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sukirichi · 3 years

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total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You stretched your arms overhead, feeling great after sleeping in. It wasn’t common of you to sleep this late, but you and Toge had gone stargazing the night before. A smile made its way to your face as you reminisced him reciting rice ball ingredients, signing that he was telling poetry to ‘match the mood’ until you’d both fallen asleep on the soft blanket atop a hill.

You don’t remember how you made it back to your room, but figured that Toge had carried you back home before the sun rose. Making a mental note to thank your best friend later, you yawned as you padded out to your room, hands rubbing in circles at your stomach.

Hopefully breakfast would be amazing today.

The door next to you opened, revealing your younger classmate, and you frowned, because wasn’t Kugisaki your next door neighbour? Well, whatever, he, Yuuji, and Kugisaki might’ve taken advantage of the rare, peaceful weekend that they probably had a movie marathon the night before.

“Morning, Megumi!” you greeted, coughing a bit when you sounded off, throat a little horse and itchy. At the sound of your voice, Megumi stilled in his tracks, eyes wide at you. His comical expression had you barking in laughter, shooting finger guns his way as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Ey, be a good dog and bark for me, will you?”

Semi-visible sonic waves drifted like waves after one another out your mouth. Megumi scowled before he froze the next second, ears perked up and backside wagging in replacement of a tail. “Woof woof!”

“What the hell?” you reeled back in slight disgust, your underclassman’s cheeks burning red. Then, your lips grazed against a soft cloth, making you look down.

You blinked back once. Twice. You were definitely...built different today. Curiously, you tugged at the zipper peaking out from your black collar, the familiar zhoop sound of the zipper burned into your memory after hearing your best friend do it countless times before.

In front of you, Megumi screeched – the most noise he’d made ever since you met him – his jaw dropped open while you – or rather Toge stood at the end of the hallway, his hands squeezing at your breasts that were still under last night’s pyjamas. You blinked back once. Then twice, steam pouring from your nose when Toge, in your body, pointed at his body.

“Oh, oh!” your scream bounced off the hallways hard enough that Panda slammed his door open, about to tell everyone to shut up when your voice let out a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing in my body?!”

Looking down at where Toge was pointing, you were greeted by the sight of his dark uniform and sock clad feet, your chest replaced with hard muscles instead of the soft flesh. You turned to Toge with a stupefied look that mirrored his, both of you falling on the ground with fists pounding on the hardwood floor.

“I’m a fucking girl!” he cried out, whether out of happiness or frustration, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, you zipped his collar back up, tugging at his off-white hair as you forced yourself to remember his limited vocabulary. “BONITO FLAKES!”

Now you understood Toge’s frustration of being a cursed speech user.

“Bonito Flakes” definitely did not hold the same fury as “FUCK” did.

“You and I need to set down some boundaries,” you signed to him, brows pulled together. Toge seemed to be enjoying this sudden body swap a lot more than you did since he hadn’t stopped posing in the mirror the moment you pushed him back to your room, locking it shut to get some privacy. “You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to shower, do you understand?”

Toge scowled at your words, sassy as ever with his hands placed on his hips, buttocks jutted out. You hated, absolutely hated that he used your body this way because this time you couldn’t even laugh – not when seeing your body felt this awkward.

“You would really rather me stink?”

“You can’t undress too! Ever! Or if you will, your eyes better be closed. No peeking too!”

“Y/N, you and I grew up together. I’ve already seen everything,” he rolled his eyes, earning him a hard slap from the arm. Considering he was a lot more muscular than you were, your hit came a lot harder. “Ow!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot that ached, only to laugh at the sounds emitting from his lips. “Wow, I have to admit that this is really fun though. I’m actually talking,” he announced, “Hey, say salmon for me.”

“Bonito flakes!” you shook your head, “The moment Principal Yaga is back, we’re going to talk to him, okay? I don’t want to be stuck in your body any longer!”

“Please, you’re lucky you get to feel me up,” he winked at you, taking your (his) hands to flatten it on his stomach. “Come on, come on, feel my abs!” Whack. “Would you please stop slapping me? Your body is a lot more delicate than mine and my hands are – stop slapping me!”

Feeling bad for your friend and not wanting to abuse your body too much, you raised your hands in surrender with a roll of your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously with that voice. You’re too cute.”

“Complimenting ourselves now, aren’t we?” he scoffed, “Well, whatever, you are cute, especially when you’re angry. Such a shame I can’t see you do that right now because my handsome face is looking back at me.”

“I won’t hesitate to choke you, my friend.”

“You wouldn’t. You adore your body too much,” contrary to his words, Toge pulled a defensive stance. You threw a pillow at him, to which he easily dodged, clutching at the hem of your pyjamas afterwards. “Speaking of bodies, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it!”

“Are you insane? I’m not holding it, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Fine, I’ll take you to the rest room then,” you tugged at the hood of your shirt, pushing him inside the communal female restroom. Toge stood in the middle shock still, evidently flustered at the stalls and lack of urinals. You flicked a finger on his forehead, finger pointed to a stall. “Go pee. That’s my body – I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything weird with it.”

“I thought you trusted me, friend. Why would you think I’d touch you that way?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You jack off every fucking night, Toge. I can hear you even from the next hallway. Plus, you’re a horny teenage male, who’s to say you wouldn’t be curious and try to see what female masturbation feels like?”

His eyes lit up at the idea, fist coming down to bounce at the palm of his hand as he nodded. “That’s actually a good idea—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“What?!” you and Toge both exclaimed. He faced you with utter horror written on his face and you gasped, slapping both palms over your lips.

“It is true,” Principal Yaga affirmed with a grim look on his face. He’d recently got back to fetch your troublesome Gojo-Sensei who’d been caught starting a ruckus in Roponggi while women flocked around him, leading to your principal to haul his ass back to the school grounds. “Some curses are manifested through daily objects, and sometimes even through nature. That shooting star you saw was an example of that.”

“But is kissing really necessary?” Toge queried with a wary gaze sent your way.

“It’s a fairytale curse. It can only be broken through a true love’s kiss.”

“But sir, Toge and I have never dated anyone before. How can we miraculously fall in love with someone to break this curse overnight?”

“It doesn’t have to happen overnight. Sometimes, a simple crush will do,” Principal Yaga sighed, scratching his bald head with his face pulled deep in thought. “Y/N, you have a crush on Gojo-Sensei right? I’m going to kill him if he actually kisses you – and knowing that damn brat he might if you ask him – but I think a kiss on the cheek will suffice. For now, you both just have to...broaden your relationships. Maybe go out on dates.”

“I don’t mind that. In fact, I’m going to have the time of my life,” Toge cheered, his mood dampening once he saw you stiffen. “But my body is...”

Knowing full well that he’d get insecure over his lack of speech again, you glared at him hard enough that your best friend straightened up, lips puckered out in a pout as if you hadn’t just caught him talking badly about himself again when you’ve told him countless times he was perfectly fine the way he was.

It made you sigh, feeling slightly bad that until now he still couldn’t see himself the way you saw him – not that you’d ever vocalize this; Toge would never shut up (in the best way he could) if he had the slightest idea what went inside your head.

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for anyone to like you,” you teased instead, somewhat flustered at your indirect compliment.

Toge merely scoffed at you, his gaze burning and hard, contrasting the teasing little shit grin he wore. “Oh, please, if I wasn’t the cursed speech user, I would’ve banged—”

“Kids!” Principal Yaga threw his dolls at you hard, the both of you clutching at your heads in pain. How were those dolls as heavy as rocks? “Take your bickering back to your rooms please. No more of this mess and noise. It’s late.”

You frowned at the old man, face pleading as you signed, “Principal Yaga, can’t we really do anything else? Aren’t there any techniques to undo this?”

You and Toge knew that combination so well – pitch black eyes, jaw clenched, lips pursed and palms interlaced under his chin – one that meant his words were final and irrevocable. None of you could argue or suggest more solutions the moment the words left his lips like an ultimate decree. “The technique is the kiss. Now leave.”

You and Toge tried, you both really did.

But following Principal Yaga’s suggestion of dating others had turned out to be a complete fail – even with your normal body and Toge’s physical charisma.

It simply didn’t work; not when Megumi ran away from you every time you tried to get him to kiss you with your arms wide open, and Toge wasn’t helping either by pushing Gojo-Sensei away from you every time the cheeky eyed teacher announced his willingness to help.

Eventually, you and your best friend had retired in his room, the scent of him coated all over his pillows and his shirt that you wore. That felt comforting, at least, and you buried yourself in the crook of your body’s neck, bodies tangled with one another.

Who knew dating could be so tiring?

A wave of irritation flashed over you from today’s events, knowing full well that this could’ve been avoided long ago. Scowling, you cuddled Toge closer, lightly flicking your fingers on your body’s chest. “This is your damn fault, Toge.”

“You were the one who asked me to stargaze with you.”

“You don’t always have to say no to everything I ask of you, you know.”

“You’re really dumber than I thought if you think I could easily say no to you,” he snorted above you, his chin resting atop your head. “I don’t have a lot of weakness because I’m a strong sorcerer—” another flick, a harsher one this time around. “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding! But I mean it though – you’re my best friend and my weakness. Of course I’d do anything to make you happy, even if it’s something as stupid as stargazing.”

“Hey!” you made a sound of protest in your throat, looking back at him with a frown. “It wasn’t stupid, it was romantic.”

Hell yeah, it was romantic indeed – your heart still skipped a beat every time you remembered Toge’s starry eyes matching the night sky’s beauty, the words salmon and mustard leaf surprisingly sexy every time it came from him. It was stupid – so fucking stupid – that you groaned into his chest to hide your flushed face.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

The room fell silent, your syncopated breathing soothing during this stressful times. Taking advantage of your voice, Toge began to hum, singing the songs you both had always listened to in the privacy of your room during lazy days. It brought a smile to your face as you clutched to him tighter, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed up at him, tapping his chin to get his attention. “Toge, can I say something weird?”

“Please, nothing you say surprises me anymore. Shoot.”

Your mouth began to dry as you cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your awkwardness, gaze pointedly averted from his prying ones. “You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time and we love each other. As best friends, of course.”

“Sheesh, friendzone much?”

“Would you please shut up and listen to me seriously for once?” you huffed, making him snicker, but nodded at you anyway to continue. “As I was saying – why don’t we kiss? It could be true love’s kiss.”

Toge didn’t speak for a good minute, the pregnant pause filling in the gap filled with tension. You taped his cheek, waving his hand in front of his eyes when he dazed out. When his gaze focussed back on you, Toge was surprisingly calm – although beneath that composed exterior, his mind had simply short-circuited. “If this is your way to get to make out with me, I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Toge, I’m serious! Let’s kiss!”

“I don’t want to!” he shook his head indignantly, hiding his face by hugging you close to his chest instead.

“Why not? Don’t you want to swap back to your original body? Both of us haven’t showered in two days and I’m sick of the way you smell. You’re lucky I love you though, otherwise I’m going to cry. Come on, Toge, what’s holding you back?” you tried to fight back from his grip, but he’d surprised you both when he only squeezed you tighter, both your erratic heart rates matching the other.

“I said no.”

“Toge, it’s just a damn kiss, what’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t swap back, then that means you don’t love me the way I love you!” he finally admitted, breathing hard before continuing. “Principal Yaga said it must be a kiss between lovers and not just platonic friends okay?” you attempted to scramble away from his arms again, and this time he let you, though he’d closed his eyes, cheek squished on the pillows as he murmured, “I don’t want you to reject me... even though I messed up already.”

