SPOILERS FOR THE DOCTOR'S WIFE!

Let's be honest, that episode was just begging for fanfictions to be written about it. I am a hopeless, full-blown Doctor/TARDIS supporter now. THEY HAZ EPIC SPACE LURVE *flails*

Hahah. Please enjoy. Reviews are great.

"…the Universe is a plughole and we've just fallen down it!"

You run to that sound.

Oh, Doctor. Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor…!

"Thief! Thief! You're my thief!" Using this voice you've suddenly acquired but the words in your head don't come out your mouth right, they get stuck. You greet him zealously at any rate, human emotion pounding through your new veins.

I've waited so long for you.

You scream at him joyously, sprinting towards the figure in a tweed jacket and a bowtie, your long, willowy arms stretched out before you. His shoulders are under your fingers and he looks at you even though he doesn't know you, you in this bizarre new body.

"Look at you!" The terrified expression on his face makes you want to dance. "Goodbye!" But humans don't say that when they see people. You're confused, he confuses you. "Not goodbye, what's the other one?"

You kiss him because you can.

I love you. I love you more than any of those little fleshy things with arms and legs that you bring home could ever love you. They would die if they loved you like I do.

You run your tongue along his front teeth and he tastes like fire and Gallifrey and black holes.

He shoves your body away from his, wiping his mouth, and it makes you feel hollow. He doesn't want to kiss you back. Something burning and sticky starts bubbling up inside your stomach, something that hurts behind your eyes and makes you want to break and damage things. Humans get it a lot, you have observed.

"…keep back from this one, she BITES!"

Ah, there it is. It's an emotion. You're angry.

"Do I? Excellent!"

You put your arms around his neck and sink your teeth into his throat. When you do, and the orange girl and the pretty one protest loudly, and Aunty and Uncle reprimand you, and the Doctor wails in agony, you can feel the beginning of time and time's demise in the arteries that carry his double pulse.

This for letting Bad Wolf open me up. This is for taking away Doctor Donna. This is for what the Master did to me.

Then they pull you away from your Doctor and he just keeps saying "Ow! Ow!" at you.

"Biting is excellent. It's like kissing, only there's a winner." You're only having some fun. Winning is fun.

"Sorry. She's doolally."

Hm. Doolally. Doo-lal-ly. Insane, mad or eccentric. That feeling again, that anger, burning and sticky but not quite as sharp. You're not insane, or mad, or eccentric.

Well, maybe a little. You're a Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. You're sexy. The Doctor told you so. You haven't come to grips with names yet. "I'm not doolally! I'm….I'm…." What's the word? Everything with a heartbeat is. What, what, what? "It's on the tip of my tongue." You tell the people around you.

You look at the Doctor for assistance and a feeling abruptly explodes within you. White hot and quite inexplicable, it detonates somewhere under your ribcage and spirals downwards, pooling in your stomach. This dress of yours is actually rather hideous. And you find yourself thinking that the Doctor is wearing an unnecessary amount of clothing. You're feeling lust, clearly, and it's so ridiculous you want to laugh.

Look at me, Doctor. Look at me having touchy-feely, girly emotions about you. Look at what you're doing to me, Theta.

"I've just had a new idea about kissing. Come here!" You stumble over your own new feet in your haste and the Doctor runs from you, hides behind his strays. Aunty holds you back. Something hard and dangerous is glinting in the Doctor's eyes. He looks like he wants to do a lot of shouting.

"Oh, but now you're angry. No, you're not. You will be angry…. The little boxes will make you angry."

You look at him with sorrow. He's so hopeful but the Universe (and this place, a few steps away from the Universe) does not care for optimism.

I see it now. Oh, I'm very very sorry.

"What…boxes?"

You shriek with laughter as he moves towards you and you grab out with one hand. "Your chin is hilarious!" You clutch his face. You feel the weight of gravity holding your feet to the surface of this weird, sentient asteroid as your fingers touch his skin. And you tell the pretty one what he needs to know. Not everything but some of it. The pretty one will learn soon.

"Now, now, Idris, you need a rest."

Even as Aunty says it you feel a heavy blanket of exhaustion overwhelm you, an intensely bad pressure in your chest, and your vision, which is full of the Doctor's angelic face, flickers slightly. You start babbling in your anxiety.

"Rest? Yes, yes, good idea. I'll just… see if there's an off switch."

You legs give from underneath you.

He catches you, of course he does, with a shout of "No!" and all the fury and the desire and the exhilaration all drain away, caught up and blown away like a flower petal in a tornado.

I must be dying, Doctor. I'm using similes.

You feel his hands on you as he guides you onto what could be a washed up rowing boat but you know he is just doing it out of kindness. It's what is expected of him. The pretty one tells you you're still breathing but you can't believe it. You think you like this pretty one. The pretty one stays close whilst he backs away.

It was only for a second but that hardly matters.

The Doctor held you in his arms, and if you are going to die, that is the only knowledge you will ever need.

Fin.