Fic: Reap the Whirlwind
Fandom: Doctor Who
Summary: They made into the handyman of the universe. But the one thing he cannot fix is him. He has to be the big damn hero, and he hates every second. AU. Dark-ish. Companion(ish) to 'The Road to Hell'.
Unbeta'd. Please comment (even if it’s to say you hate it). I don’t own Doctor Who. LOOK MANDY THERE'S MORE! AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME!?!
“They that sow the wind, shall reap the whirlwind” - Book of Hosea
He isn’t a hero, despite how he acts like one. He has to be the hero because he was made that way. They conditioned him from childhood to be the handyman of the universe, fixing every little problem he comes across. First they tried to tell him it’s for his own good, that he cannot live the way he wants to. That the universe is not his personal playground to conform to his every whim. The arguments they made were filled with their fear-mongering, their panic at what a child like him could achieve if left to achieve it. When their attempts at reasoning fail, they do the unforgivable. They make him lock part of himself behind walls in his mind. They put mental barriers on a part of his personality - of him - that cannot be broken from the inside. They tell him that if he genuinely becomes the hero he could be, they will allow him his freedom, and that he will not be able to break the barriers on his own. He doesn’t believe them. He sees how the walls warp and bend when he hates. He thinks that if he can muster enough hate, enough rage, then the walls will crumble and he will be whole and free again. Until then, he has to be the big damn hero.
Every opportunity he can find, he sneaks away from them to practise his hating. He learns to hate the ground he walks on, to hate his face (for they changed that to suit their image of the perfect puppet), to hate the way he is forced to live. He rages against the universe and all creatures under it. The walls shudder and flex, but they hold firm. He begins to believe.
One day, the unthinkable happens. A war comes. He is needed to fight. But they come to realise that while he is caged, he will not be able to deal the destruction that they need him to. So they release him, at least, for a time.
He is free, and able to act without having to care what happens to those in his wake. He wins every battle he is sent into (and a few that he isn’t). For a while they are pleased with him, and he thinks that maybe they will let him stay this way. He asks to keep his freedom, giving his solemn promise to avoid them and their planet, if only they will let him stay this way. They say they will consider it. He is ecstatic, and fights even harder to prove himself worthy of their trust.
All too soon however, the war takes a turn for the worse. Bodies litter the city streets, bodies that should be rising victorious but instead lay still and unmoving where they fell. Battles that should be easy victories become devastating losses at worst or pyrrhic victories at best. He fights like a madman, having no thought for maintaining his lives, focusing only on freedom and earning it permanently.
After a skirmish in which he kills many and wounds more, they ask to see him. There is a meeting held amongst all the council elders and his teachers. He is nervous. They tell him that they are grateful to him for helping them to win the war (for they are certain that the war is won) and that he has done well. He is delighted, and repeats his promise to never return. There is a moment of awkward glances and muttering. His hearts fall. They tell him that he cannot be allowed to remain the way he is, for without a war as an outlet for his darkness and rage, surely he will destroy them all. They tell him it is for his own good. That he will be happier going back to ‘normal’.
He grows angrier with every word that leaves their cowardly lips. He is careful to hide his fury, and instead pretends to be convinced by their arguments. They are pleased with him for seeing the truth, and tell him that they will re-establish the walls the next day. He smiles and leaves the chambers.
He has a chance to remain free, and he’ll be damned if he lets it slip through his fingers. The first thing he does is offer to take a shift guarding an ark of prisoners. The second is wait until he is not being watched. The third is to release all the prisoners in an out of the way place, at least a day’s travel from the city. Then he returns to his rooms to get some rest for his busy morning.
When he wakes, the attack on the citadel is already underway. They are horribly outnumbered, as he expected. He runs through the melee to a room, hidden deep within the maze of corridors in the palace. The room is bare except for a podium, and a large button labelled: Not to be pressed under any circumstances. (He thinks this is pointless, what’s the point of large threatening buttons of you can’t push them?). He walks up to the podium, raises his hand over the button and slowly lets it descend. His hand touches the top of the button. He begins to push it. Suddenly, the door crashes open, and several council elders stride in, shouting with one voice the beginning of the binding phrases that they use to contain his soul. He screams, and as he feels the burn of the walls clamping down on him, pushes the button the rest of the way down. Alarms blare, and the world is alight. Flames dance across his vision and behind his closed eyes. His head feels as though it will split into two. He falls to the burning ground, and slips into unconsciousness.
Everyone dies. There are no survivors of the Time War.
He is lost. He feels like he is floating. He decides that this must be what death feels like. Then he opens his eyes to see what personal hell he will endure for eternity. Strangely, it looks remarkably like the interior of his ship. It is then that he realises that the sentient machine must have rescued him from the burning planet before it was locked away from time.
He feels a tear slide from his eye at the thought of never seeing his planet again, and wonders why. Then he looks into his mind, and sees nothing but barriers. He is the only one left of his kind. And he is broken. He feels the urge to fly far away, and find some trouble to fix. He knows what it will cost him to ignore the urge, even to mourn for the loss of his freedom. He sets a course for anywhere but here, and flies away from the chaos he longs for, into a world of order and being the hero.
He will never stop looking for someone to fix him, for it is certain he cannot fix himself.
