Categories > TV > Doctor Who > About To Fall0 Reviews
Running for our lives. That's what we usually do. One Shot.
Extract from the poem About to Fall by Alexander Grant which can be found in The Bristol Slam Poetry Anthology edited by Glenn Carmichael and Sara-Jane Arbury. I'd recommend anyone remotely interested in poetry to track this book down.
About to Fall
Everything's covered in us,
Everything's smothering us.
This is no time for broken wings
Running for our lives. That's what we usually do. It's always the same and yet different. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose. Getting us into these situations. Most of the time he has fun.
But not this time. This time really is different. When we got here, he was his usual jovial self. Cracking bad jokes and doing his best to cause a little mayhem with that damn screwdriver of his.
He didn't know where we were and of course, I had no clue. When I gave out to him about it, he just grinned and said "Rose, this is what it's all about. This!"
He had turned on the spot, spreading his arms to illustrate his point. His enthusiasm was and still is infectious. I just laughed and he had grabbed my hand, dragging me towards the trail of smoke that indicated civilisation.
It had been alright at first. The people had been friendly, the planet beautiful, almost resembling earth. Soon all was revealed.
We were scanned by the guards upon arriving and it was only a few hours before they figured out he was a Time Lord. It turned out that this planet had almost been destroyed by the Time Wars, only a fraction of the population surviving. They blamed the Time Lords.
When I heard this, the anger and utter pain in their voices, I switched to flight or flight mode. It was time to run. I had set of quickly, dragging the Doctor behind me. For once I was the one moving faster. He kept looking back at our pursuers, a haunted look on his face.
We dodged through a shock of trees and I nearly cried when I had seen the cliff before us. I looked about, scanning the area when I saw the TARDIS, sticking out like a blue sore thumb in a clearing, not far from a beach within swimming distance. I had glanced over the edge and gulped. Well, at least there were no rocks. I turned to the Doctor.
"We're going to have to jump."
He sank to his knees and I had followed, grabbing his shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
"You go. Go back to the TARDIS. Don't wait for me. Go!"
I shook my head, amazed. "What are you talking about? This lot? Just come."
I remember pulling on his arm desperately but he had shaken it out of my grasp.
"No, I have to take responsibility. For this."
I could hear the angry mob of soldiers getting closer and I did something pretty drastic. There was a loud smack when my hand connected with his cheek.
"Stop being an idiot. This isn't your fault." I gestured around us. "You couldn't save these people. I heard you say that yourself. They have no right to blame you."
He brought his hand up to where I had slapped him.
"It's too much. So many people."
I put my hand on top of his. "I know but..."
I had yelped and fallen sideways as white hot pain shot through my shoulder.
The bastards had shot me.
The Doctor still hadn't moved and I struggled to pull myself upright. It was time for dirty tactics, mum tactics.
"Doctor, please! Don't leave me."
I wince even now at how my voice had sounded. Weak and pathetic.
His eyes had travelled from the guards slowly surrounding us, to my face, to my hand which was clutching my wounded shoulder. I could feel the blood seeping through my fingers.
Suddenly, there had been determination in his eyes. I wasn't quite sure what it was for until he grabbed my good arm, pulling me up and to his side.
The guards were shouting at us, but I didn't register any of it as the Doctor put his arms around me tightly and whispered in my ear.
"Hang on and take a deep breath. We're about to fall."
And then we were falling. I saw the water rushing up at us from below and we both took a breath. The water stung when we hit the surface, plunging into the cold blue depths. I kept holding my breath and felt like I was about to pass out when we resurfaced. We both gulped down air. I could still hear guards shouting above us but I couldn't see them. The Doctor had a firm grip around my waist, using the other arm to tread water quietly.
"We'll stick to the cliff wall and we should be ok. We'll make the TARDIS before they find it."
I had nodded breathlessly and we began to swim. Or rather he began to swim. Or rather he began to swim and dragged me along with him as I attempted to swim.
After awhile we heard voices on the cliff above us. We both took a deep breath and went under again. After a minute or so I let out my air, unable to hold my breath longer. I struggled against the Doctors grip but he held me down, grabbing my head and breathing air into my lungs. We clung to each other for another minute before surfacing.
After another while of swimming and being dragged we reached the beach and clambered up the shore. The Doctor was supporting me as we made our way towards the TARDIS. I was already feeling dizzy from blood loss and shock.
The Doctor had wrenched open the door and hauled me inside. He moved us quickly before picking me up and carried me silently, both of us dripping, to the medical bay.
And now here I am. My shoulder is patched up and feels good as new. He still hasn't said a word. I can practically feel the emotion surging though him, battling to get out. Anger, hurt, guilt, frustration, sorrow and many more. He is seriously unable to deal with his own feelings, like most males I've come into contact with. He's a classic bottle case, keeping it all inside until someone gets shot in the shoulder.
But then, that's why I stick around really. He'd fall apart if I left him on his own at this stage. I'm almost positive it's happened before we met. I grab his hand and he sits down on the bench beside me and lays his head on my newly repaired shoulder. He doesn't cry, at least he tries not to. I wish he would. Instead of this. He shakes with intense emotion and sadness. I put my arms around him and wait for the storm to pass. He's always like this, teetering on the edge, always about to fall, but as long as I'm around I won't let him.
I'll hang on tight.