Applied Physics

James Smith Department of Physics Coal Hill Secondary School I'm assuming there's a reason you're in my office - but first: be careful of the particle accelerators lying around. You don't want a bad case of fuzzy logic, or to end up as a living example of heisenberg's uncertainty principle. Second, question for you: if a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it... does it go 'timber'? (Rp blog for Coal Hill RP)

[tinmickey-blog]

I support this idea but only if we have a costume competition. I’ll have no buying costumes at the nearest party store and calling it a day.

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

For the record, I agree with this. Not everyone can afford those fancy pants get ups anyway. Besides, there’s nothin’ worse than walkin’ into a room and seein’ fifteen people wearing the exact same thing!

[pheesics-blog]

You know, that’s not a bad idea at all. We could have students make their own costumes, a bit of a practical slant to John’s classes...

Oh!

In fact, we could turn the entire thing into a learning opportunity! Halloween themed lessons for the day! Halloween music, Halloween science - learning the practical way, fun for everyone! 

Especially the teachers.

@coalhillheadmisstress, what do you think?

[pheesics-blog]

Detention Retention || James and Missy

@queenofcoalhill

Idris was trying to kill him. He was sure of it. Idris was punishing him for something he didn’t even know he’d done, probably something in his last life, like committing genocide.

Truth to be told, he didn’t even see the point in detention as a disciplinary tool. It did absolutely nothing for the children, education-wise, taught them absolutely nothing, and, well, was torture for the teachers. 

It was time, he thought, to turn detention into something more useful.

“Right,” he said, looking around the classroom at the handful of faces staring back at him. “Detention. Deteeeeeeention. Not to be mixed up with dentation, which is a noun, meaning something that is dentate, or a tooth-like projection - think ‘dental’. Or dentition, which is also a noun, but means the make-up of teeth.”

The blank looks that he was getting were getting even blanker.

Sighing, he tossed his bag down on the table. Alright, time to start thinking of plans. Good thing he was clever. And where on earth was his fellow teacher, anyway? He couldn’t remember who was on the schedule, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t John or anyone fun.

[coalhillstudents]

Rumour has is, Donna isn't a real ginger. Just last week I found a box of red hair dye in her trash bin!

As a proper ginge I find this highly offensive. Care to defend yourself, @msdonnanobleteacher

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

It’s okay Sweetheart, I can assure you that hair dye certainly wasn’t mine. In fact, I bet I know whose it was, but I won’t go namin’ any names. Instead, I will keep that information for when I really need it. That’s an important lesson by the way… Know when to play your cards.

Anyway, I am a bit disappointed. I always thought you much more clever than this. You certainly can see I am, in fact, a true and proper ginger.

If you don’t believe me, go ask Mr. Smith… Science Smith. He’s known me forever. He can attest to it. Been jealous of my ginger-ness for just as long tool

[pheesics-blog]

I can back this up. Definitely a real ginger. More ginger than a gingersnap. More ginger than saenggang cha from Korea. More ginger than ... you get the idea.

[pheesics-blog]

"Alright,” James said, bouncing into the staff room one lazy Friday afternoon, a large plastic mat tucked under one arm. “It’s Friday, everyone’s falling asleep, the coffee machine is broken, and we all need a pick me up. Who’s up for a game of twister?”

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[firstnamethe-blog]

“It’s too formal, it’s too close, I really just don’t like it.” He frowned, giving James a rather pouty and stubborn look. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I want hugs all the time. Though, one of the best things about hugs is that you never get to see the other person’s face. You never truly know what they’re feeling in that moment.” The Doctor paused and took a moment to consider it. “Hugs always seem so happy or so sad. There’s never an in-between.”

His face went back to being slightly annoyed when James commented on his looks. “Do you want to see me smile?” He gave a quick and rather frightful grin before dropping back into his usual scowl. “Hmmph,” he replied, not letting James have the last word on it, but still not contributing anything to the conversation. He studied the younger man, then. Wondering what he was thinking and for a moment he was about to ask-only to stop when James spoke first and asked about the toaster.

“Alright,” he gave a nod and pushed himself out of his chair before heading towards his makeshift kitchen in the opposite corner and pulling the appliance over and placing it before him. Sitting back in his seat, the caretaker watched James once more.

However, when James glanced up at him, the Doctor immediately looked down and at his hands. Suddenly finding them more interesting than anything else in the room. He didn’t talk about his family or his past, and it was with good reason. “You have no reason to apologise,” he spoke quietly, making it very clear that he was holding absolutely no blame on James.

“The thing is, if I was given the chance to go back and change things, I wouldn’t. I’d still get you and John out of there and the events of what happened would have still happened.” Finally he looked back up and met James’ gaze. “Besides its probably something that couldn’t be changed. I’d almost say it was fixed…”

He remained quiet when James offered up a piece of his own past, nodding respectfully and knowing that the younger man had visited his parents. “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry about what had happened to them.”

And then they were onto better subjects. He allowed a smile and gave a shrug. “I eat plenty, thank you very much.” He paused and then settled further into his chair. “Does she? Good. She’s about the only one at this place that I can’t be rude to. Don’t-” he paused and gave James an owlish glare. “Let her know that.”

[pheesics-blog]

James had to actually stop and think when the Doctor went on his rant about hugs. “That’s rather... over thinking the matter,” he muttered not-quite under his breath. But to be fair, that was the Professor all over. Over thinking everything. It was a trait that he’d inculcated in James, though sometimes to his own detriment.

“Not that smile,” he continued, rolling his eyes. “The actual smile. The proper smile. The smile you used to get when I named all the constellations correctly and accurately described red shift and blue shift. Oh, and when I ambushed you with a Dalek army and you acted all annoyed but smiled when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

He paused and glanced away, smiling lightly but actually holding his breath: “Or are we past all of that now?” Has so much happened that we’re forever doomed to drown in unhappiness? 

The toaster gave him something to fiddle with, and the problem was relatively straightforward. Some physical impact had knocked a few of the internal connections loose - nothing badly broken and nothing that he couldn’t work around. Now the big question was... how could he improve on the antiquated design?

“They died,” James continued, as the topic shifted to his parents. Not because the Doctor didn’t know that - of course he knew that - but because he just needed to say it. To get it out into the open, this old wound that he’d thought had scabbed over, but perhaps still had some lingering rot deep within. “I quarreled with them. We had the worst fight and I think -- I think I told them to drop dead and I wanted them gone...”

His gaze, at some point, had turned from the toaster to the far wall, staring off into the mists of the past. The old guilt still nipping at his ankles. “Do you know how they died?” he whispered, then paused, shook himself. “No, nevermind. That’s not important. What did you do afterwards? Wait - hang on - you must have gone to America at some point, because Jack said he met you there.”