“Wait,” you snapped your fingers to make him open his eyes, hesitant as you signed, “You...you love me that way?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my face is staring back at me and it’s fucking awkward – I wanted to see your face when I confessed!” he sat up with a frustrated groan, childishly kicking off the sheets of the bed as he clutched his head in his hands. “I had everything planned, okay? Nobara and Yuuji helped me think of everything because Megumi is shit when it comes to love. Listen, I was going to ask you on a candlelit date and then maybe kiss the life out of you – if you feel the same way—”

“Kiss me.” The body he possessed a victim of his own powers, Toge was left with no choice but to grab your face before his mouth pressed against yours, fingers entangled into the other’s hair. You were smiling into the kiss the whole time, barely able to recognize when Toge had shifted your bodies until you were under him, his hands running down your sides lovingly the whole time.

Pulling away to get some air, you opened your eyes, unsurprised when Toge laid above you, his strong arms planted beside your head.

Both of you were breathing hard from the passionate kiss filled with so much sexual tension and longing, your tongue darting out to swipe at his taste on your lips. The laughter that bubbled out of you was pure, wholesome and swollen like your heart. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Salmon!” Toge peppered your cheeks with kisses, pulling out more gleeful laughter from you, his playful and loving attacks more of a gift than a punishment. Once you’d recovered from your happiness – although really, who could recover after that? – Toge unzipped his collar, his smile nothing but wicked when he commanded, “Kiss me again.”

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amelia · 3 years

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related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

#i literally do apologize for how long this got but you have to understand i was holding myself back .#she is…. everything. to me. i could keep going for so long #amy pond #ask #jonismitchell

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thelittlesttimelord · 3 years

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The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 7

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 7 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 7/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

[A/N - Been a while, huh! Not sure who’s still here, but I’m trying to not pressure myself to work on this, because I do have other interests and ideas.]

“The Daleks will be victorious. The rebels will be exterminated.”

“Colonel? What's happening out there?” Journey asked, but they got no answer, only Rusty yelling, “Exterminate.”

“Dalek fleet. Communications open.”

“Doctor, what happened?” Clara asked.

“Do you see?” the Doctor said.

“Do I see what?”

“Daleks don't turn good. It was just radiation affecting its brain chemistry, nothing more than that. No miracle.”

“Let me get this straight. We had a good Dalek, and we made it bad again? That's all we've done?” Journey asked.

“There was never a good Dalek. There was a broken Dalek and we repaired it.” “You were supposed to be helping us.”

“I gave it a shot. It didn't work out. It was a Dalek, what did you expect?”

“No more talking. You are done! Okay, new objective. We are taking this Dalek down.”

“With us inside? Are you insane!” Elise yelled.

“Exterminate. Exterminate.”

The Doctor turned to look at Clara. “What's that look for?”

“It's the look you get when I'm about to slap you.” She slapped him hard, surprising both the Doctor and Elise.

“Ow. Clara!”

“Are we going to die in here? I mean, there's a little bit of you that's pleased. The Daleks are evil after all. Everything makes sense. The Doctor is right!”

“Daleks are evil. Irreversibly so. That's what we just learned.”

“No, Doctor, that is not what we just learned!”

“Exterminate. Exterminate.”

Clara looked at Elise, who nodded, encouraging the small brunette to go on. If anyone could calm down this situation, it was Clara, not two hotheaded Scottish Timelords.

“We need to place these charges for maximum effect. I'm going to scan the rest of the architecture for weaknesses,” Journey told her fellow soldier.

“One question,” Clara said.

“No time.”

“Why did we come here today? What was the point?” Clara turned to the Doctor. “You. You thought there was a good Dalek. What difference would one good Dalek make?”

“All the difference in the universe, but it's impossible,” the Doctor said.

“Is that a fact? Is that really what we've learned today? Think about it. Is that what we learned?”

“Journey, what the hell's happening? That thing's set the Daleks on us. And it's locked us out of our defenses. Journey, you're the Aristotle's only hope. I need you to destroy that Dalek,” Journey’s uncle said.

“The rebels will be exterminated.”

“Whatever it takes.”

“Understood, Uncle,” Journey told him.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Clara Oswald, do I really not pay you?” the Doctor asked.

Clara smiled. “You couldn't afford me.”

The Doctor ran over to Journey. “Whatever you're going to do, don't do it. This Dalek must not be destroyed. We can do better.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, I'm inside a Dalek. I'm standing where I've never been. We cannot waste this chance. It won't come again.”

“What chance? I have my orders.”

“Soldiers take orders.”

“And I'm a soldier.”

“A Dalek is a better soldier than you will ever be. You can't win this way.”

Journey held up a grenade, ready to pull the pin, but then put it down. “Argh! So what do we do?”

“Something better.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“The Dalek isn't just some angry blob in a Dalekanium tank,” the Doctor said as he pulled the women over the ledge, “If it was, the radiation would have turned it into a raging lunatic.”

“It is a raging lunatic, it's a Dalek,” Journey commented.

Elise had to admit she had a point.

“But for a moment, it wasn't. The radiation allowed it to expand its consciousness, to consider things beyond its natural terms of reference. It became good. That means a good Dalek is possible. That's what we learned today. Am I right, teach?”

“Top of the class!”

“But now it's back to how it was,” Journey said.

“But what it saw, what it felt, is still there.”

“Yeah, I'm not really seeing that.”

“Not here. There.” He pointed up.

A lightbulb went off in Elise’s mind. “Oh my god.” She locked eyes with the Doctor and he nodded. “That’s brilliant! If it works that is…”

“Someone explain to me what’s going on. You want us to go to the cortex vault?” Journey asked, not following the father and daughter’s silent conversation.

“The evil engineering?” Clara asked.

“Every memory recorded. Some suppressed, but all still intact. We need to show the Dalek that star being born again. Recreate that moment. You need to get up there, find that moment and reawaken it.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Good idea.”

“How?”

“Haven't the foggiest. Do a clever thing. And then once you've done it, the Dalek will be suggestible to new ideas. It will be open again. And I will show it something that will change its mind forever.”

“What?” Journey asked him.

“Not a clue.”

“This is crazy. There is no way that we can get back up there in time.”

“Yes, there is,” the female soldier said. She cocked her harpoon rifle.

“No, Gretchen. It'll bring the antibodies back down on us.”

Gretchen turned to Clara. “Tell me the truth. Is he mad, or is he right? I've come this far. Probably going to die anyway. Wouldn't mind something to do for the rest of my life. Is he mad, or is he right?”

“Hand on my heart? Most days he's both,” Clara told her.

Gretchen turned to the Doctor. “One question, then. Is this worth it?”

“If I can turn one Dalek, I can turn them all. I can save the future.”

“Gretchen Alison Carlisle. Do something good and name it after me.”

“I will do something amazing, I promise.”

“Damn well better.” Gretchen primed her harpoon.

“No, Gretchen,” Journey cried.

Gretchen fired two wires up to the cranial ledge. “Go.”

Antibodies started to approach.

“They're coming. They're coming,” Clara said.

Journey fastened a pulley onto the wire. “Grab hold of the rope. Don't look down,” she told Clara.

“Good luck,” Gretchen said.

Journey and Clara flew upward.

Gretchen started shooting the antibodies as the Doctor grabbed Elise by the arm, pulling her away.

“You shouldn’t have to watch that,” he said softly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They wandered through the Dalek until they came to the compartment that held the Dalek itself.

“Well, Rusty, here we are. Eye to eye,” the Doctor said.

“You cannot save the humans. They will be exterminated. I shall join the Dalek units in the final attack.”

“I saved your life, Rusty. Now I'm going to go one better. I'm going to save your soul.”

“Daleks do not have souls.”

“Oh, no? Imagine if you did. What then, Rusty? What would happen then?”

There were flashes and images of dying soldier appeared on the screens around them.

“Your memories. I'm about to give some back to you.”

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and start to cut through the tubing covering the Dalek’s neurons. “See, all those years ago, when I began…I was just running. I called myself the Doctor, but it was just a name. And then I went to Skaro. And then I met you lot and I understood who I was. The Doctor was not the Daleks.”

Elise had never heard this story before, even after traveling with him for over a thousand years at this point.

The Doctor pulled out some of the neurons.

More memories flashed on the screen. Daleks flying in space and attacking a ship.

“Oh, look. It's your memories again. It's like somebody's mucking about up there. Memories, all those memories. Do you remember the star you saw being born?”

“I…I remember.”

The memory of the star being born appeared on the screen.

“You saw the truth, Rusty. Remember how you felt. You saw a star being born. The endless rebirth of the universe.”

“No.”

“And you realized the truth about the Daleks…”

“Truth? What is the truth?”

“Let me show you the truth. I've opened your mind and now I'm coming in.” The Doctor spliced two pieces of a neuron together. He cried out in pain.

“Doctor!” Elise yelled. She wanted to grab him and stop him, but they’d been traveling together for so long that she had to have faith that he knew what he was doing.

“I'm part of you. My mind is in your mind,” the Doctor told him.

“I see your mind, Doctor. I see your universe.”

“And isn't the universe beautiful?”

“I see beauty.”

“Yes, that's good. That is good. Hold on to that.”

“I see endless, divine perfection.”

“Make it a part of you. Remember how you feel right now. Put it inside you and live by it.”

“I see into your soul, Doctor. I see beauty. I see divinity. I see hatred.”

“Hatred?”

“I see your hatred of the Daleks and it is good.”

“No, no, no. You must see more than that, there must be more than that.”

“Death to the Daleks. Death to the Daleks. Death to the Daleks.”

“No, there must be more than that. There must be more than that. Please.”

“Daleks are evil. Daleks must be exterminated. Daleks are evil. Daleks must be exterminated. Exterminate. The Daleks are exterminated.”

“Of course they are. That's what you do, isn't it?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What about you, Rusty?” Clara asked after they returned to being normal-sized.

“I must go with them,” Rusty said.

“Of course you must. You've unfinished work, haven't you?” the Doctor asked.

“Victory is yours, but it does not please you.”

“You looked inside me and you saw hatred. That's not victory. Victory would have been a good Dalek.”

“I am not a good Dalek. You are a good Dalek.” Rusty turned to leave, then looked back at the Doctor.

“Till the next time,” the Doctor said. He turned away and made his way back to the TARDIS.

“Is he leaving? Isn't he going to say goodbye?” Journey asked.

“I think that was it. Yep, that was it. Sorry, got to run,” Clara said. She grabbed Elise’s hand and they followed after him.

As they reached the TARDIS, Journey came up behind them. “Doctor. Take me with you.”

“I think you're probably nice. Underneath it all, I think you're kind and you're definitely brave. I just wish you hadn't been a soldier,” the Doctor told her.

They went inside the TARDIS and took off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clara came back into the control room in a new set of clothes. “How do I look?”

“Sort of short and round-ish, but with a good personality, which is the main thing,” the Doctor told her.

“I meant my clothes. I just changed.”

“Oh, good for you, still making an effort.”

The TARDIS landed.

“Okay, right, you're back in your cupboard, thirty seconds after you left.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Oh. Soon, I expect. Or later. One of those.”

Clara walked over to the door and opened it. “I don't know.”

“I'm sorry?”

“You asked me if you're a good man and the answer is, I don't know. But I think you try to be and I think that's probably the point.”

“I think you're probably an amazing teacher.”

