(no subject)
Verse: realityshifted
Word Count: 851
The Brigadier can't feel his body. It's still there, of course, but he has lost all control of his motor functions. The needle that they embedded in his neck earlier must've been a muscle relaxant or so he thinks. It's strong enough that he can barely lift his head to see the two creatures dragging him by his arms into a white room.
There's no pain when they slam him into the chair and lash down his arms. There's only the slightest prick of pain when they attach some sort of device to his temples. The lead creature crouches down in front of him, cups the Brigadier's chin in his three fingered hand.
"Are you still with ussssss, human?" it asks him.
He struggles to form words and is left wanting; the creature smiles at him with row after row of teeth. It was stupid of him to have gotten caught by the enemy, but there isn't any time now left for regrets. He's in a bind and finding the edges of his vision blurring.
"Now then... tell ussss everything..."
* * *
APRIL 12TH, 1937 - KENT
Alistair is a light sleeper. He has been ever since he was a babe and it often meant for problematic nights for his mother and father. As he grew older, it became easier to manage - whenever Alistair awoke, he was permitted a short time to read before it was right to bed. After a lashing from his father's belt when he had been caught playing instead of reading, he always kept to task.
It's one of those nights. Intermittent sleep with periods of wakefulness in which he quietly reads one of his father's approved books, or looking through his father's military pictures. He's left his window open for a bit of air; it isn't as cold as it has been the past few nights, and he enjoys looking out at the stars.
When he hears a sort of grinding noise outside, he is instantly at the window. Out in the yard is a box, plain as day, where there hadn't been one before. Alistair rubs his eyes, unsure if he's really seeing it or if he's imagining it. It's when two people step out of it, a man and a woman, that he proceeds to do anything.
"Father!"
He leaps out of his room and dashes to his parent's bedroom.
"Father, someone's out in the yard!"
Alistair's father growls and rises from bed. "What is it, boy?"
"There's someone on the property, father. I saw them."
With little time to waste, he runs back to his bedroom and points out the window. His father, now awake and quietly fuming steps to it and peers outside before turning back to face his son.
"You ought to know better than to be telling tales."
"...But..." He surges around his father to look outside. There is nothing. "But there was someone out there. Really, there was."
His father snorts at him. "I won't hear another word of it."
* * *
JUNE 28TH, 1951 - ZANTE
Second Lieutenant Lethbridge-Stewart is in the Greek Islands with Corporal Clarke to update maps now that World War II has settled down. It should be routine. According to all the paperwork, it is routine. There is nothing amiss even though Lethbridge-Stewart has returned with holes in his memory.
There is nothing amiss even though he now has the stranges dreams. Dreams of a three-headed dog heeling at his side, of a boatman on a river of souls, of the very depths of the underworld itself. Even the woman in his dreams, one whom he feels oddly drawn to is a stranger to him - though time and time again he risks the very depths of hell to rescue her. Losing his soul would be a small price to pay if he could just save her.
It is a dream he doesn't understand until a little over twenty years later, when once again he at Zante, does he remember. There is a woman there whom he loves, a woman who is known in Greek mythology as 'the Queen of the Underworld'. He would gladly go there again to save her - but he's no longer a hero that belongs in myths. This time, he settles for a proper goodbye: one that won't leave him without her name.
Persephone.
* * *
The Brigadier's body writhes in the seat when a searing pain shoots through his temples. Someone is lightly hitting the sides of his face, trying to jar him into wakefulness. He can barely feel that pain, but he manages to open his eyes. The vision is blurry but he recognises the two people there. Donna Noble is trying to bring him back to them while the Doctor is getting him unbound.
"Come on, Brigadier..." Donna's grin is a bit strained, it isn't genuine, he can tell that even though his head is swimming. "Can't have you laying about."
The Doctor pulls the Brigadier up to his feet and he almost goes down. It takes all the strength he can muster to keep himself up. The relaxant is starting to wear off, he can feel various parts of his anatomy now.
"Are you alright?" The Doctor asks.
The Brigadier gives him a tired look. "Of course."
