Doctor Who Fic: The Vacuum Of Time (Eight/Lucie)
Title: Big Timelords Don't Cry
Fandom: Doctor Who (Big Finish & New Who)
Character/Pairing: Eighth Doctor/Lucie Miller (slight Ninth Doctor/Rose)
Author: agirlnamedtruth
Claim: Doctor Who, Harry Potter & True Blood (General Series')
Table: Can be found here
Prompt: 1. The vacuum of time.
Rating: PG13
Summary: The Doctor gets over losing Lucie.
Warnings: Angst, spoliers if you haven't heard the Big Finish Audios Lucie Miller and To The Death.
Notes: Because I'm somewhat trying to get over losing Lucie. This will only make sense if you listen to the Big Finish Audios. I listened to Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry while writing this.
He went through a different mourning ritual for every other companion he’d loses, at least all the ones that cut him deeply, like physical wounds.
About four hours later, he picked himself up off of the Tardis floor, relenting to the fact he couldn’t sit there forever listening to the sound of her voice, her teasing, her laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to shut the world out and sleep this badly. He started off dreaming, dreaming that she was still alive, running around and playfully telling him he was useless. Then it turned into a nightmare, one in which she was in pain, crippled and angry and determined to martyr herself for the cause, surrounded by fire, making her tear stained, defiant face glow beautifully. He woke up, screaming out to an empty time machine.
The Tardis floated in the vacuum of time for little over two months before it’s pilot trused himself to return, either something had been fixed inside him or he did a very good job at concealing just how broken he was, like usual. He sealed off her room but he couldn’t bear to delete it like he had the others. It had been hard enough walking through the Tardis corridors, picking up bits and pieces of her belongings, proof she’d really been there and depositing them back in her old room before locking the door. He saved it, just in case.
A week later he landed somewhere, accidentally caused some trouble and half-heartedly fixed it again, all with the knowledge that without someone to share it with, it didn’t really matter how many civilisations he saved.
He moved on. He didn’t ever intend to dwell and it was no great surprise that eventually he picked up someone else, shared the universe with them. Terrible things and brilliant things. Then the worst thing imaginable happened and he was forced back into being alone, more alone than ever. His whole race gone. Just for a moment he indulged himself and listened to her voice again. Nod if there’s any other way, Doctor. There hadn’t been any other way. Not then, not for her. Not now, not for him. Never look back.
That took a lot more out of him, he’d changed, both physically, into a new man and emotionally, forever scarred by the immeasurable amount of death he had to live with. Another girl travelled with him, blonde, a bit gobby and vaguely reminiscent of another girl he’d lost. She had looked a weird mix of confused and hurt when he once accidently called her Lucie, a smile instantly vanishing from his face before he refused to explain why, locking himself away for what must have been all night to her. He’d half convinced himself he was over her but she was just buried away for now. A ghost of a memory floating around his mind. Lucie Bleedin’ Miller.
Fandom: Doctor Who (Big Finish & New Who)
Character/Pairing: Eighth Doctor/Lucie Miller (slight Ninth Doctor/Rose)
Author: agirlnamedtruth
Claim: Doctor Who, Harry Potter & True Blood (General Series')
Table: Can be found here
Prompt: 1. The vacuum of time.
Rating: PG13
Summary: The Doctor gets over losing Lucie.
Warnings: Angst, spoliers if you haven't heard the Big Finish Audios Lucie Miller and To The Death.
Notes: Because I'm somewhat trying to get over losing Lucie. This will only make sense if you listen to the Big Finish Audios. I listened to Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry while writing this.
He went through a different mourning ritual for every other companion he’d loses, at least all the ones that cut him deeply, like physical wounds.
About four hours later, he picked himself up off of the Tardis floor, relenting to the fact he couldn’t sit there forever listening to the sound of her voice, her teasing, her laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to shut the world out and sleep this badly. He started off dreaming, dreaming that she was still alive, running around and playfully telling him he was useless. Then it turned into a nightmare, one in which she was in pain, crippled and angry and determined to martyr herself for the cause, surrounded by fire, making her tear stained, defiant face glow beautifully. He woke up, screaming out to an empty time machine.
The Tardis floated in the vacuum of time for little over two months before it’s pilot trused himself to return, either something had been fixed inside him or he did a very good job at concealing just how broken he was, like usual. He sealed off her room but he couldn’t bear to delete it like he had the others. It had been hard enough walking through the Tardis corridors, picking up bits and pieces of her belongings, proof she’d really been there and depositing them back in her old room before locking the door. He saved it, just in case.
A week later he landed somewhere, accidentally caused some trouble and half-heartedly fixed it again, all with the knowledge that without someone to share it with, it didn’t really matter how many civilisations he saved.
He moved on. He didn’t ever intend to dwell and it was no great surprise that eventually he picked up someone else, shared the universe with them. Terrible things and brilliant things. Then the worst thing imaginable happened and he was forced back into being alone, more alone than ever. His whole race gone. Just for a moment he indulged himself and listened to her voice again. Nod if there’s any other way, Doctor. There hadn’t been any other way. Not then, not for her. Not now, not for him. Never look back.
That took a lot more out of him, he’d changed, both physically, into a new man and emotionally, forever scarred by the immeasurable amount of death he had to live with. Another girl travelled with him, blonde, a bit gobby and vaguely reminiscent of another girl he’d lost. She had looked a weird mix of confused and hurt when he once accidently called her Lucie, a smile instantly vanishing from his face before he refused to explain why, locking himself away for what must have been all night to her. He’d half convinced himself he was over her but she was just buried away for now. A ghost of a memory floating around his mind. Lucie Bleedin’ Miller.