caffienekitty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
caffienekitty) wrote2009-02-15 02:12 am
caffienekitty) wrote2009-02-15 02:12 am
Entry tags:
Doctor Who Fanfic: Eight Goes Into Nine, With No Remainder
Title: Eight Goes Into Nine, With No Remainder
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Eight, Nine, others
Rating: GEN, R for disturbing themes
Warnings: Depressing as hell. Death!fic, dark, angsty, wild conjecture, canon-fracturing, possible mischaracterization of Eight. Spoilers for Doctor Who ranging from the Fourth Doctor through the Ninth. Also weird and arty. Egregious adverb abuse. :-P
Word Count: 745
Disclaimer: The BBC owns the Doctor. Although Fox TV might own bits of Eight, I really don't know...
Summary: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fox1013's Gen Battle (I'm blaming kroki_refur for letting me know about this thing) Prompt - Eight and Nine - self-regeneration See also "Warnings" above.
(A/N after cut due to blather. Not mirrored at ff.net)
A/N: I don't often write straight up Doctor Who fic, so my sincere apologies if I'm stomping the hell out of fanon, book!canon, comic!canon, audio!canon or regular canon. I tried not to, but I suspect I am as I haven't heard the audio dramas or read the comics and am about 10 years behind on the novels. The characterization of Eight is dubious, but there's not a whole lot of televised canon to go from. *pats McGann* Also, this may or may not represent my own thoughts on what went down when Eight regenerated.
-
Eight Goes Into Nine, With No Remainder
by CaffieneKitty
-
It had built throughout time, surreptitiously, until suddenly it was war, ranging across the universe and through every era. The Daleks stealing Timelord technology, breaking the interlocks that prevented travel into Gallifrey's own past; the Timelords breaking Gallifrey's most stringent law themselves and in the process, damaging their own history almost as much as the Daleks.
The Doctor tried, he really did, but when it came down to it, he was still at heart the man who refused to touch two wires together and kill off the Daleks before they began their reign of intergalactic destruction. A simple touch of two wires.
He'd been away from Gallifrey so long, when the long-forgotten alarm rang through the Tardis calling him back, the world he ran back to was not the one he'd run from millennia ago. None of that was the Daleks' doing. He'd lost so much, so much.
He'd gone home and defended the Looms, the Panopticon, the transduction barrier, side-by-side again with Leela, K-9 and Andred. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. The Great Key was found and lost; the Crown of Rassilon broken and useless as the Daleks corrupted the Timelord Matrix. Andred wore the Sash of Rassilon after the Doctor refused it, as though it still meant something.
Together they helped the Council and remaining Timelords run away, escaping the besieged Citadel, running to the mountains to hide, to rebuild a new defense. Together they saw those same mountains burn as the first firestorms swept the horizon.
When the Citadel fell and all fell with it - Andred pushing Rassilon's Sash into the Doctor's hands before running back into the fires overtaking the transduction barrier control room, Leela dead at the gates - the Doctor ran, alone. Back to the Tardis, the only place he could go. Fled into the vortex and away.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't be a warrior. Not the kind that was needed. He was a man who liked sweets and humanity and went around the universe, saving every civilization but his own. His own hadn't needed saving for a long time, and he'd thought it never would again. But that time had come; Gallifrey was falling and he was as far from being its leader and protector as he'd ever been. Gallifrey would fall, had fallen. The Daleks and other species that thrived on mayhem and destruction would spread across the universe, unchecked. All life everywhere was in danger of extinction.
He could not be this man anymore. He could not be a man in a Tardis set out like a Victorian tea room, wearing a velvet frock coat with a pocket full of jelly babies, a man whose only use for a deadly weapon was to threaten his own life. He had to become another person. A harder one. One that could lead and make the decisions no one should have to make, one that would touch two wires together to stop things before they began. He had to become that person. He had to change.
