Do you guys subscribe to the theory that (at least, starting in NuWho) the Doctor can, somewhat, subconsciously control his regenerations?
Like, of course, 8 wanted to be a warrior, so he became the War Doctor (I know that he drank a potion for that, but that might’ve just been lemonade according to the Target Novelization).
War wanted to be the hero, to earn the title, the Doctor, again, so he became 9.
9 wanted to be someone who was the perfect partner to Rose (human), so he became 10.
10, in his vanity, wanted his final regeneration to be young, so he became 11.
11, after all the heartache, wanted to be more distant (and also what they said in series 8), so he became 12.
12 wanted a kind, fresh start, so he became 13.
13 wanted to open up to someone, so she became 14.
14 wanted time to heal, so he split off 15.
This is not an original theory, and I'm not even saying that I buy into it fully it, but it's interesting. It would be interesting if the Doctor had a tiny bit of control over their regeneration (Romana did, somehow) and most of the time his wants either backfire or only half work.
What do you think?
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beer & apologies
(buddie) (722 words) (7x04 coda)
It’s late, later than any reasonable person would show up on a friend’s doorstep, but Buck’s got this bright, warm feeling in his chest and all he wants to do is apologize so he can share it. For a split second he thinks about knocking, but that feels a little too much like going backwards. Instead, he lets himself in and hangs his key on the hook.
“Eddie,” he calls quietly into the still house.
“Kitchen.” The reply is soft, easy, like Eddie was expecting him.
Buck steps into the room and holds up the beer he brought.
Eddie looks up at him and grins, soft and warm in the glow of the lamplight. “What’s that for?”
“This is ‘sorry for acting like a teenager and spraining your ankle’ beer,” Buck says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”
Eddie sighs and pushes an empty chair back from the table with his foot, gesturing for Buck to sit. “I’m sorry too,” he says.
“No, no, you don’t—" Buck starts.
“Yeah, I do,” Eddie interrupts with a wry grin. “You should definitely be sorry-er, though, so I’ll take the beer.”
Buck snorts and sits, setting the six pack on the table between them.
“We didn’t—well, I didn’t…”
“I know,” Buck says. “I was just—”
“I know,” Eddie says softly.
A few, quiet moments pass, and it’s comfortable, exactly what Buck was missing the last couple of days.
“Hey,” Eddie says suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “at least now I know why you always said no to basketball.” He smiles, loose and just a tiny bit mischievous.
Buck splutters. “What? No! I wasn’t that bad,” he protests.
Eddie lifts his injured ankle and raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, well maybe, but—”
“Uh-uh,” Eddie says, “no buts. You haven many talents, Buck, but basketball isn’t one of them.”
Buck ducks his head and grins. “Maybe I’ll get Tommy to teach me, then I can beat you without playing dirty.” Saying Tommy’s name out loud gives birth to a few giddy butterflies in his stomach.
“You two make up?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” Buck says. “He uh—texted me.” The butterflies turn to little rocks.
“Good,” Eddie says, “that’s good.” He grabs a beer and twists the top off. “I really think you guys will get along, if you give him a chance.”
“We, um. Yeah. We probably will.” Buck grabs a beer of his own and stares at the label.
He doesn’t—he didn’t mean to lie. It just kind of… came out. Which, it’s Eddie. Buck knows he could tell him exactly what happened, right now, and it’d be fine. It’d be completely fine because it’s Eddie and he knows Eddie would be cool about it, probably even happy for him! But when he goes to open his mouth it just. Doesn’t.
“How’s—uh. How’s Marisol?” he asks instead, tripping over his words.
Eddie shrugs. “She’s fine, same as always. Apparently Christopher got her to play Fortnite, which, according to him, was a disaster.”
Buck laughs, shaking his head. “That kid,” he says softly.
“That kid,” Eddie agrees. He takes another swig of beer and sits back.
“Hey, wait,” Buck says suddenly. He lurches forward and snags the bottle out of Eddie’s hand. “You can’t have this, you’re on pain killers.”
“It’s my apology beer!” Eddie protests.
“Nope, two sips is plenty. I can’t hurt your ankle and your liver on the same day.”
“It’s after midnight, it’s tomorrow,” Eddie pouts. “Give it.” He makes a halfhearted attempt to grab it back, but Buck holds the beer aloft.
“Nuh-uh, absolutely not,” Buck says. “You can drink your apology beer this weekend.”
“My apology beer is going to be flat and stale,” Eddie replies, unimpressed.
Buck rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new apology beer, alright?”
“Promises, promises.”
“I will!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You better. Want to bring it over on Saturday? We can watch the game.”
Buck’s grin falters a little bit, even as that warm feeling bubbles up in his chest all over again. “I uh- can’t, sorry.”
“What, you got a hot date or something?” Eddie asks with a laugh.
Buck takes a long swallow from the beer he stole from Eddie. “Yeah, something,” he says with a hollow laugh.
He feels like a liar.
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