“I think I'd better be.” Before she left, Elise walked over to her.

“Hey Clara?”

“Yeah, Elise?”

“…have fun on your date. He must be pretty special.”

Clara smiled. “He is.” Clara left and the Doctor put the TARDIS in flight.

“I’m sorry,” Elise said.

“For what?”

“That things didn’t turn out the way you planned.”

The Doctor shrugged. “What’s new?”

Elise looked at him.

“What is it?”

“I guess…part of me thought it might have worked. That there was a good Dalek. I thought that…that maybe the Time War would finally be over.”

The Doctor flipped a few switches. “What about the 70’s? You always loved that decade.”

Elise frowned. “I…I used to. Not anymore.”

“Okay, well where do you want to go?”

“I think I’ll just go read something the library.”

The Doctor tried not to let the disappoint show. Maybe she wasn’t comfortable going somewhere with him alone yet. He could respect that. Maybe she needed more time to adjust to the change. “Oh, of course. We’ve had quite day.”

Elise turned to go to her room, a tear escaping her eye. She could appreciate that he was trying, but it was like this body forgot everything his previous body knew about her.

#Twelfth Doctor #twelfth doctor imagine #twelfth doctor fanfiction #doctor who imagine #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #clara oswald #clara oswald imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the new doctor #into the dalek

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passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

youtube

“Why did Kraftwerk stop making albums?” they all ask, as though Karl Bartos isn’t right here, consistently kicking ass and making great music. If you’re hungry for more Kraftwerk goodness, specifically with an early 90s techno flair, you probably won’t do better than Esperanto, so come check it out! (Also featuring special guest star Andy McCluskey from OMD.) Full transcript below!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about an album not too many people have heard, but that I think more people really should--especially fans of Kraftwerk. It’s Esperanto, the 1993 debut of Kraftwerk alumnus Karl Bartos’s project, Elektric Music. The production of the final classic-lineup Kraftwerk LP, 1986’s Electric Cafe, had been dominated by frustrating delays, rewrites, and remixes, and when all was said and done, the resulting album was a relative flop. By the time of the 1991 remix album The Mix, which seemed to end Kraftwerk’s career with a whimper, Bartos had grown alienated from founding members Ralf Huetter and Florian Schneider-Esleben, and fed up with their apparent lack of work ethic. He set out on his own, partnering with Lothar Manteuffel of the Neue Deutsche Welle act Rheingold, to form Elektric Music.

What I think really stands out about Esperanto first is its sense of freewheeling, unrestrained immediacy. For nearly a decade leading up to this album, Bartos had been working at the whim of others, waiting around, and feeling like he was spinning his wheels. Esperanto feels like a tightly coiled spring that’s finally being released. It’s dense, busy, in-your-face music that positively demands to be paid attention to.

Music: “Lifestyle”

Vibrating at the core of Esperanto is an undeniable Kraftwerk-esque sonic template: textural synth side-swipes, chattering vocoder-driven vocals, and hypnotic, mechanical rhythms. It’s natural to expect that rhythmic quality from Bartos, since he was chiefly brought on to provide percussion parts for Kraftwerk, but it’s also important to remember that he’s as interested in pop music as he is in classical. Both Bartos’s solo work, as well as the Kraftwerk tracks he had a hand in, emphasize melody, in a poppy, easy to love manner. The melodies here have some precedent in Bartos’s earlier work, but they’ve never been quite as punchy and vibrant before.

“Lifestyle” also makes early use of vocal chops, which contribute to that tight and busy feel, while also being a marked attempt at pushing this core sound into the musical future. Some of these specific samples are actually repeated across multiple tracks, if you listen closely--a sort of callback to the repeated melodic motives of the early Kraftwerk albums. “Information,” a high-concept eight-minute epic that the rest of the tracklisting pivots around, is even closer to being structured like “Trans-Europe Express”:

Music: “Information”

Bartos has never really ceased struggling under the weight of his Kraftwerk past, torn between indulging in these ideas and themes that come so naturally to him, and feeling obligated to set himself apart--as well as obligated to push the envelope and break new musical ground. Esperanto radiates and burns with that sense of conflict, which feels fresher and more raw, given the timeframe involved. This tension between working with and working against the Kraftwerk legacy is not only musical, but also thematic. Like the Kraftwerk albums, Esperanto is deeply concerned with the role technology plays in our lives...but it’s a lot less optimistic. Take, for instance, the opening track, “TV”:

Music: “TV”

“TV” is Esperanto at its most gloomy or melancholy, portraying the detached haze of modern lotus-eaters transfixed by the glowing screen. It’s an image that’s readily familiar and relatable to us today, of course, and it’s also one that runs contrary to the techno-utopianism of Kraftwerk, where home technologies offer hope of bringing people together rather than splitting them apart, and disconnecting them from the real world. If that wasn’t enough to convince you to read “TV” as an anti-Kraftwerk screed, the lyrics even point to “computer graphics” and “electric bands” as fodder for that destructively distracting entertainment. Ouch! Along somewhat similar lines is the track “Kissing the Machine”:

Music: “Kissing the Machine”

“Kissing the Machine” is also a sort of rebuttal of Kraftwerk tracks like “Computer Love,” demonstrating the pitiful perversion it really is to expect human, emotional fulfillment from a cold and sterile mechanical contraption. Whereas “TV” is more overtly downbeat, “Kissing the Machine” takes the route of dramatic irony, going for an eerily cheerful, naive sort of sound, painting its narrator as utterly oblivious to what they’re missing out on. You probably noticed that the vocalist on this track is actually not Bartos--it’s Andy McCluskey, best known as the frontman of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Like Manteuffel, McCluskey is a younger synth-pop artist whose career began in the 1980s, making music that owed quite a lot to what Kraftwerk had achieved before. Bringing on some slightly younger talent is not only a nod towards keeping up with the times, but also another jab at the legacy of Kraftwerk, who refused to collaborate with any other musicians, and at times even seemed loath to acknowledge how the art of electronic music had evolved in their wake. As the title of Esperanto implies, the theme of language is also prominent here, and that serves as yet another way in which the Kraftwerk philosophy is turned on its head, most notably in the title track:

Music: “Esperanto”

While many people assert that it’s more “authentic” to listen to Kraftwerk in German, they made consistent attempts to incorporate a wide variety of languages into their work. Besides the English-language versions of their LPs, Kraftwerk also sang in French, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and even Japanese, to varying degrees. They were selling a vision of “Europe Endless” that was multicultural and multilingual, and seemed to have wanted people from all over the world to connect with them and feel included and represented in their future, rather than view them as some distant and peculiarly Teutonic phenomenon.

“Esperanto” flies in the face of the dream of linguistic unity. Esperanto itself is an artificial, constructed language, created by L. L. Zamenhof in the late 19th Century. Combining features from the most commonly spoken languages across the globe, and streamlining away things like irregular verbs, Esperanto was built from the ground up to become a true “universal language” for all of mankind, that was easy to learn and use. But despite the hopes of Zamenhof, whose name for his new tongue translates to English as “one who hopes,” it obviously never caught on. The most beautiful utopian vision in the world is still just a vision, and you can end up failing even if “you’ve got the perfect pitch.”

Kraftwerk’s longtime graphic designer Emil Schult, whose contributions to Kraftwerk’s signature aesthetic are nearly as important to their legacy as any of their music, returned to create the cover art of Esperanto. With its bright and simple red tone and strong use of diagonals, Esperanto’s cover art is clearly evocative of the iconic cover of Kraftwerk’s 1978 LP The Man-Machine, arguably the finest hour for the band as well as Schult. However, its abstract, non-figurative qualities set it apart from the work Schult and Bartos had done before, as Kraftwerk hadn’t made an album that didn’t feature their own faces front and center since 1975’s Radioactivity. The image of a rising sun is fitting for the idea of Bartos’s empowered return to music after a period of dormancy.

The world is full of people bemoaning the fact that Kraftwerk gave up on making new music, and the apparent irony of this band who appeared to be visiting from the future being absent from the world they helped create, in which “electronic music” has ceased to be a novelty and become a default. Karl Bartos may not be the most prolific artist in the world, but I’ve always seen him as the rightful heir to the Kraftwerk legacy, and I think his string of solo albums since leaving the band are the most worthy follow-ups that could ever have been paired with Kraftwerk’s classic run. Esperanto does everything you could possibly want a 1990s Kraftwerk album to do, staying true to that musical heritage while also pushing forward, and staking a place in the broader artistic conversation. I think everyone who identifies as a fan of Kraftwerk owes it to themself to give Esperanto a spin.

My favourite track on Esperanto is the closer, “Overdrive.” Unlike the readily apparent cynicism purveyed by tracks like “TV” and “Kissing the Machine,” “Overdrive” reads as a more complex perspective about technology and everyday life. It’s a portrayal of that all-too-modern scourge of overstimulation, that’s still ultimately a very exciting one, that sweeps you up in its triumphant “kiss of life.” Listening to its chaotic instrumental outro, I can’t help but feel that it leads directly into Bartos’s follow-up to Esperanto, 2003’s Communication--an album that would tackle the Internet age, and its inescapable virtual hustle and bustle, head-on. That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Overdrive”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #karl bartos #kraftwerk #andy mccluskey #omd #orchestral manoeuvres in the dark #elektric music #techno #synth pop #synth-pop #synthpop

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chocolatequeennk · 3 years

Text

The Lucky Jumper

At a famous winter festival, a special jumper gives the Doctor and Rose the push they need to move their relationship forward.

For @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas. This is Day 19: Ugly Christmas Jumper.

AO3 | FF.NET

Rose ran alongside the Doctor, trying to match his stride with her much shorter legs. It wasn’t easy to do that while she also watched out for slick patches of ice or snow on the pavement.

“Where are we going again?” she asked as they turned a corner. The only thing he’d told her before he’d pulled her out of the TARDIS was to put a warm coat on over her short-sleeved shirt.

“The Venusian Frost Fair!”

Rose scanned the street, taking in the festive banners hanging from the lampposts and the lights in the shop windows. “Like the ones they had on the Thames back in the 1800s?”

“Bigger! Oh, you won’t believe this winter festival—it covers multiple holidays and lasts all winter long. Cocoa and cider and wine and the best biscuits in the universe.”

“In the universe?” Rose laughed.

The Doctor stopped walking and looked down at her, his expression completely serious. “In the universe, Rose,” he said solemnly. “And I should know. I’ve checked.”

She laughed again. “All right, the best biscuits in the universe, according to the expert.”

“That’s right.”

As they got closer to the festival grounds, Rose noticed that more and more people seemed to be wearing… She blinked. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Rose?”

“Why is everyone wearing ugly Christmas jumpers?”

She rocked back on her heels and watched him take it in. He looked first in one direction, then his head swivelled and he checked the other direction.

Finally, he scratched at the back of his neck. “Um… maybe there was a contest today?” he suggested.

Rose pursed her lips. “Or maybe there’s a dress code you don’t know about?” she suggested, filling in the blanks. It had happened so many times before, she didn’t even know why she was surprised.

“It’s possible,” the Doctor allowed.

Rose sighed and held on tighter to his hand as they approached the festival gates. Experience told her that strange things sometimes happened when they showed up out of dress code. If they were going to be summarily ejected from the planet, she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight.

“Hi!” the Doctor said brightly. He handed a credit stick to the gate attendant. “Two all day tickets, please.”

The attendant smiled brightly. “Hi! Oh, a couple’s pass?”

