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Nov. 3rd, 2007 03:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyoftime“Across the dimensions,” she begins dreamily, looking at the Doctor but not quite seeing, “there’s a man called the Patrician. He re-shaped Gallifrey in his own image, taught them not to interfere with the universe, to watch and guide it as it grew. He brought peace to the Time Lords, the Daleks, and the Cybermen.” The gun rocks slowly in her hands as they shake, sometimes pointing to the Doctor’s head, sometimes to her hearts, but always to the Doctor. “He destroys without taking a life.”
The Doctor twists her wrists in their bonds, but the knots are unlike anything she’s encountered before. “Just let me go. I can help if you let me go.”
She smiles without joy; a few locks of blonde hair fall over her face. She’s pretty, if you don’t notice the scars, or how her blue eyes always appear to be re-writing the universe they see. “I can’t go home without destroying the universe, Doctor.” Her voice, too, is pretty, almost musical. “That’s what you told me.”
“You know it, too,” the Doctor says, inching her fingers painfully slowly to her jacket, with all its wonderful little tools. “It would fracture both our universes.”
“He doesn’t like Earth,” she says conversationally, leaning in toward the Doctor as if she were telling a precious secret. The gun slips from one hand to the other, the barrel dangling at an angle, pointing to the Doctor’s foot. “He sealed it in a pocket universe. They’ll explore the galaxy and discover no one’s home.” Her laugh tinkles like broken glass.
The Doctor says nothing. One fingertip brushes against cloth, but she can’t grasp anything with one finger.
“I could destroy it for him,” she murmurs wistfully. “Here, this universe. Maybe he would come for me then.”
“He’s won’t come.”
“He will,” she insists, gun suddenly swinging to attention, level with the Doctor’s left heart. “He always comes back. He never leaves me behind.”
“He can’t cross universes for you-“
“He will!” Her hand touches the trigger; the Doctor sucks in a breath and waits for the pain. It doesn’t come. Her captor’s eyes are shut, squeezing out a line of tear over her cheeks. “I love him.”
“Why are you here?” the Doctor asks finally. Her laser spanner is just beyond her reach, even with her hand twisted as far as it goes.
She kicks off her heels and sits barefoot and cross-legged on the floor across from the Doctor, staring with a focus that makes the Doctor nervous. “If he can’t find you, then I can make you him.”
“You can’t make me into this person-“
She places a finger on the Doctor’s lips, shushing her tenderly. “I can.” She smiles again. “Theta.”
It’s in her eyes the Doctor sees him. They’re not the same, nowhere near the same; his madness lies in drums, hers in silences and spaces between. But they’re the same behind it all. “Koschei.”
“We’ll be together again, Theta.” Her voice becomes dreamy again as the pretty young woman with the gun in her hand loses her grip on the now and real. “I can make you him because you’re not.” She giggles again, girlish and pretty, and cups the Doctor’s cheek, her mind already pushing itself onto the Doctor’s, seeking out which threads of thought to unravel.
The Doctor struggles, but Koschei is already past her defenses, in the heart of her. Her mind’s coming apart; it happens so fast, she’s not sure if it’s been minutes or hours already, and it hurts and it’s wonderful, and she can’t think what possessed her to choose to be called the Doctor, and all that meddling and traveling, what was she thinking? She opens her eyes (she really ought to see about a regeneration soon, a female body is completely unsuitable) and takes Koschei in her gaze, urging the transformation on. Already she makes plans for this universe; she’s mucked it up until now, but that will change soon-
The Doctor’s shirt is splattered with blood from the hole the bullet makes as it passes through Koschei. With no one left to force it in place, her mind snaps back into herself; the recoil leaves her momentarily stunned.
A figure steps out of the shadows, garbed in black. The Doctor twists round to identify him. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you.”
The Master reaches a hand out to Koschei’s lifeless body, searching for pulses. “She’s dead.”
“Any signs of regeneration?” The Doctor begins twisting her wrists again, straining against the knots that still bind her hands behind her back. “Help me with these restraints, will you?”
“No. No, I think not.” The Master stands, looking down on her with no small amount of amusement. “I’ve done what I will, and the rest you may take care of yourself. Goodbye, Doctor.”