[pheesics-blog]

Of Dreams, Doctors and Daleks || James and Donna

@msdonnanobleteacher

To say that there were things on James’ mind was a gross understatement. While he was typically capable of running several workstreams in his brain at the same time (or so he would claim, anyway), this wasn’t simply a case of multitasking. This was a case of his past - the thing he preferred to bury in a deep dark hole and never talk about - smacking him in the face. He felt like an ostrich that had pulled its head of the sand for the first time in years, and was standing there blinking stupidly in the sun. Unfortunately for the Jameses and ostriches of the world, time continued to march on at its relentless pace, and he soon found that he needed to scramble to keep up.

First things first. Donna’s migraines. He’d tapped his networks and come up with a few recommendations for neurologists. It would have been a simple matter to square all of that off in an email to Donna, but ... the thing with the Doctor had come up. And despite his inclination to keep it his own deep dark little secret, he knew that it affected Donna’s past as well, thanks to Wilf and his strange warnings to stay away from the Doctor. 

It took him days to even wrap his mind around the fact that the Doctor had decided to crash back into his life (as with anything he did - unexpectedly and dramatically), and even longer to decide that he wanted to let the Doctor back into his life. And even longer to start recovering from the shock enough to even start thinking about what to tell Donna. 

The problem wasn’t telling Donna about the Doctor. The problem was the whole thorny issue of the Time Lords - that James didn’t want to talk about not least because it was intricately tied up with the question of his parents and what they’d done. When he and Donna had been children, he’d still been living with his parents, they’d been good to him, and everything had been fine and dandy. And he hadn’t told Donna about anything that had happened after that - the abandonment, their deaths... he’d mentioned that they’d passed away, but he’d danced around the topic and spun some lies and fudged the truth, keeping everything in its sugar-coated memory state.

And there was the suspicion that Wilf and perhaps even Donna’s parents had been involved in the Time Lords. Would unearthing the past lead to even more dark secrets and unpleasantness? Would it lead to conflicts between Donna and Wilf, straining Donna’s relationship with Sylvia, or just... breaking things that had had the chance to mend over the years? The Time Lords were dead and gone and buried, and he firmly believed that they should stay that way - the last thing he wanted was the spectre of the past to reach its ghostly hand over the present day. 

One thing that he was sure about was that none of this could be communicated by way of an email. 

He was never too good at forward planning, preferring to think on his feet and hatch a strategy in the spur of the moment, inspired by chaos and adrenaline and (sometimes) sheer terror. That was how he found himself at Donna and Rose’s flat, armed with a little wooden Dalek that the Professor had carved for him in long ages past - a foe that he vaguely remembered being the nemesis of his space travels together with Donna. If nothing else, it would serve as a conversation starter.

Adjusting his grip on the folder of names of neurologists and some information he’d printed out from medical journals, he steeled himself and rang the bell.

It was only a split second later that he realised that perhaps he should have warned Donna in advance that he was turning up. Oops.

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

Whose Dream is it Anyway? - Starter// James

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

Her breath caught in her chest but there was no stopping the smile that lit up her face. Donna pushed past the pain radiating in her head and really looked at James while he defended his “landing skills” and could actually feel her heart soar!

But… it couldn’t be, right? That would mean her grandfather had been lying to her, all this time. He would have known she knew James before and didn’t say anything. Donna felt her heart sink at the thought.

Then, he smiled that smile, called her Earthgirl.

“Hello, Spaceman,” she smiled back at him, still terribly confused, her heart pounding out of her chest. She allowed herself to collapse into him, overwhelmed by it all. The joy at the discovery, the pain of the betrayal, the physical discomfort in her head and, to be honest, the fear at the implications of it all. Why the secrecy? What happened?

She gazed up at him, hanging on his every word, listening intently. What he said made sense. It usually did. Donna nodded along a bit numbly, not quite able to speak yet as she absorbed all the information.

It seemed like a small eternity, but really, it was only a matter of minutes before she found her voice again.

Donna straightened up some and looked James straight in the eyes. She took her time of it too. Searched them, before the smile she felt deep inside blossom upon her lips, and finally reached her blue-green eyes. 

It was then Donna whispered the two words that were so very precious to her, “I… remember,” and pulled him into a tight hug. She repeated those two words over and over for a bit, almost as if she were under their spell before she let him go and was quiet for a moment.

“Don’t get me wrong, I mean… I don’t remember much of anythin’, yet,” she smiled brighter, her confidence boosted by this unforeseen event, “But… Yeah, I remember. Now. I get it,” there was an almost quite awe to her tone.

The wonder and joy on her face faded slightly. A more serious look replacing it, “You know what this means though?” she nodded slowly, “it means he lied to me. To both of us really. My grandad… He lied to us. He had to know we knew each other. He’s the one who took care of me, so why didn’t he say anything? All this time?” she bit her lower lip in thought for a moment, “You know, I always thought he took to you awfully fast! I mean, yeah, I get it! People like you and all that nonsense, but I mean, he really liked you.”

Donna shook her head as if to release the thought, massaging her temples briefly before looking over at him again, “And, for the record, we would have died a million times over on those blasted planets you ended up takin’ us too if it weren’t for me, Mister!” she smirked before laughing. She looked upon her best mate almost like it was the first time in simply ages, she could feel the happy tears burning in her eyes but willed them to stay there.

She, Donna Noble, just remembered something from when she was a child. She closed her eyes to savour the feeling, to try to commit it to memory and…

Because the pain in her head was not relenting but this was too big to be deterred from. She would not let it go!

Snapping her eyes open wide, she grinned at James, a new memory floating to the forefront of her mind, “What was that thing? You know… the THING you had… that thing you were always waving about and bleeping things with?!” she asked as if it were suddenly the most important thing in the world. She paused, “Ya know, never mind, I’m just pleased to have ya back, bad directions and all.”  She didn’t even care who else was in the memory right now or even what they did.

THEY were in it.

Spaceman and Earthgirl.

@pheesics

[pheesics-blog]

James held Donna close - thinking - wondering, actually, at how fate worked. How they'd been pulled apart by time, and pulled together again, and ... here they were, by some stroke of incredible fortune. What were the chances?

But her words about Wilf cut a worrying undertone. Had something happened? No - something must have happened, he was convinced of it. The same reason why so much of that time of his life was foggy in his mind, the same reason why he didn't like to look back on certain years, preferring to sugarcoat them with fantasy memories of a better life.