The Doctor ran to the Tardis cloakroom, dropped the Sash next to the mirror, stripped off the velvet coat and tossed it and its sugar-filled pockets into a corner. After a quick search, he found something to write with, a lipstick left behind by one of the people who'd shared his journey. He knelt in front of the mirror. The Cloister bell was always ringing now, lights pulsing dim and red, turning the reflection of his face into a blood-red ghoul, eyes hollow shadows, curling hair lit by the red light like fire.
He had forgotten who he was the last time, when he'd regenerated alone and unaware in a San Francisco morgue, and it had nearly cost the Earth. That instance of forgetting had haunted his travels since. It could not happen this time. There was no time for instability and self-reflection and growing awareness and wondering if his nose was all right. The Doctor reached forward and wrote on the mirror quickly, then closed his eyes, sat back on his heels, and died.
It was easy to die when your hearts had already been ripped out.
As he opened his eyes again for the first time (for the ninth time), the first thing he saw was the message he'd left for himself on the mirror, scrawled in red, obscuring the reflection of his new face:
The Doctor got to his feet, picked up the Sash of Rassilon, and ran back, into battle.
- - -
(that's it)
Post A/N: And if you're wondering what happened to K-9, he's, um, safe on a tropical island somewhere having mechanical Mai Tais and a hot wax treatment. Or he's hiding out in the Tardis somewhere. *handwaves* I'll kill Leela, Andred and Eight in fic, but I'm not killing K-9 Mark I, dammit.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Eight, Nine, others
Rating: GEN, R for disturbing themes
Warnings: Depressing as hell. Death!fic, dark, angsty, wild conjecture, canon-fracturing, possible mischaracterization of Eight. Spoilers for Doctor Who ranging from the Fourth Doctor through the Ninth. Also weird and arty. Egregious adverb abuse. :-P
Word Count: 745
Disclaimer: The BBC owns the Doctor. Although Fox TV might own bits of Eight, I really don't know...
Summary: Written for
fox1013's Gen Battle (I'm blaming kroki_refur for letting me know about this thing) Prompt - Eight and Nine - self-regeneration See also "Warnings" above.(A/N after cut due to blather. Not mirrored at ff.net)
A/N: I don't often write straight up Doctor Who fic, so my sincere apologies if I'm stomping the hell out of fanon, book!canon, comic!canon, audio!canon or regular canon. I tried not to, but I suspect I am as I haven't heard the audio dramas or read the comics and am about 10 years behind on the novels. The characterization of Eight is dubious, but there's not a whole lot of televised canon to go from. *pats McGann* Also, this may or may not represent my own thoughts on what went down when Eight regenerated.
Eight Goes Into Nine, With No Remainder
by CaffieneKitty
-
It had built throughout time, surreptitiously, until suddenly it was war, ranging across the universe and through every era. The Daleks stealing Timelord technology, breaking the interlocks that prevented travel into Gallifrey's own past; the Timelords breaking Gallifrey's most stringent law themselves and in the process, damaging their own history almost as much as the Daleks.
The Doctor tried, he really did, but when it came down to it, he was still at heart the man who refused to touch two wires together and kill off the Daleks before they began their reign of intergalactic destruction. A simple touch of two wires.
He'd been away from Gallifrey so long, when the long-forgotten alarm rang through the Tardis calling him back, the world he ran back to was not the one he'd run from millennia ago. None of that was the Daleks' doing. He'd lost so much, so much.
He'd gone home and defended the Looms, the Panopticon, the transduction barrier, side-by-side again with Leela, K-9 and Andred. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. The Great Key was found and lost; the Crown of Rassilon broken and useless as the Daleks corrupted the Timelord Matrix. Andred wore the Sash of Rassilon after the Doctor refused it, as though it still meant something.
Together they helped the Council and remaining Timelords run away, escaping the besieged Citadel, running to the mountains to hide, to rebuild a new defense. Together they saw those same mountains burn as the first firestorms swept the horizon.