Word Count: 851
The Brigadier can't feel his body. It's still there, of course, but he has lost all control of his motor functions. The needle that they embedded in his neck earlier must've been a muscle relaxant or so he thinks. It's strong enough that he can barely lift his head to see the two creatures dragging him by his arms into a white room.
There's no pain when they slam him into the chair and lash down his arms. There's only the slightest prick of pain when they attach some sort of device to his temples. The lead creature crouches down in front of him, cups the Brigadier's chin in his three fingered hand.
"Are you still with ussssss, human?" it asks him.
He struggles to form words and is left wanting; the creature smiles at him with row after row of teeth. It was stupid of him to have gotten caught by the enemy, but there isn't any time now left for regrets. He's in a bind and finding the edges of his vision blurring.
"Now then... tell ussss everything..."
* * *
APRIL 12TH, 1937 - KENT
Alistair is a light sleeper. He has been ever since he was a babe and it often meant for problematic nights for his mother and father. As he grew older, it became easier to manage - whenever Alistair awoke, he was permitted a short time to read before it was right to bed. After a lashing from his father's belt when he had been caught playing instead of reading, he always kept to task.
It's one of those nights. Intermittent sleep with periods of wakefulness in which he quietly reads one of his father's approved books, or looking through his father's military pictures. He's left his window open for a bit of air; it isn't as cold as it has been the past few nights, and he enjoys looking out at the stars.
When he hears a sort of grinding noise outside, he is instantly at the window. Out in the yard is a box, plain as day, where there hadn't been one before. Alistair rubs his eyes, unsure if he's really seeing it or if he's imagining it. It's when two people step out of it, a man and a woman, that he proceeds to do anything.
"Father!"
He leaps out of his room and dashes to his parent's bedroom.
"Father, someone's out in the yard!"
Alistair's father growls and rises from bed. "What is it, boy?"
"There's someone on the property, father. I saw them."
With little time to waste, he runs back to his bedroom and points out the window. His father, now awake and quietly fuming steps to it and peers outside before turning back to face his son.
"You ought to know better than to be telling tales."
"...But..." He surges around his father to look outside. There is nothing. "But there was someone out there. Really, there was."
His father snorts at him. "I won't hear another word of it."
* * *
JUNE 28TH, 1951 - ZANTE
Second Lieutenant Lethbridge-Stewart is in the Greek Islands with Corporal Clarke to update maps now that World War II has settled down. It should be routine. According to all the paperwork, it is routine. There is nothing amiss even though Lethbridge-Stewart has returned with holes in his memory.
There is nothing amiss even though he now has the stranges dreams. Dreams of a three-headed dog heeling at his side, of a boatman on a river of souls, of the very depths of the underworld itself. Even the woman in his dreams, one whom he feels oddly drawn to is a stranger to him - though time and time again he risks the very depths of hell to rescue her. Losing his soul would be a small price to pay if he could just save her.
It is a dream he doesn't understand until a little over twenty years later, when once again he at Zante, does he remember. There is a woman there whom he loves, a woman who is known in Greek mythology as 'the Queen of the Underworld'. He would gladly go there again to save her - but he's no longer a hero that belongs in myths. This time, he settles for a proper goodbye: one that won't leave him without her name.
Persephone.
* * *
The Brigadier's body writhes in the seat when a searing pain shoots through his temples. Someone is lightly hitting the sides of his face, trying to jar him into wakefulness. He can barely feel that pain, but he manages to open his eyes. The vision is blurry but he recognises the two people there. Donna Noble is trying to bring him back to them while the Doctor is getting him unbound.
"Come on, Brigadier..." Donna's grin is a bit strained, it isn't genuine, he can tell that even though his head is swimming. "Can't have you laying about."
The Doctor pulls the Brigadier up to his feet and he almost goes down. It takes all the strength he can muster to keep himself up. The relaxant is starting to wear off, he can feel various parts of his anatomy now.
"Are you alright?" The Doctor asks.
The Brigadier gives him a tired look. "Of course."