Just like it was easier to return the hug right now, happy that Donna was remembering, happy that she was happy, celebrating what was actually in front of him than chasing down the shadows of yesteryear.

"Maybe he didn't want anything to do with me and my family," James said slowly. "Maybe not me specifically - because you're absolutely right, he likes me too much for it to have been personal. But my parents..." He sighed softly, fumbling between telling Donna the honest truth and repeating the old, old lie.

/Not yet/, he thought. Not right now. Not when Donna was actually, genuinely happy.

/Coward/, he told himself.

"The sonic screwdriver!" he crowed, diverting the topic at the opportunity that Donna handed to him. "You know, I'm still trying to figure out if it's possible to actually make one. I'll do it, you know. One day. And I'll be sure to bleep you with it."

Taking her hands, he grinned at her. "Donna Earthgirl. And here I was thinking you were lost forever."

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

Whose Dream is it Anyway? - Starter// James

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

The relief she felt when James started speaking was short lived.

She cocked her head as she appraised him, “You know that line doesn’t work on me,” she chastised him gently before falling silent herself.

She wasn’t even aware when her head started to pound because she could only stare at her best friend. Watch his face intently as he formed words that seemed to drift in one of her ears and out the other, yet somehow, still register with her. That was until she couldn’t look at him any longer.

“… Can’t ever land the bloody spaceship on the right planet,” she muttered quietly, more to herself than him. Or more precisely, to the child in the memory. 

Her blood ran cold. Donna was scared, terrified and she had no idea why. It was just a story, a dream, but the similarities.

Donna never did consider herself very clever, certainly not compared to James, but she felt like she was missing something.

“You had a what? Another… Another friend? Ginger friend? … Named Donna? Played explorers yeah? Astronauts? Spacemen maybe? Did your friend… I mean was she ever a human explorer… a girl from Earth… an Earth Girl,” she emphasised, “And you…? You the alien with the big impressive spaceship, yeah?” she all but whispered, “because I’ve dreamt somethin’ like that too.” Her eyes were huge when she finally did look at him. Her head throbbing. She brought her hands to her temples, rubbing small circles there.

Donna needed something but had not idea what that something was. She spun her head around briefly before realising she was clueless to what she was looking for. With a little groan, she rolled her eyes at herself. Swallowing hard, she looked at James, but not quite. It was more like she was looking through him, past him, struggling to pull up the memory of the dream.

“The other child, the one in my dream, I think it’s a boy… It’s so bloody hard for me to remember!” she practically wailed before getting herself back under control. “…but I do know, he… He is younger than me cos I keep tellin’ myself, it’s my fault. I should have known better than to let us go in there, yeah? But…” she pressed against her temples, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before popping open again, “If he was going,” she nodded, “so was I,” a little shrug.

When he mentioned there was someone else in his dream, someone telling them to press the button, it was like a hot poker was thrust into her brain and Donna felt her knees buckle, but recovered quickly. She reached for James, more out of a desperate need to ground herself than because of the flash of pain.

“And this other person, the one in the dream with the button or lever… Is she a woman maybe? Because she’s so hard to make out in my dream, but I think she’s a woman, a woman who wears long skirts? James, is she?” she almost begged, confused not even the proper word for how she was feeling.

Donna dropped her hands to her sides, aware that he was probably watching her and swallowed hard. It seemed to her that he never missed anything.

“It’s a coincidence, yeah? That’s all, right? Or maybe… Maybe you told me all of this and I… What? Forgot? I forgot and I just think it’s my dream too?” she asked, grasping for straws and knowing it.

[pheesics-blog]

"Oi!" James replied immediately, when she mentioned his landing skills. "I take us exactly where we're supposed to be. Even if it's not where we wanted to go. My ship is sentient, you know, has a life of its..."

He trailed off as the implications of what he was saying caught up with him. Glancing at Donna out of the corner of his eye, he took a breath. "A human explorer, from Earth. And me, this two hearted alien whose home planet had been destroyed in a great war."

A slow grin started spread across his face. "Hello, Earthgirl."

It felt like coming home. A part of his past unfolding, a door that he'd been walking past slowly sliding open to reveal a heartachingly familiar scene...

...but in a moment, he realised that it wasn't quite working out the same way for Donna.

"Donna," he said, catching her as she seemed to crumple. "Donna, what's wrong? What's going on?" He was utterly confused at this point - so they shared a common history, well, wasn't that brilliant? Why did she look so ...

Well, yes, there had been that dream. And maybe it wasn't a dream, it was a memory. But it was gone, something long past, and it must have been resolved, because no one was coming after them ... "No, I don't remember," he said, still not daring to let go of Donna. "No... that's not quite true. My dreams, well, my dreams tend to be symbolic." He swallowed, tempted to scuttle from the truth, but some instinct drove him to blurt it out any way. "That figure in my dreams - it's usually... it's usually me. Adult me."

"Donna," he said, trying to keep his voice level in an attempt to keep her calm. "I don't believe that this could be a coincidence. If it's something I told you in the past, you might have dreamt it once, but not recurringly. I think - I suspect - it's a memory. I think we knew each other as children. But things happened, and I ..." He frowned a little, trying to remember. "My friend and I, we were split up when we were still very young. I can't remember why, and I do remember thinking it was because we'd done something terrible. Maybe... maybe it was this incident. Whatever that button was. Whatever it did."

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[firstnamethe-blog]

“Bah,” the Doctor waved James’ concern about him being bony away. “Don’t start sounding like Clara, I eat! I do!” He insisted, giving James a hint of a smile.

“Though I like the sharp edges to me, it prevents the hugging. You have no idea how many children like to hug.” He paused and eyed James for a moment. “Or maybe you do. You always did like hugs.”

Snorting when James dismissed the ‘son’ bit and turned him into being his grandson, the Doctor smirked before trying to attempt a stern frown.

Still, it felt incredibly nice to hear himself being called ‘grandpa’ again. “Yes, and now you see why I tried to get you to call me anything but Grandpa. But that obviously didn’t work. But I warn you, James, I’m immune to your sad eyes now. I’ve spent years building this resistance.” The Doctor wagged his finger for good measure before Barnabus took that as an opportunity to jump at his hand.

“Barnabus!” He threatened, before grabbing the squirrel and setting him down on the armchair again. “Toasters!” The Doctor piped up, his eyebrows raising as his face turned to glee. “I have a ruddy old one that only wants to give me half toasted toast. Think you can improve it?”

Truth be told, the Doctor took a bat to it but… details. It did try to shock him, after all.

