The Doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladyoftime) wrote2010-01-07 09:31 pm
ladyoftime) wrote2010-01-07 09:31 pm
(no subject)
Time doesn’t run linearly, of course. Just because a Doctor occupies one point in time and space, doesn’t mean she can’t be occupying others simultaneously. Ten years is a long time.
He sits at her table, not the other way around. The reasons blur over time, but she thinks it was because she looked a little lonely. He smiles brightly, and chatters, and offers her a pastry. She buys him a cuppa, and the pastries, too, so he won’t have to steal money from a bank machine this time.
He chats with her for an hour, and then runs off to save the world (again).
)No.
Not quite.(
She’s had twelve cups of tea here already, on varying days throughout the month. Every time, she sits at the same table, the same chair, watching the same spot through the window, waiting for herself. Time tends to gloss over these meetings, blurs the lines so they won’t break. She’s pretty certain she’s close to the right day, but her memory isn’t what it used to be.
She glances out the window, now, and the blue police box is there. He’s a little covered in snow, still, despite it being summer outside. He smiles brightly at her as he enters the shop, and she smiles back, and he sits at her table despite the empty ones dotting the room around them, like little deserted islands.
“Hello,” he says. “I’m the Doctor.”
)There.(
Her hand on his hearts, Time bending around them. You could come with me. Reality like a funhouse mirror, distorting the two of them beyond recognition. Her hearts beating out the rhythm his aren’t. A Time Lord can stop his hearts by force of will. Hers are fading, Time is fluid.
Time is screaming.
)That’s better, isn’t it?(
A gunshot. Just. A gunshot. This isn’t how it happened, not in her memories. Someone at a corner table she hadn’t noticed, hiding a gun behind his newspaper. Bullet ramming into his back, his hearts. Someone’s called an ambulance, but it’s taking too long. His blood’s never going to come out of her skin.
One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe.
Time doesn’t have far to reverberate. He’s not regenerating, it wasn’t his time. If he dies now, she dies with him. It doesn’t make sense, won’t ever because she doesn’t have time to make sense of it.
)I said I’d be back for you.(
Put it back. Just, please don’t. Put it back the way it was. She’s crying, can’t hear herself cry. It’s too soon, this shouldn’t be the end. Wasn’t the end. Time’s tugging at her, now, unraveling her. It’s only a matter of minutes until: no more Doctor. How sad, what a terrible tragedy. Almost too terrible to contemplate.
Someone picks her up. Carries her, sets her on the floor. Sounds. The distorted song of time moving in reverse. She can’t breathe, the air’s too thin. Someone kicks her in the ribs, lightly, and says something she’s too far gone to hear, then props her head up so she can breathe easier.
And then.
And then.
)No! Not again!(
The Master leans over her, casually checking her pulses. She’s still covered in blood – Time’s funny that way – but she’s alive. Still her. She sits up a little, senses still reeling from the re-acclimation to reality.
“I’m not even going to tell you to lie back down,” he says. “You wouldn’t listen to me, anyway.”
She struggles to her feet, dizzily. She’s in his TARDIS. It has to be, his interior decorating was always terrible. She leans against the wall, checks if all of her is still present and accounted for. “Did you just save my life?”
He crosses his arms, pointedly not helping her in the slightest. “No, Doctor,” he says. “I prevented a tear in the fabric of time that would have resulted in consequences too ghastly for even I to contemplate.”
“By saving my life,” she says, and grins a little, infuriatingly smug. “I always knew you had it in yo-“
He slaps her. She staggers back, momentarily losing her already precarious balance, and gingerly touches her cheek. It’s still stinging from the force of the blow.
“Don’t even consider it, Doctor.”
She places a hand against the wall to steady herself “Not changed that much, then. All right, just tell me who’s trying to kill me this time and I’ll be out of your way.”
“You seem to be under the impression I’m helping you,” the Master says. “I’m not. And I’m not in the habit of interrogating a person before I kill them. You’ll have to figure out who your assassin was on your own.” He impatiently gestures to the door. “I suggest you leave before I go back and shoot you myself.”
“Fine,” she says, and makes her way slowly, carefully, outside. “Git.” His TARDIS starts dematerializing as soon as she’s out, and she unlocks her own for a change of clothes and a clean slate.
)This isn’t over, Doctor.(
“Are you alright?” he says, eyes filled with concern, and she almost laughs. It’s been a long time since she saw those eyes in the mirror.
“I’m always alright,” she says, and takes a bite out of her blueberry scone. Time’s in its proper flow again, and all’s right with the universe.
