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They have absolutely no idea where they're going, and it's brilliant.

All of it is brilliant. Perhaps not very wise, all told, but that doesn't much matter at the moment. Not when they're laughing and clinging to the console and so very close.

It's easier, with Sarah Jane. Easier to laugh and hug and be. Perhaps it's because he knew her in an easier time; perhaps it's simply because she's Sarah. Perhaps it's both.

It doesn't matter why, because they're landing, and it's time for another adventure.

"Where do you suppose we are?" He's grinning a mad grin, wide and bright and delightfully painful.
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The Doctor wanted to relax.

Usually he found such things rather boring, but even he could admit it was sometimes essential; after, perhaps, an emotional upheaval, and a battle with rabid fluffy toys. Funny; usually such an adventure would help put such things out of his mind, but it didn't work.

Perhaps this would.

The Eye of Orion may have been a predictable choice, he supposed, even dull, but there was no need for the TARDIS to be so stubborn about it.

"Now, really – " He stumbled, banging his shin against the console as his ship roared in his mind; since when did she hate...

...No.

No, she wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere specific.

Slowly, he straightened, holding tightly to the edge, and listened. He'd been so closed off, so rigid, that he never felt her own desperation. He didn't know the cause, but he knew that emotion so very well.

So very, very well.

Softly, "All right, old girl. Take me where you like."

Soon enough, they materialised on a scorched, barren world that made his mind shiver.

Well, he can't go back now.

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The Doctor | Doctor Who

April 2013

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