May 2005 - New Moon
( You can make a plan / Carve it into stone )
The new moon'll be in the sky tomorrow unless he greatly misses his guess, and about things like this Harry Wells never really does. Calendars are nice, but after you've lived with a moon-bound condition three years running, you don't need them any more. They're for making other people feel safer.
( Like a feather falling / It is still unknown )
It'd be nice if there were anything half so reassuring for him, but he's not that lucky. That'd be asking too much, anyway.
( Until the clock speaks up / Says it's time to go )
See, the thing is, he told Ace the truth about their universes the other night. And while that wound up coming out more or less okay in the end, that's not the kind of thing that makes resting easy, and it doesn't do a damned thing to keep him from going into the speculative places he tends to find for himself when the moon gets dark. What else made it across, for one. What if it happens again, for another. What are we doing about it and what don't I know about it and what the fuck caused it, anyway- all those sorts of speculations and their kin.
( You can choose the high / Or the lower road )
There was a time when he didn't think this much. He remembers that, in the vague half-present sort of way he imagines Spoon must remember some of his old movies and books. It was before that night, for certain.
( You might clench your fist / You might fork your tongue )
Well, Spoon's always said Wells is better at being human, and it's humans that ask questions, innit? Even if he didn't start until after he wasn't properly human any more.
( As you curse or praise / All the things you've done )
(Assuming he ever was, to start with.)
( And the faders move / And the music dies )
That's the thing, though. He hasn't been playing along with Ace's speculations about his father all this time to humour her. She's been posing the scenarios as if they came from the same version of things, yeah- but he's been looking at 'em knowing damned well that they're not, and the possibility still works anyway. Ace says the Doctor never disappeared, especially not the third one, but he knows damned well that there was no reason for Three to be alive and kicking around on Earth past a certain point in time. Getting pulled through a hole between universes as grabby as the one at Rendlesham would be like pouring water downhill, and once the hole was repaired, he'd be stuck, wouldn't he...
( As we pass over / On the arc of time )
He's been comparing his own medical files to Spoon's when no one's been looking. He's no medic, so there's a lot of it that he's had to write down and check against textbooks and explanations. There's a lot of info that they've got about Spoon that neither he nor any doctor's ever had reason to go into about himself. It's a bit like being one of those lunatics in Wales who go snorkelling in peat bogs: dim and murky at best, but now and again there's something that gives you a clue what you're doing or an idea of how far you've got left to go. Seventy-two beats to the minute's normal for a human male. Sixty's something you see in athletes.
( So you nurse your love like a wounded dove in the covered cage of night )
Spoon's got a heart rate that about matches up to a hard-working sled dog's, but Wells...
( Every star is crossed by frenetic thoughts that separate and then collide )
Scully took his pulse before and during and after a nearly four-minute mile. He took his own pulse over the course of ten seconds after he broke four minutes. He'd thought the rapid-fire heartbeat he felt was a normal part of his condition until he saw Spoon's files to the contrary.
( And they twist like sheets until you fall asleep, then they finally unwind )
So he's sitting here now, just this side of sleep, with two fingers on the groove of his throat, eyes on the second hand of his watch, counting off something like two and a half pulses every second.
( It's a black balloon / It's a dream you'll soon / deny… )
Spoon's pulse only goes up that high when he's working out or doing something physically demanding.
( … and you'll do the dance that was choreographed at the very dawn of time … )
Human hearts, or the hearts of big dogs, don't go that fast unless they've been working like hell or they're about to die.
( See, I told you son / The day would come… )
Wells is there a good five minutes straight, counting, pulling himself together as quiet and tranquil as he can, and it's still two and a half pulses every second at the end of it just as it was when he began.
( To the deepest part of the human heart / The fear of death expands )
It's ridiculous and he knows it, but once there's been one fucking impossible thing happened to you, why not two, or a hundred? Why can't it be a possibility? What other fucking options has he even got?
( Until we crack the code )
He swears under his breath and sets the watch aside, along with all the thoughts and questions. Damn it, life was easier before any of this started. But there's no going back, is there. (No crossing your own time stream, corrects the little sniggering mental voice.)
( we have always known )
He'll work it out another time. Unlike some species, even part-humans need to sleep.
( But could never understand... )
(Whitetext source: Bright Eyes, "Arc of Time (Time Code)".)