She turned and dug in a box on the table behind her, and the Doctor and Rose exchanged a slightly confused glance.

“Yes…” the Doctor said, slightly hesitant.

The girl spun back around with something in her hands. “Brilliant. The best way to experience the Venusian Frost Fair is with a partner.”

She scanned a tag and handed the soft thing in her hands over to them. Then she scanned a single ticket and stamped both their hands.

“All set!”

Rose took the lump of fabric, afraid she knew what it was. She frowned when she realised there was only one garment on the table, however.

“What…” she muttered as she shook it out.

The jumper was extra wide with two neck holes. Rose stared at it for several moments, trying to work out what it was.

“How are we supposed to put this on? And… why is there only one?”

The attendant frowned. “It’s a couple’s jumper,” she explained. “You both put it on. One of you puts your left arm through the left armhole and the other uses the right.”

Rose looked at the jumper, then at the Doctor, then back at the jumper. “But… we can’t put this on over our jackets,” she said, hoping that would suffice.

The girl looked very confused now. “That’s why we have the coat check, just there,” she said, pointing to the very next tent. “The jumper will keep you warm enough without your coats. Holiday jumpers are a tradition at the Venusian Frost Festival. I would have expected you to know that.”

Rose glared at the Doctor. “Well, maybe if someone read the guide book, we would have been prepared.” She turned back and smiled at the girl. “I don’t suppose you have any… er, one person jumpers?”

The girl shook her head. “If you buy a couple’s ticket, you get the couple’s jumper. That’s how it works.”

The line of people behind them started to grumble, and Rose was near panic. There was no way she could share a jumper with the Doctor. Nearly every time they hugged, she had to remind herself not to turn her head and kiss his neck. If they were literally sharing an article of clothing, it would be…

She pressed her lips to hold back a whimper. It would be so good it would be bad. Because until the Doctor made it clear he was willing to act on whatever was between them, Rose wouldn’t.

The Doctor took the jumper and guided her towards the gates. “We understand,” he promised the attendant. “We might not have been prepared, but we’re always willing to follow along with the rules.”

“Since when do you follow the rules?” Rose groused.

The Doctor looked down at her. Rose’s cheeks were red and she refused to look at him. The rosy cheeks might have been from the cold, but not looking at him was a bit… weird.

“Since when do you argue with the rules?” he asked, throwing it back at her. “It’s just a jumper. Come on, we can do it!”

Rose crossed her arms over the chest. “I don’t think so,” she said stubbornly. “I am not going to put that on.”

The Doctor looked at it. He couldn’t see what was so objectionable. Actually, as far as ugly Christmas jumpers went, this one was practically pretty. Reindeer frolicked across a white and black background in a classic Fair Isle pattern. The two neck holes and two yokes made it look a little different, but really.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked finally. Rose pressed her lips together and he pouted. “Come on, please? I’ve always wanted to go to this festival and I’ve never gotten here at the right time. It’s a little hard to have a Frost Fair in the middle of summer, you know?”

Rose looked up at him, and he gave her his best smile. “So, since we’re here and it’s actually winter, I just… please? Wear the jumper, for me?”

She looked at the jumper, then at him, then back at the jumper. The Doctor held his breath, but she finally rolled her eyes and nodded.

“All right,” she agreed grudgingly. “But I want you to acknowledge that I protested. Later, if… Well, just remember that you insisted.”

He held his hand to his chest. “Scout’s honour,” he pledged. “Not that I was ever a Scout, or even a boy—not a human boy, at least. But I do have honour!”

Finally, Rose laughed. “You’ve got something,” she agreed, nudging him in the ribs. “Come on, let’s get this jumper on.”

They stepped into the coat check tent and handed their jackets over. The Doctor put the ticket in his trouser pocket and his sonic screwdriver in the other pocket. Then he held up the jumper.

“Oh.” He looked at it, then at the two women running the coat check. “How exactly are we supposed to get this on?” he asked.

They laughed, and one of the ladies came around the table. “First, you need to decide who’s on the right and who’s on the left. Are either of you left handed?”

The Doctor raised his hand. “Ambidextrous, actually,” he boasted. “Anything I can do with my right hand, I can do just as easily with my left.”

Rose made a weird choking sound, and he looked down at her. But she just smiled and took the right half of the sweater. “That works,” she said.

“You’re luckier than most couples. There’s usually one person left struggling all day,” the attendant said. “Now, as for putting it on. It’s best to put it on together,” she counselled. “If you each sort of slide your hand into your sleeve…”

She paused while the Doctor and Rose obeyed.

“And then pull the jumper up so you can tuck your head under the hem. The awkward part is getting your head through the neck opening, but…”

The Doctor grunted as he tugged the jumper awkwardly over his upper body. “Who came up with these things?” he grumbled. “Ow! Rose, watch your elbow!”

“Oi, don’t tell me to watch my elbows, you bloody alien,” she shot back. “You just smacked me in the eye. I’m gonna have a shiner when we get home.”

The Doctor heard something that sounded like the attendant was stifling her laughter. He quickly tugged and finally got his head through the neck hole and looked at her. As suspected, she had her hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said, though the laughter in her eyes told a different story. “It’s just always so much fun to see people put the couple’s jumper on for the first time.”

Rose’s head popped through the other neck hole. “I can imagine,” she said dryly. She took the tag for their coats and put it in her pocket. “Come on, Doctor. We’ve got a festival to explore.”

As they left the coat check, the Doctor automatically laced his fingers through Rose’s. Holding her hand felt a little different tonight, but he didn’t cotton onto why until Rose hissed and yanked her hand back.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she muttered under her breath.

The Doctor felt his neck get hot. That… that was why it had felt different. He swallowed. Rose’s bare arm… Well, he’d touched her bare arm before, anytime they held hands when she was wearing a short sleeved shirt. But usually…

“Right, yes, sorry.” The Doctor tugged on his ear and then pointed towards the contest. “Hot chocolate?” he asked, feebly.

Rose rolled her eyes and nodded, and they started walking again. Only now the Doctor was excruciatingly aware of how close they were. They were always close, but they weren’t always wearing the same clothes.

Well. They’d never done this before, actually. The wearing the same sweater thing. The walking side by side so closely that he could feel Rose’s chest expand as she inhaled thing. The feeling her bare skin against his with every step they took thing.

Oh. This had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He looked around desperately for some kind of distraction. A cheery, candy cane striped booth caught his eye. “Ooh, come on Rose! There’s a hot chocolate stand over there! And then maybe we can go ice skating.”

The Doctor veered off to the left so quickly that Rose stumbled a little following him. She put her arm out for balance and ended up bracing herself against the Doctor’s back.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she righted herself.

“No, that was my fault,” the Doctor said. “This is a bit like a three-legged race, isn’t it?”

His cheerful comparison eased the knots in Rose’s stomach. “A bit, yeah.”

He pointed to the booth on the opposite side of the green. “That’s where we’re going.”

The walk was much smoother with both of them knowing the destination. Ten minutes later, an attendant was handing them two steaming mugs of cocoa, piled high with whipped cream.

Rose tried to sip her cocoa as they left the booth and nearly spilled half of it down her front when the Doctor moved his arm at the same time, jostling her. “Stop,” she said forcefully.

“What is it?”

“We need to sit down if we’re going to drink this one-handed.”

He looked from his mug to hers, then met her gaze. “Ah. Good point.” He nodded at the pavilion only a few metres away. “Let’s find a table, shall we?”

They reached the pavilion without further incident, but sitting down to enjoy their drinks proved to be another obstacle. The only seating available was several long benches at wooden tables. The awkward dance they had to go through in order to sit down without spilling their drinks or accidentally groping each other would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so embarrassing.

Rose started tapping her toes while drinking her cocoa. The awkwardness—she refused to call it sexual tension—was almost unbearable. And the silence that had fallen between them was only making it worse.

On the other side of the seating area, she saw another couple eating biscuits. The best biscuits in the universe, she remembered.

“Hang on,” she said, looking up at the Doctor. “How do you know these are the best biscuits in the universe if you’ve never been here before?”

“Oh, they’re famous around the galaxy.” He tried to wave his right arm like he normally would to emphasise his point, and his hand brushed over her stomach.

Rose sucked in a breath, and watched in fascination as a dull red crept up his neck. “Blimey, this is harder than I thought it would be,” he muttered.

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that she had tried to warn him, but before she could say anything, a horn blared from across the green.

Rose peered over at the official looking person standing on a platform. “Attention!” they said through a bull horn. “The morning snowball fight will be starting in five minutes. If you are interested, please make your way to the park.”

The Doctor looked over at Rose. “Snowball fight?” It sounded like exactly what they needed to handle some of the… tension vibrating between them.

“Snowball fight,” she agreed.

Together, they scooted away from the table, bumping into each other multiple times along the way. Dozens of people were streaming out of shops and food tents, and they followed along, soon reaching the park.

The Doctor spotted someone else in the vest that marked official festival employees. “So how does this work?” he asked. “Are there teams? Rules?”

The woman smiled, and the glint in her eyes made the expression rather sharklike. “No teams. No rules. You’re in until you decide to quit. The last person standing wins.”

She took a tool that looked a little like a long-handled ice cream scoop out of her large bag. “You’ll need these, since you’re one-handed.” She dragged it along the ground, scooping up snow. Then she pressed the button at the top of the handle and the scoop closed briefly, revealing a perfectly formed snowball when it opened again.

With a flick of the wrist, she spun the tool around and flung the snowball at a nearby tree. Then she handed the scoop to Rose and got another one for the Doctor. “Any questions?”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor enthused. He hadn’t even considered how they would manage a snowball fight with each of them only having one hand free. Well, since these bloody jumpers are apparently a tradition, it makes sense that they have a solution ready.

“We need to come up with a strategy,” he murmured to Rose as they walked into the park. “If we want to be the last ones standing…”

“I see a snowbank over there behind those trees.” Rose pointed off to the left. “We could make a fort of some kind in there.”

A snowball soared through the air, hitting Rose in the knee as she finished the sentence. Without a word, the Doctor and Rose both scooped up snow and flung snowballs off in opposite directions.

A flurry of snowballs flew in all directions across the park after that. The Doctor ducked and ran for the bank Rose had found, pulling her along with him. They stopped behind each tree to fire more snowy missiles at their opponents, but didn’t wait to see if any of them made their mark.

They were making their way across the top of a hill when the Doctor heard a snowball whistling through the air in his direction. He ducked instinctively, and as he did, his foot slipped.

He wobbled for a moment, but then Rose bumped him and his balance shifted. “Watch out!” he warned her, pulling her into his arms as they fell.

The Doctor’s shout was Rose’s only warning, and she still didn’t realise they were about to fall when he wrapped her in his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked, and then she felt gravity pulling her down.

At least snow is soft, she thought as they rolled down the hill. She wrapped both her arms around the Doctor and held on for the ride.

When they finally stopped at the bottom of the hill, the Doctor was resting on top of her. “Are you all right?”

The Doctor sounded as breathless as Rose felt. She nodded, and despite her best efforts, her gaze dropped to his lips.

“Yeah,” she said hoarsely as she wrenched her gaze back up to meet his eyes again. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

The Doctor shifted his weight over her, and Rose bit her lip to hold back a moan.

“I’m fine. I mean, I say I’m fine, but I feel like my hearts are going a little fast and somehow I can’t breathe.”

