for NSIS Prompt 12.31.07 - 4: Trigger
You are their teacher.
You know what it's like, being a boy and holding a gun for the very first time.
You are their teacher.
You've watched them turn from boys into…into slightly older boys but they're still boys and now they're holding up against an impossible and terrifying enemy.
You are their teacher.
Now, here you all are. Holding guns. Making a stand. They've got tears streaming down their faces, and they're positively terrified. They have to kill people. Real, proper people. They know this and it terrifies them. As just it should, you think.
You are their teacher.
You don't cry. You're frozen to your bones and the gun is heavy in your hands and you're right there with the boys that you don't want to kill anyone, but you know your post. You know what you must do. You have to stand with them. Stand with your pupils.
You are their teacher.
The wall starts to break and you raise your weapon. It's not just a gun or even a rifle, it's a weapon. You're about to use it to kill people. Real, proper people. You steady the muzzle against your shoulder, ready on the sight and put your finger to the trigger. You can almost swear it stings against your fingertip.
You are their teacher.
You know how to do this. You know how to fire this gun. You know how it should buck back and you know how it should smell after it fires and yet you can't. Your boys, your pupils fire faster than you do. They hit accurately even with tears streaming down their faces. They're the soldiers.
You are their…
You try to imagine how the Doctor would do this. That imaginary hero in your mind. That romantic lost prince with a dark and dangerous past. The man that Martha keeps insisting that you are. How would he pull the trigger? Wouldn't he be brave where you're being a coward? You try to imagine him pulling out some magical gun and firing it to save the day, but you can't. You can't imagine that the Doctor could press down on this trigger. You can't imagine him wanting to kill. That's not the sort of man he is.
You are…
Those dreams, oh, those dreams. The dreams of the evil and the destruction. Of the water and the fire and the pain and the death and he would never want it. He would never hold a gun unless he absolutely had to. He would never kill unless he had no choice. Every death he causes, every pain he creates leaves a mark on those impossible two hearts he has. He's scarred from what he's done in his past.
Your trigger finger goes slack. The gun lowers even before the fight is finished. Your pupils continue to fight while you stand there, gaping at the cowardice within yourself. The cowardice within the Doctor.
You are their teacher.
You are not a killer. You can't be. Whatever part of you that imaginary hero came from, it isn't the part that can kill.
What are you, Doctor? Coward or killer?
Coward. Any day.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten) / John Smith
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 511
You know what it's like, being a boy and holding a gun for the very first time.
You are their teacher.
You've watched them turn from boys into…into slightly older boys but they're still boys and now they're holding up against an impossible and terrifying enemy.
You are their teacher.
Now, here you all are. Holding guns. Making a stand. They've got tears streaming down their faces, and they're positively terrified. They have to kill people. Real, proper people. They know this and it terrifies them. As just it should, you think.
You are their teacher.
You don't cry. You're frozen to your bones and the gun is heavy in your hands and you're right there with the boys that you don't want to kill anyone, but you know your post. You know what you must do. You have to stand with them. Stand with your pupils.
You are their teacher.
The wall starts to break and you raise your weapon. It's not just a gun or even a rifle, it's a weapon. You're about to use it to kill people. Real, proper people. You steady the muzzle against your shoulder, ready on the sight and put your finger to the trigger. You can almost swear it stings against your fingertip.
You are their teacher.
You know how to do this. You know how to fire this gun. You know how it should buck back and you know how it should smell after it fires and yet you can't. Your boys, your pupils fire faster than you do. They hit accurately even with tears streaming down their faces. They're the soldiers.
You are their…
You try to imagine how the Doctor would do this. That imaginary hero in your mind. That romantic lost prince with a dark and dangerous past. The man that Martha keeps insisting that you are. How would he pull the trigger? Wouldn't he be brave where you're being a coward? You try to imagine him pulling out some magical gun and firing it to save the day, but you can't. You can't imagine that the Doctor could press down on this trigger. You can't imagine him wanting to kill. That's not the sort of man he is.
You are…
Those dreams, oh, those dreams. The dreams of the evil and the destruction. Of the water and the fire and the pain and the death and he would never want it. He would never hold a gun unless he absolutely had to. He would never kill unless he had no choice. Every death he causes, every pain he creates leaves a mark on those impossible two hearts he has. He's scarred from what he's done in his past.
Your trigger finger goes slack. The gun lowers even before the fight is finished. Your pupils continue to fight while you stand there, gaping at the cowardice within yourself. The cowardice within the Doctor.
You are their teacher.
You are not a killer. You can't be. Whatever part of you that imaginary hero came from, it isn't the part that can kill.
What are you, Doctor? Coward or killer?
Coward. Any day.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten) / John Smith
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 511