Officially, Time Lords are fairly immune to the affects of alcohol, and can only get drunk if they want to. In addition, they can very easily snap themselves out of it.
The Doctor, in his Tenth incarnation, is both a silly drunk and a sad drunk, depending on the circumstances and the level of drunk he allows himself to be. There is no in between.
Imagine Zepheera stumbling upon her Time Lord after he’s had way more than a few. He’s either singing loudly and off-key and laughing at/with inanimate objects, or he’s curled up in a ball of despair shaking with silent sobs. Either way, the borrower will eventually get noticed and he’ll suddenly become very still, all effects of inebriation leaving him at once.
Zepheera will comfort him without even questioning what drove him to get so drunk in the first place, especially in the latter situation. She’ll remind him that what’s done is in the past, and he’s not alone anymore.
Zepheera should have known following John Smith to his job at the toy store was a bad idea.
The Doctor had only been human for a week and a half, lodging with his old friend Craig and his wife and baby. They were fully aware of Zepheera’s presence and the reason the Doctor didn’t remember who he was and why he was concerned with saving enough money to find his own apartment rather than saving the universe. It was a complicated situation, that much they understood, and they were more than happy to accommodate the former Time Lord and the borrower.
But a few days ago, Zepheera overheard John telling them about customers complaining about silver rat-like toys zipping around the aisles where they shouldn’t be. John was surprised how many people saw them while he insisted he’d never encountered such things. He wasn’t even aware that the store sold toys like that. The thought of what he was describing could be sent a chill up Zepheera’s spine. She had seen cybermats in action and, especially for people like her, they were not good news. Unfortunately, she was the only one who could identify them for sure, so she convinced Craig to help Zepheera, all four and a half inches of her, make it safely to the store without being seen. He agreed immediately but since Sophie was going to be out all day, the baby had to come as well.
Zepheera split up with Craig shortly after arrival, hoping that covering more ground at once would double their chances of getting to the bottom of this as fast as possible. While he and Alfie scoped out one half of the store, Zepheera combed the shelves of the other half armed with a makeshift magnetic charge. She kept close to the back of the bottom shelves, senses heightened and alert and ready for danger. It was extremely risky for her to be around so many humans, especially children. But it was worth it if she could find a way to be one step ahead of the Cybermen.
Like it wasn’t bad enough that the Doctor was being pursued by another evil entirely, now they had soulless metal monsters to deal with.
Peeking through a pair of stuffed animals, Zepheera tensed at the sight of a silver blur rounding the corner. Her vision narrowed to a tunnel and she dashed out into the aisle before it could get away. Nothing could stop her from chasing down the cybermat.
Nothing except a massive boot crashing down right in front of her.
The power of the Doctor’s regeneration knocked Zepheera over, her back hitting the console hard. The heat was incredibly intense, and she scrambled away before she could be too badly burnt. Then the console beneath her sparked forcefully, throwing Zepheera off completely. She landed on the catwalk floor, all the air shoved out of her lungs from the blow.
Her eyes darted around anxiously as she caught her breath. Everything was on fire. Hot, molten sparks poured from the ceiling, tongues of flame erupted from the floor. A particularly large burst of fire destroyed the integrity of one of the coral supports surrounding the console and, with its connections to both the ceiling and the floor gone, it began to tip inward.
Right toward Zepheera.
Her wits snapped into place at the sight of the massive falling structure, and she shot to her feet and darted toward the underside of the console. The controls themselves would act as a (woefully shallow) awning to hopefully protect her from being crushed, but just in case she ran along the bottom edge in an attempt to get as far away from the danger as possible.
The support crashed into the floor loudly, the actual impact landing far from Zepheera. But it immediately crumbled into pieces, which tumbled next to the console. The tremors caused by the fragments cost Zepheera her balance once again, only this time she was able to catch herself before her face could smash into the harsh metal. Opting to not risk another fall, Zepheera crawled away from the debris.
A voice broke through the rumbling chaos, a scream coming from the Doctor’s direction. Zepheera looked up to find that she was behind the Time Lord, so close that she had to flip onto her back just to make out his head. She watched as his hair suddenly became longer and the scream gave way into an entirely new man’s voice. The regeneration energy dissipated and he went quiet.
But the TARDIS was still falling apart, and a loud crash prompted the Doctor to turn around. Whether it was because he was not used to his new body or if it was simply in his nature to be out-of-balance now, he stumbled around from the momentum of the simple action. Zepheera hadn’t even had time to register what he looked like now, because her focus was entirely on those aimless feet that were a little too close for her liking. Don’t step on me don’t step on me please don’t, she thought frantically as she backed away from him.
“Legs!” the new voice cried as one of the feet lifted into the air. “I’ve still got legs!” She looked up to find the Doctor grasping his knee and kissing it gratefully. “Good!” He let his leg fall back into place.
“Doctor!” Zepheera called up, but he was preoccupied. His gaze wandered about his body, checking to make sure everything was in order, all with wide and curious eyes.
