who_topia 1.9 - Dust
Few people realise the immensity of vacancy in which the dust of the material universe swims. H.G. Wells - The War of the Worlds
"Ten-zero-eleven-zero-zero by zero-two from galactic zero centre." Donna read the coordinates, softly, as she peered at the monitor. The TARDIS seemed eerily silent, even melancholy, as the voice of one companion echoed across her.
Donna walked over to the doors, and opened them, then turned to look at him. The Doctor stood, feet planted apart, arms crossed, unwilling to come to the edge, to where she had demanded he approach. Never before had he brought a companion to these coordinates. He doubted he ever would again.
"Come on."
She was like that. Annoying. But she never cut him any slack, never held his grief or loss as any greater than anyone else's in the universe. To her, it was no different than the two of them standing over Pompeii with the four survivors that she had forced him to save.
"It isn't there, Donna. It's gone. There are no mountains. No deep red grass, no snow. No silver leafed trees. No burnt orange sky." His voice was hard, cruel even. "No Time Lords. Nothing."
Donna could see, in the set of his jaw and the coldness of his stare, the pain that he felt being so close and yet so far from home. But she gave him no respite. Rose would have closed the door. Martha never would have asked. The doctor in her would have known the futility of beating a corpse.
"Come and see. I promise, there is more than nothing." Donna held out her hand, which he ignored as he stalked over, and looked out where his home planet used to be.
In the glow of the moons, and the stars, there was an endless, swirling design of particles, orange and silver and red, twisting and spinning, changing with the movement of wind and gravity. It seemed almost a dance, though the bitter tone of his voice cut through the wonder. "Dust. It's just space dust, Donna."
She stood, staring, over the vastness, protected by the TARDIS, forcing his eyes to what he didn't want to see. "No. It's more. It is almost like it's holding a space, a place. Nothing has cleared it. Nothing filled it. It's keeping this place for all time."
He looked at her, glancing over in surprise. She wasn't usually the sentimental one. "It will take time."
"Maybe. And maybe so long as one Time Lord remains, it will wait, and hold this space for Gallifrey." Her voice was softer than her manner, as though she were decreeing this, and had the power to enforce it.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." His bitterness was there, for himself, mostly.
"To everything, there is a season. A time to live, a time to die. A time to mourn." The wind blew her hair, back, as she faced the vastness. "It might be gone, but it will not be forgotten, and it leaves behind a bit of what was."
Gently, he guided her back, and then closed the doors. "There is only one piece of Gallifrey that lives on."
He turned and walked to his room, alone.
The Doctor
540 words
"Ten-zero-eleven-zero-zero by zero-two from galactic zero centre." Donna read the coordinates, softly, as she peered at the monitor. The TARDIS seemed eerily silent, even melancholy, as the voice of one companion echoed across her.
Donna walked over to the doors, and opened them, then turned to look at him. The Doctor stood, feet planted apart, arms crossed, unwilling to come to the edge, to where she had demanded he approach. Never before had he brought a companion to these coordinates. He doubted he ever would again.
"Come on."
She was like that. Annoying. But she never cut him any slack, never held his grief or loss as any greater than anyone else's in the universe. To her, it was no different than the two of them standing over Pompeii with the four survivors that she had forced him to save.
"It isn't there, Donna. It's gone. There are no mountains. No deep red grass, no snow. No silver leafed trees. No burnt orange sky." His voice was hard, cruel even. "No Time Lords. Nothing."
Donna could see, in the set of his jaw and the coldness of his stare, the pain that he felt being so close and yet so far from home. But she gave him no respite. Rose would have closed the door. Martha never would have asked. The doctor in her would have known the futility of beating a corpse.
"Come and see. I promise, there is more than nothing." Donna held out her hand, which he ignored as he stalked over, and looked out where his home planet used to be.
In the glow of the moons, and the stars, there was an endless, swirling design of particles, orange and silver and red, twisting and spinning, changing with the movement of wind and gravity. It seemed almost a dance, though the bitter tone of his voice cut through the wonder. "Dust. It's just space dust, Donna."
She stood, staring, over the vastness, protected by the TARDIS, forcing his eyes to what he didn't want to see. "No. It's more. It is almost like it's holding a space, a place. Nothing has cleared it. Nothing filled it. It's keeping this place for all time."
He looked at her, glancing over in surprise. She wasn't usually the sentimental one. "It will take time."
"Maybe. And maybe so long as one Time Lord remains, it will wait, and hold this space for Gallifrey." Her voice was softer than her manner, as though she were decreeing this, and had the power to enforce it.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." His bitterness was there, for himself, mostly.
"To everything, there is a season. A time to live, a time to die. A time to mourn." The wind blew her hair, back, as she faced the vastness. "It might be gone, but it will not be forgotten, and it leaves behind a bit of what was."
Gently, he guided her back, and then closed the doors. "There is only one piece of Gallifrey that lives on."
He turned and walked to his room, alone.
The Doctor
540 words