Small, Beautiful Moments: Earthshock
Well, after writing this, I decided I wanted to do a drabble for everyone else in that moment. Then I decided I wanted to do it for every serial.
That second part will take a while, but I've finished Earthshock.
Gold trickles from his hands as he watches, the tears he'll never shed. The explosion that changes a world forever is soundless, the death of a child falling on no one's ears.
He can do nothing. They beg him, and he can do nothing. He does not try to explain; they wouldn't understand.
Too late to fix arbitrary mistakes. Too late to send him home, to take precautions, to fight harder. He is helpless in the face of Time and loss, needless slaughter and silenced brilliance.
Later he wonders if, perhaps, in a different life, he could have saved him.
"Adric!"
Her voice sounds strange in her eyes; a distant, anguished cry tearing the silence apart. She has come to know grief, and helplessness, but never before has it ripped so fiercely from throat, leaving her raw and bare.
As she watches, her eyes burn with his coffin, and she doesn't know why.
The silence is broken once more. She turns from the distant flames to rest a hand on Tegan's shoulder, to pull her in her arms and allow grief to stain Traken velvet.
It is only then that she realises that, for the first time, she is crying.
She sees the explosion across space and time but it rocks her bones and sets her chest on fire.
For a moment she tastes rage and can't speak through it. Finally it spills from her lips in one word, a bitter accusation, a broken plea.
"Doctor."
He doesn't speak. He doesn't even look at her.
She wants to scream at him. She wants wrath to pour from her lips and drown his infuriating silence.
Before she can, Nyssa touches her shoulder, pulls her into her arms, and she can only weep.
He looks at her then, but it isn't enough.
The air smells of blood and scorched metal. The sight of twisted steel overwhelms him; all his work, all his calculations, come to nothing. Billions of people - Tegan's people - will die because he wasn't good enough.
"And I always try so hard."
He feels no fear, only a deep, numbing disappointment. Distantly, he hopes that the Doctor will still be proud.
He clutches his brother's belt in his hands and thinks of the family he lost, the family he is leaving behind.
Above all, he thinks about what he could have achieved.
"Now I'll never know if I was right."
Once I've finished them all I'll put them up on Teaspoon, in order. Until then I'll stick them in here.
That second part will take a while, but I've finished Earthshock.
Gold trickles from his hands as he watches, the tears he'll never shed. The explosion that changes a world forever is soundless, the death of a child falling on no one's ears.
He can do nothing. They beg him, and he can do nothing. He does not try to explain; they wouldn't understand.
Too late to fix arbitrary mistakes. Too late to send him home, to take precautions, to fight harder. He is helpless in the face of Time and loss, needless slaughter and silenced brilliance.
Later he wonders if, perhaps, in a different life, he could have saved him.
"Adric!"
Her voice sounds strange in her eyes; a distant, anguished cry tearing the silence apart. She has come to know grief, and helplessness, but never before has it ripped so fiercely from throat, leaving her raw and bare.
As she watches, her eyes burn with his coffin, and she doesn't know why.
The silence is broken once more. She turns from the distant flames to rest a hand on Tegan's shoulder, to pull her in her arms and allow grief to stain Traken velvet.
It is only then that she realises that, for the first time, she is crying.
She sees the explosion across space and time but it rocks her bones and sets her chest on fire.
For a moment she tastes rage and can't speak through it. Finally it spills from her lips in one word, a bitter accusation, a broken plea.
"Doctor."
He doesn't speak. He doesn't even look at her.
She wants to scream at him. She wants wrath to pour from her lips and drown his infuriating silence.
Before she can, Nyssa touches her shoulder, pulls her into her arms, and she can only weep.
He looks at her then, but it isn't enough.
The air smells of blood and scorched metal. The sight of twisted steel overwhelms him; all his work, all his calculations, come to nothing. Billions of people - Tegan's people - will die because he wasn't good enough.
"And I always try so hard."
He feels no fear, only a deep, numbing disappointment. Distantly, he hopes that the Doctor will still be proud.
He clutches his brother's belt in his hands and thinks of the family he lost, the family he is leaving behind.
Above all, he thinks about what he could have achieved.
"Now I'll never know if I was right."
Once I've finished them all I'll put them up on Teaspoon, in order. Until then I'll stick them in here.