And then the conversation drifted back to being serious and the Doctor’s gaze dropped to their connected hands. “There was an explosion. People were blaming Missy, but it-it wasn’t her. She got caught up in the middle of it, and maybe she antagonised someone, but she was only trying to distract so that I could-” his gaze met James’ for a moment before he gave a knowing shrug. “Anyway when I came back Susan and Aileen were gone. I lost both families that day.”

He inhaled sharply before shaking off the memories. “Anyway, yes! We do need to tell John. But not the others… Jack, he’s got a lot going on and Donna…she doesn’t need to know. Not now, at least.”

He knew about Rose and James, at least that they were together but hearing that they were engaged made the older man smile warmly at the other. “Congratulations! I’d bake you a cake or something but I don’t think it’d be edible. Rose is wonderful, her mother could do some improvement, but you’re not marrying her.” He teased, genuinely liking Jackie too.

“How is Rose, by the way? I don’t talk to her as much as I want to. She’s stuck in the canteen and I’m stuck in the loo. Or the yard. Or hiding.”

[pheesics-blog]

“What’s wrong with hugging?” James huffed. “Alright, you don’t like it - except when you do.” He shot the Doctor a sly look. “I wasn’t the only one initiating those hugs, you know.”

He shrugged. “You know, you looked ... well, old for your age. All those lines... probably because you frown too much. Smile a bit! Blimey, and everyone says I look like you; I wouldn’t want to be Mr Grumpy Pants when I grow old. And--” he added, as Barnabas leapt at the Doctor. “You mean you’re out of practice. While, on the other hand, I’ve spent a lot of time practising. We’ll see about that immunity to sad eyes.” His tone skipped lightly over the old, old wound - the memory of the Professor leaving, the way his hand slipped through his, the way the watch’s chain caught around his fingers. Funny, he remembered the sensations (and the pain in his chest, like a knife wound) but not the face.

“Show me this toaster,” he said quickly, before his voice became too choked. For a moment, he was tempted to dive into that task, but the Doctor seemed inclined to speak, and if there was one thing he knew about the old man - it was that him actually wanting to talk about anything was a rare gift in itself. And when the Doctor mentioned losing his family...

He glanced up, shocked. He knew that the Doctor didn’t have any surviving family, but for some reason, his mind hadn’t connected it to Aileen and Susan. He did remember them; shadowy figures blurred by the passing of time, but in his child’s memory, they were as they had always been - living somewhere happily, untouched and unmarked by the passage of time.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “And you did the right thing. You needed to know - you needed to at least try.” Some, much younger part of him wailed at the betrayal that his older self was committing, but he crushed it ruthlessly. 

“I went looking for my parents,” he said. “I don’t know if you knew that - it took me months to find them.” And I never did find you. He’d been a resourceful child, but that had been a task almost beyond him, and had caused any amount of strain between him and his foster parents. Probably the reason why they’d given up on him and John. Or maybe it had been fear, when they discovered just whose children they were? He’d never really known. 

“Rose is good,” he said, smiling slightly giddily at the mention of her. “You should drop by the canteen more often. Eat more. She likes you, you know.”

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[firstnamethe-blog]

Not really wanting to, the Doctor pulled back so that he could face James as they spoke. He let out a huff of a laugh before playfully rolling his eyes. “Well if I’ve ever needed to work on something about myself, it would be timing.” He gave a half-hearted shrug before softening his gaze as he looked on to the other.

“Well you have me,” he started, realising just how much he missed hearing himself being called ‘Professor’. “Funnily enough, we could probably tell everyone that you are-” he stopped himself, not sure if the sentence he was going to finish would be accepted.

“Nevermind,” he waved his hand in the air to wish away his almost stated fact that he considered James his son. Of course it was always unspoken, but he still had the fear of audibly letting it out.

The fear that one of the last remaining family he had, would walk away from him.

“I should have told you then. It was a cowardice move for me not to, but I was so scared and reckless to have left those files out like that. Or maybe a part of me wanted you to find them… I don’t know.” He shook his head and frowned, obviously punishing himself over it and wishing he could go back and change things.

Out of habit, out of being a parent, the Doctor reached forward and took both of James’ hands into his to prevent him from scrubbing his eyes too much. “We…” he paused and smiled a bit at himself and a bit at Clara.

“We fix it.” He cleared his throat and gave James’ hands a gentle pat. “As someone, a very bossy and short someone told me, I’m the Doctor and I fix things. I left you once, I’m not going to do it again. So, let’s… start from here again. Repair the bridge, maybe add additions to it…you know, just… ” he was struggling for words, but he maintained his lucidity.

“I love you, James. You’re a son to me, always have been since the moment I met you, whatever you want, whatever you need, anything. I’m there. I will always be there. I promise.”

[pheesics-blog]

"And hugging,” James pointed out. “You’ve gotten all ... boney. And not very huggable.” It wasn’t entirely said in jest. 

He glanced up when the Doctor started in on how he had him - it was slowly starting to dawn on him that it was true. There was still a part of him that was shocked and disbelieving. The Professor. Back. It felt like a dream.

“That I’m your son?” he quipped, then smiled. “No, of course not, we can’t say that. Everyone knows you’re old enough to be my... grandpa.”

The word still felt a little awkward on his tongue, too many years and too many things coming in between, but it wasn’t terrible. Just different. Just a little rusty. “And I thought you were old back then. You can’t have been older than I am now.”

James emitted a bit of a huff of a laugh at the mention of short and bossy, his mind immediately flying to Clara. Good for her, he thought. And good that the Doctor had a friend that he could run to. “I’m good at additions,” he said, still hesitant to jump into deep conversations about emotions. “Bells and whistles. Automated toasters.” When the Doctor started to trail off, he reached over and took the old man’s hands, thinking of all the times those hands had ... wiped tears, bandaged scraped knees, pointed out constellations, passed him books, chocolate, food. 

The way those hands had held his as they ran. 

“What happened?” he found himself asking. “What happened to you when you ...” he paused, thinking of how secretive the Doctor usually was, all the things he didn’t want to say. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “And I don’t need to know all the things that are too painful to say. But if you have time for ... a bedtime story or two...” He glanced up and met the Doctor’s eyes. “We can’t get those years back, but it’ll almost be as though I was there for it.”

“And... we have to tell John,” he said. “I haven’t mentioned anything to him yet - the only person I’ve told is Rose. Not even Jack. Or Donna. She’s after all..”

He paused, realising that he hadn’t told the Doctor about his big news either.

“My fiancee,” he blurted out in a rush.

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[pheesics-blog]

James sucked in a pained breath when the Doctor’s face crumpled. Part of him instinctively moved to hug the other, but the movement became an aborted twitch instead as he restrained himself. “Don’t–” he whispered instead. “Don’t do that thing with the… eyes.”

