Rating: All Ages
Word Count: 1006
Author's Summary: The Doctor absolutely, positively needs - something - and he's absolutely positive he last saw it in Sarah Jane's attic...
Characters/Pairings: Twelfth Doctor, Sarah-Jane Smith
This fic is in script format and it uses this unusual set-up to throw maximum focus on Twelve's dialogue. The scene is set with the barest of stage directions and from the very beginning Twelve is centre stage. Rambling monologues have been a characteristic of most of the Doctor's incarnations, though some are more verbous than others. Twelve is very verbous indeed, but the winding weave of his speaches always finds its way back to to some cutting point. Here he speaks about philosophy, history, friendship, and re-birth. This is a fic about Twelve, but it is also a fic about all the history which has created him. And friendship, which is probably the common theme to all the fics I'm reccing this period.
The cosy attic is in shambles. There are packing boxes scattered here and there, but the job has only been half done, with an intriguing mess of artifacts still scattered around the room.
A large blue box stands in one corner, a light atop flashing one last time before falling silent, leaving the room in semi darkness, with only dappled light coming in through the lightly curtained windows.
One of the double doors opens, and a voice from inside calls out.
Just a second!