running [1/1]
Title: running [1/1]
Author: amethyst__angel / Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters: Ten, Jack. gen.
Summary: Together, they run. A drabble on the states of our favorite time travelling men pre-End of Time.
Disclaimer: Not the BBC.
He's running.
Death is coming. He's reached too far and pulled too much. He's become a god, and all gods die in the end. All alone at the end of things - the universe is too vast, and even gods get lonely. She was his best friend, and now he can never see her again. She was his conscience, and now she belongs to another. She was the first he ever loved, and he gave her away. And he, the one man who could understand the loneliness...he has his own people to save.
He's running.
Death is never coming, and he's still not over it. Adults, children, his lover, his grandson...they're dead, and he can't join them, no matter how hard he tries. He's no god, to accept this responsibility - he's a man, a man with a curse, a man not strong enough to handle the loneliness. They were the backbone of the team, the intelligent seekers, and they died for him. She became his moral compass, a lover in spirit only, and now a mother, the last survivor. He was the one, the first he ever loved like that...and now he's gone, forever. And the lonely god, he was forever distant, forever unreachable.
They're running.
As far and as fast as they can. Running from the future, running from the past, running from memories and hopes and dreams, from love and hate and prophecy. Running from those they've known and those they've lost. There are endless numbers of people who would be all too willing to give them comfort, however they ask for it - but they, too scared, too lost...they run.
Every now and then, they run - into each other. They run to similar places, and sometimes the lonely god thinks he sees a flash of a blue coat, hears the laughter of women and the familiar deep voice. Sometimes the immortal thinks he hears the sound of the police box, sees his wild hair above the crowd, his sad face against the smiles. Sometimes they're right, and sometimes they're dreaming.
And they run away. No man so scared of his past, no man so scared of his future, wants to be reminded. They are reminders of the pain, of the hurt, of the wrongness of the universe. They never speak, never seek each other out intentionally. A glimpse brings memory, and memory brings fear.
Together, they fight against the continuation of the universe.
Together, they run.
Author: amethyst__angel / Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters: Ten, Jack. gen.
Summary: Together, they run. A drabble on the states of our favorite time travelling men pre-End of Time.
Disclaimer: Not the BBC.
He's running.
Death is coming. He's reached too far and pulled too much. He's become a god, and all gods die in the end. All alone at the end of things - the universe is too vast, and even gods get lonely. She was his best friend, and now he can never see her again. She was his conscience, and now she belongs to another. She was the first he ever loved, and he gave her away. And he, the one man who could understand the loneliness...he has his own people to save.
He's running.
Death is never coming, and he's still not over it. Adults, children, his lover, his grandson...they're dead, and he can't join them, no matter how hard he tries. He's no god, to accept this responsibility - he's a man, a man with a curse, a man not strong enough to handle the loneliness. They were the backbone of the team, the intelligent seekers, and they died for him. She became his moral compass, a lover in spirit only, and now a mother, the last survivor. He was the one, the first he ever loved like that...and now he's gone, forever. And the lonely god, he was forever distant, forever unreachable.
They're running.
As far and as fast as they can. Running from the future, running from the past, running from memories and hopes and dreams, from love and hate and prophecy. Running from those they've known and those they've lost. There are endless numbers of people who would be all too willing to give them comfort, however they ask for it - but they, too scared, too lost...they run.
Every now and then, they run - into each other. They run to similar places, and sometimes the lonely god thinks he sees a flash of a blue coat, hears the laughter of women and the familiar deep voice. Sometimes the immortal thinks he hears the sound of the police box, sees his wild hair above the crowd, his sad face against the smiles. Sometimes they're right, and sometimes they're dreaming.
And they run away. No man so scared of his past, no man so scared of his future, wants to be reminded. They are reminders of the pain, of the hurt, of the wrongness of the universe. They never speak, never seek each other out intentionally. A glimpse brings memory, and memory brings fear.
Together, they fight against the continuation of the universe.
Together, they run.