A Sixth Doctor fic, cross-posted to Teaspoon. Note (Ooooohhhhh! Note!): This is my first time writing Six, so I hope he doesn’t come off as too much of a jerk. Everyone who successfully writes Six is awesome in my book, because there’s such a thin line between making him your average arrogant jerk and properly Six. (No offense, Six.)
The monotony of the trial continued. Being on trial for his life, the Doctor decided, was about as exciting as visiting the planet where paint dried 90% slower than usual. The Inquisitor and the Valeyard were having a polite court conversation. 50% more words were used than in regular conversation, and absolutely nothing happened. The only time it was interesting was when footage of his “crimes” was shown.
He was about to fall asleep in his uncomfortable chair (what would it take the Time Lords to get some proper chairs?) when the Valeyard bellowed in his ear.
“Murder, genocide, and many other terrible offenses. You are the person that has committed these crimes, Doctor!”
The Doctor looked up at him. “Incorrect, Farmyard. I am the person who committed those crimes.”
The Valeyard was annoyed, but he tried to twist the situation to his advantage. “So you confess! I knew it, Inquisitor! He has committed all these crimes, you should have him killed tomorrow!” he said rather too quickly.
The Inquisitor turned around. “Is this true, Doctor?”
“No, Inquisitor, I was merely correcting the Graveyard’s grammar. It seems to be a common problem here, grammar. I believe there was an error in my summons to Gallifrey.”
“We didn’t send you a summons, Doctor,” sighed the Inquisitor.
“I mean last trial.”
“That is irrelevant to the subject at hand!”
The monotony began once again and the Doctor drifted to sleep. He remembered his summons to Gallifrey. It had said:
We, the council of Time Lords headed by the noble Inquisitor, summon you, the Doctor, for you’re crimes.