Fic: Shadows Cast (Doctor Who)
Jan. 15th, 2008 10:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Shadows Cast
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Hints of Ten/Rose
Word Count: 702
Spoilers: For The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit.
Summary: The Doctor thinks about shadows.
The shadow-casters of Gemna IV saw a narrower band of light than most sentient beings. Black and white, like a dog. Ironically enough, in one of those coincidences that made the Doctor almost believe in one of those higher powers that irrational people always insisted upon, the Gemnans looked more like cats.
The Doctor thought a lot about his past now. Places he’d gone. He’d never thought about his future, but he’d often lost himself in the present. No more. The present wasn’t a nice place to be anymore.
Where was he? Right, the Gemnans. They created artwork based on the absence of light. They’d show you something that seemed unremarkable, then cast it into darkness. The absence of light provoked an emotional response. Loss, sorrow, anger, aggression. It was almost overwhelming for a color-seer, the Doctor couldn’t imagine what it was like for someone who saw in shades of gray.
The Ood buffeted him on their way to sustenance. The TARDIS still broadcast a brain storm that kept them docile. He let them pass, although inside he wondered if giving vent to his frustration on one of them would make him feel any better. For the first time in this life, the urge to punch and kick and do all manner of violence was compelling rather than repulsive. It was probably the place. Krop Tor wasn’t meant for life and the Doctor could feel it resisting his presence as surely as it spun and gravitated and orbited.
The others had left and wouldn’t come back. Good for them. They didn’t belong here. He did, as punishment, as penance, as harsh and painful duty. But they wouldn’t come back. They would live and love and have children and perhaps, when Halloween rolled around, Zack or Jefferson or Toby would tell the tykes about the planet where the gates of hell were stoutly barred.
The Ood had long ago repaired the elevator and, with the hand not carrying a plate, the Doctor pulled the lever that controlled its descent. He felt the brief hitch and his fall started. He would’ve paced the lift, but there wasn’t enough room. He smelled the plate instead. The aroma was pleasing. Haggis and tatties, her favorite, though he couldn’t stand the stuff himself. Ironically enough, he’d gotten rather good at cooking it. Another joke pulled on him by the gods he didn’t believe in, and would be rather cross with if he ever came across them.
Funny. He could’ve escaped a thousand death-traps, if only by actually dying, but by complete accident, by the merest roll of the dice, he’d fallen into a trap that could snarl him for a lifetime, an eternity, beyond. He had, after all, promised Jackie Tyler he’d bring her girl back to her. So far, it was a promise he couldn’t keep.
The Doctor had been thinking about shadows a lot lately, about how the absence of light could change something. The dark runes cut across Rose’s clear skin like scars, red burnt away the brown of her eyes, and her voice was harsh and guttural as she cursed him in a thousand tongues: hers, his, and those of civilizations long-dead. Chains forged in the heart of a dwarf star weighted down her slight frame, making a mockery out of the shapely contours of her body.
He fed her, not allowing one ounce of the hatred he felt for the creature inhabiting her to seep out. Instead, he thought of his Rose, and tried to mete out every bit of sympathy he could for the girl who had to be trapped inside herself.
She was still alive. He knew it. Somewhere beneath the Beast’s shell she was imprisoned, and if it took an eternity, he would free her.
In the meantime, he watched shadows lengthen. He thought about light and dark, shades of gray…
He found a gray hair on his head one day, one day when he was still no closer to finding an answer than before. It didn’t deter him.
He had a lifetime to set her free. More than one, in fact. The thought of giving up simply didn’t occur to him. She was, after all, his lifelong companion.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Hints of Ten/Rose
Word Count: 702
Spoilers: For The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit.
Summary: The Doctor thinks about shadows.
The shadow-casters of Gemna IV saw a narrower band of light than most sentient beings. Black and white, like a dog. Ironically enough, in one of those coincidences that made the Doctor almost believe in one of those higher powers that irrational people always insisted upon, the Gemnans looked more like cats.
The Doctor thought a lot about his past now. Places he’d gone. He’d never thought about his future, but he’d often lost himself in the present. No more. The present wasn’t a nice place to be anymore.
Where was he? Right, the Gemnans. They created artwork based on the absence of light. They’d show you something that seemed unremarkable, then cast it into darkness. The absence of light provoked an emotional response. Loss, sorrow, anger, aggression. It was almost overwhelming for a color-seer, the Doctor couldn’t imagine what it was like for someone who saw in shades of gray.
The Ood buffeted him on their way to sustenance. The TARDIS still broadcast a brain storm that kept them docile. He let them pass, although inside he wondered if giving vent to his frustration on one of them would make him feel any better. For the first time in this life, the urge to punch and kick and do all manner of violence was compelling rather than repulsive. It was probably the place. Krop Tor wasn’t meant for life and the Doctor could feel it resisting his presence as surely as it spun and gravitated and orbited.
The others had left and wouldn’t come back. Good for them. They didn’t belong here. He did, as punishment, as penance, as harsh and painful duty. But they wouldn’t come back. They would live and love and have children and perhaps, when Halloween rolled around, Zack or Jefferson or Toby would tell the tykes about the planet where the gates of hell were stoutly barred.
The Ood had long ago repaired the elevator and, with the hand not carrying a plate, the Doctor pulled the lever that controlled its descent. He felt the brief hitch and his fall started. He would’ve paced the lift, but there wasn’t enough room. He smelled the plate instead. The aroma was pleasing. Haggis and tatties, her favorite, though he couldn’t stand the stuff himself. Ironically enough, he’d gotten rather good at cooking it. Another joke pulled on him by the gods he didn’t believe in, and would be rather cross with if he ever came across them.
Funny. He could’ve escaped a thousand death-traps, if only by actually dying, but by complete accident, by the merest roll of the dice, he’d fallen into a trap that could snarl him for a lifetime, an eternity, beyond. He had, after all, promised Jackie Tyler he’d bring her girl back to her. So far, it was a promise he couldn’t keep.
The Doctor had been thinking about shadows a lot lately, about how the absence of light could change something. The dark runes cut across Rose’s clear skin like scars, red burnt away the brown of her eyes, and her voice was harsh and guttural as she cursed him in a thousand tongues: hers, his, and those of civilizations long-dead. Chains forged in the heart of a dwarf star weighted down her slight frame, making a mockery out of the shapely contours of her body.
He fed her, not allowing one ounce of the hatred he felt for the creature inhabiting her to seep out. Instead, he thought of his Rose, and tried to mete out every bit of sympathy he could for the girl who had to be trapped inside herself.
She was still alive. He knew it. Somewhere beneath the Beast’s shell she was imprisoned, and if it took an eternity, he would free her.
In the meantime, he watched shadows lengthen. He thought about light and dark, shades of gray…
He found a gray hair on his head one day, one day when he was still no closer to finding an answer than before. It didn’t deter him.
He had a lifetime to set her free. More than one, in fact. The thought of giving up simply didn’t occur to him. She was, after all, his lifelong companion.
