Bitter Sweet
The Day After The Dream Before
He shuffled round the kitchen, reaching for this and that, trying to take his mind off the thoughts that kept attempting to take over. Free radicals and tannin… sorted out most things. He made the tea strong, to try and give him that extra boost. The toast popped out of the toaster and he reached in the fridge for butter and milk, feeling the chilling tentacles of cold air twist round his fingers and up his arm. The cold metal… the gale… the breeze rushing through him. He yanked his hand out, and shut the door with more force than he’d intended to do.
Now… jam or marmalade? The simple question took his mind off the memories. He settled for jam, spreading a thick layer of strawberry conserve over the hot, already buttered toast. He stirred the milk into his tea, but left the bottle on the side as he sat down. For some reason he couldn’t quite bring himself to put his hand back in that fridge. He took a gulp of tea. It was just… then he slammed down the navy mug, spilling hot liquid over his hand.
‘It was just’ nothing. This was stupid. He was The Doctor! He’d fought at the front lines in the Time War, he’d seen the end of planets and the beginnings of others, defeated Daleks on Satellite 5, Cybermen on Mondas, Ice Warriors on the moon, Sea Devils in Sea Base 4 and the Slitheen family in Downing Street, for goodness sake! She had been another companion… another assistant. His plus one. He’d been alone, then he’d found her. Just as he had with countless others… she wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t the first who’d been impressively brave… or that he’d admired… wasn’t even the first he’d died for.
There’d been so many, so many in his past… and he’d changed his face so many times. He was tired of it now. But he kept on because he was the last one, everywhere he went he kept an open mind… perhaps, maybe, this time. Looking for the little signs of pomp and ceremony that he’d hated when they’d been forced upon him, but now, when nobody dragged him back to a planet that didn’t exist anymore… to a planet that had been his home, there was at least a part of him that missed it. But when he sat, like this, he knew – he was alone. He could feel it in his head… in his hearts. But he did enjoy it – the travelling… seeing days that were dead and gone. Hear her laugh… the beat of her heart. She’d said exactly that, in Cardiff… 1869… they were supposed to be in Naples, he recalled with a wry smile.
Maybe that’s why it hurt so much. She’d been the first, after the Time War… picked up the pieces. Made him laugh. They’d shown each other how to live better lives. There were so many things that he’d never realised he’d learnt from her, until it was too late to tell her, to thank her. He slammed down his mug again. This time most of the liquid was on the table. This really was stupid. Really, really stupid. He was The Doctor! He stood up, abandoning the unfinished breakfast…. barely touched, and put the milk and butter back in the fridge. See. Nothing to worry about. It was a fridge… not a beach in Norway.
He threw his dressing gown onto his bed, and kicked his slippers off. They flew across the room, one landing in a large pile of dirty laundry in the corner, the other, left poking out of a bedside lamp. He began to unbutton his pyjamas, and flung his top done beside his dressing gown, before going to his bathroom. He turned up the temperature dial beside the door, then flicked the switch above it. Across the room the shower burst into action, spurting hot water from the shower head. Turning another dial, beside the mirror, he then pressed a button in the centre of it and instantly ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’ could be heard all over the TARDIS.
“It’s good to be a lunatic…” he sang, a little louder than he might have done before. But there was nobody else in the ship… what did he care. Grabbing a bottle out of the cupboard mounted on the wall, he slipped off his pyjama bottoms and hopped into the shower, placing ‘Jatt’s Shower Gel – for humanoids with sensitive skin’ in the holder.
“Hit me with your rhythm stick! Hit me! Hit me…” The time-traveller warbled on, squeezing a bubblegum blue gel onto his palm. He held his hand under the falling water and instantly iridescent, foaming bubbles exploded everywhere.
“Bit much…” he muttered, rubbing the bubbles over his shoulders. The song changed and he sang along again…
“Sex and drugs and rock and roll, is all my brain and body need…”
Now… jam or marmalade? The simple question took his mind off the memories. He settled for jam, spreading a thick layer of strawberry conserve over the hot, already buttered toast. He stirred the milk into his tea, but left the bottle on the side as he sat down. For some reason he couldn’t quite bring himself to put his hand back in that fridge. He took a gulp of tea. It was just… then he slammed down the navy mug, spilling hot liquid over his hand.
‘It was just’ nothing. This was stupid. He was The Doctor! He’d fought at the front lines in the Time War, he’d seen the end of planets and the beginnings of others, defeated Daleks on Satellite 5, Cybermen on Mondas, Ice Warriors on the moon, Sea Devils in Sea Base 4 and the Slitheen family in Downing Street, for goodness sake! She had been another companion… another assistant. His plus one. He’d been alone, then he’d found her. Just as he had with countless others… she wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t the first who’d been impressively brave… or that he’d admired… wasn’t even the first he’d died for.
There’d been so many, so many in his past… and he’d changed his face so many times. He was tired of it now. But he kept on because he was the last one, everywhere he went he kept an open mind… perhaps, maybe, this time. Looking for the little signs of pomp and ceremony that he’d hated when they’d been forced upon him, but now, when nobody dragged him back to a planet that didn’t exist anymore… to a planet that had been his home, there was at least a part of him that missed it. But when he sat, like this, he knew – he was alone. He could feel it in his head… in his hearts. But he did enjoy it – the travelling… seeing days that were dead and gone. Hear her laugh… the beat of her heart. She’d said exactly that, in Cardiff… 1869… they were supposed to be in Naples, he recalled with a wry smile.
Maybe that’s why it hurt so much. She’d been the first, after the Time War… picked up the pieces. Made him laugh. They’d shown each other how to live better lives. There were so many things that he’d never realised he’d learnt from her, until it was too late to tell her, to thank her. He slammed down his mug again. This time most of the liquid was on the table. This really was stupid. Really, really stupid. He was The Doctor! He stood up, abandoning the unfinished breakfast…. barely touched, and put the milk and butter back in the fridge. See. Nothing to worry about. It was a fridge… not a beach in Norway.
He threw his dressing gown onto his bed, and kicked his slippers off. They flew across the room, one landing in a large pile of dirty laundry in the corner, the other, left poking out of a bedside lamp. He began to unbutton his pyjamas, and flung his top done beside his dressing gown, before going to his bathroom. He turned up the temperature dial beside the door, then flicked the switch above it. Across the room the shower burst into action, spurting hot water from the shower head. Turning another dial, beside the mirror, he then pressed a button in the centre of it and instantly ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’ could be heard all over the TARDIS.
“It’s good to be a lunatic…” he sang, a little louder than he might have done before. But there was nobody else in the ship… what did he care. Grabbing a bottle out of the cupboard mounted on the wall, he slipped off his pyjama bottoms and hopped into the shower, placing ‘Jatt’s Shower Gel – for humanoids with sensitive skin’ in the holder.
“Hit me with your rhythm stick! Hit me! Hit me…” The time-traveller warbled on, squeezing a bubblegum blue gel onto his palm. He held his hand under the falling water and instantly iridescent, foaming bubbles exploded everywhere.
“Bit much…” he muttered, rubbing the bubbles over his shoulders. The song changed and he sang along again…
“Sex and drugs and rock and roll, is all my brain and body need…”