Summary: They made into the handyman of the universe. But the one thing he cannot fix is him. He has to be the big damn hero, and he hates every second. AU. Dark-ish. Companion(ish) to 'The Road to Hell'.
Unbeta'd. Please comment (even if it’s to say you hate it). I don’t own Doctor Who. LOOK MANDY THERE'S MORE! AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME!?!
“They that sow the wind, shall reap the whirlwind” - Book of Hosea
He isn’t a hero, despite how he acts like one. He has to be the hero because he was made that way. They conditioned him from childhood to be the handyman of the universe, fixing every little problem he comes across. First they tried to tell him it’s for his own good, that he cannot live the way he wants to. That the universe is not his personal playground to conform to his every whim. The arguments they made were filled with their fear-mongering, their panic at what a child like him could achieve if left to achieve it. When their attempts at reasoning fail, they do the unforgivable. They make him lock part of himself behind walls in his mind. They put mental barriers on a part of his personality - of him - that cannot be broken from the inside. They tell him that if he genuinely becomes the hero he could be, they will allow him his freedom, and that he will not be able to break the barriers on his own. He doesn’t believe them. He sees how the walls warp and bend when he hates. He thinks that if he can muster enough hate, enough rage, then the walls will crumble and he will be whole and free again. Until then, he has to be the big damn hero.
Every opportunity he can find, he sneaks away from them to practise his hating. He learns to hate the ground he walks on, to hate his face (for they changed that to suit their image of the perfect puppet), to hate the way he is forced to live. He rages against the universe and all creatures under it. The walls shudder and flex, but they hold firm. He begins to believe.
One day, the unthinkable happens. A war comes. He is needed to fight. But they come to realise that while he is caged, he will not be able to deal the destruction that they need him to. So they release him, at least, for a time.
He is free, and able to act without having to care what happens to those in his wake. He wins every battle he is sent into (and a few that he isn’t). For a while they are pleased with him, and he thinks that maybe they will let him stay this way. He asks to keep his freedom, giving his solemn promise to avoid them and their planet, if only they will let him stay this way. They say they will consider it. He is ecstatic, and fights even harder to prove himself worthy of their trust.
All too soon however, the war takes a turn for the worse. Bodies litter the city streets, bodies that should be rising victorious but instead lay still and unmoving where they fell. Battles that should be easy victories become devastating losses at worst or pyrrhic victories at best. He fights like a madman, having no thought for maintaining his lives, focusing only on freedom and earning it permanently.
After a skirmish in which he kills many and wounds more, they ask to see him. There is a meeting held amongst all the council elders and his teachers. He is nervous. They tell him that they are grateful to him for helping them to win the war (for they are certain that the war is won) and that he has done well. He is delighted, and repeats his promise to never return. There is a moment of awkward glances and muttering. His hearts fall. They tell him that he cannot be allowed to remain the way he is, for without a war as an outlet for his darkness and rage, surely he will destroy them all. They tell him it is for his own good. That he will be happier going back to ‘normal’.
He grows angrier with every word that leaves their cowardly lips. He is careful to hide his fury, and instead pretends to be convinced by their arguments. They are pleased with him for seeing the truth, and tell him that they will re-establish the walls the next day. He smiles and leaves the chambers.
He has a chance to remain free, and he’ll be damned if he lets it slip through his fingers. The first thing he does is offer to take a shift guarding an ark of prisoners. The second is wait until he is not being watched. The third is to release all the prisoners in an out of the way place, at least a day’s travel from the city. Then he returns to his rooms to get some rest for his busy morning.
When he wakes, the attack on the citadel is already underway. They are horribly outnumbered, as he expected. He runs through the melee to a room, hidden deep within the maze of corridors in the palace. The room is bare except for a podium, and a large button labelled: Not to be pressed under any circumstances. (He thinks this is pointless, what’s the point of large threatening buttons of you can’t push them?). He walks up to the podium, raises his hand over the button and slowly lets it descend. His hand touches the top of the button. He begins to push it. Suddenly, the door crashes open, and several council elders stride in, shouting with one voice the beginning of the binding phrases that they use to contain his soul. He screams, and as he feels the burn of the walls clamping down on him, pushes the button the rest of the way down. Alarms blare, and the world is alight. Flames dance across his vision and behind his closed eyes. His head feels as though it will split into two. He falls to the burning ground, and slips into unconsciousness.
Everyone dies. There are no survivors of the Time War.
He is lost. He feels like he is floating. He decides that this must be what death feels like. Then he opens his eyes to see what personal hell he will endure for eternity. Strangely, it looks remarkably like the interior of his ship. It is then that he realises that the sentient machine must have rescued him from the burning planet before it was locked away from time.
He feels a tear slide from his eye at the thought of never seeing his planet again, and wonders why. Then he looks into his mind, and sees nothing but barriers. He is the only one left of his kind. And he is broken. He feels the urge to fly far away, and find some trouble to fix. He knows what it will cost him to ignore the urge, even to mourn for the loss of his freedom. He sets a course for anywhere but here, and flies away from the chaos he longs for, into a world of order and being the hero.
He will never stop looking for someone to fix him, for it is certain he cannot fix himself.