By Michael Whiteley
The Doctor looked around his once full TARDIS. He let out a slight sigh of sadness and acceptance and headed to the main control console he used to prance and dance around with his best friends. He was a time traveler. Or was at least; before New York. He was an adventurer, before the Angels took them away. He flicked the switches, pulled levers, pumped on the console. But he skipped hitting the bell that used to make his friends smile.
"Not anymore" - The Doctor thought.
The Doctor looked around his once full TARDIS. He let out a slight sigh of sadness and acceptance and headed to the main control console he used to prance and dance around with his best friends. He was a time traveler. Or was at least; before New York. He was an adventurer, before the Angels took them away. He flicked the switches, pulled levers, pumped on the console. But he skipped hitting the bell that used to make his friends smile.
"Not anymore" - The Doctor thought.
He slowly took off his tweed jacket and threw it without remorse onto the glass floor.
"I should really return that...I got into a lot of trouble the last time I borrowed a patient's clothes" - He thought again, with a brief smile of remembrance
Alone. The hum and murmurs of the TARDIS' interior echoed this in his mind and in his hearts. Alone.
The bow tie that was once straight and perfectly formed around his neck was now slanted and crooked. He realized this whilst hurriedly looking at himself in the central column's reflected glass surface. He hastily discarded this onto the floor a few feet away from his stolen jacket.
"...and that, too" he said aloud, remembering that day of days.
As he continued circling the ships control console he found his eyes concentrating on two switches; one red, the other yellow.
"Ketchup and mustard!" He said, "never found out what they did, did we A..." His hearts sank. He realized, yet again that she was gone..."Nah..." he whispered in vain.
Where now would he go? He didn't care. Who to save now? It didn't matter. He was done. He was through. He was not The Doctor. Not anymore.
"Change" He said in a slightly uplifting voice "I need change… and renewal..." he continued; but how? Everything in the TARDIS reminded him of her and him. The typewriter on his console; the doors he held her out of at the start of their time; every inch and nook and cranny. From the smells to the noise, the floor to the ceiling; even the color scheme; rich in red and orange.
"Like her hair…"
He couldn't go on like this. Not now. Not even in the briefest shimmer of hope could he get over this. Just with a little decoration. He was fine by himself... He was. He could live all by himself and he would be fine. I mean his done it before why not again?
"I had a cat that time" His mind wrestled with itself. "It's fine. Who needs a cat when I've got a big old hat!" he continued, remembering the big silk crimson one Lewis Carroll gave him.
"Here you go Doctor" Lewis had said, "and thanks for convincing me my dreams are real!" He enthusiastically exclaimed as The Doctor, Amy and Rory pushed the doors to the TARDIS open after a "Ghastly incident involving The Land of Fiction, a sowing needle and a rather large golf club" the whispered back to himself with a grin on his face.
The grin quickly turned to a frown. They had gone. They really had gone. No re-writing history; no timey-wimey, rebooting business. This was it. Gone. Gone forever and this time he couldn't do anything about it.
"Blue" he quietly said as he began tinkering with his console yet again. "Smaller" he replied to himself; "checked trousers, big hat - no one can stop me this time...I want a hat!" he was arguing with himself again "No! Stop it, Doctor!...Yes!...oh fine!"
He was finished with his console; finally! The environment around him slowly liquefied and dissolved into a grey space. Slowly, very slowly, the outline of a new console taking its place
"Give or take about..." He looked at his golden watch, "an hour?"...he sniffed and started unbuckling his braces.
He picked up what remained of his clothes. Walked slowly up the stairs leading to the wardrobe and looked over his shoulder. It was going; he’d already started now, no going back.
"Gotcha" he said, punching the air slowly.
He looked ahead. Never looked back even though he could hear his console room wheeze and churn into its new shape.
"Clouds; no one could find me there! HA!" He excitedly shouted; then pressed his fingers to his lips. The ghost of another abandoned life.
"I should really return that...I got into a lot of trouble the last time I borrowed a patient's clothes" - He thought again, with a brief smile of remembrance
Alone. The hum and murmurs of the TARDIS' interior echoed this in his mind and in his hearts. Alone.
The bow tie that was once straight and perfectly formed around his neck was now slanted and crooked. He realized this whilst hurriedly looking at himself in the central column's reflected glass surface. He hastily discarded this onto the floor a few feet away from his stolen jacket.
"...and that, too" he said aloud, remembering that day of days.
As he continued circling the ships control console he found his eyes concentrating on two switches; one red, the other yellow.
"Ketchup and mustard!" He said, "never found out what they did, did we A..." His hearts sank. He realized, yet again that she was gone..."Nah..." he whispered in vain.
Where now would he go? He didn't care. Who to save now? It didn't matter. He was done. He was through. He was not The Doctor. Not anymore.
"Change" He said in a slightly uplifting voice "I need change… and renewal..." he continued; but how? Everything in the TARDIS reminded him of her and him. The typewriter on his console; the doors he held her out of at the start of their time; every inch and nook and cranny. From the smells to the noise, the floor to the ceiling; even the color scheme; rich in red and orange.
"Like her hair…"
He couldn't go on like this. Not now. Not even in the briefest shimmer of hope could he get over this. Just with a little decoration. He was fine by himself... He was. He could live all by himself and he would be fine. I mean his done it before why not again?
"I had a cat that time" His mind wrestled with itself. "It's fine. Who needs a cat when I've got a big old hat!" he continued, remembering the big silk crimson one Lewis Carroll gave him.
"Here you go Doctor" Lewis had said, "and thanks for convincing me my dreams are real!" He enthusiastically exclaimed as The Doctor, Amy and Rory pushed the doors to the TARDIS open after a "Ghastly incident involving The Land of Fiction, a sowing needle and a rather large golf club" the whispered back to himself with a grin on his face.
The grin quickly turned to a frown. They had gone. They really had gone. No re-writing history; no timey-wimey, rebooting business. This was it. Gone. Gone forever and this time he couldn't do anything about it.
"Blue" he quietly said as he began tinkering with his console yet again. "Smaller" he replied to himself; "checked trousers, big hat - no one can stop me this time...I want a hat!" he was arguing with himself again "No! Stop it, Doctor!...Yes!...oh fine!"
He was finished with his console; finally! The environment around him slowly liquefied and dissolved into a grey space. Slowly, very slowly, the outline of a new console taking its place
"Give or take about..." He looked at his golden watch, "an hour?"...he sniffed and started unbuckling his braces.
He picked up what remained of his clothes. Walked slowly up the stairs leading to the wardrobe and looked over his shoulder. It was going; he’d already started now, no going back.
"Gotcha" he said, punching the air slowly.
He looked ahead. Never looked back even though he could hear his console room wheeze and churn into its new shape.
"Clouds; no one could find me there! HA!" He excitedly shouted; then pressed his fingers to his lips. The ghost of another abandoned life.
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