It sounded like a thing the Professor would say, and he wondered if he’d picked him up from him.

Lifting Lawrence off his shoulder, he put him down on a table where the squirrel scampered off, apparently checking out the shed to see what had changed in the meantime. 

“He comes and goes,” James said quietly. That was just the way of the world, he’d reasoned - but why did it have to hurt so much?

Dropping into a seat, he stared at … everything but the Doctor, trying to figure out the scrambled mess that was his motivation for coming here. But before he could gather his thoughts, the Doctor was holding something out to him, and when he glanced at it–

–his breath caught.

His dragon, beautifully restored like the day he’d gotten him, and the new one.

For a moment, he was four again, and staring wide-eyed at the Professor’s latest creations, and they were the most beautiful ting in the world. 

He picked up the two almost reverentially, recognising it for the peace offering it was, running his finger over the unfurling wings on the dragon’s back, the edges of the knight’s sword. 

“I think,” he said, his voice a little choked, “They’d be good as friends, don’t you?” He glanced over at the Doctor. “After all, the dragon’s been alone for a very long time, and maybe he’s … gotten tired of eating knights. Maybe it’s time for … a change.”

He wasn’t sure which was of them was the knight and which was the dragon, in this story, but … truth to be told, it didn’t really matter. 

Taking a breath, he fished in his own pocket, pulling out an antique fob watch on a silver chain. It was unique - its cover decorated by interlocking spirals, slightly scuffed and dented, but clearly lovingly polished and taken care of over the years. The rattle of the chain felt exceedingly loud in the deafening quiet that had settled over the shed, as James held it out to the Doctor.

“You left this when we said goodbye,” he said. “Well, I say left, I mean - it fell off you when you left. Well. I might have grabbed it. Well. Not intentionally.” He glanced at the watch. “I guess I never gave up hope that you’d come back, one day.” 

[firstnamethe-blog]

The Doctor couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips as he watched James take the two figurines. He remained silent as James decreed how the dragon and the knight were to be towards each other.

He understood perfectly what James was meaning, and when his eyes met the other’s, he smiled even wider and far more genuine. “Friends it is,” he confirmed giving a solid nod.

“You’re right, the dragon and the knight have both spent far too long alone and tired. They do need a friend, a trusted one.”

He glanced down at his hands as he drew back to sit more comfortably in his seat. Barnabus came scurrying over and seated himself next to the Caretaker while giving James a fixed and curious look. Scratching the little squirrel’s head, the Doctor’s gaze switched back over to James.

Staring in surprise, he almost completely broke when he saw what the other man was holding. “Where did you…? I thought I lost it…” Furrowing his brows in hazy confusion, the Doctor met James’ gaze once more. Oh. That was a night that the Doctor never really tried to remember too much of and yet still maintained as much memory of it as possible.

But he still didn’t remember the watch.

Slowly he reached out and gingerly picked it up, turning it over in hands before making a quick decision that he wasn’t sure that James would accept. With an emotional rush, the Doctor reached forward and pulled the younger man into his arms. He held James tightly -as if he were to let go he’d disappear- before whispering, due to the fear his voice would break, to him.

“I came back, just not in the way I should have. I vowed to watch over you the day I first brought you into my home. I’m sorry I ever had to leave you. No, I’m sorry I made the choice to leave you.”

[pheesics-blog]

Trust the Doctor to get what he was saying, even when he was saying it indirectly. Still, ‘friends’ wasn’t exactly what he wanted. The word sat awkwardly on his shoulders, feeling ill-fitting and distant.

He wanted what he’d had back, and he also knew that he couldn’t go back to that. He was too large to sit on the Doctor’s lap, after all.

There was still a gulf between them, and he didn’t know how to cross it. Wasn’t sure he dared.

“You did lose it, I suppose,” he said, doing what he was best at and avoiding the topic – until the Doctor took him completely off guard by yanking him into a hug.

It was an awkward hug by someone who hadn’t hugged anyone in a while, angles and sharp bony elbows and edges. James’ chin bumped the Doctor’s shoulder and he could feel the Doctor’s fingers digging into his back…

… But he didn’t care. He buried his face in the Doctor’s shoulder with a bit of a nervous, choked giggle (more of a sob), wrapping his arms around the person he had once loved the most in the world. The only true parent he’d ever had.

Anger melted away. Fear did too, and the wide, aching chasm in his heart was a raging rapid of ice melt. He didn’t know what to /do/, but at least now he knew what he wanted, and that, at least, was a big start.

“You did come back,” he replied. “And I couldn’t blame you for leaving - though your timing needs work…” Weak joke. “But you know – just for the record, Prof, you don’t get to .. Don’t get to pretend to be a stranger. And /stop/ saying sorry. I don’t want an apology. I just … I want you back.”

He took a breath that hiccuped on the way down. “That day when I found that file about the Time Lords in your box… I wanted to ask. I was so sure – but I was too scared. I should have … If I could rewrite time…”

Suddenly angry at his lack of coherency, he scrubbed at his eyes. “But enough about the past. What do we do now?”

He wasn’t used to leaving other people to make a decision and set the direction, but he was so lost in that moment, and the Professor had always had the answer, had always known what to do.

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[firstnamethe-blog]

The Doctor’s face immediately dropped to one of shame when James began to lay into him about what he was doing being the caretaker. He didn’t have a good answer, or at least one that James should accept.

“I enjoy it. it’s hard work, not something everyone wants to do, and it keeps me in the background.” He spoke quietly and calmly before giving a shrug. “I don’t teach anymore for a reason, James.” He added, stepping back and allowing the other entrance to his shed.

“I see Lawrence is doing well, not that that surprises me. He’s got a wonderful human to look after him.” It felt odd to compliment James and his chosen squirrel, but it was all the Doctor could do or say in that moment.

Scooping up the knight and the dragon, the Doctor gave James a nod. “Anytime you’d like, you can always come in.”

Turning away, he moved further into his shed, having to shoo Barnabus away from his favourite seat before setting himself down. “Have a seat if you’d like as well,” he hesitated, “I’d offer tea but I just ran out, I’d have to go to the kitchens and ask Rose for more…”

He flipped the finished figurines around in his hands before he looked up at James. “I saw you’d repainted it, nice choice of colour. I’m sorry I couldn’t find the exact shade but-” he held out his hands and offered both of them. “I gave him a friend… or a snack.”

[pheesics-blog]

James sucked in a pained breath when the Doctor’s face crumpled. Part of him instinctively moved to hug the other, but the movement became an aborted twitch instead as he restrained himself. “Don’t--” he whispered instead. “Don’t do that thing with the... eyes.”

