#godsdw

Ow, ow, ow, okay, ow, this wasn't meant to be happening, ow, but, ow, as soon as she was able to focus, ow, she would be able to, ow, get started fixing it.

Ow.

That was the idea, at least. But she wasn't sure the pain was going to ease off enough for her to focus. The scratches on her arms had healed, so to speak - scabbed over with nasty patches of off-white plastic, around which orange-tinted blood was sluggishly oozing.

For @godsdw

Ian stood in the doorway of Susan’s TARDIS looking out on an alien planet. It was a sight he hadn’t expected to see again. Once he and Barbara had left the Doctor he thought he’d be spending the rest of his life on Earth. Which was fine - he’d done the adventuring and now was happy to be settling down.

And yet he wasn’t unhappy to be here again. But Susan had better get him back in time for his wedding or Barbara was going to kill him.

This planet looked like the Caribbean. If the Caribbean was red. There was a long beach in front of them, with pink sand. The sea had a red tint and the sky was decidedly red, with a large red sun hanging low in the sky. It was beautifully warm and looked a lot like paradise.

She felt washed out. She wasn't sure how much of it was actually showing - the pallor of her skin, shadows under her eyes, lank and greasy hair. Her head throbbed, her left eye was struggling more and more to focus recently. SHe was trying to act normal, trying to find out more about her past whilst her head felt like it was in a tighter and tighter vice.

So when she stopped walking, eyes fixated on an impossible face - the breath that escaped her was barely audible. It couldn't be him. He was dead. No matter how many times she saved Gallifrey, he ended up dying. He couldn't be here. He was dead. But when she looked at him, she had a second of disbelief. Then a flood of fractured memories, agony threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't see, couldn't think, could only stumble towards him -

That sound.

They knew that sound.

Jet was at their dingy little one room flat, just - bored. Considering trying to go for a fly, maybe, but they would have to leave city limits as it was the day. When that sound, the beautiful, raspy scraping sound, reached them. The Doctor. They felt a wave of joy - she had been helping them so very much, coming to terms with what they are, how t control their shifting ability.

They grabbed a jacket and shot down into the street, darting to where their sensitive ears insisted it had come from but - no sign of the blue box. They stopped and frowned, peering around.

She’s comfortable, and a little sleepy, and probably as content as she’d felt in a long time. Glancing at where Patience was curled up into her side, she couldn’t help but smile ... the words weren’t English. An old Gallifreyan song she hadn’t sung in - such a long time, in fact. They didn’t translate well but if asked -

“Whisper, whisper, in the cloisters; set the bells a chiming. No loud noises to disturb your slumber. Whisper, whisper, in the streets; the citadel is resting. The suns are set, the night is clear. Your eyes are soft and heavy. Whisper, whisper, in your dreams; you know that I will love you.”