muse_shuffle; Survive and Save
03. Time goes by so slowly for those who wait // No time to hesitate
(Madonna - 'Hung Up')
They make a good pair. One will do anything to survive. One will do anything to save.
When the gun fires, he doesn’t hesitate. The Doctor shoves the Master.
Time is slower through a Time Lord’s eyes. Every movement is calculated down to the last decimal point, equations spun through flexing muscles and gun powder. Fractions of seconds slice away as he rams into the Master. The Master would have reacted, yes, but by the time he would have turned to move, it would be too late.
The flutter of the Master’s clothes. The widening of his eyes. He’ll react but too late. Too late last time to stop it. He didn't see it last time.
The Master always tells the Doctor to take action. To make a choice. He can't hesitate.
Time fast forwards back into place and the Doctor falls to the ground. The bullet is safer inside of him. It’s been a while since he’s been shot and it hurts, hurts like fire curling around veins and boiling his blood. White hot heat build around the bullet. His hearts pump desperately to deliver all the oxygen where he needs it as he coughs and tries to breathe. Damaged lungs and shattered bones. Flesh torn and organs cut.
He really hates Qaert military rifles.
There’s a noise above him and a body hits the ground away from him. The Doctor looks up in time to see the Master tucking his screwdriver into his jacket. But then there’s two Masters and they blur and fade into each other like ghosts and the Doctor has to close his eyes.
The world is spinning too fast. They’re going to be thrown off the planet at this rate. Exactly one thousand miles per hour, hurling through nothingness. Just the darkness.
“Doctor,” he hears and it’s a steel beam refusing to bend under pressure. “You idiot.” He has to open his eyes now.
The Doctor tries to answer but it comes out as a hoarse gasp. He curls up on himself to deal with the pain. The bullet rebels with another shift and lets his blood flow free over the cold ground.
Doctor.
“Doctor?”
“Doctor, answer me.”
He can’t get up on his own power and so the Master takes over. He rattles off logic to the Doctor. The Doctor isn’t regenerating, so he’s fine. He’ll regenerate even if he isn’t fine. He’s not going to die. Stop being so ridiculous.
Idiot. Self-sacrificing fool.
He gets him back to the TARDIS as fast as he can. He urges the Doctor to heal or regenerate but he can’t just bleed. He’s not allowed.
It’s a strange wound for missing its mark. Lodged just perfectly. The Doctor whispers out a brief sentence to the Master.
“Bullet’s…between…them. There.”
The Master stares at him. He knows.
The Doctor finds himself strapped down to the medical bay table. He can’t regenerate. He can’t heal. Bullets are simply the best defense against a Time Lord.
He laughs, though it sounds more like a soft exhale. He feels the Master working on him and that hurts, too, so very badly, as flesh cuts and blood spills. He’s determined to save him.
But it’s so funny that he started their adventures like this, with the Master on the table with the bullet.
You’re not going to die, idiot. You’re not allowed to die. You can’t die.
Doctor!
The Doctor listens but it takes too much effort. There’s a noise somewhere and he wants to listen to that instead. It’s far away. He tries to catch it but it’s fleeting and soon he’s left with nothing to listen to at all. It’s boring, in the silence. Lonely.
Doctor! Don't you dare!
He decides to shut his eyes for a bit. Just for a tiny bit. He's tired. He hears someone speaking again but he just can't listen. He can barely hear. He just needs some rest first.
After he sleeps, he’ll be okay again.
Just some rest first.
WARNING. Character death, as noted in shiny new tag for this.
(Madonna - 'Hung Up')
They make a good pair. One will do anything to survive. One will do anything to save.
When the gun fires, he doesn’t hesitate. The Doctor shoves the Master.
Time is slower through a Time Lord’s eyes. Every movement is calculated down to the last decimal point, equations spun through flexing muscles and gun powder. Fractions of seconds slice away as he rams into the Master. The Master would have reacted, yes, but by the time he would have turned to move, it would be too late.
The flutter of the Master’s clothes. The widening of his eyes. He’ll react but too late. Too late last time to stop it. He didn't see it last time.
The Master always tells the Doctor to take action. To make a choice. He can't hesitate.
Time fast forwards back into place and the Doctor falls to the ground. The bullet is safer inside of him. It’s been a while since he’s been shot and it hurts, hurts like fire curling around veins and boiling his blood. White hot heat build around the bullet. His hearts pump desperately to deliver all the oxygen where he needs it as he coughs and tries to breathe. Damaged lungs and shattered bones. Flesh torn and organs cut.
He really hates Qaert military rifles.
There’s a noise above him and a body hits the ground away from him. The Doctor looks up in time to see the Master tucking his screwdriver into his jacket. But then there’s two Masters and they blur and fade into each other like ghosts and the Doctor has to close his eyes.
The world is spinning too fast. They’re going to be thrown off the planet at this rate. Exactly one thousand miles per hour, hurling through nothingness. Just the darkness.
“Doctor,” he hears and it’s a steel beam refusing to bend under pressure. “You idiot.” He has to open his eyes now.
The Doctor tries to answer but it comes out as a hoarse gasp. He curls up on himself to deal with the pain. The bullet rebels with another shift and lets his blood flow free over the cold ground.
Doctor.
“Doctor?”
“Doctor, answer me.”
He can’t get up on his own power and so the Master takes over. He rattles off logic to the Doctor. The Doctor isn’t regenerating, so he’s fine. He’ll regenerate even if he isn’t fine. He’s not going to die. Stop being so ridiculous.
Idiot. Self-sacrificing fool.
He gets him back to the TARDIS as fast as he can. He urges the Doctor to heal or regenerate but he can’t just bleed. He’s not allowed.
It’s a strange wound for missing its mark. Lodged just perfectly. The Doctor whispers out a brief sentence to the Master.
“Bullet’s…between…them. There.”
The Master stares at him. He knows.
The Doctor finds himself strapped down to the medical bay table. He can’t regenerate. He can’t heal. Bullets are simply the best defense against a Time Lord.
He laughs, though it sounds more like a soft exhale. He feels the Master working on him and that hurts, too, so very badly, as flesh cuts and blood spills. He’s determined to save him.
But it’s so funny that he started their adventures like this, with the Master on the table with the bullet.
You’re not going to die, idiot. You’re not allowed to die. You can’t die.
Doctor!
The Doctor listens but it takes too much effort. There’s a noise somewhere and he wants to listen to that instead. It’s far away. He tries to catch it but it’s fleeting and soon he’s left with nothing to listen to at all. It’s boring, in the silence. Lonely.
Doctor! Don't you dare!
He decides to shut his eyes for a bit. Just for a tiny bit. He's tired. He hears someone speaking again but he just can't listen. He can barely hear. He just needs some rest first.
After he sleeps, he’ll be okay again.
Just some rest first.
WARNING. Character death, as noted in shiny new tag for this.