Rose slid her arm around the Doctor’s waist and watched his eyelids flutter closed. “Yeah, me too,” she whispered.

The Doctor’s eyes opened and he studied her carefully. “Which part?” he asked. “Being fine, or the… other things?”

She smiled, letting the tip of her tongue peek through from behind her teeth. When the Doctor’s gaze settled there, Rose curled her fingers into his side and tugged him down on top of her.

“Other things,” she murmured. Their faces were only inches apart now, and the anticipation was killing her. “Doctor…”

He sighed. “Yes.”

And then, finally, his lips settled on hers. Rose moaned into the kiss, and his tongue slid into her mouth.

Her hand slid up through the neckline of the jumper to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. The Doctor nipped her lip in retaliation, and Rose scraped her nails over his scalp.

“Rose,” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips.

“Been waiting for this forever,” she mumbled.

“Mmm… so have I. I just wasn’t sure you did.”

Rose opened her eyes. “You mean… We’ve both been waiting for the other to make a move?”

The Doctor rocked back slightly and tugged on his ear. “Ah… apparently?” He slowly got to his feet, helping Rose up as he went. He winked at her. “And all it took was a little push from a lucky jumper.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #31 days of ficmas #ugly jumper #snowball fight #first kiss #this was so much fun to write you guys #when i got the idea i was like... oh. oh yes #yes this must happen #it took almost two months to finish which is... something #but here it is!#cq's fic: the lucky jumper

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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years

Text

Reset - Part Four: The Escape

a/n: No, this is not chapter five of Portal 2. Speaking of Portal 2, I should play that game again... Anyway, welcome to fourth, and penultimate (I love the word penultimate, it’s so cool) chapter of Reset! Please enjoy!

Word count: 4,764

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight injury

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four: Hello!] [Part Five]

"Wake up, wake up -"

"Argh, come on, reset the system, reset the system -"

"Just let me save them!"

...

You open your eyes.

Human beings are complex machines. There are so many moving parts involved in keeping just one human alive. You've sometimes envied the alien species that you've met during your travels that function on so much less - some of them don't even need to breathe.

But you're human, almost unfortunately.

You inhale a lungful of water - it burns your throat and nose like water from a swimming pool. It hurts a lot, and you panic, thrashing around in the water that surrounds you. Your hand bangs against a flat surface in front of you, and your panic stops for a moment. You remember this - the dream inside the dream, the short vision of reality - you curl your hands into fists and start pounding at the surface in front of you.

Bang! Bang! The sound is hollow in the water. Your vision, though blurry from all the water in your eyes, clears a bit - the flat surface in front of you is glass, and not too far away from you, you think you can see the blurry shape of someone else, someone important -

Your panic returns with a vengeance. You keep on pounding at the glass. If you could scream, you'd be screaming. Your throat is still stinging and you're running out of air. You're running out of time.

Suddenly, the barrier slides down. All the water rushes out, taking you with it. You're left spluttering on the floor, soaking wet, and now you're aware of how cold the floor is. Metal, maybe?

You cough and press your palms to the floor. Definitely metal, you think, as you pull yourself up to your feet. You heave and wipe the water from your face, but your hand gets caught in a wire. You curl your fingers around the wire and pull - pain explodes behind your eyes, and the wire digs out of your temple. You feel something warm drip down your face that definitely isn't water.

You take in a deep breath when the pain disappears. There are tendrils at the end of the wire that curl into themselves once it’s out of your head – you let it fall to the floor, sparking.

You're forgetting something, you think through a haze, and you spin on the spot - and right in front of you, you see the Doctor behind the same pane of glass, also submerged in water. There's a strange contraption on his head that almost looks like a pair of headphones. The cable runs alongside where the Doctor is and into your now empty chamber.

"Doctor?" You rush forward and press your palms against the glass. It doesn't budge. You look up at him - he almost looks dead in there - and panic starts to rise up your throat again. "Come on, come on, open up!"

You start banging your fists against the glass, just like you did, but nothing seems to happen. You could wait for the glass to slide open, just like yours did - but that could have been a fluke. If he wakes up in there he's going to drown and you can't do anything about it.

You swear, and take a few steps backwards. Then you start to run at the glass, leaning your whole body forward. You doubt it's going to break, but you're going to try, damn it -

Just as your shoulder collides with the glass, it slides down. Water rushes towards you and the Doctor's limp form crashes into your arms, sending you both to the floor. The contraption on his head hits the floor with a loud crack and rolls off of his head. Your back hits the floor with a wet thump, and you don't think you can hear the Doctor breathing.

You push and roll him off of you. He's pliant against you, and your heart catches in your throat.

"Doctor, hey," you say, moving to lean over him. He's so pale. You gently slap your hand against his cheek and wince at how cold it is. "Wake up."

He's still not moving, and now you're terrified. You press your head against his chest and strain your hearing, trying to listen for something, anything - you think you hear the faint sound of his heartbeats. You sigh in relief, but it's a small comfort, because he's still not waking up.

You cradle his head in your hands, moving it around slightly. "Hey. Don't make me panic over here, you're not gonna like that."

Nothing still. You bite back a sob.

"SOMEONE, HELP!" you yell. Your voice bounces against the walls and the only response you get is your own echo pleading for help back at you. You brush back the hair on his forehead. He looks so calm, he could be just asleep, he's probably just asleep, but you're alone in a strange place and honestly -

"Hey, wake up, I need you," you beg. You rub your thumb against his cheek. "I don't wanna be alone here, we have to get out of here together, okay? Please wake up."

You just get silence from him. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your forehead against his, your own heart beating in your chest so hard it's started to actually hurt. Physically and emotionally.

"Please wake up. I know you can hear me," you whisper, and swallow thickly. Fear turns to desperation turns to courage. "I love you, okay? I love you, and if you don't wake up, I'm going to -"

"...what?"

Your eyes shoot open. The Doctor smiles weakly at you, his eyes shining with what you hope is just water. He reaches up to put a hand on your cheek. "What are you going to do?" he wheezes.

"Nothing," you breathe out, but you're smiling so hard your face might break. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and you have to admit it's a bit of an awkward position - the Doctor lying on the floor and you kneeling beside him - but he's here now, and completely alright, and that's what matters the most to you. "I hate you."

The Doctor shifts into a sitting position and presses his face into the crook of your shoulder - "No, you don't."

You sit there for a moment. Both of you soaking wet, cold, and a little bit out of it, but alive and together. You feel the Doctor shake slightly in your arms, and he mutters something along the lines of "we're alright," but you're not sure if he's comforting you or himself. When he pulls away, his eyes are still shiny.

"Wait." The Doctor's brow pinches, and leans forward to look at the side of your face. He lifts his hands to your temple and his fingers come away bright red. "You're bleeding."

"I am?" You touch the same spot and hiss in pain. "Oh. I am. Ow. Is it bad?"

"Yeah, it's bad," mutters the Doctor. You have to smile at his honesty. "You won't bleed out, but it looks deep. Are you feeling alright? Where'd you get that?"

You jerk your thumb behind him at the sparking wire still on the floor. It's only now you notice that it's covered in blood too, the red fading into the water all around it. You try not to feel sick at the sight. "I pulled that out of me."

"You pulled that out of you?" The Doctor's face morphs into one of mild disgust, and he turns around to take a look at it. He lifts it up and squints at it. "Oh, this is Gargontian technology. Direct link simulation. Taps right into your brain. Very painful, they used it as an interrogation tactic in their wars." The Doctor's voice trails off. "A whole world... in one little wire. No wonder it was so hard to control. I wish I had my sonic."

There's a loud hissing sound, then a clunk, and then the sound of something sliding open. You both turn around to see a redhead in a frilly pink dress, nervously holding her hands behind her back and standing on the balls of her feet.

"Michelle!" The Doctor cries, pulling himself up to his feet, then frowns. "Wait, no. Marlene. You look human."

The Doctor holds a hand out for you - you take it and pull yourself up, feeling rivulets of water run down your legs. Marlene grimaces, pulling away some of the layers of her dress. Underneath all the tulle is a blinking device strapped to her calf. Marlene puts her hands behind her back again and the device disappears under all the pink fabric.

"I like looking human," Marlene stutters, "and it's so easy to just use an asset you've already made instead of making a new one, and besides, humans are pretty cute -"

"Even with our less developed brains?" you tease, and Marlene flushes a bright red, redder than the hair of the body she's wearing.

"I take that back," she says quickly. "I underestimated you, when I put you under. I thought you'd be easy to control without a dampener. I was wrong."

You walk forward and pat Marlene on the shoulders. "Yeah, but you ended up being right in the end. You got us out. Thank you."

"Thank you. I never thought I'd hear that." Marlene shudders a little bit, her big eyes shining with tears.

She plunges her hand down the layers of her dress, fishing around for something - and she lifts out a familiar, screwdriver device. The Doctor's face lights up immediately. "I think this is yours?"

The Doctor practically snatches his sonic screwdriver out of Marlene's hands. He brings it close to his face, squeezing his eyes shut and smiling like an idiot. "I've missed my sonic!"

"Don't tell me you like the sonic more than me," you say, rolling your eyes.

"There's a special place in my hearts for the sonic," the Doctor replies. "Don't get jealous."

"I'll try not to."

"If you guys are done being cute," Marlene says, making her way to the exit of the room and peeking out the door, "we have to get going now. We don't have long before the Director notices you two are off the grid. Now come on, follow me."

Marlene's poofy pink dress is a huge contrast to the bare, metal hallways of the ship you're on. You can barely even guess where you are, and what time it is, although time is a bit of a given on a spaceship. The hallways are lit up with bright white lights that give everything a clinical feel. Every few steps, Marlene has to stop and peek through the doorways that divide the hallways. Her pink dress reflects the light and casts pink shadows on the floor of the ship.

"So, tell us a bit about the place," the Doctor says, clapping his hands together.

"The Director re-purposed the ship for the job," Marlene says. "She found it in a junkyard and stole it, then built everything on it and started collecting checks for simulation work. You guys were for a specific client."

"Hang on." The Doctor sniffs the air. His frown deepens. "This is a seventeenth century Gargontian mining vessel! You don't steal these things nor do they end up in junkyards."

"That's what the Director's told me." Marlene's voice is tight. "I haven't had a reason to think she was lying until she brought you guys in."

You glance at the Doctor - he meets your eyes, and you both exchange a look of confusion, though the Doctor's seems to be turning into one of understanding. He nods in Marlene's direction and you keep going, following Marlene through the shiny hallways.

Marlene pauses in front of another doorway. This one isn't opened - she leans forward, reaching out to open it, but pulls back quickly and keeps walking forward, a troubled expression on her face. "D-don't look in there," she calls back.

The Doctor stops completely in front of the doorway. "Right, what's in here?"

"Doctor, don't you think we should be following her?" you ask. Marlene hasn't noticed that you've stopped following her yet, still walking slowly forward.

"Sorry. Don't have the best track record for following instructions," the Doctor says quietly, pointing his sonic at the door. The door hisses as it slides open, and that noise is what startles Marlene - you hear her scream and her quick footsteps as she runs back towards the two of you.

"Guys, I told you not to open that -!"

The door slides open and you gasp, bringing your hands up to your mouth.

The room's full of chambers - glass chambers, full of water like the ones that were holding you and the Doctor, and full of people. Every chamber has someone in it - different kinds of aliens, some humanoid and some not, all suspended in water and all of them paler than death.

