Fic: I Believe
Title: I Believe
Author: purple_bug
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: A collection of drabbles inspired by the lines of a song. An exploration into what keeps the Doctor travelling, and why he does it with friends.
A/N: My first foray into writing drabbles, and I end up writing nine of them! I recently heard a song again for the first time in years, and the images conjured by the words demanded to be written. The song is 'I Believe' (big surprise there), and the version I know is by Robson & Jerome (I have parents with odd music tastes).
Each one was written with one or two Doctor/Companion teams in mind, but I've tried to keep out any defining details, so most of them can be any Doctor and any Companion that you like.
I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows
A world devastated by war, the landscape barren and empty. He surveys his surroundings, his expression a mixture of disapproval and regret. Charred outlines of buildings mark a small settlement, and small ashen shapes on the ground show where the inhabitants of this planet stood to take a final look at their crumbling world. He closes his eyes, blocking out the desolation.
Something cool splashes his cheek, he opens his eyes to see the dusty ground pockmarked with raindrops. Amidst the remains of a house, the tiniest of flowers blooms bright red. He smiles softly. This world will thrive again.
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle glows
She holds his hand tightly, as though scared she will fall if she lets go. It's quite likely true; she sees nothing but pitch blackness. Every step over the uneven ground is perilous, and he keeps his grip tight to reassure her. His superior eyesight lets him see only a few feet ahead. They must get to the village as quickly as possible, but in this starless night it seems impossible.
She cries out and for a moment he thinks she's hurt, but she points with a suddenly visible finger. A flickering brightness in a far-off window; their guiding light.
I believe for everyone who goes astray, someone will come to show the way
A young woman trudges around the corner ahead of them, sobbing. She's weary from travelling and looks utterly lost. His companion hurries forward and catches the woman as she stumbles, broken sandals tripping her. He follows, sitting with them when she helps the woman to a nearby bench to ask what's wrong.
When she leaves them soon after, there's a smile on her face and she knows she where she's going. Her shoes are new, her thirst and hunger are gone, her pocket holds coins. She remembers them both years later as the kind strangers who saved her baby's life.
I believe above the storm the smallest prayer will still be heard
Under a table, scrawny knees drawn up to scrawny chest, a boy hides from the noise. The building around him shakes as the explosions slam into the ground, and tears chase each other down his face. He wipes them away, determined to be brave. His little sister scrambles under the tablecloth and huddles at his side, and he wraps an arm around her, promising they'll be safe. She wails as the explosions get closer, and he sends up a silent prayer to whoever is listening.
A wheezing, grinding, groaning sound echoes around the room, and somehow he knows they're saved.
I believe that someone in the great somewhere hears every word
He's never believed in any deity. Some Gallifreyans worship abstract universal conceptual entities; Pain, Death, Time, Light and Life. He doesn't, despite having had encounters with a few of these non-corporeal beings. He even danced with one once.
But sometimes, when everything he's planned threatens to fall down about his ears, when his life or that of his companion is in danger, he believes that somebody listens. They may not always help, as his occasional failures have proven, but he feels that they watch and occasionally nudge things in the right direction. Sometimes he suspects that the somebody is him.
Every time I hear a newborn baby cry
One thought, repeated at each new observation: so small. Small nose - just the one. Small knees - two of them. Small fingernails - twelve of those. Small head ridges too - about five. Each part so tiny, yet so perfectly formed. He marvels at the wonder of biological reproduction, loves how something as simple as two cells meeting can result in something so much more complex. He grins down at the tiny being in his arms. The baby's cry is so loud for such a small thing; piercing ears and rending hearts. He rocks it gently until it quiets.
Or touch a leaf
Hushed, dark, enclosed. He trails a hand gently through the foliage, and a thousand raindrops run down his fingers to soak the cuff of his sleeve. The dark greens glint occasionally, reflecting flickers of starlight, creating a grotto of barely shimmering lights. It's so peaceful here. So tranquil.
He runs a fingertip along the edge of one waxy leaf, tracing the smooth, flawless, rounded outline, identical to all around it. If he stepped into the maelstrom of leaves and stars, he would vanish forever, he's sure.
A shout from around the next corner; awe, amazement. He hurries to catch up.
Or see the sky
So many colours, dazzling, mesmerising. Blues, greens, purples, pinks, some colours even he doesn't have a name for. Beside him, her face rivals the spectacle of the alien sky. She's breathless with wonder, lying back on the soft sand and gazing upwards, wide eyed.
There's a similar phenomenon on Earth, but not nearly so splendid, not even approaching the levels of magnificence achieved here.
He watches her as she drinks in every colourful eddy and luminous swirl in the sky. He laces his fingers through hers, and she smiles. I should've shown this to more of them, he thinks wistfully.
Then I know why I believe
All the wonders of the universe, and he can only ever see a percentage of them. Some are much less obvious than others, and it would take millennia to find them all. He doesn't have millennia, not at the rate he's going. But he will try, and he will keep showing the universe to new eyes. He'll show them the big ones, then he'll seek out the tiny wonders, the ones that make life worth living. Courage, resilience, friendship, simple beauty. Things that keep him believing in the universe, no matter how bad things get, keep him believing in life.