It sounded like a thing the Professor would say, and he wondered if he’d picked him up from him.

Lifting Lawrence off his shoulder, he put him down on a table where the squirrel scampered off, apparently checking out the shed to see what had changed in the meantime. 

“He comes and goes,” James said quietly. That was just the way of the world, he’d reasoned - but why did it have to hurt so much?

Dropping into a seat, he stared at ... everything but the Doctor, trying to figure out the scrambled mess that was his motivation for coming here. But before he could gather his thoughts, the Doctor was holding something out to him, and when he glanced at it--

--his breath caught.

His dragon, beautifully restored like the day he’d gotten him, and the new one.

For a moment, he was four again, and staring wide-eyed at the Professor’s latest creations, and they were the most beautiful ting in the world. 

He picked up the two almost reverentially, recognising it for the peace offering it was, running his finger over the unfurling wings on the dragon’s back, the edges of the knight’s sword. 

“I think,” he said, his voice a little choked, “They’d be good as friends, don’t you?” He glanced over at the Doctor. “After all, the dragon’s been alone for a very long time, and maybe he’s ... gotten tired of eating knights. Maybe it’s time for ... a change.”

He wasn’t sure which was of them was the knight and which was the dragon, in this story, but ... truth to be told, it didn’t really matter. 

Taking a breath, he fished in his own pocket, pulling out an antique fob watch on a silver chain. It was unique - its cover decorated by interlocking spirals, slightly scuffed and dented, but clearly lovingly polished and taken care of over the years. The rattle of the chain felt exceedingly loud in the deafening quiet that had settled over the shed, as James held it out to the Doctor.

“You left this when we said goodbye,” he said. “Well, I say left, I mean - it fell off you when you left. Well. I might have grabbed it. Well. Not intentionally.” He glanced at the watch. “I guess I never gave up hope that you’d come back, one day.” 

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[pheesics-blog]

The Doctor’s words were like blows to his heart. He was ten again, and yelling at his parents – I want you to come home, I want you back, why did you leave, I hate you, I hate you, I don’t want you–!. His emotions were tumbling in free fall, hurt and betrayal and guilt (oh so much guilt) whirling faster than his mind could tackle.

He wanted to reach out to the Doctor. He wanted to brush away the pain he saw in the old man’s eyes, to hug him, to have everything go back to what it was. He wanted to tell him that he never needed to beg, to plead, to feel guilty.

He wanted to tell him that he understood, that a real family took priority over an adopted family, that he’d done the best he could in terrible circumstances, that he hadn’t known.

It was enough, for him, that the Doctor had at least tried.

But against that, his heart was telling him that this was too sudden, this was too much. His mind was in despair, his heart wanted to yell, anger crashing like waves upon a rocky beach, and behind it all, the sheer terror that if he did open his mouth and let that fury out, he’d never see the Doctor again.

(Like he’d never seen his parents again.)

This was his chance to make over, to try again, and he was frozen, unable to get over himself and his past, literally unable to cope, and he hated himself so much in that instant.

“I–” he tried. “You –”

His squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to draw breath. “I found them again,” he said instead. “My parents. I found them again later, and we quarreled, and I told them I didn’t want them. And they died.”

He didn’t know why he was saying this, or what he was saying. He was aware of the accusatory tone in his voice, and the way it came across, and he tried desperately to cajole the words into something that wasn’t so poisonous.

“I … … Thank you for getting John and I out of there,” he said stiffly, which wasn’t any improvement at all. Distant. Polite. Formal. Every word he spoke was making it all worse.

Silently, he reached for the drawer in his desk and pulled out something - little carved wooden dragon, the paint worn off in places. A child’s toy, obviously well loved. His thumb traced the familiar carvings, before he strode towards the Doctor, shoving it roughly against the man’s chest, before brushing past him and heading for the door.

“I need to go,” he said, a desperate lie to cover up the fact that he was running away.

[firstnamethe-blog]

For the longest time the Doctor stared at James. Hoping that he’d say something, anything. Instead, James seemed to be frozen in place and in time. And then when he did start to speak, the Doctor took another step forward but still stayed within a good distance between them. He was also grateful that the desk was there to separate them.

Not that he feared anything bad would happen, just that it made it harder for either of them to escape.

But his mind was quickly pulled into another part of the past and his eyes widened with fear and concern. “Yo-” he stopped mid-sentence, he hadn’t known about James finding his parents. He did, however, know that they were killed. It was their fault, but a new wave of guilt washed over him for it anyway.

He hung his head and sighed, so much to tell James, so much inability to say it. James had every right to be angry, every reason to hate him. He’d left the child, abandoned him on strangers who he wasn’t even sure could have taken care of him.

Still, it made his heart burst with a warm comfort when James thanked him. Even if it sounded like he was thanking him for cleaning up a spill. “Yes, well…” he gave another small nod.

When he was met with silence, the Doctor looked back up and watched in confusion as James came over and… oh.

The Doctor caught the figurine and held it in his hand as he turned it over, staring at it. Oh. “James…” he whispered, turning slowly to watch the other trying to walk away. He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t. Instead, he watched him leave. Pocketing the dragon, he left the room and made his way to Clara’s.

—

It had been a while, and though the Doctor had resumed his duties of cleaning up around the school, he still largely avoided the Science building. He didn’t want to face James - or rather, he didn’t want James to have to face him.

He was giving him space, allowing him to live his life and do his own thing. The Doctor wasn’t a part of it anymore, and he respected it.

It still didn’t mean he couldn’t restore the dragon statue or make a little knight to go along with it.

Sitting in his shed, he continued to knock out the finer details when he heard his door open and then a shuffling noise. He let out a sigh and wondered if it was a student or a random teacher wanting some sort of supply. However, when he stood up and turned around…“James?”

Placing the knight and the dragon down, the Doctor cleared his throat and adjusted his uniform before giving him a small smile. “What can I do for you? Is there a spill?”

[pheesics-blog]

He couldn't stop thinking about the Doctor. He had questions - /so many questions/, and answers that he feared, and ... Everything hurt. It was worse than the time he'd gone sledding downhill and ended up rolling instead.

Rose had had to bully him out of the funk he'd crashed into, and even then, it was days before he could pluck up the nerve to do what he knew needed to be done. He'd lost so much already, he didn't want to lose any more, least of all a second chance.

The anger had settled by the time he sought the Doctor out, leaving behind a hollow ache that seemed to get worse with every step he took towards the shed. Lawrence chittered on his shoulder, picking up on his mood, and pushed at his ear until he gave him an acorn.