The new moon'll be in the sky tomorrow unless he greatly misses his guess, and about things like this Harry Wells never really does. Calendars are nice, but after you've lived with a moon-bound condition three years running, you don't need them any more. They're for making other people feel safer.
( Like a feather falling / It is still unknown )
It'd be nice if there were anything half so reassuring for him, but he's not that lucky. That'd be asking too much, anyway.
( Until the clock speaks up / Says it's time to go )
See, the thing is, he told Ace the truth about their universes the other night. And while that wound up coming out more or less okay in the end, that's not the kind of thing that makes resting easy, and it doesn't do a damned thing to keep him from going into the speculative places he tends to find for himself when the moon gets dark. What else made it across, for one. What if it happens again, for another. What are we doing about it and what don't I know about it and what the fuck caused it, anyway- all those sorts of speculations and their kin.
( You can choose the high / Or the lower road )
There was a time when he didn't think this much. He remembers that, in the vague half-present sort of way he imagines Spoon must remember some of his old movies and books. It was before that night, for certain.
( You might clench your fist / You might fork your tongue )
Well, Spoon's always said Wells is better at being human, and it's humans that ask questions, innit? Even if he didn't start until after he wasn't properly human any more.
( As you curse or praise / All the things you've done )
(Assuming he ever was, to start with.)
( And the faders move / And the music dies )
That's the thing, though. He hasn't been playing along with Ace's speculations about his father all this time to humour her. She's been posing the scenarios as if they came from the same version of things, yeah- but he's been looking at 'em knowing damned well that they're not, and the possibility still works anyway. Ace says the Doctor never disappeared, especially not the third one, but he knows damned well that there was no reason for Three to be alive and kicking around on Earth past a certain point in time. Getting pulled through a hole between universes as grabby as the one at Rendlesham would be like pouring water downhill, and once the hole was repaired, he'd be stuck, wouldn't he...
( As we pass over / On the arc of time )
He's been comparing his own medical files to Spoon's when no one's been looking. He's no medic, so there's a lot of it that he's had to write down and check against textbooks and explanations. There's a lot of info that they've got about Spoon that neither he nor any doctor's ever had reason to go into about himself. It's a bit like being one of those lunatics in Wales who go snorkelling in peat bogs: dim and murky at best, but now and again there's something that gives you a clue what you're doing or an idea of how far you've got left to go. Seventy-two beats to the minute's normal for a human male. Sixty's something you see in athletes.
( So you nurse your love like a wounded dove in the covered cage of night )
Spoon's got a heart rate that about matches up to a hard-working sled dog's, but Wells...
( Every star is crossed by frenetic thoughts that separate and then collide )
Scully took his pulse before and during and after a nearly four-minute mile. He took his own pulse over the course of ten seconds after he broke four minutes. He'd thought the rapid-fire heartbeat he felt was a normal part of his condition until he saw Spoon's files to the contrary.
( And they twist like sheets until you fall asleep, then they finally unwind )
So he's sitting here now, just this side of sleep, with two fingers on the groove of his throat, eyes on the second hand of his watch, counting off something like two and a half pulses every second.
( It's a black balloon / It's a dream you'll soon / deny… )
Spoon's pulse only goes up that high when he's working out or doing something physically demanding.
( … and you'll do the dance that was choreographed at the very dawn of time … )
Human hearts, or the hearts of big dogs, don't go that fast unless they've been working like hell or they're about to die.
( See, I told you son / The day would come… )
Wells is there a good five minutes straight, counting, pulling himself together as quiet and tranquil as he can, and it's still two and a half pulses every second at the end of it just as it was when he began.
( To the deepest part of the human heart / The fear of death expands )
It's ridiculous and he knows it, but once there's been one fucking impossible thing happened to you, why not two, or a hundred? Why can't it be a possibility? What other fucking options has he even got?
( Until we crack the code )
He swears under his breath and sets the watch aside, along with all the thoughts and questions. Damn it, life was easier before any of this started. But there's no going back, is there. (No crossing your own time stream, corrects the little sniggering mental voice.)
( we have always known )
He'll work it out another time. Unlike some species, even part-humans need to sleep.
( But could never understand... )
(Whitetext source: Bright Eyes, "Arc of Time (Time Code)".)