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calufraxStory: River Song, Coda da Capo
Author: Profrobert
Rating: All Ages
Word Count: 3961
Author's Summary: The Twelfth Doctor, while still completing his regeneration, endeavors to rescue River Song from the Library's computer, but he hasn't quite thought things through.
Characters/Pairings: Clara Oswin Oswald, The Doctor (12th), River Song
Warnings: None
Recced because: Although we're only three episodes into the Twelfth Doctor's career, there are already plenty of stories appearing; I decided to check them out. This one interested me because it seems to have the characterization dead right, including the Doctor's confusion immediately after his regeneration, and gives us a neat plot that takes advantage of his mental and emotional state to give us a "fix-it" for River Song that doesn't quite go as planned. As a bonus, it's by an author who hasn't been recced here before; currently he doesn't have any other stories on the archive, but some reviews might encourage him to write more.
“Just one question,” the Doctor shouted. “Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?”
Clara’s eyes went even wider than they had gone when the new Doctor had first stood up a moment before. She was speechless, though from somewhere inside her came her voice, but which also was not her voice. “Yes,” she said and strode over to the console, “I do.”
The Doctor looked at her again, wild-eyed. “Good. Go on with it then.” He lurched around her, out of the control room and down a corridor where the TARDIS had kindly located his bedroom through the first door on the left. The bed was in its usual location and shape, the Doctor noted before stumbling onto it and passing out.
“When am I?” the Doctor thought. It was rare for the Doctor not to have a sense of the passage of time, even upon waking, and thus he approached his return to consciousness carefully. He counted his fingers and toes, arms and legs, and the various other bits and pieces before opening one eye. He was sprawled on his bed, still dressed in his predecessor’s tweed suit. His legs itched. He’d have to do something about that. At least all his parts were present and properly located. Even his kidneys had turned a more satisfactory color.
The Doctor opened his other eye, then stood a bit shakily. He wanted a good look at himself, so he stepped carefully over to the chair in front of the vanity River had used when she stayed in the TARDIS. Och, what a nose! What was it with his head? Ever since the Time War, ears, teeth, chin, now nose. He squeezed it, and a trickle of regeneration light spread out in the air before him. At least he’d stopped getting younger -- the next step down that line would have been a spotty school boy, and seeing that might have made him regenerate on the spot, as it were.
Older. He was finally becoming his old self again. Or selves again. Or like his old selves again. A feeling of peace washed through him as he recalled that he’d not burned Gallifrey, that it still stood, and now, thanks to the Time Lords, he still stood -- or at least sat, here in front of River’s vanity.
Author: Profrobert
Rating: All Ages
Word Count: 3961
Author's Summary: The Twelfth Doctor, while still completing his regeneration, endeavors to rescue River Song from the Library's computer, but he hasn't quite thought things through.
Characters/Pairings: Clara Oswin Oswald, The Doctor (12th), River Song
Warnings: None
Recced because: Although we're only three episodes into the Twelfth Doctor's career, there are already plenty of stories appearing; I decided to check them out. This one interested me because it seems to have the characterization dead right, including the Doctor's confusion immediately after his regeneration, and gives us a neat plot that takes advantage of his mental and emotional state to give us a "fix-it" for River Song that doesn't quite go as planned. As a bonus, it's by an author who hasn't been recced here before; currently he doesn't have any other stories on the archive, but some reviews might encourage him to write more.
“Just one question,” the Doctor shouted. “Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?”
Clara’s eyes went even wider than they had gone when the new Doctor had first stood up a moment before. She was speechless, though from somewhere inside her came her voice, but which also was not her voice. “Yes,” she said and strode over to the console, “I do.”
The Doctor looked at her again, wild-eyed. “Good. Go on with it then.” He lurched around her, out of the control room and down a corridor where the TARDIS had kindly located his bedroom through the first door on the left. The bed was in its usual location and shape, the Doctor noted before stumbling onto it and passing out.
“When am I?” the Doctor thought. It was rare for the Doctor not to have a sense of the passage of time, even upon waking, and thus he approached his return to consciousness carefully. He counted his fingers and toes, arms and legs, and the various other bits and pieces before opening one eye. He was sprawled on his bed, still dressed in his predecessor’s tweed suit. His legs itched. He’d have to do something about that. At least all his parts were present and properly located. Even his kidneys had turned a more satisfactory color.
The Doctor opened his other eye, then stood a bit shakily. He wanted a good look at himself, so he stepped carefully over to the chair in front of the vanity River had used when she stayed in the TARDIS. Och, what a nose! What was it with his head? Ever since the Time War, ears, teeth, chin, now nose. He squeezed it, and a trickle of regeneration light spread out in the air before him. At least he’d stopped getting younger -- the next step down that line would have been a spotty school boy, and seeing that might have made him regenerate on the spot, as it were.
Older. He was finally becoming his old self again. Or selves again. Or like his old selves again. A feeling of peace washed through him as he recalled that he’d not burned Gallifrey, that it still stood, and now, thanks to the Time Lords, he still stood -- or at least sat, here in front of River’s vanity.
