13th Doctor One-Shots

Fragile

Note: No mugs were harmed in the writing of this fanfiction.

**Warning! Spoilers for series 12 of Doctor Who**

Um... basically... mugs are surprisingly fragile... so is the Doctor... (mentally, I mean)

And for some reason my brain seems to think that team TARDIS just sit around drinking tea for 50 percent of the time.

Set during series 12. Probably a few days, maybe a week after Fugitive Of The Judoon (and Praxeus, pretty sure they were set back to back).

Heya!

I've been away for a while, trying to write, and failing, and trying to think of plots, and failing, and trying to pass my science test, and... not quite failing? I guess that's a plus. Anyway, I've been working on this for ages and I've finally finished it. I'm not sure if it's any good, but it's a lot longer than the stuff I usually write, dunno why, and I hope you enjoy it. Hopefully I'll be posting chapters a bit more regularly now. Hope you have a nice day/night/whatever and I'll see ya round :D - cornflakecat

-

It had been a few days since the Judoon, and Gat, and... Ruth. Whoever she was. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

Her friends had comforted her, told her that they were there for her, her family. But they didn't understand. Then again, how could they understand if she never told them anything? It wouldn't make a difference, even if she did.

They've never felt the feeling that comes with the rest of your species being killed. Again. They've never felt the feeling that comes with discovering that there might be a whole chunk of your life that you don't know about. They've never felt the feeling that comes with coming face to face with your first friend and your oldest enemy, who just so happen to be the same person, and seems intent on destroying everything that you once loved. They don't know the pain of wanting to find them, of hoping that they're still alive, wishing that they're still able to change.

(If Missy could do it, why couldn't he?)

They didn't know pain like she did.

They kept asking her if she was okay. She would always say 'yes', or 'I'm fine'. They all knew she was lying.

She wasn't sure the last time she had slept, or consumed anything apart from tea and the occasional custard cream. She knew this probably wasn't good for her. Then again, she couldn't really be bothered to care. She just had to keep running and running, that's all that mattered right now.

It was evening, (or so she guessed, time worked differently on the TARDIS,) and she had been working on the console for a couple of hours. For some reason she just couldn't concentrate today. Her mind kept wandering somewhere else.

She decided a cup of tea might help.

Making her way to the kitchen the Doctor could hear quiet chatter coming from the open door. When she stepped in she was greeted by the kind smiles of her three friends, who were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea.

"Hey Doc! Not seen you in a while. Repairs again, is it?" Graham asks her.

"Um... yeah, something like that." she replies, trying her best to smile. Why was it so hard to smile these days? The least she could do was pretend that she was alright.

The Doctor looks inside the kettle and finds it half-full, the lukewarm water swishing about inside. She flicks the switch and the water starts to boil as she turns back to face her fam.

Two minutes, probably not even that. It would be fine. Make the tea, then get out of there, avoid the questions. Add in a bit of small talk to make her seem more believable.