Rebirth (1/?)
Title: Rebirth
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG13 i guess for angst, but not much.
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, this wouldn't need writing.
Warnings: Spoilers for all Torchwood, just to be safe. Especially Children Of Earth. And up to Gridlock in Doctor Who series 3
Short Summary: Helloo, fixed point in time and spacee! the Face can't die!
Notes: Merr. just felt like writing it. Unbetaed. so fix if you can x Yeah, really short. Justa ficlet.
A face and a cat, surrounded by death and glass. Alone in a world beginning to wake.
She has moved away, hiding her face in her apron as she sobs.
She mourns him. The great Face of Boe. An icon. A saviour. A hero.
A friend.
Her grief consumes her; makes her oblivious to all else. Yet, she cannot bring herself to look at him.
So she just sits. On the floor of the Citadel, in a land on the verge of a great rebirth, Novice Hame just sits.
She will not claim her glory. She will not celebrate her victory. For it was not hers. It was his.
* * * * * * *
Hours passed. and still she could not look upon the face. Her back was turned to him now, for she could not bare it.
She could sense something in the atmosphere of the room though. A change. A subtle difference.
Someone gasped and Novice Hame froze.
________________________________________________________
Comments are love x
more soon x
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG13 i guess for angst, but not much.
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, this wouldn't need writing.
Warnings: Spoilers for all Torchwood, just to be safe. Especially Children Of Earth. And up to Gridlock in Doctor Who series 3
Short Summary: Helloo, fixed point in time and spacee! the Face can't die!
Notes: Merr. just felt like writing it. Unbetaed. so fix if you can x Yeah, really short. Justa ficlet.
A face and a cat, surrounded by death and glass. Alone in a world beginning to wake.
She has moved away, hiding her face in her apron as she sobs.
She mourns him. The great Face of Boe. An icon. A saviour. A hero.
A friend.
Her grief consumes her; makes her oblivious to all else. Yet, she cannot bring herself to look at him.
So she just sits. On the floor of the Citadel, in a land on the verge of a great rebirth, Novice Hame just sits.
She will not claim her glory. She will not celebrate her victory. For it was not hers. It was his.
* * * * * * *
Hours passed. and still she could not look upon the face. Her back was turned to him now, for she could not bare it.
She could sense something in the atmosphere of the room though. A change. A subtle difference.
Someone gasped and Novice Hame froze.
________________________________________________________
Comments are love x
more soon x