A Servant to Time and Consequence (rude_not_ginger) wrote,
A Servant to Time and Consequence

What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.

He doesn’t look at the uniform anymore, but he can’t throw it away. It’s shoved somewhere in the back of one of the TARDIS closets, but he doesn’t need to look at it to know what it looks like---it was a skin to him for nearly a decade.

It’s in a tiny tube, the size of a pinky, but with the push of a button it covers his body in a protective armour slathered with the Seal of Rassilon. Ray-resistant exfoliated steelitronics, it is the perfect defense against Dalek and Terelepil, and any race that would damage the Timelords' reign. Molded and programmed to change to a body shape if the wearer were to suddenly die and regenerate in battle. Gold wires wrap the body in a heat and space-protective layer, a sun-resistant visor covers the face, and the back holster carries four different kinds of weaponry, each designed with only the ability to kill---not wound. No prisoners, not in this War.

He threw out the weapons nearly a century ago, and the visor’s upside down on the desk in his bedroom, old letters and clippings littering the once-vital piece of equipment. There’s a hole in the never-seen suit, right above his left heart, where his Eighth life was taken from him before slipping into the Ninth.

Funny, that. The only regeneration that didn’t go a bit wrong, and it was at the hand of a Dalek. And here he thought it was simply his time.

“What’s this from? I found it in the back of one of the wardrobes.” It’s Rose’s innocence as she holds the tiny tube adorned with the interlocking 8’s that really gets to him. She’s never been hardened by war, she’s all simple curiosity and caring. It hurts.

His hand snatches out, takes it from her, “Just a dead thing.” It gets tossed into the visor. All dead things should stay together. She doesn’t ask about it, but she turns to look at the visor, wants to ask. Wants to know. And he knows she wants to know.

It’s infuriating.

Months pass. Her eyes have taken to laying on that visor, on that tiny tube, all that much longer. It’s a cold day just outside of Ravilix 5 that she finally turns, a look of determination on her face.


“Have you ever heard the saying,” the Doctor interrupts, snatching the tube from the visor and turning it over in his fingers, “‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’?”

Her eyebrow raises in confusion, “Of course.”

The tube is dropped down a grate, deep into the bowels of the TARDIS.

“Yeah, it’s rubbish.”

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 441
Tags: community: theatrical muse
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