When the Citadel fell and all fell with it - Andred pushing Rassilon's Sash into the Doctor's hands before running back into the fires overtaking the transduction barrier control room, Leela dead at the gates - the Doctor ran, alone. Back to the Tardis, the only place he could go. Fled into the vortex and away.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't be a warrior. Not the kind that was needed. He was a man who liked sweets and humanity and went around the universe, saving every civilization but his own. His own hadn't needed saving for a long time, and he'd thought it never would again. But that time had come; Gallifrey was falling and he was as far from being its leader and protector as he'd ever been. Gallifrey would fall, had fallen. The Daleks and other species that thrived on mayhem and destruction would spread across the universe, unchecked. All life everywhere was in danger of extinction.
He could not be this man anymore. He could not be a man in a Tardis set out like a Victorian tea room, wearing a velvet frock coat with a pocket full of jelly babies, a man whose only use for a deadly weapon was to threaten his own life. He had to become another person. A harder one. One that could lead and make the decisions no one should have to make, one that would touch two wires together to stop things before they began. He had to become that person. He had to change.
The Doctor ran to the Tardis cloakroom, dropped the Sash next to the mirror, stripped off the velvet coat and tossed it and its sugar-filled pockets into a corner. After a quick search, he found something to write with, a lipstick left behind by one of the people who'd shared his journey. He knelt in front of the mirror. The Cloister bell was always ringing now, lights pulsing dim and red, turning the reflection of his face into a blood-red ghoul, eyes hollow shadows, curling hair lit by the red light like fire.
He had forgotten who he was the last time, when he'd regenerated alone and unaware in a San Francisco morgue, and it had nearly cost the Earth. That instance of forgetting had haunted his travels since. It could not happen this time. There was no time for instability and self-reflection and growing awareness and wondering if his nose was all right. The Doctor reached forward and wrote on the mirror quickly, then closed his eyes, sat back on his heels, and died.
It was easy to die when your hearts had already been ripped out.
As he opened his eyes again for the first time (for the ninth time), the first thing he saw was the message he'd left for himself on the mirror, scrawled in red, obscuring the reflection of his new face:
Everyone and everything is dying.
Stop running and fight.
The Doctor got to his feet, picked up the Sash of Rassilon, and ran back, into battle.
- - -
(that's it)
Post A/N: And if you're wondering what happened to K-9, he's, um, safe on a tropical island somewhere having mechanical Mai Tais and a hot wax treatment. Or he's hiding out in the Tardis somewhere. *handwaves* I'll kill Leela, Andred and Eight in fic, but I'm not killing K-9 Mark I, dammit.
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what a great way to start the morning :)
(Anonymous) 2009-02-15 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)That was very very good!!! Want to see some more know as i have to wait till Easter for more Dr. Who.
Thank you.
L. Wombat
Re: what a great way to start the morning :)
You have read this journal before, yes? Swear all you want as long as it's not undeservedly at me. :-)
So i got goose pimples half-way thru!! And i could see in my head Paul McGann's face looking ghoulish in the red light.
Cool! I'm so glad that worked! It really means a lot to me that you liked this because I know how much of a fan you are of Doctor Who. :-)
Want to see some more know as i have to wait till Easter for more Dr. Who.
I know, it'll be July for me, my schedule will be impossible at Easter. :-/
There may be more Who from me, but not connected to this story-wise, and it'll be... a kind of weird crossover. Hoping to get something written anyway. *is enigmatic*
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Wonderful insight into the 8-9 changeover.
Cheers!
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(Anonymous) 2009-02-15 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)Hugs
Sharon
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And the world needs more Eight!fic, so thanks for writing this.
Even if he has to die sometimes.
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here from who_daily
Re: here from who_daily
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um....I actually found this fairly hopeful....I mean yes, death/pain/destruction/broken hearts, but the ending kind of made it all right :)
I quite liked it though....nice to have a sort of explanation as to why the 9th Doctor was the way he was :)
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