which would look more appropriate on a seahorse.
When you come to think about it the Doctor has rather strange powers of imagination...
**The Doctor had never had the chance to find out what they were. They were as solid as hooves, as firm as a claw and as flexible and smooth as a paw. Anyway it didn't matter.