You rush to one of the chambers and press your hands to it, looking up at its occupant. Every single one of them has that wire embedded in their temple too; their skin all discolored from how long they've been suspended. You feel sick – these people are all like you, stuck in a dream they don’t want to be in – and you press your hands to the glass again like it’s going to magically slide down and free everyone.

"We have to help them," you mumble. "We have to get them out, too."

You hear Marlene make a strangled noise behind you. "I can't."

You whip around to face her and she shrinks. "What do you mean, 'I can't'? You got us out, you have to help them too! Why can't you -"

The Doctor whispers your name, moving to stand next to you. "She can't help them because they're dead."

Your stomach turns. The idea of dying in the simulation becomes a lot more real, and you reach out for comfort - you find the Doctor's hand already there, because it always is, and you feel a little bit calmer.

"It's what would have happened to you," Marlene says shakily, wiping her face. "The direct link means direct access - and direct access means you can just -" Her voice breaks off, the poor, poor girl - you let go of the Doctor's hand and reach out to her, but she shrinks away again.

"But I saw. I got in their heads. I found out what life was really like." Marlene's voice grows quieter and quieter, until you can barely hear her. "So I tried to help them. And the Director saw, every time, and she..." She chuckles dryly and wipes her face again. She seems to flicker. "They weren't very good actors, let's say."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and Marlene shakes her head.

"It's doesn't matter. I'm getting you guys out of here if it’s the last thing I do." Marlene straightens and walks out of the room. Your eyes follow her as she walks out, and you feel something weighing on your heart.

You catch up quickly with Marlene - she's walking slowly, maybe because of the big dress she's decided to put on her disguise. She looks a little better when you see her face again, but her eyes are still red and her cheeks a little bit shiny.

"I'm taking you to the storage bay," she says, "that's where we've got your ship. The blue box. Once you can get in there, you're free to go. I'll cover your tracks for you, and make sure the Director doesn't see - she sees everything."

"That's great," you say, and she offers you a shaky smile.

"O-oh, it's no problem." She presses her hand against another panel. Again, it flashes green and opens - she peers inside the space, and the Doctor joins her.

"It is repurposed," the Doctor mutters. He points his sonic at the wires and squints at the readings. "That's a lot of output for a repurposed mining ship. Does it take a lot of power to keep everyone alive?"

"Yes," Marlene answers. She moves to close the panel. "Okay, we're all set. No one's watching, let's go-"

"Well, most of them are dead, so why do you still need the high output?" the Doctor asks. Something changes in his voice. "Gargontian technology doesn't need a lot of power to run simulations, and you're running assisted ones. And if we're the only ones left alive, that means you were only running one simulation. So why are you still using increased power?"

For a moment, you reach out to stop him - Marlene's a little on edge, he's scaring her - but he turns to face you, and you finally see his eyes. The Doctor isn't intimidating her - far from it. You've seen this Doctor before. He's grilling her because he knows something she's hiding, and he wants to know if he's right or not. Marlene swallows.

"We have to keep moving," she says quickly, and the Doctor sighs.

"Do you not get it?" the Doctor says, waving around his sonic to prove a point. "We've been walking for at least thirty minutes, and, if your Director is really constantly watching, then we should have been caught by now."

"Very smart, 11A, very smart. I think I underestimated you."

Marlene nearly jumps out of her skin at the voice that echoes through the halls. "Ma'am!"

"Marlene," the Director sighs. "What did I say about helping the subjects escape, hmm? We've been over this."

Just as the Director finishes her sentence, the doors at the ends of the hallway slam shut with a terrible bang. The white lights that illuminated the whole place turn into an ominous red that makes everything seem like it's been bathed in blood.

The Director's voice is low and soothing, if not for the fact that she was the one who trapped you here. "You're supposed to be helping me, dear. Why would you waste your chance? Be good, Marlene."

A form flickers into view - tall and thin, with features almost wolfish. It must be the Director - her skin is tinged lavender, and her fingers are much too long to be human. Her smile is stretched wide over her face.

“Not anymore.” Underneath the red lights, Marlene looks like a scorned princess - and when she raises her head, she wears the expression of one. She turns her head to face you and the Doctor, and takes a long look at the both of you, her expression morphing from fear to anger. "I'm doing it for love."

She stomps toward the open panel and gestures towards the wires. She makes a pulling motion with her hands. "Help me?"

You nod and reach in, wrapping your whole hand around the bundle of wires, and forcefully draw your arm back. The wires stretch and snap, leaving a gap of sparks in its place. The lights turn back into the safe, clinical white. The doors slide open gently, and Marlene brushes past the two of you.

The Director keeps on talking as Marlene leads you through the hallways. "You could meet me," she says, almost sounding bored. "I'm in the Central Hall. You could get answers."

The Doctor raises his hand slightly, as if meaning to say, “me, I want answers,” but Marlene shoots him a glare so scathing he keeps his mouth shut.

"Shut up," Marlene snaps. "They don't want answers, and never from you. Just let them go."

"Not a chance," the Director says. "I promised my client sixteen times the detail, four times the size on this simulation, and you're just going to throw it away? I was nearly there."

"Sometimes, it doesn't just work." Marlene keeps her eyes forward. "We're nearly there. Just a few more doors until the storage bay, and then you're free."

"Do you really think it's that easy?" The doors slam shut again and the floor underneath you shudders. You reach out and grab at the wall for support as you feel the whole hallway start to move – the Doctor stumbles on his feet, flails around, and grabs your arm for support. You hear a grinding noise, like the room is travelling on rails, and the lights flicker above you.

“Definitely repurposed,” the Doctor says, his eyes wide. “Rearrangeable hallways. I didn’t think about that.”

“I’m just right beyond that door,” the Director laughs. “Get ready for the big reveal.”

The door slides open, and smoke rolls out into the hallway. The room inside is barely illuminated, save for one large window that shows the expanse of space. You can just make out the silhouette of a figure sitting cross-legged in a chair.

“Not that big of a reveal, is it?” the Doctor calls out.

“Oh, I like you,” the Director croons, and then a bright light shines above her.

“Are you always this dramatic or have you been saving that for us?” you call out. You hear a faint chuckle.

“I liked you better as a housewife.”

“Sorry, it was boring,” you shoot back. The Director’s smile grows wider.

“Marlene, come here, be good,” the Director says, crooking a finger in Marlene’s direction. Marlene walks forward robotically, just one foot in front of the other, but you can see her shaking slightly. “I didn’t know you were this good at lying. I didn’t even know you learned to lie.”

The Director lifts up Marlene’s dress to show the device strapped to her thigh – and then she strikes it with a well-placed kick. Marlene’s form flickers, then shatters entirely. In her place is an almost exact replica of the Director, hunched over and wide-eyed, still holding on to the lower part of her body.

You gasp, and Marlene curls into herself at the sound.

“A perfect replica,” the Doctor says. “So what is she? A clone? A projection?”

“Why trust others with your work when you can ask yourself to do it?” The Director runs a hand down Marlene’s face. Marlene shivers, her eyes trained onto the floor. “I forget that Gargontian artificial intelligence is always learning. This one grew a conscience. This one learned empathy.”

“Yeah, things that help you care for others,” you say loudly. “I guess you don’t have a lot of that, trapping people in their own minds.”

The Director looks up at you. Her eyes are as cold as ice, and you shiver too. “I gave you what you wanted,” she starts, “I gave you the life you wanted with him.”

“Not like that!” you cry out. The Doctor’s gone quiet beside you. “It was never like that.”

“Oh?” The Director raises a brow, still holding Marlene’s face in her hands. “Did you not want him to feel the same as you did? It was your dream. A simulation based on your mind. You made him feel the way you wanted, in the end. Isn’t that how it works, Marlene?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marlene whispers, her voice thin.

Guilt feels like looking at Marlene’s tear-streaked face. Guilt feels like the Doctor’s silence beside you. You’ve already told him you loved him and now you’re scolding yourself again because he’s heard it a billion times before, hasn’t he? And none of the times he said it back were even real. You swallow, but keep your eyes trained on the Director. You open your mouth to retort, but before you can speak –

“Actually, that was all me,” the Doctor says. You look at him, your eyes wide – he just shifts to stand closer to you. “Well, mostly me. Sans the being human bit. But I had a hand in that.”

You can’t do anything but stare, and stare, and when he turns to glance at you for a moment, he lifts his lips in the barest hint of a smile, a comforting smile, before it’s gone in favor of a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. “Now, let Marlene go, let us go, and we won’t cause you any trouble. I’m sure you’ll find business elsewhere.”

“Let Marlene go?” The Director barks out a laugh, lifting their gaze to the ceiling like a haughty rich woman. “How can I? I control her. She won’t try anything.”

Marlene shudders, and then stills. She takes a deep breath in, growls and wrenches her face out of the Director’s grip. “But I can try this.”

The lights go out. Long, thin fingers wrap around your wrists and pull you away, out of the room and away from the Director. You think you hear the Director screech, a long keening sound. The thin fingers on your wrists turn into short, more human ones – the lights flicker in again and Marlene, back to her red-headed, is standing in front of you. She’s gripping your wrist and the Doctor’s wrist, and she looks terrified.

“There’s not much time. I’ll move the rooms, get you closer to the storage bay -” She lets go and lifts up her skirt to look at device on her calf – it’s sparking, and so is Marlene’s hands if you look close enough. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You have to run.”

“We’re not leaving you here,” you protest.

“I can’t leave.” Marlene’s face flickers between her human one and the Director’s face. “I want you guys to leave. Doctor, can you…” She thrusts her leg out at the Doctor, and the Doctor sonics the device. It stops sparking, and she nods at the Doctor.

“It’s a temporary fix, it won’t last for long,” the Doctor says. His eyes are shiny again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, and that’s why you have to hurry.” Her form flickers again, and suddenly it’s like looking in a mirror – she looks exactly like you, down to the trail of blood running down your temple that’s drying now. She smiles at you, then nods at the Doctor. “Get out of here. I can distract the Director for a while. Go.”

“Marlene, don’t-”

“You said you could stay with someone forever and never have to stop moving – so don’t stop moving.” Marlene takes your hand in hers, and she smiles at you with your mouth but her eyes. “Good luck.”

The Doctor grabs your hand and pulls you away gently – “Come on,” he says, softly, but you’re just looking at Marlene.

“I haven’t thanked you enough,” you whisper.

Marlene nods at you. “Just once was enough. Now go.”

And so you run, because that’s what you do best. Marlene disappears behind you – you don’t even hear her run away, because you’re too busy listening to the way your feet thud against the metal floor and the blood rushing in your ears, roaring like an ocean. You let that ocean wipe away your tears, and you keep running, the Doctor’s hand in yours.

Through it all, you manage a laugh. The running is what you’re used to, the thrill of the chase and the thrill of escape, and you laugh through it. The Doctor laughs too, and it’s a warm sound. It’s enough to make you forget that you’re running for your life and that you’ve just left someone behind.

You don’t even notice the doors slide open in front of you. The TARDIS comes into view, blue and beautiful – the Doctor reaches out and snaps his fingers. The sound echoes, and the doors swing open, and you both fall into the TARDIS together, crashing into the floor holding each other’s hands.

Relief still humming in your blood, you breathe out, “We’re out.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor says quietly, “we are.”

Are we going back to normal now? That question goes unspoken, and unanswered.

There’s a moment where the blood stops roaring in your ears, and you’re left cold. It all drains away from you. The excitement, the exhilaration, and all that’s left is that sadness. It leaves you in a single sigh, all of that emotion leaving in one breath, and oh, you’re so cold.