She huffs, blowing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes. “Git.”
Community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse
Prompt: 56 - What would a description of your *exact opposite* be like?
Word count: 823
Note: With special guest appearance by Tupu!Master!
The Doctor twists her wrists in their bonds, but the knots are unlike anything she’s encountered before. “Just let me go. I can help if you let me go.”
She smiles without joy; a few locks of blonde hair fall over her face. She’s pretty, if you don’t notice the scars, or how her blue eyes always appear to be re-writing the universe they see. “I can’t go home without destroying the universe, Doctor.” Her voice, too, is pretty, almost musical. “That’s what you told me.”
“You know it, too,” the Doctor says, inching her fingers painfully slowly to her jacket, with all its wonderful little tools. “It would fracture both our universes.”
“He doesn’t like Earth,” she says conversationally, leaning in toward the Doctor as if she were telling a precious secret. The gun slips from one hand to the other, the barrel dangling at an angle, pointing to the Doctor’s foot. “He sealed it in a pocket universe. They’ll explore the galaxy and discover no one’s home.” Her laugh tinkles like broken glass.
The Doctor says nothing. One fingertip brushes against cloth, but she can’t grasp anything with one finger.
“I could destroy it for him,” she murmurs wistfully. “Here, this universe. Maybe he would come for me then.”
“He’s won’t come.”
“He will,” she insists, gun suddenly swinging to attention, level with the Doctor’s left heart. “He always comes back. He never leaves me behind.”
“He can’t cross universes for you-“
“He will!” Her hand touches the trigger; the Doctor sucks in a breath and waits for the pain. It doesn’t come. Her captor’s eyes are shut, squeezing out a line of tear over her cheeks. “I love him.”
“Why are you here?” the Doctor asks finally. Her laser spanner is just beyond her reach, even with her hand twisted as far as it goes.
She kicks off her heels and sits barefoot and cross-legged on the floor across from the Doctor, staring with a focus that makes the Doctor nervous. “If he can’t find you, then I can make you him.”
“You can’t make me into this person-“
She places a finger on the Doctor’s lips, shushing her tenderly. “I can.” She smiles again. “Theta.”
It’s in her eyes the Doctor sees him. They’re not the same, nowhere near the same; his madness lies in drums, hers in silences and spaces between. But they’re the same behind it all. “Koschei.”
“We’ll be together again, Theta.” Her voice becomes dreamy again as the pretty young woman with the gun in her hand loses her grip on the now and real. “I can make you him because you’re not.” She giggles again, girlish and pretty, and cups the Doctor’s cheek, her mind already pushing itself onto the Doctor’s, seeking out which threads of thought to unravel.
The Doctor struggles, but Koschei is already past her defenses, in the heart of her. Her mind’s coming apart; it happens so fast, she’s not sure if it’s been minutes or hours already, and it hurts and it’s wonderful, and she can’t think what possessed her to choose to be called the Doctor, and all that meddling and traveling, what was she thinking? She opens her eyes (she really ought to see about a regeneration soon, a female body is completely unsuitable) and takes Koschei in her gaze, urging the transformation on. Already she makes plans for this universe; she’s mucked it up until now, but that will change soon-
The Doctor’s shirt is splattered with blood from the hole the bullet makes as it passes through Koschei. With no one left to force it in place, her mind snaps back into herself; the recoil leaves her momentarily stunned.
A figure steps out of the shadows, garbed in black. The Doctor twists round to identify him. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you.”
The Master reaches a hand out to Koschei’s lifeless body, searching for pulses. “She’s dead.”
“Any signs of regeneration?” The Doctor begins twisting her wrists again, straining against the knots that still bind her hands behind her back. “Help me with these restraints, will you?”
“No. No, I think not.” The Master stands, looking down on her with no small amount of amusement. “I’ve done what I will, and the rest you may take care of yourself. Goodbye, Doctor.”
She huffs, blowing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes. “Git.”
Community:
theatrical_musePrompt: 56 - What would a description of your *exact opposite* be like?
Word count: 823
Note: With special guest appearance by Tupu!Master!