Author: purple_bug
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: A collection of drabbles inspired by the lines of a song. An exploration into what keeps the Doctor travelling, and why he does it with friends.
A/N: My first foray into writing drabbles, and I end up writing nine of them! I recently heard a song again for the first time in years, and the images conjured by the words demanded to be written. The song is 'I Believe' (big surprise there), and the version I know is by Robson & Jerome (I have parents with odd music tastes).
Each one was written with one or two Doctor/Companion teams in mind, but I've tried to keep out any defining details, so most of them can be any Doctor and any Companion that you like.
I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows
A world devastated by war, the landscape barren and empty. He surveys his surroundings, his expression a mixture of disapproval and regret. Charred outlines of buildings mark a small settlement, and small ashen shapes on the ground show where the inhabitants of this planet stood to take a final look at their crumbling world. He closes his eyes, blocking out the desolation.
Something cool splashes his cheek, he opens his eyes to see the dusty ground pockmarked with raindrops. Amidst the remains of a house, the tiniest of flowers blooms bright red. He smiles softly. This world will thrive again.
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle glows
She holds his hand tightly, as though scared she will fall if she lets go. It's quite likely true; she sees nothing but pitch blackness. Every step over the uneven ground is perilous, and he keeps his grip tight to reassure her. His superior eyesight lets him see only a few feet ahead. They must get to the village as quickly as possible, but in this starless night it seems impossible.
She cries out and for a moment he thinks she's hurt, but she points with a suddenly visible finger. A flickering brightness in a far-off window; their guiding light.
I believe for everyone who goes astray, someone will come to show the way
A young woman trudges around the corner ahead of them, sobbing. She's weary from travelling and looks utterly lost. His companion hurries forward and catches the woman as she stumbles, broken sandals tripping her. He follows, sitting with them when she helps the woman to a nearby bench to ask what's wrong.
When she leaves them soon after, there's a smile on her face and she knows she where she's going. Her shoes are new, her thirst and hunger are gone, her pocket holds coins. She remembers them both years later as the kind strangers who saved her baby's life.
I believe above the storm the smallest prayer will still be heard
Under a table, scrawny knees drawn up to scrawny chest, a boy hides from the noise. The building around him shakes as the explosions slam into the ground, and tears chase each other down his face. He wipes them away, determined to be brave. His little sister scrambles under the tablecloth and huddles at his side, and he wraps an arm around her, promising they'll be safe. She wails as the explosions get closer, and he sends up a silent prayer to whoever is listening.
A wheezing, grinding, groaning sound echoes around the room, and somehow he knows they're saved.
I believe that someone in the great somewhere hears every word
He's never believed in any deity. Some Gallifreyans worship abstract universal conceptual entities; Pain, Death, Time, Light and Life. He doesn't, despite having had encounters with a few of these non-corporeal beings. He even danced with one once.
But sometimes, when everything he's planned threatens to fall down about his ears, when his life or that of his companion is in danger, he believes that somebody listens. They may not always help, as his occasional failures have proven, but he feels that they watch and occasionally nudge things in the right direction. Sometimes he suspects that the somebody is him.
Every time I hear a newborn baby cry
One thought, repeated at each new observation: so small. Small nose - just the one. Small knees - two of them. Small fingernails - twelve of those. Small head ridges too - about five. Each part so tiny, yet so perfectly formed. He marvels at the wonder of biological reproduction, loves how something as simple as two cells meeting can result in something so much more complex. He grins down at the tiny being in his arms. The baby's cry is so loud for such a small thing; piercing ears and rending hearts. He rocks it gently until it quiets.
Or touch a leaf
Hushed, dark, enclosed. He trails a hand gently through the foliage, and a thousand raindrops run down his fingers to soak the cuff of his sleeve. The dark greens glint occasionally, reflecting flickers of starlight, creating a grotto of barely shimmering lights. It's so peaceful here. So tranquil.
He runs a fingertip along the edge of one waxy leaf, tracing the smooth, flawless, rounded outline, identical to all around it. If he stepped into the maelstrom of leaves and stars, he would vanish forever, he's sure.
A shout from around the next corner; awe, amazement. He hurries to catch up.
Or see the sky
So many colours, dazzling, mesmerising. Blues, greens, purples, pinks, some colours even he doesn't have a name for. Beside him, her face rivals the spectacle of the alien sky. She's breathless with wonder, lying back on the soft sand and gazing upwards, wide eyed.
There's a similar phenomenon on Earth, but not nearly so splendid, not even approaching the levels of magnificence achieved here.
He watches her as she drinks in every colourful eddy and luminous swirl in the sky. He laces his fingers through hers, and she smiles. I should've shown this to more of them, he thinks wistfully.
Then I know why I believe
All the wonders of the universe, and he can only ever see a percentage of them. Some are much less obvious than others, and it would take millennia to find them all. He doesn't have millennia, not at the rate he's going. But he will try, and he will keep showing the universe to new eyes. He'll show them the big ones, then he'll seek out the tiny wonders, the ones that make life worth living. Courage, resilience, friendship, simple beauty. Things that keep him believing in the universe, no matter how bad things get, keep him believing in life.