“You’re shaking,” the Doctor murmurs. He lifts you into a sitting position and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back in soothing motions that do nothing to ease the chill that’s settled into your heart. You try to ignore the way you can hear his breath stutter like he’s cold, too. “You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. We’re home.”

You believe him.

Taglist: @starlingelliot, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever, @littlemissslytherinprincess, @just-a-nat

#a real surprise!#with tragic consequences #and real confetti! the good stuff #our last bag! :D #jess writes #doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #made an edit! i missed something :0

167 notes · View notes

readbythestarlight · 3 years

Text

c2e124

Okay let’s do this. It’s time for the nonagon to be nona-GONE

Sam... stop...

He’s gonna be WASTED

Sam please don’t drink this

SAM

NOT THE YOGURT

NOOOOOO it’s gonna be curdled 😩

“That was REAL absinthe guys!”

[[MORE]]

Dr Eggman AND Sonic

Sam is the forbidden Robonic (is that the Robotnic/Sonic ship name? Is that even a ship? It must be right?) love child (I’m sorry)

Fuck u Lucien chase them all you want they’ve got allies nearby and you don’t

Guys wait tho it doesn’t matter where they go because Lucien’s marked Fjord so he can track him right?

Sam’s reeeeeally regretting that bit now lol

“Otis SUCKS”

Okay I don’t know what they’re doing but they need to go to Essek

Like I know they don’t trust him even tho Wildmom vouched for him but they need help they cannot handle this by themselves

...Also I miss him and I want them to like, start learning to trust him again? Like come on guys

Y’all are gonna have to stop before y’all keel over from exhaustion

Should have gone to Essek

Love-hate that eldritch horror image of Lucien’s eyes slip sliding all over

Also lends itself to the Beholder idea

God I hope they’re safe through the night...

Falling asleep on Yasha’s shoulder <333

lord of the rings reference!

Jester’s got a good point...

Idk what the right thing to do here is so

Time for a disaster

They’re gonna die

Fuck what is it

Mother fucker not them

Fuck now there’s an avalanche

I’m too tired and stressed for this

YES YES YES

GO TO ESSEK

FINALLY

*cries*

Going to see hot boiiiiii

Travis dejectedly setting aside the map :(

They better get that bag back

So they’re in the hole where the city used to be?

Wait no they’re on a piece of the

Oh dear

Hot boi

“Gee whiz, you are great!” Yes he is

I hope Jester hugs him when they meet up

SHE HUGGED HIM

HOT BOOIIII

WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH

listen to him being all formal what a loser

Okay so he’s not in trouble but he’s there to make sure he stays OUT of trouble

Also I desperately want them to help save him from an assassin

Oh boy they def lost the anchor

Essek baaaabw

“When I—when you gave me trust it gave me a perspective that was so agonizingly striking. So easy to see that I refused to acknowledge it at first, even. I would be lying if I said that our paths crossing hasn’t shaken me to the core. And I am appreciative.”

Stop insight checking hiiiiim

“And I’m thankful for this perspective. But you do not owe me trust for what I’ve done.”

Beau why be that way.

Jester: I do

.....I don’t like the way he’s talking like he’s so sure he’s gonna die

And I’m gonna be sad

And I’m also sad and frustrated by the

“That won’t really help with the inside”

Fucking hell Caleb

Cannot make eye contact with Caleb like fuck just stab me in the heart please it would hurt less

Head sinks a bit with a nod

Fuck Matt

“I appreciate the um, the insinuation. Anyway.”

Fuck you Matt don’t do that to me

What happened to not born with venom in his veins, Caleb, huh?

I’m pretty sure he’s worried about y’all getting caught up in his mess

Caleb, taking Essek’s arm on the way out: “Just breathe. Just breathe that fresh air. Time. Time. Not weeks, not years. It takes time.”

Okay. Okay thanks I’m fine. I’m fine. Thanks for ripping my heart out but then still giving me hope in the end, Liam, you cruel beautiful bastard.

Suddenly everything is mostly chill, we have time to catch our breath, and yet I’m just here clutching my chest ready to cry about Shadowgast

Also listen I’m glad Essek is handling this the way he is though? Regret without excuses, hurt by coldness but also fully understanding and accepting that he deserves it

Fuck how did I get so attached to this NPC guys

I’m so glad Artagan turned out to be a loveable asshole and not a real asshole

YO our first successful Divine Intervention!

Fjord: plays a very minor prank

Cad: I’ll remember that and you will regret it I have siblings I know how to do this

Okay but honestly I don’t even care if Shadowgast happens I just want them to like... reconcile. I want Essek to be able to know that Caleb doesn’t hate him and I want Caleb to be able to trust and forgive him and as an extension maybe learn to forgive himself

Preferably before Essek inevitably dies to assassins.

It’s just IMPORTANT TO ME OKAY.

And yeah okay I’m good with hitting up Yussah next. Get all our wizard friends together.

It was such a short reunion with Essek and I’m sad and I’m worried about him

I hope we see him again soon...

Byyyyee Dagon! I’m gonna miss him.

Level UUUUUP

#cr spoilers #critical role #critical role spoilers #emi watches critical role

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goosewhisker · 3 years

Text

this crooked posture (is all you’ve ever known)

read this on ao3 || read this on fanfiction.net

i wrote this whole thing in a span of about 5 days :pensive: as u can maybe tell i have a lot of feelings abt that one conversation btwn scourge and jules...there is so much potential here and im sad we never got to see it

as far as timeline goes- this would probably take place in the pre-boot universe about six months or so after scourge & co escape from zone jail. the destructix are camping out on mobius for the time being to avoid drawing zonic's attention and knothole has wrapped up the ixis naugus/metal sally arcs.

Summary: Fiona heads off with a wave, and he's left where he started - staring through a window into a nearly-empty kitchen, looking in on a life was never his and never will be. Inside, the robian sets bacon on the stovetop to fry and starts making toast, blissfully unaware of the hedgehog just outside. It's hard to tell on a robot, obviously, but he looks perfectly content with his life. Happy, even.

Pathetic.

Or: Scourge avoids his problems, Fiona is exasperated, and Jules is mostly oblivious.

It's the early hours of the morning. So early, in fact, that it shouldn't even technically be called morning because it's still basically nighttime and no one sane is up right now.

Which is probably why the idiotic robian is up at five o'clock in the morning, puttering around in the kitchen and making breakfast. There's literally no reason for it. It's not like he can eat anything, after all, and his stupid son lives off chilidogs, so he's not going to eat it. And his stupid wife isn't getting up for like two hours, so she's not eating it either. See? Idiocy.

Yet another thing that their universes seem to have in common.

"What are you doing?"

Scourge almost shrieks - key word is almost, 'cause he's too cool to scream like a dork - and tackles Fiona into the bushes. "Shhh!"

Fiona splutters indignantly and a second later her fist bounces off his jaw, which, ow. "Are you nuts? Get off me!"

"Shhhut up!" Scourge throws a quick glance over his shoulder at the window. No one's come outside to investigate, so hopefully no one's heard. He rolls off her a second later. "You wanna get us arrested, woman?"

"Hey, I'm a legal citizen of this universe!" Fiona protests. "If anything, it's you who's getting arrested, Mr.-Snooping-Through-Other-People's-Windows. That's so creepy."

"We're both wanted criminals here; if we get caught, we're going down together," Scourge points out, graciously ignoring her last comment. "And anyway, I'm... gathering intel."

Fiona snorts. "Pull the other one, Scourge. That's not gonna work on me." Crossing her arms, she adds, "You've been gathering intel every night for the past week. And I know you're technically the same person, but watching Sonic sleep is really weird."

"I'm not watching him," Scourge snaps before he can help himself.

"Oh?" Fiona's eyes glint and it's then that Scourge realizes he's slipped. "Then who are you watching?"

"Uhhh..." Scourge fidgets while trying not to look like he's fidgeting. "No one. I'm just passing through, not watching anything. Why'd I want to do that anyway?" He forces a laugh. "So lame."

Fiona regards him with a flat stare. "Your fingerprints are smudged all over the window."

"What?" Scourge whips around to check the window. He'd been so careful not to leave any traces of his visits, but-

Waitaminute.

"Very funny," Scourge growls into his gloved hands. Fiona snickers.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me, I won't make you," she says, standing up and brushing the dirt off her pants. "But I'll find out eventually. And if this new obsession of yours endangers yourself or the team, I'm going to put a stop to it."

"Yeah, yeah," Scourge mutters, waving her off. "Get lost."

"Mhm. We still on for that movie night?"

"'course. See you there, babe."

Fiona heads off with a wave, and he's left where he started - staring through a window into a nearly-empty kitchen, looking in on a life was never his and never will be. Inside, the robian sets bacon on the stovetop to fry and starts making toast, blissfully unaware of the hedgehog just outside. It's hard to tell on a robot, obviously, but he looks perfectly content with his life. Happy, even.

Pathetic.

Scourge kicks the side of the house, suddenly incandescently furious with everything. Inside, Jules looks up in surprise, but Scourge is already gone.

"I need to stop," Scourge says later. The movie is over - some samurai flick that Simian had picked out and Lightning had ruined with his constant nitpicking - and they'd gone out for ice cream afterwards (read: robbed that nice gelato place downtown). Getting used to having teammates again is... something, Scourge supposes. But it's not completely terrible.

"You need to stop," Fiona agrees. She's texting furiously, slouched into the ratty couch in their current hideout with Scourge's head on her lap.

"It's just weird seeing him alive, is all," Scourge tells the ceiling. "That's all it is. Like, when you see something weird, and you just gotta look at it. It doesn't mean anything."

"Are you trying to convince yourself or me?"

"Not tryin' to convince anyone. I'm just saying what it is."

Fiona sets down her phone with a sigh. "Look, you gotta stop hurting yourself like this."

Scourge sits up a little too fast. "Hurting myself? What? Babe, have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm Scourge the Hedgehog, I don't hurt."

Fiona gives that all the acknowledgment it deserves, which is none. "I told you about the... the prison, when I was a kid," she says. Scourge falls silent. "I went back there a few times, after I was big enough to handle myself. There wasn't a reason, really. I just thought I had to see it. And it sort of helped the first time - I cleaned out all the bots and made sure that place couldn't hold anyone ever again - but after that, I just went back again and again because it made me hurt and that felt good. Because I was hurting anyway, and being able to make it worse when I wanted to made me feel like I could control it."

Scourge doesn't say anything.

"But that wasn't true," Fiona says. Her voice shakes just a little, and without thinking Scourge takes her hand. It's stupid (sentimental) but she smiles faintly. "I wasn't healing or in control or anything. I was just hurting myself. And I can't stand watching you do the same."

"Babe," Scourge begins hoarsely.

"Tell me it's not the same," Fiona says flatly. "Or tell me- tell me that if I went back to that prison and crawl through that tunnel I dug with my own hands and relive every moment of the hell I went through, that you wouldn't stop me. That you would watch me do it."

He can't tell her that. He can't tell her that and she knows it.

Scourge looks away.

Fiona sighs and runs her hand along his spines. "He's not your dad, Scourge," she says quietly. "He's an entirely different person. Hurting yourself isn't going to make anything better."

"Okay," Scourge agrees. "Okay." Then, after a moment, "Thanks, babe."

Fiona smiles again, and there's something so sad about it he squeezes her hand again (uncool, but it's not like there's anyone else to see it). "No problem, hun."

