A few ideas knocking around my head...watching Tenth Planet for the first
time...stuff people were saying at a discussion forum I frequent (and I
actually wrote this a while ago, so I don't remember what exactly we were
discussing)...you know, all sorts of things, and this is what I came up
with. Must I remind you once again that I don't own the Doctor (can anyone
truly own him? Unless every single fan does...never mind; I was about to
go into Noble Speech Mode, and that was just too terrible to contemplate),
the TARDIS, or anything else used in this story? Didn't think so...sigh.
Would be nice though, wouldn't it?...
Reaffirmation
He couldn't hide forever.
There were few things he feared. And he was a master at conquering those things that he did fear.
But some times were harder than others.
The Doctor took a deep breath, closed his eyes, stepped in front of the full-length mirror in the wardrobe room in the TARDIS, expelled the breath he'd been holding, opened his eyes, and flinched.
His pale blue eyes hardened, and he deliberately took a step closer to the mirror, taking in the detail of laugh lines around his watchful eyes, the way the light brown curls fell over his high forehead, the paleness of his skin, the shape of his nose and the hollow in his cheek. Forcing himself to look. Taking in every detail of his face as if he'd never seen it before.
Well, the last time he'd looked at himself he'd been clothed merely in a sheet and had had no memory of who he was. It was past time for a proper look at his new face, new self.
Such a fraud.
The Doctor hated regenerating. Hated those early days--weeks, years-- right after the transformation, when he was still settling into himself. His new self. It was so unsettling. He felt like...like he couldn't trust himself. After all, he wasn't himself anymore.
The Doctor sighed impatiently and paced away from the mirror. Foolish nonsense, he tried to persuade himself. Of course he was still himself. Just...a new self. A rebirth. A renewal. A needed one at that. That was all.
He hated to see his new appearance every time--he might joke about it, if there was someone with him, saying the nose was a definite improvement, or it really was a distinguished face, some such thing, but...it was frightening, not recognizing yourself. Not being able to trust yourself to be yourself. It was frightening, feeling in that first instant like a sham. A fraud. As if he had no right to be in that new body, presuming to take over his old self's life as if nothing had happened. He sometimes thought only his first self had ever felt truly comfortable in his body.
At least he'd learned what to expect from a regeneration--true, each one was different, with its own special pain (Sarcasm, the Doctor reproved himself lightly), but he'd come to know how to deal with it. The first time had been the worst. He still shuddered at the memory. And of course that memory was such a very vivid one.
He'd felt so desperately alone that first time. Yes, Ben and Polly had been in the TARDIS with him at the time, but they'd had no more idea what to expect than he had. That had been truly frightening, the one moment when he'd actually wished he'd stayed behind with his people so they could help him through the trauma. So he wouldn't be so alone.
It was still always difficult, but now he knew better how to cope. There were still those moments though...only another Time Lord could understand. His companions, his friends, might care for him a great deal and help him out in any way they could, but they would never understand how that transformation felt, how much it affected him.
But he was still the Doctor. And he'd made it through every single regeneration before. He always needed a little time to readjust, that was all. Become used to his new self.
The Doctor resolutely turned back to the mirror.
Reaffirmation
He couldn't hide forever.
There were few things he feared. And he was a master at conquering those things that he did fear.
But some times were harder than others.
The Doctor took a deep breath, closed his eyes, stepped in front of the full-length mirror in the wardrobe room in the TARDIS, expelled the breath he'd been holding, opened his eyes, and flinched.
His pale blue eyes hardened, and he deliberately took a step closer to the mirror, taking in the detail of laugh lines around his watchful eyes, the way the light brown curls fell over his high forehead, the paleness of his skin, the shape of his nose and the hollow in his cheek. Forcing himself to look. Taking in every detail of his face as if he'd never seen it before.
Well, the last time he'd looked at himself he'd been clothed merely in a sheet and had had no memory of who he was. It was past time for a proper look at his new face, new self.
Such a fraud.
The Doctor hated regenerating. Hated those early days--weeks, years-- right after the transformation, when he was still settling into himself. His new self. It was so unsettling. He felt like...like he couldn't trust himself. After all, he wasn't himself anymore.
The Doctor sighed impatiently and paced away from the mirror. Foolish nonsense, he tried to persuade himself. Of course he was still himself. Just...a new self. A rebirth. A renewal. A needed one at that. That was all.
He hated to see his new appearance every time--he might joke about it, if there was someone with him, saying the nose was a definite improvement, or it really was a distinguished face, some such thing, but...it was frightening, not recognizing yourself. Not being able to trust yourself to be yourself. It was frightening, feeling in that first instant like a sham. A fraud. As if he had no right to be in that new body, presuming to take over his old self's life as if nothing had happened. He sometimes thought only his first self had ever felt truly comfortable in his body.
At least he'd learned what to expect from a regeneration--true, each one was different, with its own special pain (Sarcasm, the Doctor reproved himself lightly), but he'd come to know how to deal with it. The first time had been the worst. He still shuddered at the memory. And of course that memory was such a very vivid one.
He'd felt so desperately alone that first time. Yes, Ben and Polly had been in the TARDIS with him at the time, but they'd had no more idea what to expect than he had. That had been truly frightening, the one moment when he'd actually wished he'd stayed behind with his people so they could help him through the trauma. So he wouldn't be so alone.
It was still always difficult, but now he knew better how to cope. There were still those moments though...only another Time Lord could understand. His companions, his friends, might care for him a great deal and help him out in any way they could, but they would never understand how that transformation felt, how much it affected him.
But he was still the Doctor. And he'd made it through every single regeneration before. He always needed a little time to readjust, that was all. Become used to his new self.
The Doctor resolutely turned back to the mirror.