)I said I’d be back for you.(
Community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse
Prompt: 316 - What were you doing ten years ago?
Word count: 895
Author's note: This was supposed to be a silly Doctor&Doctor catch-up fic. My brain had other ideas. Sulk.
He sits at her table, not the other way around. The reasons blur over time, but she thinks it was because she looked a little lonely. He smiles brightly, and chatters, and offers her a pastry. She buys him a cuppa, and the pastries, too, so he won’t have to steal money from a bank machine this time.
He chats with her for an hour, and then runs off to save the world (again).
Not quite.(
She’s had twelve cups of tea here already, on varying days throughout the month. Every time, she sits at the same table, the same chair, watching the same spot through the window, waiting for herself. Time tends to gloss over these meetings, blurs the lines so they won’t break. She’s pretty certain she’s close to the right day, but her memory isn’t what it used to be.
She glances out the window, now, and the blue police box is there. He’s a little covered in snow, still, despite it being summer outside. He smiles brightly at her as he enters the shop, and she smiles back, and he sits at her table despite the empty ones dotting the room around them, like little deserted islands.
“Hello,” he says. “I’m the Doctor.”
Her hand on his hearts, Time bending around them. You could come with me. Reality like a funhouse mirror, distorting the two of them beyond recognition. Her hearts beating out the rhythm his aren’t. A Time Lord can stop his hearts by force of will. Hers are fading, Time is fluid.
Time is screaming.
A gunshot. Just. A gunshot. This isn’t how it happened, not in her memories. Someone at a corner table she hadn’t noticed, hiding a gun behind his newspaper. Bullet ramming into his back, his hearts. Someone’s called an ambulance, but it’s taking too long. His blood’s never going to come out of her skin.
Time doesn’t have far to reverberate. He’s not regenerating, it wasn’t his time. If he dies now, she dies with him. It doesn’t make sense, won’t ever because she doesn’t have time to make sense of it.
Put it back. Just, please don’t. Put it back the way it was. She’s crying, can’t hear herself cry. It’s too soon, this shouldn’t be the end. Wasn’t the end. Time’s tugging at her, now, unraveling her. It’s only a matter of minutes until: no more Doctor. How sad, what a terrible tragedy. Almost too terrible to contemplate.
Someone picks her up. Carries her, sets her on the floor. Sounds. The distorted song of time moving in reverse. She can’t breathe, the air’s too thin. Someone kicks her in the ribs, lightly, and says something she’s too far gone to hear, then props her head up so she can breathe easier.
And then.
And then.
The Master leans over her, casually checking her pulses. She’s still covered in blood – Time’s funny that way – but she’s alive. Still her. She sits up a little, senses still reeling from the re-acclimation to reality.
“I’m not even going to tell you to lie back down,” he says. “You wouldn’t listen to me, anyway.”
She struggles to her feet, dizzily. She’s in his TARDIS. It has to be, his interior decorating was always terrible. She leans against the wall, checks if all of her is still present and accounted for. “Did you just save my life?”
He crosses his arms, pointedly not helping her in the slightest. “No, Doctor,” he says. “I prevented a tear in the fabric of time that would have resulted in consequences too ghastly for even I to contemplate.”
“By saving my life,” she says, and grins a little, infuriatingly smug. “I always knew you had it in yo-“
He slaps her. She staggers back, momentarily losing her already precarious balance, and gingerly touches her cheek. It’s still stinging from the force of the blow.
“Don’t even consider it, Doctor.”
She places a hand against the wall to steady herself “Not changed that much, then. All right, just tell me who’s trying to kill me this time and I’ll be out of your way.”
“You seem to be under the impression I’m helping you,” the Master says. “I’m not. And I’m not in the habit of interrogating a person before I kill them. You’ll have to figure out who your assassin was on your own.” He impatiently gestures to the door. “I suggest you leave before I go back and shoot you myself.”
“Fine,” she says, and makes her way slowly, carefully, outside. “Git.” His TARDIS starts dematerializing as soon as she’s out, and she unlocks her own for a change of clothes and a clean slate.
“Are you alright?” he says, eyes filled with concern, and she almost laughs. It’s been a long time since she saw those eyes in the mirror.
“I’m always alright,” she says, and takes a bite out of her blueberry scone. Time’s in its proper flow again, and all’s right with the universe.
Community:
theatrical_musePrompt: 316 - What were you doing ten years ago?
Word count: 895
Author's note: This was supposed to be a silly Doctor&Doctor catch-up fic. My brain had other ideas. Sulk.
no subject