Doctor Who X Reader One Shots And Stories

A Tale of Inexplicable Things

                     ~10th doctor~
Warnings:
Small amounts of blood and presumed death

I had constantly been told that I was inexplicable, although I never understood how anyone could say such a thing. Never was I offended by such a description, however, I hardly think that anybody merely has the right to call you strange, if they themselves have never understood the term. Compare it to asking a man completely blind from birth what complete darkness was. Would he be able to tell you? How would he be able to make you understand the difference between complete darkness and light, without comparing the two; for he would never have experienced the other? Though he may not be able to bask in the reality of sight, he would still have the ability to imagine; to dream wistfully about the blessed luxury of having the pictures there, and not having to make up an image that may or may not apply to what was actually existing right in front of him... something he would never truly see outside of the many pictures that formulate in his mind. If nobody could accurately understand the meaning of such a description and have experienced the so-called "Inexplicable" how could one properly use it? Then again, nobody would be able to put a description to anything, thus we must create a vision of the description, just as a blind man creates a vision of the world.

Certainly, the word would have several variations of the same meaning, depending on who was judging whatever it was that could be described as 'inexplicable.' However, I thought if something were so strange, that nobody could deny its inexplicability, perhaps the word would then have a true and definite meaning. Perhaps that's what people thought of me. Perhaps I was merely that strange. I'd never know because I did what I had always done. Nothing about it was strange to me, for it was so familiar. Keep in mind though, just because something was familiar, didn't make it right.

I was ignorant to what I truly did back then...or maybe I wasn't. Maybe I unconsciously chose to erase the nagging and ever persistent truth from my mind, never coming to the realization that it existed until I was forced into realization. I'd gone from one inexplicable life to another in the blink of an eye, not sparing it any thought until after it was too late to go back.

My palms would still tingle, fingers twitching as they grasped for the smooth handle of a gun that no longer existed, finding nothing. I would be struck with a surge of disappointment, shrinking back like the coward I was and feeling completely naked when unarmed. Shame came next, shattering the hasty dam I had built within seconds and flooding me until I thought that I would burst right then and there. 'You slaughtered so many with that weapon. How could you even bare the thought of it? You haven't changed. And you never will. Don't try to deceive yourself. No matter what you do, you'll always be a cold blooded killer.' The poison that was somehow a creation of my own was laced with truth, and that made it nearly unbearable at times. It was the voice that plagued my dreams at night, forcing me awake along with the images of my victims burned into my eyelids. It was a simple reality that I'd never forgive myself. How could I? Not after what I'd done.

"(Name)." It was a whisper. Just a soft disturbance in the air. I thought nothing of it, my eyes glassed over with memories as I stared down at my feet dangling a couple of inches from the grated floor of the TARDIS. My head drooped with fatigue, filaments of hair clustered together in a tangled mess and thrown hastily over my shoulder. "(Name)." this time it was louder, and yet my mind refused to register the masculine voice as anything but imagination. I yawned, and a tear rolled from my eye, though I wasn't crying. "(Name)!" Hands were placed on my shoulders and I flinched in surprise, instinctively reaching for my holster. My fingers groped at air.

The gangly man before me grinned in all of his pinstriped glory, brown eyes warm and wonderful like a cup of cocoa on a frigid winter afternoon. "You," he began in a teasing tone as he turned and hopped up beside me on the jumpseat. "Were falling asleep." Kicking his legs back and forth as a child would, he tossed his head back and stared up at the TARDIS' ceiling, grin still very much apparent on his freckled face. "Honestly, I never thought I'd see the day." Automatically, my lips turned up in a smile, every single negative thought whisked from my mind. Nudging the brown haired man softly with my shoulder, I scoffed, playing along with him.