The Prodigal Lover [short]
Michael S. Tumilty
I apologize for this incredibly soppy piece
of fan-fiction. I couldn't help myself. It's
rated G. Oh, and before anyone asks,
in my fan freaked little mind, yes, this
is the Hurndall Doctor. Share and Enjoy!
-------------------------------------------------------
*If it doesn't belong to me, it belongs to the BBC,
unless it belongs to someone else*
The Prodigal Lover
by Erin Tumilty
The Doctor carefully studied his reflection in the mirror
against the photograph in his hand. Not even Susan
had been able to tell the difference. He wondered if *she*
would...
It was amazing, really, how is final regeneration had
brought him full circle. He had only been a few hundred
years old when he met her, and now here he was, no
more than twenty years from death. To be sure, he
could return to Gallifrey for medical help and therapy,
but better two decades in a garden than two centuries
in a hospital bed.
He checked the mirror again, humming as he knotted
his old fashioned string tie and adjusted his frock coat.
The outfit was a bit faded and stiff after its 1500 year
retirement, but thanks to the TARDIS wardrobe, it
was still quite servicable. Only one thing left, the Doctor
thought. He went to the umbrella stand next to the door
and rummaged through the rattan handled umbrellas,
humorous canes, and oversized recorders until he
found exactly the right one. A walking stick carved
like wooden spiral that fit easily into the Doctor's
palm. He shined the worst of the dust off with his cuff
and returned to the mirror to look himself over one
last time. Finally satisfied with his appearance, the
Doctor opened the TARDIS doors and walked out into
the blazing South American sunshine.
During his long plannings and preparations for this
last trip he had been almost floating, lost in the
memory of her conversation, and her eyes and
the way they had looked at him when he had to
leave, and the feel of the brooch pressed into his
hands...But the bright sunlight brought him crashing
down to earth. His hearts started beating faster as
millenia of doubt rushed around him. What if she
was already dead? What if his old fingers had made
a misstep in their dance across the console? Dear
Rassilon. what would he do if Blinovitch found
out? But there she was, her back to him, examining
a flowering plant. The Doctor smiled in relief, then
whispered something to the TARDIS. Immediately,
the air seemed to fill with the smell of fresh cocoa.
The woman lifted her head from her flower and breathed
the rich scent in. Slowly, she turned around.
The Doctor took a step forward.
"Cameca?"
-----------------------------------------------------
I know this wasn't very good, but I
just saw The Aztecs for the first time
and what else could a hopelessly
romantic writer of fan-fic do? Comments,
as always, are welcomed with red
carpets.
-Erin
PAUL GADZIKOWSKI
Michael S. Tumilty (tum...@email.msn.com) wrote:
: I know this wasn't very good, but I
: just saw The Aztecs for the first time
: and what else could a hopelessly
: romantic writer of fan-fic do? Comments,
: as always, are welcomed with red
: carpets.
: -Erin
I liked it. I really, really liked it.
--
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Eng6gcgs
In article <uzMYhB1E9GA.170@upnetnews04>, "Michael S. Tumilty"
<tum...@email.msn.com> writes:
>I know this wasn't very good
I enjoyed it. The Hurndall "thing" was a great conceit.
'Instant Karma!'
(title of John Lennon song)