Too Far (Doctor Who ficlet) (SPOILERS for The Waters of Mars!)
This literally popped into my brain as I was heading to bed after watching The Waters of Mars on YouTube. The night before a doctor's appointment in the morning, mind.
Title: Too Far
Author: Sue DeNimme
Characters/Pairing: Ten
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Waters of Mars. Read ONLY if you (a) have already seen it, or (b) if you don't mind being spoiled!
Word count: 250 (A double-and-a-half drabble? What do you call that?)
Summary: The Doctor's thoughts toward the end of The Waters of Mars.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its characters belong to the BBC. No copyrights were harmed in the making of this fanfic.
He gets it now. He finally understands the attraction. The pull of power, the rush. He's seen it so, so many times in so many eyes. Does he have that same look in his own eyes now?
Has he become what he has always opposed?
He's always assumed it would feel wrong. But nothing's different. He's saving people, like he always does, isn't he? Brave, amazing people who deserve to live their lives.
History is more important than lives. The one law of his people that he felt compelled to obey, even after he'd left them. The one that he continued to obey long after their demise, long after it had ceased to mean anything to anybody but him. They had always obeyed it, hadn't they? And what was their reward? Dust. The ashes of memory in one lone mind. One last rebellious son, as much a relic now as the law of which he has become the sole reluctant keeper.
He is so tired of obeying. He's never really been a lord of time at all. He's been its servant, for centuries. It's never thanked him, either.
No more.
He's free, for the first time in his lives. He is taking what belongs to him. And it doesn't feel wrong. It feels glorious.
With a blue glow against a cold window pane, time takes its own back.
He falls to his knees in the snow.
~end
Title: Too Far
Author: Sue DeNimme
Characters/Pairing: Ten
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Waters of Mars. Read ONLY if you (a) have already seen it, or (b) if you don't mind being spoiled!
Word count: 250 (A double-and-a-half drabble? What do you call that?)
Summary: The Doctor's thoughts toward the end of The Waters of Mars.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its characters belong to the BBC. No copyrights were harmed in the making of this fanfic.
He gets it now. He finally understands the attraction. The pull of power, the rush. He's seen it so, so many times in so many eyes. Does he have that same look in his own eyes now?
Has he become what he has always opposed?
He's always assumed it would feel wrong. But nothing's different. He's saving people, like he always does, isn't he? Brave, amazing people who deserve to live their lives.
History is more important than lives. The one law of his people that he felt compelled to obey, even after he'd left them. The one that he continued to obey long after their demise, long after it had ceased to mean anything to anybody but him. They had always obeyed it, hadn't they? And what was their reward? Dust. The ashes of memory in one lone mind. One last rebellious son, as much a relic now as the law of which he has become the sole reluctant keeper.
He is so tired of obeying. He's never really been a lord of time at all. He's been its servant, for centuries. It's never thanked him, either.
No more.
He's free, for the first time in his lives. He is taking what belongs to him. And it doesn't feel wrong. It feels glorious.
With a blue glow against a cold window pane, time takes its own back.
He falls to his knees in the snow.
~end