Running is Olympic [Master/Doctor] (Sports)
Pairing: Master/Doctor (also Jamie/Doctor, Fitz/Doctor, Rose/Doctor and Jack/Doctor)
Challenge: Sports
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Doctor's life as a 10000 metre race.
He fails the start. Others get away better, faster, block his way when he tries to get past them. But his friend is at his side and together they break away. Faster. Faster. Faster than anyone else. They’re running hand in hand, slowing each other down, pulling each other forward. A change of pace, and suddenly there is distance between them. He stumbles, but doesn’t fall. The other falls behind, and he keeps running.
Others join the race, push him forward, make him go just a little bit faster. Further away from his friend.
Too fast for them to keep up beyond the first mark.
-
Another closes in on him during the second part. They run side by side, and his friend, his rival, is nowhere to be seen. This isn’t like before, but it’s something, and that’s not bad. It’s something else.
The course flies by beneath them, but the competitors are never far behind. They catch up, trip them, and they fall. His partner doesn’t get back up, is send back to the staring line.
He reaches the second mark, alone.
-
The coarse gets fuller - he tries to fight his way through the crowd that suddenly surrounds him, but they are everywhere and he can’t get back to his old speed, is stuck between them.
In the end he accepts them, runs in their mid, yet ever so slowly overhauling, getting past one after the other. Until he’s running at the top again, just about. He can’t leave them behind, doesn’t want to leave them behind. But he will, for the third mark is coming closer and he knows it’ll bring back his motivation - he can run so much faster than them; he won’t be able to hold back for much longer. Not with his past catching up, already in reaching distance.
Gathering strength for the next sprint he doesn’t look back, nor left or right. It would slow him down.
His feet are itching, yet he dreads the line he is about to cross.
-
He’s faster on the next part, never slowing for breath. A new partner keeps up with him for a while, but she drops out half way to the next mark to join another race. His pace isn’t hers. This was just training.
No one he meets is made for the long run, except one. His old rival keeps coming closer, until they are almost side by side. He is faster, but the other cheats. It’s an even match.
-
The other competitors falls behind soon after the fourth mark, and one drops out of the race for good. No time to look back - he keeps running, faster than ever. New runners come up from behind, but when they hesitate he keeps running, ever faster, never stopping or risking a glance over his shoulder. He tries not to care who’s with him because they fall behind soon enough. Usually he fails.
His old rival catches up, falls behind, over and over. Neither of them ever gets out of sight. The other is very good at chasing.
He is very good at running away.
-
He stumbles over the fifth mark, the other close behind him. Driven by ambition, desperation, and rage they push each other forward, paying no heed to the runners they leave behind.
Their even race continues towards the sixth mark, while no one else manages to match their pace. They remain shadows in his peripheral vision, figures standing on the sideline. It’ll always be this way, as long as he keeps running.
He doesn’t stop for fear of seeing their faces.
-
It’s not winning that’s the goal, it’s being faster than anyone else.
Others stumble on the way, and he helps them up without slowing down, teaches them to run, and lets them fall behind. He doesn’t learn their faces well enough to remember, later. Running is easy.
Only his friend, rival, friend keeps up, joining his side, challenging him without any ambition to leave him behind. They’re running the same race toward different destinations.
-
After the seventh mark another joins him, for a long time, and he takes his hand to drag him along, because his worst rival has fallen back, for a moment, and his new partner, while not being a strong runner, is too persistent to give up. Soon after the other lets go of his hand (after he’s lets go of the other) he stumbles, and nearly falls. Injured and shaken he drags himself over the eighth line, and the coarse is empty suddenly, and his friend is nowhere to be seen.
-
With no competition left there’s no one to run from and he nearly stops. Then new players join the game, and while they are no replacement, they make him gather strength for the final part. He’s running hand in hand with a little girl and it’s easy and fun, as long as he doesn’t look back. Ahead of them the coarse is empty.
Behind them it’s empty as well.
They’re joined by another, but he falls. She lends him her hand, helps him up, but they never wait for him to reach them.
He flees over the ninth mark instead, blindly, and keeps running as fast as he can.
-
After the girl is disqualified, running is all he can do, and he concentrates on it, knows only of the coarse flying by beneath his feet. The one who fell is left behind, but struggling to catch up. He’s running, past the figures watching from the sidelines, past everything.
Until his rival comes back, the first one - the only one, now, but him. They fight, they push and struggle, and it feels like living, like breathing, until it stops and the other is removed from the race.
Yet his rival is still there, somewhere behind him. Everyone is, chasing him, driving him forward, waiting for the final mistake that will make him fall. He’s faster than them because he never stops for breath. They fall behind, until he’s far out of reach even to those who try.
They’ll catch up if he stops so he doesn’t. Alone on the coarse he keeps running, running, with only shadows for competition. In his hand a piece of chalk, to draw the finishing line.