All of his carefully rehearsed lines still failed him when the Doctor opened the door. "I--"

He winced when the Doctor asked him whether there was a spill, the misplaced anger flaring up again, but in a rather different direction. "Don't," he said sharply. "How can you stand to do this .. Be this, when you're one of the most brilliant people -- no, the most brilliant person in this school? Is this punishment? Some kind of self flagellation?" he demanded.

Great. That was not the way he thought this conversation was going to go.

He took a deep breath, feeling the chill of London rain, the way the damp got into his coat and down the back of his neck. "Could I ... May I come in?"

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[pheesics-blog]

James inhaled deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face, removing the momentary sign of weakness. It didn’t mean anything, it was just the age old hurt. He didn’t miss the Doctor. He didn’t miss the Professor.

He didn’t miss his grandpa.

“Oh,” he said archly. “You’re here because Chris is hunting down Missy.”

Petty of him. So… stupidly childish. Here he was … here was the breakthrough that he’d spent years of his childhood wishing would happen, that he’d daydreamed about from time to time as a teenager … that he’d half imagined, as an adult, in the secret, quiet places of his heart, would happen…

And here he was tossing it away because he couldn’t cope.

He saw the Doctor’s hand reach out to him, a conciliatory gesture. He remembered that hand pointing out stars and constellations, remembered it sketching symbols on a blackboard, remembered it tracing words in a book, explaining the meaning of things like ‘pontificate’ and ‘aerodynamic’. 

His own hands felt like lead, and he couldn’t seem to raise them at all.

“You pretended you didn’t recognise me,” he whispered harshly. “I thought I recognised you – but I thought you must have known who I was, and it couldn’t be you, because you would never stay a stranger. Because the man I remember, the one who taught me how to read, told me stories of the birth of civilisations, rescued me and my brother from our parents’ neglect… I thought that man would come running if he ever saw me again.”

He swallowed, hard. “I thought he was dead. Then when I met you, I realised I was right.”

His fingers curled into the edge of his desk, nails biting into wood. “Why didn’t you come back?” The question slipped out before he could stop it, even though he wasn’t sure that he wanted the answer. His voice broke on the last word, anger shattering into the pain of yesteryear, a child’s plaintive demand for an explanation. “I was nine, Doctor. Of course I was old enough to remember!”

[firstnamethe-blog]

The Doctor completely froze. No, that wasn’t why he was here. Not the full reason, not the real reason. The Doctor wanted to see James, but more importantly for James to see him.

“No…” he whispered, now feeling the full sting of rejection. He expected this, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. Nothing could ever prepare him for the pain of being rejected by a child he considered his own.

“I came because…” I missed you? I wanted to reconcile? Pick up where we left off? “I came because I am a coward and I should have told you in the beginning.”

When James brought up further points against him, the Doctor hung his head in shame. Everything that James was saying was absolutely correct. “I thought it would be easier if you forgot me. I’m an old, bitter man now. I lost my wife, I lost Susan…” finally he looked back up and met James’ eye. “But it doesn’t excuse the fact that I pushed the one person away from me who I know would have never rejected me.”

There was one point in James’ many points that had broken the Doctor the most, he did come running when he saw James again, just not in the way that James would have wanted or liked.

And not in the way he should have done it.

“He isn’t… he’s just buried, trying to keep…” everyone, you “…the past safe.” The last question was what did it, the Caretaker glanced away once more, this time pulling up buried memories that still scarred him. “I wanted to. I wanted to take you and John with me. We could have set something up, then came back for Susan and my wife later…maybe even Missy and her husband. But the day I tried to make my decision, the news came up that there had been an explosion in Glasgow.” He looked back towards James, a darker and distant look masked his emotions. “Things had gone wrong and I had to go back, I had to see if everyone was alright, that maybe it wasn’t-” he sighed, “maybe the news had lied.”

The Doctor felt broken and shameful, he wanted to be there for James, he wanted to raise him; instead he had acted on his own selfish whims. Whims that confirmed one family dead, and another to become distant.

[pheesics-blog]

The Doctor's words were like blows to his heart. He was ten again, and yelling at his parents -- /I want you to come home, I want you back, why did you leave, I hate you, I hate you, I don't want you--!/. His emotions were tumbling in free fall, hurt and betrayal and guilt (oh so much guilt) whirling faster than his mind could tackle.

He wanted to reach out to the Doctor. He wanted to brush away the pain he saw in the old man's eyes, to hug him, to have everything go back to what it was. He wanted to tell him that he never needed to beg, to plead, to feel guilty.

He wanted to tell him that he understood, that a real family took priority over an adopted family, that he'd done the best he could in terrible circumstances, that he hadn't known.

It was enough, for him, that the Doctor had at least tried.

But against that, his heart was telling him that this was too sudden, this was too /much/. His mind was in despair, his heart wanted to yell, anger crashing like waves upon a rocky beach, and behind it all, the sheer terror that if he did open his mouth and let that fury out, he'd never see the Doctor again.

(Like he'd never seen his parents again.)

This was his chance to make over, to try again, and he was frozen, unable to get over himself and his past, literally unable to cope, and he hated himself so much in that instant.

"I--" he tried. "You --"

His squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to draw breath. "I found them again," he said instead. "My parents. I found them again later, and we quarreled, and I told them I didn't want them. And they died."

He didn't know why he was saying this, or what he was saying. He was aware of the accusatory tone in his voice, and the way it came across, and he tried desperately to cajole the words into something that wasn't so poisonous.

"I ... ... Thank you for getting John and I out of there," he said stiffly, which wasn't any improvement at all. Distant. Polite. Formal. Every word he spoke was making it all worse.

Silently, he reached for the drawer in his desk and pulled out something - little carved wooden dragon, the paint worn off in places. A child's toy, obviously well loved. His thumb traced the familiar carvings, before he strode towards the Doctor, shoving it roughly against the man's chest, before brushing past him and heading for the door.

"I need to go," he said, a desperate lie to cover up the fact that he was running away.

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

Whose Dream is it Anyway? - Starter// James

[msdonnanobleteacher-blog]

Donna took James hand and returned his smile, “Just a walk in the park for you, yeah? Runnin’ from explostions and all that,” she teased, “you know, there are other ways to catch an adrenaline rush than almost blowin’ yourself to bits?”

She shook her head with a little laugh and threaded her arm through his as he steered them down a little path near the campsite. Donna raised an eyebrow at his dream about becoming a hand in a jar. “Really? I wonder what that’s supposed to mean?” she thought out loud before shrugging it off and telling him about her reoccurring nightmare.