“Arms!” he exclaimed. “Hands! Ooh, fingers! Lots of fingers!” He wiggled them in front of his face, further distracting him from the borrower trying to get his attention.
Looking around, Zepheera found that one of her ladders to the console had somehow survived the destruction mostly unscathed; it was missing a few rungs and was slightly singed, but Zepheera had climbed worse. She hurried over and ascended the ladder as fast as she could while the Doctor carried on: “Ears: yes. Eyes: two. Nose…mm, I’ve had worse. Chin…blimey! Hair…I’m a girl!”
Zepheera automatically rolled her eyes at the notion that longer hair indicated he was female, but as she pulled herself up onto the console he found his Adam’s apple and decided that he was not a girl. Before she could start to wave her arms or call his name again, he turned away to inspect his hair closer, pulling it in front of his eyes to the best of his ability.
“And still not ginger!”
“Doctor!” Zepheera shouted, but it seemed that he was consumed in his own thoughts.
“There’s something else,” he realized, turning to look around without focus. “Something important, I’m…I’m, I’m–”
“DOC–!” An enormous BANG cut Zepheera short and threw her as well as the Time Lord off-balance. The Doctor caught himself on the console right next to Zepheera, laughing ecstatically.
“Crashing!”
Losing patience, Zepheera jumped to her feet and yelled, “Would you look at me, you giant idiot?!”
That finally drew the Doctor’s wide, now-hazel eyes toward her. He looked at her for a drawn-out moment before his already massive grin grew.
“Zepheera!” he exclaimed, pulling himself along the console until his brand-new face was inches from where she stood. It was all she could do to hold her ground at the enormous man’s approach. “Oh, look at you! I hardly recognized you, you look so different! But the same! Or maybe that’s just my eyes, same but different!”
Another crash cut his ramble short, and Zepheera wavered in the tremors. Suddenly her feet were pushed out from under her and she landed on something soft, warm, and rising in the air. The Doctor had scooped her up and lifted her to his shoulder. Before she could scold him for not warning her, he was circling the console toward the monitor and she needed to hang on tight.
Same old suit, she thought absently as she gripped the familiar fabric with white knuckles, then looked up at the Doctor’s profile. Brand new man.
The Doctor was whooping enthusiastically, all the rumbles and the image of the planet spiraling on the screen exciting him even more. The TARDIS was falling to Earth, and the Doctor couldn’t be happier.
“GERONIMOOOO!” bellowed the Doctor.
On top of trying not to panic, Zepheera made a mental note to retrain the Doctor’s volume control.
“What? Calm? I am calm. Calm and perfectly…sane. I mean, any normal bloke would just imagine a four inch tall woman telling him he’s actually an alien from outer space. And offering said tiny imaginary woman beans on toast is only polite, logical, and-and-and–” John Smith stammered as the more than slightly burnt toast jumped straight out of the toaster, throwing him off his already flustered rant. He tried to catch the flying bread in a knee-jerk reaction, succeeding only in hurting his fingers and swatting the food across the counter, thankfully away from Zepheera.
“This is crazy!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air in utter exasperation. With a white-knuckled grip on the counter, he rounded on the self-proclaimed borrower. “More than that–it’s impossible! There’s no such thing as aliens, and I’m not even sure if you’re real! Tiny people just don’t exist. And even if they…if you are real, then…why me? Why did you have to come to me??” John squeezed his eyes shut as though it would make everything go away, anxiously rocking back and forth a little. This was all too much for him to handle at once.
But a light touch brushing against his knuckles made his eyes snap open and focus on Zepheera, who had laid her own tiny hand on his. His breath caught; she had looked small before, but now in direct comparison to his hand he felt so terribly large. He couldn’t help but stare in wonder at how she somehow found the nerve to approach a comparative giant who could hypothetically grab her at any time, one who had been shouting at her not a moment ago. For that, John thought she was an extraordinarily brave figment of his imagination.
“I’m real,” she promised. He watched as she leaned down and took hold of his first finger where it sat curled in a formerly tense fist. She lifted it, uncoiled it, and laid the very tip of it against her cheek, half-leaning against her shoulder. John could feel her soft, fine hair, her miniscule ear, the warmth of her skin, and he could no longer deny her existence. When she saw the recognition in his eyes, she shifted the finger against her shoulder–to sit more comfortably, John could assume.
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but you need to understand that it had to be you. You don’t know it yet, but we’re friends, you and I. I’m supposed to be watching out for you in case of trouble. And I’m afraid, John, that we really, really need to talk.”
Zepheera’s voice was so kind and sincere, and a small part of John could not resist that look in her teeny violet eyes. “Shall I get started on those beans then?”
She smiled, sending a bubble of warmth through John’s heart. He’d made her happy, and for whatever reason he was extremely proud of that. “Yeah, I think you better had. Gonna be a long chat.”
John waited for Zepheera to fully let his finger go before carefully lifting it away and walking to the cabinet by the stove.
“And that’s four and a half inches tall, thanks very much!”
Despite himself, John giggled at the correction.
Bonus post celebrating 20 followers! Thanks so much, you guys!
Borrowed Time and Space 