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'They tracked me down to my apartment..' started Ellis. Compassion barked a bitter laugh over her shoulder. 'What sort idiot goes back to his apartment when he knows he's being pursued?'
Frontier Worlds
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'Hello, Fitz.' The voice wasn't coming from his earpiece: it was inside his mind. And it was familiar. Standing before him was a woman with pale skin and ginger hair in a black cloak. She wasn't wearing a spacesuit. She wouldn't be able to breathe. She didn't need to breathe. She was Compassion. Now he could go mad. Now he could give in, start laughing and never stop, let the starshine pour into his addled mind… But that was not going to happen. No way. No way because he was far too angry.
The Fall of Yquatine
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Compassion spoke. 'Fitz, I am sorry.' Fitz looked away from the window, rubbed his eyes. He turned to look at Compassion. 'For abandoning me on Yquatine?' She nodded. 'For trying to kill me?' She nodded again. 'For not being able to save Arielle?' Compassion hung her head. But her voice carried threat. 'Don't push it'
The Fall of Yquatine
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She was drifting away, angry with her mind for starting to cloud over. 'I don't remember. I didn't do anything. It... it was smug, arrogant. It thought it could get me to... to...' Sam yawned and winced in pain. She was half conscious now. The Doctor shook her, trying to drain every last drop of information out of her. 'Sam! There has to be something. Sam!' She went limp. 'Sam!' he shouted at her.
The Face-Eater
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Time for truth. Fitz. He knew what he was doing. Running away. So what? Maybe the Doctor and Compassion would come out of it. Maybe they didn't need him. Maybe they would save the day on their own and come and pick him up. Then everything would be all right. Wouldn't it? 'You can run,' he said to his reflection in the circular mirror. 'But you can't hide. But at least you can bloody well run.'
The Fall of Yquatine
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It really didn't matter, anyway, because he was trapped. The deck shuddered beneath him and he fell to his knees. A smoky tentacle caressed his face. The Doctor screamed.
The Fall of Yquatine
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'No, names are quite inappropriate for what your friend has become. She's -' 'The mother of your next generation of living TARDIS capsules.' the Doctor finished grimly. 'The type 103s. I've met one, and even she had a name. You think they'll give you the edge in the war that's coming.'
The Shadows of Avalon
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It's an odd thing, dying, thought Sam. You spend your whole life alive, you travel the cosmos, see things and places no one else has ever seen, and then suddenly it's over. Every single moment of your life up to this point has allowed you a choice: whether to join a disgraced Time Lord and wander in the fourth dimension or stay behind and go back to school in Shoreditch; even which flavour of ice-cream to have for dessert, vanilla or chocolate - or even both.
The Janus Conjunction
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The Doctor slumped back, letting his arms sprawl on the floor behind his head, then met Mab's gaze with laughing eyes. 'Oh, no, all my plans are foiled. Mab, Mab! Have I finally found what it takes to get you to treat a Time Lord like you treat everybody else?' 'What?' Mab looked suspiciously at him. 'Fitz will be very upset that you've broken the remote control for his telly. And we're hardly in the right place to get a new one.'
The Shadows of Avalon
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She tried to get on with her poem. She was writing it with a biro on the bottom of the parchment that the Doctor had left her with. His own scrawly handwriting, in quill ink, covered less than half of it. Things to Do Live among humans. Make friends. Get a job. Eat chips. Write poetry. Kiss someone (properly). Get a cat. Fall in love. At the bottom, he'd sealed it with a wax sigil in High Gallifreyan. Compassion translated his chosen name: 'Foolish Wanderer'.
The Shadows of Avalon
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The Doctor shook his head, alone in the blue corridor. 'Clumsy,' he told himself. He so wanted Compassion to change, to start caring, to appreciate the privilege of travelling the universe as he did… And yet she worried him. Not in the way Fitz worried him - whatever the problem, he knew he could help Fitz out. But Compassion seemed such a closed, self-centred person, riding his coat-tails like fare-dodgers ride a bus to get where they want to go on their own terms.
Parallel 59
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They raced past doors labelled AWFUL TRUTHS, HOPES FOR THE FUTURE and THAT DREAM ABOUT FITZ from behind which they heard terrible screams in his voice. 'She's got a sense of humour now,' he said. 'That's going to take getting used to. Especially with her being a building.'
The Shadows of Avalon
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When he'd first arrived he'd been stubbly and pasty-faced. Now, looking at himself in the glass of a shop front, he could see Mechta had gone to work on him as well. His hair felt finer, less straggly. His skin was well toned, smoother. And the feelings of fright, of depression, after all he'd been put through with the Doctor, had faded. He hadn't figured himself the type for a convalescence home. He smiled and shook his head.
Parallel 59
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She supposed that was what being human was all about. Going on, despite the odds, despite the facts, despite the total insignificance of one life in relation to the universal scheme of things. But Compassion wasn't human any more. She was the first of a new breed. She was significant. She mattered. The universe was going to have to take notice of her.
The Fall of Yquatine
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Fitz almost fell to the floor with shock and relief. The someone was waving up at them, a big smile on his handsome but rather tired-looking face. Fitz waved back weakly. 'It's the Doctor!' Compassion raised her eyebrows and tutted. 'Well, duh.'
The Fall of Yquatine
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She tried to gasp out a plea for help. She had no breath to deliver it. Her skin was prickling as the pressure continued to fall. Help me! Please! The priest offered a dazzling smile from behind the mask. 'There is only one truth.' His voice barely rose above the sound of escaping atmosphere. 'And that truth is endless, and that truth is death.'
Beltempest
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The Doctor was whistling a tune to himself in his cell to keep himself occupied. He wondered what it was for a moment, then remembered it was one of Fitz's compositions. A simple, plaintive little melody he'd written for Sam to practise on the guitar, what seemed like an age ago. He felt bad about losing Fitz again. No, not losing him: Fitz was resourceful, he could usually watch out for himself. No, this was a feeling more of neglect.
Parallel 59
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