She sensed something different in James demeanour, but nothing she could quite put her finger on, so she continued on. Then quite suddenly he simply stopped walking. Froze in place.

Donna shifted to get a good look at her best mate, her face immediately contorting with worry. He was just staring, at nothing. She started to wonder what she had said to upset him. Donna opened her mouth to call to him, to apologise, yell at him… Anything that would solicit some sort of reaction from him when he finally spoke.

However, his words didn’t make sense to her. Impossible? What was impossible?

“What’s impossible? James? James…? What is it?!” Donna clung to his hand tightly, searching his face for some clue as to what was wrong. “Oi, Spaceman, are you alright? Do we need to go back?” she was beginning to get frightened. This was so unlike him that she was quite unsure what to do. The look upon his face was pulling at her heart, making her feel helpless when finally he spoke, but his voice was so quiet that she leaned in to hear him better.

His hushed words reached her ears as James’ eyes snapped open, and he was once again looking at her causing Donna to inhale sharply.

“What?! Your what?… No… that’s…” she shook her head vehemetently, “no. How did you do that? I mean, I know you’re clever and yeah, we can tell when the other isn’t okay and all, but that!” she let go of his hand and took a step back, “I’ve never told anyone about that dream. Anyone!” she suddenly looked confused, “or have I and just forgotten? Is that it? Have I told you this before?” Donna’s face hardened, her voice went flat, “’ Cause if I have, that isn’t funny.”

[pheesics-blog]

“I’m always alright,” he replied, a reflex action. And those words did have a bit of a calming effect on him - at least on a superficial level. They reminded him to calm down, to keep his expression neutral, to keep the fluttering unease firmly bottled inside.

Because under that unease was the fear, and under that fear was the age old pain that had to do with anything that involved his childhood. Those gaps in his early memories, the sense of impending doom ... the knowledge that he’d done something wrong, something so very terrible that it had unleashed consequences that his young mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Memories that were so troubling, so terrifying, that he’d apparently blocked them out entirely.

“I had a friend,” he said, still quiet, approaching the topic tangentially, as though stalking a dangerous animal. “A good friend - when I was a child. I can’t remember her face, but some part of me thinks her name was Donna.”

He slanted a smile at her. “Or maybe I’m just getting mixed up. Never been very good with the finer details, me. Memory like a sieve. Still.” He rambled on, his voice picking up speed as it usually did. “There’s this dream that I have - sometimes. Recurring, that sort of thing. And this friend - I think she’s ginger, like you - she’s in that dream too, and we’re both children. Five? Six? Goodness knows. And we’re playing some game of make believe, pretending we’re ... sometimes it’s explorers, sometimes it’s astronauts, seems to vary quite a bit.”

He took a deep breath. “But then the scene shifts, you know in the way dreams tend to, and suddenly we’re talking about this...” he waved his hands. “Thing we’ve done. In my dream it’s usually a big red button on a box, but sometimes it’s a lever, sometimes it’s just a small red button. And my friend and I -- we’re thinking of pressing it. Daring each other to, almost. It’s part of the game. We’re explorers and that’s the button to open the secret tomb. Or we’re astronauts and that’s the lift off button. Something big. Flashy. Exciting.”

He took another breath, and this one wavered. “ Sometimes, there’s someone there, telling us to do it. Sometimes... it’s me there. Telling me to push it. All I know is that I want to - a bit scared, yes, but I really want to. And... my friend and I, we press it. Together. Then--”

Fire and screaming and danger.

“It cuts off. I wake up,” he lied. “And I don’t know what happened after that.”

He picked at a thread on the blanket, not meeting Donna’s eyes. “That’s my dream.”

[pheesics-blog]

Text || James and Rose

James: Rose.

James: Can you open the door?

James: I'm outside and it's raining.

[firstnamethe-blog]

Memories fade but the scars still linger ❅ Doctor + James

[firstnamethe-blog]

Oh… oh no. James was crying, why was he crying!?!?! The Doctor hadn’t prepared himself for this. Anything but this. He hadn’t seen the boy cry in ages, and now for it to be his fault!?!

The Caretaker inhaled sharply before closing his eyes and wishing that he wasn’t putting him through this. James even made good points about it, /why/ was he doing this now?

But it was made even more surprising when he responded almost immediately to him. “Because there was never going to be a good time to tell you and with Chris here hunting down Missy… things might get out, things might happen, and I cannot let something terrible happen to you. I can’t!” He took a step closer and hesitantly reached his hand out before dropping it down to his side.

“James, I wasn’t even sure going into this that you knew or remembered who I was. If I had known that you’d known, I would have told you much earlier. So I have no rights to apologise, I have no right to ask you if anything. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He frowned at himself before glancing away from the other. “I don’t have an excuse, I shouldn’t have left you. That’s it, that’s all. I made the decisions, and I regret some of them, but none more than the one where I left you and John in that foster home.”

He knew he was rambling at this point. So he paused, he forced himself to stop talking, and ultimately forced himself to face him.

[pheesics-blog]

James inhaled deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face, removing the momentary sign of weakness. It didn’t mean anything, it was just the age old hurt. He didn’t miss the Doctor. He didn’t miss the Professor.

He didn’t miss his grandpa.

“Oh,” he said archly. “You’re here because Chris is hunting down Missy.”

Petty of him. So... stupidly childish. Here he was ... here was the breakthrough that he’d spent years of his childhood wishing would happen, that he’d daydreamed about from time to time as a teenager ... that he’d half imagined, as an adult, in the secret, quiet places of his heart, would happen...

And here he was tossing it away because he couldn’t cope.

He saw the Doctor’s hand reach out to him, a conciliatory gesture. He remembered that hand pointing out stars and constellations, remembered it sketching symbols on a blackboard, remembered it tracing words in a book, explaining the meaning of things like ‘pontificate’ and ‘aerodynamic’. 

His own hands felt like lead, and he couldn’t seem to raise them at all.

“You pretended you didn’t recognise me,” he whispered harshly. “I thought I recognised you -- but I thought you must have known who I was, and it couldn’t be you, because you would never stay a stranger. Because the man I remember, the one who taught me how to read, told me stories of the birth of civilisations, rescued me and my brother from our parents’ neglect... I thought that man would come running if he ever saw me again.”

He swallowed, hard. “I thought he was dead. Then when I met you, I realised I was right.”

His fingers curled into the edge of his desk, nails biting into wood. “Why didn’t you come back?” The question slipped out before he could stop it, even though he wasn’t sure that he wanted the answer. His voice broke on the last word, anger shattering into the pain of yesteryear, a child’s plaintive demand for an explanation. “I was nine, Doctor. Of course I was old enough to remember!”