-
Later they will say that he could outrun anyone but himself.
August 24, 2008
Challenge: Sports
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Doctor's life as a 10000 metre race.
He fails the start. Others get away better, faster, block his way when he tries to get past them. But his friend is at his side and together they break away. Faster. Faster. Faster than anyone else. They’re running hand in hand, slowing each other down, pulling each other forward. A change of pace, and suddenly there is distance between them. He stumbles, but doesn’t fall. The other falls behind, and he keeps running.
Others join the race, push him forward, make him go just a little bit faster. Further away from his friend.
Too fast for them to keep up beyond the first mark.
-
Another closes in on him during the second part. They run side by side, and his friend, his rival, is nowhere to be seen. This isn’t like before, but it’s something, and that’s not bad. It’s something else.
The course flies by beneath them, but the competitors are never far behind. They catch up, trip them, and they fall. His partner doesn’t get back up, is send back to the staring line.
He reaches the second mark, alone.
-
The coarse gets fuller - he tries to fight his way through the crowd that suddenly surrounds him, but they are everywhere and he can’t get back to his old speed, is stuck between them.
In the end he accepts them, runs in their mid, yet ever so slowly overhauling, getting past one after the other. Until he’s running at the top again, just about. He can’t leave them behind, doesn’t want to leave them behind. But he will, for the third mark is coming closer and he knows it’ll bring back his motivation - he can run so much faster than them; he won’t be able to hold back for much longer. Not with his past catching up, already in reaching distance.
Gathering strength for the next sprint he doesn’t look back, nor left or right. It would slow him down.
His feet are itching, yet he dreads the line he is about to cross.
-
He’s faster on the next part, never slowing for breath. A new partner keeps up with him for a while, but she drops out half way to the next mark to join another race. His pace isn’t hers. This was just training.
No one he meets is made for the long run, except one. His old rival keeps coming closer, until they are almost side by side. He is faster, but the other cheats. It’s an even match.
-
The other competitors falls behind soon after the fourth mark, and one drops out of the race for good. No time to look back - he keeps running, faster than ever. New runners come up from behind, but when they hesitate he keeps running, ever faster, never stopping or risking a glance over his shoulder. He tries not to care who’s with him because they fall behind soon enough. Usually he fails.
His old rival catches up, falls behind, over and over. Neither of them ever gets out of sight. The other is very good at chasing.
He is very good at running away.
-
He stumbles over the fifth mark, the other close behind him. Driven by ambition, desperation, and rage they push each other forward, paying no heed to the runners they leave behind.
Their even race continues towards the sixth mark, while no one else manages to match their pace. They remain shadows in his peripheral vision, figures standing on the sideline. It’ll always be this way, as long as he keeps running.
He doesn’t stop for fear of seeing their faces.
-
It’s not winning that’s the goal, it’s being faster than anyone else.
Others stumble on the way, and he helps them up without slowing down, teaches them to run, and lets them fall behind. He doesn’t learn their faces well enough to remember, later. Running is easy.
Only his friend, rival, friend keeps up, joining his side, challenging him without any ambition to leave him behind. They’re running the same race toward different destinations.
-
After the seventh mark another joins him, for a long time, and he takes his hand to drag him along, because his worst rival has fallen back, for a moment, and his new partner, while not being a strong runner, is too persistent to give up. Soon after the other lets go of his hand (after he’s lets go of the other) he stumbles, and nearly falls. Injured and shaken he drags himself over the eighth line, and the coarse is empty suddenly, and his friend is nowhere to be seen.
-
With no competition left there’s no one to run from and he nearly stops. Then new players join the game, and while they are no replacement, they make him gather strength for the final part. He’s running hand in hand with a little girl and it’s easy and fun, as long as he doesn’t look back. Ahead of them the coarse is empty.
Behind them it’s empty as well.
They’re joined by another, but he falls. She lends him her hand, helps him up, but they never wait for him to reach them.
He flees over the ninth mark instead, blindly, and keeps running as fast as he can.
-
After the girl is disqualified, running is all he can do, and he concentrates on it, knows only of the coarse flying by beneath his feet. The one who fell is left behind, but struggling to catch up. He’s running, past the figures watching from the sidelines, past everything.
Until his rival comes back, the first one - the only one, now, but him. They fight, they push and struggle, and it feels like living, like breathing, until it stops and the other is removed from the race.
Yet his rival is still there, somewhere behind him. Everyone is, chasing him, driving him forward, waiting for the final mistake that will make him fall. He’s faster than them because he never stops for breath. They fall behind, until he’s far out of reach even to those who try.
They’ll catch up if he stops so he doesn’t. Alone on the coarse he keeps running, running, with only shadows for competition. In his hand a piece of chalk, to draw the finishing line.
-
Later they will say that he could outrun anyone but himself.
August 24, 2008