Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its characters, trademarks, etc. are all the property of the BBC (and you´re doing a great job, guys :-). I have no claim to it whatsoever. I´ve just borrowed the characters for this story. Please, please don´t sue me.
Author´s Note: I read about the `Weasel´ comment on Yahoo. Poor Tennant. Yes, it was kind of funny :-D, but I felt sorry for him. And for Eccleston. They´ve been getting so much flak just for doing their jobs.
So I wrote this...
"No, no, no, no, no."
The Doctor shook his head. He examined the figure before him with a critical eye.
"Too short. Too young. And that face. He looks like a...like a..." He waved his hand abstractedly.
"Some would say - the ears..." Fate pointed out, as tactfully as possible.
"Yeah. But they´re my ears," the Doctor countered. "That´s just..." He gestured to the figure and shook his head.
"And this one?"
"Too old. Too thin."
"Don´t like his teeth."
"Nose is too long."
"Nah. He looks like a horse."
The Doctor examined him thoughtfully.
"No," he said at last. "I do too much running to go without legs. And the TARDIS isn´t wheelchair-friendly."
"Hair´s too long."
"Eyes are too small."
"He´s a teenager!"
The Doctor glared at Fate.
"That´s Rose!" he protested.
"My mistake." Fate waved her away.
"That´s a Cyberman!"
"Your point being...?" Fate asked drily.
"No," the Doctor stated firmly. "Absolutely not."
"I´ve already been him!"
"And him! Not him - he was terrible."
The other Doctor glared at him and stomped away. The colours of his coat lingered for a few moments, burned into the retina.
He eyed the figure critically.
"She´s... Well, she´s... She´s a `she´."
The Doctor shrugged.
"I prefer to be male."
Fate looked exasperated.
"Well," she said, "that´s all of them, then."
He frowned at her.
"Wha´d´ya mean `all of them´?"
"That´s it. That´s all we´ve got. If nothing will satisfy you, then I´m afraid you´ll just have to die."
"Now, wait a minute!" he protested, looking alarmed.
"I´ve done all I can," she told him. "I brought you back from the dead. I brought you back from the archives, which is much more difficult. I gave you adventure, style, romance and success. I gave you two attractive companions and a working TARDIS. But, if you´re just going to throw it all away..."
"But none of them´s me!" he protested.
Fate sent him a withering look.
"Neither are you," she pointed out. "You´re just another face in the relay race. You´re watched, loved and remembered. Then it´s someone else´s turn. He prolongs you. He gives you life. And, without him..."
The Doctor stared at her.
"Give me another chance," he asked, suddenly realising what he had done.
Fate´s gaze was steady.
"No more chances. My patience is not infinite. And neither are you."
She stood, wearily. Her robes rustled like autumn leaves, every thread a person´s life.
"I´m sorry, Doctor," she told him. "I´m very fond of you. Really I am. I´ve helped you more than anyone else, but you´ve made your choice. Hold onto your past and you risk losing your future. You, of all people, should know that.
Fate snapped her fingers
...and there was darkness.
There was light.
The Doctor opened his eyes.
"Now, where were we?" he wondered, struggling to remember.
His mouth felt strange.
"New teeth..." he remarked, running his tongue over them.
"Ah, yes," he remembered, and glanced toward Rose. She was staring at him from behind one of the girders.
And, speaking carefully, the Doctor pronounced a single word:
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