Alphabet Soup

Challenge: Write 26 drabbles or oneshots. The inspiration for each will be a word starting with a different letter of the alphabet. Pick the words yourself. Anything goes.

Spoilers for all five seasons of the new series. Many pairings, mostly canon, some not. Disclaimer: Not mine.

Part Four: T-Z

TORTURE

Tappity-tap. Tappity-tap.

The Master opens one eye, glancing at the Doctor.

The other Time Lord is sitting in his wheelchair, still aged so many years. The Master somewhat regrets that, actually. It didn't hurt as much as he'd have liked, and really, had changed nothing. Not to mention, the Doctor is no longer as handsome. Really, this incarnation had the most gorgeous hair, until he aged it all away. And now he couldn't turn the Doctor back. That would be showing weakness or forgiveness or some other idiotic emotion for which the Master does not care.

Tappity-tap.

The Master snorts. "Stop that."

The Doctor doesn't even look at him. He just beats the rhythm out again. The sound of his fingernails reverberates, throughout the silent room.

As if the drums in his head weren't bad enough.

And the old man taps four times again, and again, and again.

The Master leaves the room, muttering something about boredom and going off to play with that silly immortal again. Maybe he'll try a beheading, this time.

But the beat of four follows him nonetheless, and it burns.

The Master is forced to wonder if he's won.

UNDERNEATH

The Doctor can be very harsh with her, sometimes, but Rose lets him get away with it. Why?

Well, she knows herself. She's not terribly special. Not very smart, or anything. She's only a shop girl from London. Twenty-first century London, at that. But if there's one thing she can understand, it's people. She gets people. The Doctor might not be human, but he's no less of a person, so she can see it.

He's lonely, and scarred, and terrified by everything that's happened to him. He's been through more than she can ever imagine.

So if he sometimes yells at her or insults her or something equally rude, she knows he's just lashing out.

And the more she stays with him, the less he does it. He's healing.

Rose doesn't know how much she's factored in to that healing, but it doesn't matter. Either way, she's sticking by him no matter what.

Underneath his mercurial moods and bitter outlook, he's so, so much more.

VIOLETS

For once the half-human Doctor is glad he's stuck in the twenty-first century. They haven't begun to genetically enhance flowers yet, nor have they begun to import flowers from galaxies half-way across the universe, leaving him with a delightfully limited selection of flowers.

And he still can't pick out which he should buy.

At least he knows he isn't going to pick out roses… He shudders, imagining the look Rose would give him if he did. It's not worth it.

So then what?

Carnations?

Orchids?

Tulips?

Suddenly, his cell phone vibrates, causing the Doctor to jump in surprise.

He flips it open. He's received a text message? From Jackie?

"Go with violets. Don't be late for your date if you're planning to propose, you half-alien tart! And pick up some milk, would you? Tony knocked over and spilled it all."

The Doctor grins.

Who'd've thought the slow path could be so fun?

He whistles a little tune, buys the violets, and heads to the supermarket, rather certain that he's the luckiest man in the universe.

All of them, actually.

WRITTEN

"Oi, you in the bowtie!"

He's left Amy and Rory to have some alone time in the TARDIS, while he goes and picks up a few repair parts for his darling ship.

The Doctor did not expect to be recognized, least of all by the man selling – what kind of meat is that anyway?

"Yes?" He asks, looking over. The mechanic, currently looking for the coupling he requested, ignores them both.

"Some lady asked me to give you a message." He throws a paper airplane over, which the Doctor snatches from the air, completely confused.

Unfolding the airplane, he finds a message written in twenty-third century German, perhaps the language least likely to show up on this planet. Ever.

Hello, sweetie! If they have an extra size nine mesothermal booster in stock, would you pick one up for me? xxx

The Doctor is undeniably amused. "River," he says, shaking his head fondly.

He picks up the part, as well as the one he came for, and wonders how long it will be until he delivers that mesothermal booster.

Timey-wimey wibbly-wobbly…

X-RAY

The Doctor looks at the device in his hands, and laughs.

"Hey! I'm in pain, by the way!"

He grins at Rose, almost sheepishly, and nervously runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry, it's just… You actually broke your arm."

"I what?" she shrieks.

"You tripped. On the pavement. And you broke your arm. It's just a tiny, hairline fracture, but…" He's still grinning as he pulls some weird machine from the shelf.

"So you're saying I can come through aliens and planets and ships and all that, and come out unscathed."

He nods, running the machine over her arm. It makes a buzzing sound, and within a moment or two her bone is completely fixed.

"And then I come home to see mum one day, which is about the least dangerous thing I do these days, and I trip and my arm's broken. Is that right?"

He nods again, still grinning with sheer amusement. "Jeopardy-friendly? You're the most trouble-attracting person I've ever known, and that includes me!"

Rose groans, and with her newly healed arm, throws a pillow at him.

YEARS

"Okay, okay, we're in a dungeon, underground, and trying to escape. I say we go…" The Doctor licks his finger and sticks it out, then points to the right. "That way."

Rory frowns.

"Doctor, I'm pretty sure we came from the other direction."

"I'm almost certain we take a right here; now come along, Ponds!"

"No, Doctor. The exit is to the left, not the right."

"I'm the designated driver, I say this way."

"But you're wrong."

"I'm a Time Lord; I'm never wrong."

"Yeah, except, you are."

"Well I'm older, so ha! This way!"

"I lived for almost two thousand years. You're only about one thousand. I'm older. And you're still wrong. We should go left, Doctor."

"That was only mental-"

"Oh, please!" Amy interrupts. "Boys!"

They both look at her.

"Alternatively, we could go straight and take the stairs."

There is a silence.

Rory coughs. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

"Good work, Amy," the Doctor says approvingly. "We go straight!"

"You two are rubbish without me," she declares, disgusted.

But then there's a tiny explosion from behind them, and they all start to run. The argument is forgotten.

ZERO

She's lived a happy life, but she still wishes she'd seen more.

She has served her purpose well for many a Time Lord, but it's not right for her, is it? To be decommissioned? To just… end?

Wasn't there more she could do? She was old, not defunct. She was in nearly perfect working condition, thank you very much. So perhaps she missed by a couple years, sometimes, or maybe she'd gained a bit of an attitude as time has gone by. But is that so bad? Does that mean she's useless as a ship, with no reason for being?

Suddenly, somebody is there. He's already pretty old, but he wants to leave. And he's taking her to do it.

She's being stolen?

A younger girl enters with this excitable old man, and now she has two new pilots, and she's leaving, and she's stolen.

It wasn't her time after all.

She sees time twist before her, and sees things change. She has a future with this man and his granddaughter. A whole lifetime of people and friends and sadness and happiness and it'll be rough. She's only a type 40 after all.

But this TARDIS rather likes being stolen.

She's free, and she'll happily take this man wherever he wants to go, for the rest of her years.

It'll be an adventure.