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But if you can still dream – 12

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“Dreams are extremely important. You can’t do it unless you imagine it.”

George Lucas

Doctor – False awakening

Jack stood at the console, trying to recall the last lesson on steering the TARDIS he received just a few hours before. Doctor, who had recently progressively became more introspective, brooding and quiet, has left him to his own devices and declared he’s going to the library to do some research.

‘Research, my ass. Of course, he’s researching. His own dreams…’

The Doctor was, indeed, researching. Something has been bothering him lately and he just couldn’t quite identify the feeling that wandered along his spine – he would never admit he had a gut feeling.

But he had. And every time he managed to get some precious time alone (TARDIS being occupied with Captain’s flying and Captain being occupied in not crashing them) he attempted a bit of meditation. Supposedly to work out what the hell was bugging him. Of course it had nothing to do with the repeating dreams of Rose he usually managed to catch when he tried this. Not at all.

He was now sitting on the comfy sofa in the middle of the large reading room, his suit jacket lying in a heap together with his shoes and cufflinks (he already knew they disrupted some energy flows, also, cuffed sleeves were uncomfortable). He had carefully placed his legs in the lotos position and was humming quietly, working himself into a trance.

His mind relaxed, he felt his connection with the Vortex strengthening and his scope of view expand fluidly.

He was still sitting there, trying to find the element in the surrounding reality that started getting on his nerves lately when he heard voices from the corridor, a discussion, followed suddenly by a crash, a lurch of internal gravity of TARDIS and a scream.

A female scream.

Very well-known female scream.

He tried to rise, stopped to untangle his legs, and run towards the noises, stopping only to pick up his screwdriver.

TARDIS was emitting damage reports and complaints about things appearing where they should not be, but he muted her down, concentrating on finding the source…

Ah.

Rose, lying motionlessly in the corridor. Just next to some nasty-looking piece of railing, on which she probably bumped her head and acquired this large bruise that was now coming to view on her cheek.

He ran back to the reading room and retrieved his jacket. The only way to support her head now was with something soft, he should have taken… Well. Here she is.

He scanned her neck and as much of the spine as he could reach, but found no internal injuries that would have prevented him from moving her a bit. He lifter her head onto the makeshift pillow and placed her comfortably. Only when he was sure she would not slip back on the floor, he attempted a waking-up.

She looked at him, but as he expected, talked nonsense. Never mind, she was here and he was going to save the day – of course, with a little help from Jack.

With a little help from Jack he also managed to move Rose to the infirmary, to examine her and to process the results. Finally, when the man was swaying on his legs and apparently only his male pride and honour were keeping him up, the Doctor kicked the human out of the infirmary and back into his room.

They talked and he told her a story and then he carried her out and into – as he planned – her own room. Unfortunately, TARDIS had other ideas, so he ended up putting Rose into his own bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and looked at her as she nestled deeper under the covers, still holding his poor old suit jacket.

He tried pulling up his legs on the bed, but lost his balance and woke up to a feeling of a carpet in his nose as he was lying on the floor of the reading room. Hah. He dreamed about waking up, AGAIN.

Jack standing in the doorframe and smirking didn’t improve his mood.

But when they found out that his jacket was indeed, missing, they were both equally weirded out.

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Written by Srebrna

2013/08/03 at 00:13

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