Categories > TV > Doctor Who
Stars and Flame
0 reviewsHe knows how cruel time is. He knows that it plays tricks and knows when it is wrong.
0Unrated
Prompt: Alien
Warning: Shameless misuse of mathematical terms
Stars and Flame
By Holdur
Jack doesn’t remember what happened. He knows that he blinked (he thinks that he blinked; looking back it seems like the universe blinked) and then the Doctor was crumpling to the ground at his feet. There is a flash of panic that he hears Rose echo and then he is heaving the Doctor into his own bed and pushing Rose out the door to the kitchen to make tea with the full knowledge that she is flustered enough to get lost. There is something in the room that makes Jack uneasy and he wants to keep Rose away for as long as possible. The Doctor is not the only protective one.
If he is still, he begins to think that there are stars sliding along the wall and floor. He closes his eyes and breathes in numbers.
/Slightly psychic/, he thinks wryly.
The Doctor rolls onto his side, shaking and straining for air and Jack grabs his hand without thinking. For a moment, he feels like he is holding mercury, then he is convulsing on the floor and the Doctor is holding his hand and he can't let go. His head is full of time and it burns. The timelines tangle into clumps of probability that slide around in front of his eyes so he can't see. He knows that the Doctor is above him. He smells like stars and when he speaks it sounds like silver.
A line snags at him. It wraps around his neck and tries to strangle him, cutting off his screams, wrapping him in a reality.
An explosion in the time vortex that rips the TARDIS apart. Rose and Jack, so tiny and insignificant in the wash of time that runs around him, die and a split second before that the Doctor, the lone Time Lord, steps into his own domain. He knows how cruel time is. He knows that it plays tricks and knows when it is wrong.
The universe blinks.
It isn’t until Jack takes the Doctor’s hand and Rose gets lost on the way to the kitchen that he understands that this is his reality, fixed, patched and straightened until he interfered and unwittingly took the tangle before the Doctor could settle it into place.
The matrix between the floor and the ceiling twists into his clothing, tries to pull him down, gets angry when it can't have him.
Then something shivers down the threads, like ice melting into a fire. Something combs through the mess around him, like running fingers through sand. One hand soothing the worlds into place and the other holding onto his so he doesn’t get lost. Time is pulled across his mind like harp strings, bright and burning. It sears whatever it touches and he knows that it won't be long before he goes mad.
He understands a word that he doesn’t hear and the strings fade away, pulled back into being, leaving him in darkness. He clutches at the Doctor’s hand, afraid that he will fade with them, and lies limp on the floor. When he looks up, he sees that the Doctor’s eyes are full of stars and flame.
The universe blinks.
Warning: Shameless misuse of mathematical terms
Stars and Flame
By Holdur
Jack doesn’t remember what happened. He knows that he blinked (he thinks that he blinked; looking back it seems like the universe blinked) and then the Doctor was crumpling to the ground at his feet. There is a flash of panic that he hears Rose echo and then he is heaving the Doctor into his own bed and pushing Rose out the door to the kitchen to make tea with the full knowledge that she is flustered enough to get lost. There is something in the room that makes Jack uneasy and he wants to keep Rose away for as long as possible. The Doctor is not the only protective one.
If he is still, he begins to think that there are stars sliding along the wall and floor. He closes his eyes and breathes in numbers.
/Slightly psychic/, he thinks wryly.
The Doctor rolls onto his side, shaking and straining for air and Jack grabs his hand without thinking. For a moment, he feels like he is holding mercury, then he is convulsing on the floor and the Doctor is holding his hand and he can't let go. His head is full of time and it burns. The timelines tangle into clumps of probability that slide around in front of his eyes so he can't see. He knows that the Doctor is above him. He smells like stars and when he speaks it sounds like silver.
A line snags at him. It wraps around his neck and tries to strangle him, cutting off his screams, wrapping him in a reality.
An explosion in the time vortex that rips the TARDIS apart. Rose and Jack, so tiny and insignificant in the wash of time that runs around him, die and a split second before that the Doctor, the lone Time Lord, steps into his own domain. He knows how cruel time is. He knows that it plays tricks and knows when it is wrong.
The universe blinks.
It isn’t until Jack takes the Doctor’s hand and Rose gets lost on the way to the kitchen that he understands that this is his reality, fixed, patched and straightened until he interfered and unwittingly took the tangle before the Doctor could settle it into place.
The matrix between the floor and the ceiling twists into his clothing, tries to pull him down, gets angry when it can't have him.
Then something shivers down the threads, like ice melting into a fire. Something combs through the mess around him, like running fingers through sand. One hand soothing the worlds into place and the other holding onto his so he doesn’t get lost. Time is pulled across his mind like harp strings, bright and burning. It sears whatever it touches and he knows that it won't be long before he goes mad.
He understands a word that he doesn’t hear and the strings fade away, pulled back into being, leaving him in darkness. He clutches at the Doctor’s hand, afraid that he will fade with them, and lies limp on the floor. When he looks up, he sees that the Doctor’s eyes are full of stars and flame.
The universe blinks.
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