Burn Bright
Title: Burn Bright
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Mild Spoilers for The Time of The Doctor
Characters: Barnable, Eleventh Doctor
Word Count: 685
Summary: Sometimes, it was easy to forget the Doctor didn't belong to Christmas.
A/N: Written for the who_contest prompt - Blaze
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Sometimes, when the night drew long, when the sky was at its darkest and the fires burned low, the Doctor would get this look on his face. He would turn his face heavenward, eyes drifting from one point to another, like he was picking out different stars, like he knew them. Like he knew so many of them, maybe even all of them. He would get a distant look in his eyes, like he was remembering.
Sometimes, it was easy to forget the Doctor didn't belong to Christmas.
He belonged out there, amongst all those stars he knew. He and the blue box, grown weary and faded, like the shine had gone off the blue from so many years waiting. Waiting to carry her Doctor away, back to the stars and worlds beyond imagining. Time and space, a concept too immense for a human mind, except maybe for a child’s, whose imagination still grasped the concept, who didn't try to understand, who only dreamed of something bigger and brighter.
Sometimes he would look sad, or something beyond sad. Something there were no words for. Like the remembering hurt, like he had lost far too much in his long years. They say he is two thousand years old, they say he has watched stars burn out and die, and Barnable believes them.
The Doctor has been to those stars and the worlds that turn around them. He has stardust etched into his very skin. He has fought and run, hoped and despaired, loved and hated over and over again, for so very long. He has seen the wonder the universe has to offer, the grand majesty of it, and yet here he sits, beside a dying fire with a boy now grown. Giving all his years to defend them.
Barnable’s fingers glide gently over the wooden toy in his hands. The Doctor carved it for him many years ago now. Tomorrow he will give it to his youngest grandchild. He can feel in his bones that he won’t be long for this world. He is too old to sit all night with the Doctor, but he wanted to have just one more night. One more night to look up at the stars, and forget all the ships up there, forget all the death and destruction, and remember that there is so much more. There are nebulas of every colour imaginable, there are world’s made of crystals, cities that shine and forests that sing.
The Doctor has seen so much, and touched so many, but sometimes it’s like he forgets. He calls young boys Barnable, not remembering that Barnable is now a grandfather. He sits in his room surrounded by pictures the children give him, away from the stars and all their memories. Nights like this, where he will come out and sit by the fire are getting rarer and rarer. Like the remembering hurts too much, but he won’t leave. He won’t leave Christmas to its destruction and return to the stars where he belongs. It’s not who he is. So Barnable will sit here with him one last time, look to the stars and remember with him.
Barnable looks across the dying embers, the fading light they throw enough to see the Doctor as he looks up at the stars. His eyes burn bright, the charade fallen away and it’s like the universe itself lives within him. It’s like the stars themselves, whole galaxies, are turning and blazing in his eyes. It is enough to take Barnable’s breath away, to see the Doctor as he really is for one last time.
The night is long, and an old man grows weary before its end. As Barnable stands and walks away, he prays to the universe itself, that one day, the Doctor will return to the stars in his blue box. That he will feel stardust on his fingers, the thrum of time at his feet, and see all the wonder the universe has to offer again. That he will one day look to the night sky for a star named Christmas, and remember.
......................
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Mild Spoilers for The Time of The Doctor
Characters: Barnable, Eleventh Doctor
Word Count: 685
Summary: Sometimes, it was easy to forget the Doctor didn't belong to Christmas.
A/N: Written for the who_contest prompt - Blaze
......................
Sometimes, when the night drew long, when the sky was at its darkest and the fires burned low, the Doctor would get this look on his face. He would turn his face heavenward, eyes drifting from one point to another, like he was picking out different stars, like he knew them. Like he knew so many of them, maybe even all of them. He would get a distant look in his eyes, like he was remembering.
Sometimes, it was easy to forget the Doctor didn't belong to Christmas.
He belonged out there, amongst all those stars he knew. He and the blue box, grown weary and faded, like the shine had gone off the blue from so many years waiting. Waiting to carry her Doctor away, back to the stars and worlds beyond imagining. Time and space, a concept too immense for a human mind, except maybe for a child’s, whose imagination still grasped the concept, who didn't try to understand, who only dreamed of something bigger and brighter.
Sometimes he would look sad, or something beyond sad. Something there were no words for. Like the remembering hurt, like he had lost far too much in his long years. They say he is two thousand years old, they say he has watched stars burn out and die, and Barnable believes them.
The Doctor has been to those stars and the worlds that turn around them. He has stardust etched into his very skin. He has fought and run, hoped and despaired, loved and hated over and over again, for so very long. He has seen the wonder the universe has to offer, the grand majesty of it, and yet here he sits, beside a dying fire with a boy now grown. Giving all his years to defend them.
Barnable’s fingers glide gently over the wooden toy in his hands. The Doctor carved it for him many years ago now. Tomorrow he will give it to his youngest grandchild. He can feel in his bones that he won’t be long for this world. He is too old to sit all night with the Doctor, but he wanted to have just one more night. One more night to look up at the stars, and forget all the ships up there, forget all the death and destruction, and remember that there is so much more. There are nebulas of every colour imaginable, there are world’s made of crystals, cities that shine and forests that sing.
The Doctor has seen so much, and touched so many, but sometimes it’s like he forgets. He calls young boys Barnable, not remembering that Barnable is now a grandfather. He sits in his room surrounded by pictures the children give him, away from the stars and all their memories. Nights like this, where he will come out and sit by the fire are getting rarer and rarer. Like the remembering hurts too much, but he won’t leave. He won’t leave Christmas to its destruction and return to the stars where he belongs. It’s not who he is. So Barnable will sit here with him one last time, look to the stars and remember with him.
Barnable looks across the dying embers, the fading light they throw enough to see the Doctor as he looks up at the stars. His eyes burn bright, the charade fallen away and it’s like the universe itself lives within him. It’s like the stars themselves, whole galaxies, are turning and blazing in his eyes. It is enough to take Barnable’s breath away, to see the Doctor as he really is for one last time.
The night is long, and an old man grows weary before its end. As Barnable stands and walks away, he prays to the universe itself, that one day, the Doctor will return to the stars in his blue box. That he will feel stardust on his fingers, the thrum of time at his feet, and see all the wonder the universe has to offer again. That he will one day look to the night sky for a star named Christmas, and remember.
......................