He goes back again the next day.

This time, the wife is there too.

Scourge crouches in the massive oak tree beside the window, pretending he doesn't feel like a massive creep. His green fur blends neatly with the leaves, rendering him all but invisible to any casual observers, particularly when it's not-quite-light. With luck, it'll fool robian eyes as well.

Anyway.

Scourge doesn't remember his mother. She was simply never in the picture; whether because of death or divorce he never knew. Generally, he suspects the latter - months upon months of neglect, of being constantly passed over and ignored for the more important burdens of the state and the good of the people - yeah, he can see how a divorce would happen. Not that he'll ever know now.

The hedgehog in the kitchen doesn't look neglected. She throws her arms around the robian, not seeming to mind the cold metal, and dances around him as they prepare breakfast. The robian, in turn, leans into her touches and takes advantage of a moment of distraction to dab pancake batter on her nose. It's disgusting. Scourge gags.

Part of him wonders what he's gaining out of this. Hiding in a tree, spying on some losers and their dumb domestic life - not exactly fitting behavior for the former king of Moebius, after all.

It's not... It's not that Fiona's right. It's not like he's hurting himself - like he told Fiona, he's Scourge the Hedgehog. He doesn't do that emotions garbage. That kind of wimpiness is more Sonic's thing.

(Let alone that Fiona had said it happened to her. Let alone that she's usually right, and that she's one of the strongest people he knows.)

He's just curious. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

(The voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Fiona whispers, Yeah, right.)

Inside the kitchen, the robian starts flipping pancakes. For a second, Scourge tries to imagine his own father like that: Jules the Hedgehog, king of Moebius, flipping pancakes in a frilly pink apron and laughing with his wife. Arguing over who gets to wake up their son. Talking and hugging and laughing and living -

- and the illusion dissipates. Jules wouldn't set foot in a kitchen. He had servants to do that kind of thing, just like he had servants to take care of his son.

Scourge drops down from the tree branch and lands lightly on his feet. He's done here. He slinks off into the streets, hiding his face from the strengthening sunlight as synthetic laughter rings out behind him.

"Hey, Simian," Scourge says a few days later.

Simian continues lifting weights without slowing. "Yes?"

Scourge likes Simian, as much as he likes anyone. The ape is steady and has a solid head on his shoulders, and while it's kind of a drag most times, he does occasionally have helpful bits of advice. And when he goes loose on the battlefield, he can be really fun to fight alongside.

So that, plus the fact that Hawk doesn't care and Lightning would probably make fun of him and he'd rather eat his own shoes than talk to Fly, makes him Scourge's best option.

Scourge swings his legs back and forth as they dangle off the chair and tries to think of a way to broach it. He just needs to be subtle, right? "When was the last time you saw your parents?"

And maybe that wasn't super subtle after all, because Simian stops in the middle of his workout session (he never stops in the middle of a workout session) to stare at him. It feels... extremely uncomfortable, actually, wow. Scourge hops up and starts his stretches (anything to avoid looking back).

"When I last left my village, I was eighteen," Simian says at last. He sounds thoughtful, which is never a good sign. "That was several years ago... six years, I believe."

"That long, huh?" Scourge moves to quad stretches. "You're pretty old, man. Slowing down anytime soon?"

He's rewarded with a sharp grin. "I'm not that old. Though I suppose most people look slow next to you."

"Damn straight!"

"Why do you ask?"

And that's the issue - when even Scourge isn't sure why he's asking. He takes his time answering. "Oh, you know... just curious. Ever think about 'em?"

There's another ponderous silence, which mostly just succeeds in making Scourge antsy. Well, antsier.

"Sometimes," Simian says. "But I am a dedicated member of this team. You can rest assured of that."

And that's nice, but it's not what he's asking-

"...but that's not what you're asking, is it?"

Scourge freezes. Is he just that transparent? Why can everyone suddenly read his mind now? "What're you on about, man?" he deflects.

Simian shakes his head. "I do miss them, sometimes. It is natural for children to miss their parents."

"Not me!" Scourge laughs, and if it comes out a little too sharp, well, who's to blame him?

"Of course," Simian says, sounding vaguely indulgent. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Uh, sure," Scourge lies. "A little heavy on the oversharing, but it's cool." And then he scarpers, because if super speed's good for anything it's for escaping uncomfortable conversations. Simian doesn't say anything about it later, and thank Chaos because he doesn't think he'd be able to face Fiona if she ever got wind of that little talk.

The next time he's in town, Scourge picks up a new set of woodworking knives and leaves it on Simian's equipment. It's not like he's gone soft, buying presents for his friends or whatever, Scourge tells himself. He's just... buying Simian's silence. It's a bribe, is all.

(Simian saves him some extra ice cream the night after and that's that.)

It is natural for children to miss their parents, Simian had said. Ha! As if. Scourge hasn't missed his old man a day of his life and he's not about to start now.

... that'd carry more weight if he wasn't spending two or three mornings a week moping outside their kitchen.

Scourge sips his frappe and pretends he's not sulking. Right now, he's outside some random diner in Knothole in full disguise, complete with a trenchcoat, fedora, and sunglasses. He was honestly expecting someone to stop him before now - this kind of garb is about as suspicious as it gets - but no one seemed to even notice anything out of the ordinary. Idiots.

Fiona would kill him if she knew the kind of risks he's taking - which, of course, is why she doesn't need to know.

Scourge checks the time. Seven o'clock, meaning the wife is just getting up and they're having breakfast right now - Chaos, he has their entire morning schedule memorized, doesn't he? Fiona was right, he is obsessed. Scourge slumps over the table and buries his head in his arms.

He can still turn this around. Knowing their schedule is useful, from a strategic standpoint; he could threaten them, take them hostage... even kill them. Sonic would be taken completely offguard. It would be simple. Easy. The smart thing to do.

Scourge's groan is only partially muffled by the table.

"...you alright, son?"

What-

Something electric shoots up his spine. Scourge's claws dig into the edges of the table with a crunch as he bolts upright. And there, before him, with a look so familiar but so foreign in his eyes is-

He's not the same.

His skin is metallic where it should be flesh, plated where it should be furred. His eyes burn a bright pixelated red when they should be brown. That stupid tuft of fur on his head is shining chrome that glints under the bright sun.

But the way he stands - colored though it is with a hint of a soldier's posture - that proud tilt of his chin, the gentleness in his hands as they reach out to him -

It's Jules.

It's different from seeing him in that dim, lamp-lit room. In the daylight, the differences are exaggerated - and so are the similarities.

For a second, Scourge can only see his dad standing there.

He reacts on instinct. Scourge rears back and smacks Jules' outstretched hand away. "Don't touch me!"

Jules straightens up, virtual eyes widening with shock. "I'm- I'm sorry, it looked like you were unhappy. I only meant to-"

"Well, don't," Scourge spits. "Get lost."

Jules looks at him longer and then, for some Chaos-forsaken reason, doesn't leave. Why isn't he leaving, Scourge thinks furiously, and only realizes he's breathing heavy when his breaths start coming too fast and harsh in his ears. Jules says something, but the words don't make sense and he can't tear his gaze away from the polished metal. Beneath his fingertips, the table starts to splinter.

And then there's warm hands on his shoulders, and a steady voice in his ears, saying, "Listen to me. Do you want me to leave?"

Nothing comes out of his throat. Scourge shakes helplessly. He wants him to leave, he wants him stay, he wants to never see him again. He wants his dad.

Jules must take it as permission to stay, because he doesn't leave. The grip on his shoulders is a solid, unmoving presence, and Scourge can't help but lean into it. "I'm going to count slowly. Try to match your breathing to my voice - it's alright if you can't. Starting now. One, two..."

For some completely batty reason, he tries, and it helps some. His breathing is a little too fast and a lot shaky, still, but it settles into a more even pace instead of the uncontrollable rush. Sense comes back slowly, and with it, an acute, uncomfortable awareness of what just happened.

Well. At least he's not crying.

Scourge stands abruptly, tearing himself from Jules' arms. The robian raises a brow but doesn't protest. "Are you feeling better?" he asks instead. It's entirely casual, with no hint of pity, and Scourge hates himself a little for being pathetically grateful.

"Peachy," Scourge snaps and whirls around, hiking up his collar. Jules isn't screaming yet, so he clearly hasn't realized who he is, and Scourge is in no hurry to correct him. Honestly, this hedgehog's stupidity knows no bounds.

"Well." The robian stands up, reaches for a grocery bag that Scourge only just realized was there, and adds, "Stay safe, son."

Scourge's vision briefly whites out from fury. "Don't call me that," he snarls and takes off running before Jules can reply.

He finds a secluded place in a lonely corner, throws his warp ring, and promises himself that he'll never go back.

Scourge does some research.

It's called a panic attack, apparently. Common among soldiers, which is probably why Jules knew what to do - he said he'd been on the front lines, hadn't he? Common among victims of PTSD, the website says, and Scourge scoffs and closes the tab. Trauma - ridiculous. Scourge doesn't do trauma. If anything, he gives it to other people.

He's still snickering at his joke when Hawk comes in to tell him that Finitevus called in with another job. Normally, Scourge would tell him to screw off, but he's offering a massive stack of Anarchy beryl in return - something they've been in short supply of since they ditched Moebius.

Scourge's body itches at the thought of going super again. He accepts.

Thirty minutes later, they're waist-deep in smashed Eggman bots and struggling to fend off a fresh wave while Fiona and Hawk bicker over the terminal.

"I'm telling you, if we do that, we'll get locked out of the system entirely!" Fiona snaps.

Hawk throws up his hands. "Fine! Ignore me! It's not like you literally just have to enter the code or anything!"

Scourge spindashes down the line of Eggpawns, smashing through them like paper. He hits the wall at the right angle to bounce right off and uncurls in midair to land on his feet.

"Wrap it up, guys!" he yells and ducks beneath a stray kunai. "Watch it, Lightning!"

"Thought you were supposed to be the fast one," Lightning calls back.

"And I thought you were supposed to be able to aim!"

"I can." Lightning flicks a wrist and Scourge drops backward into a roll to avoid the next kunai that comes his way. When he springs back onto his feet, ready to chew out the idiotic trigger-happy lynx, there's a Badnik pinned to the wall right where he'd been standing. Lightning shoots him a smug grin.

"Right back atcha," Scourge mutters and barrels through the cluster taking potshots at Hawk and Fi.

"Ugh, fine!" Fiona shoves Hawk away and starts typing furiously.

Scourge drops another five Badniks and skids to a stop as an Egg Launcher smashes through the wall directly in front of him. "Fiona!"

"Give us a minute," Hawk snarls back.

The Launcher brings its arms down to eye level and Scourge leaps into the air as its targeting system locks on - and then Fly drops out of nowhere onto on its shoulders. "Need help?" the frog giggles (sweet Chaos Scourge hates him) and rips the thing's head off. Scourge blitzes right through its chest.

As its body slumps bonelessly to the floor, another Launcher steps through the wall behind it... and another one. And another. Chaos.

"If those things unload all those missiles in here, we're going to have a problem," Lightning says, echoing Scourge's own thoughts.

"Out of the way," Simian grunts, swinging the first bot's disembodied missile launcher-slash-arm onto his shoulder and taking aim.

"Are you nuts, man?" Scourge yells. "Didn't you hear Lightning? You fire that thing and this whole building's going down!"

"Better have the exit ready, then," Simian returns evenly.

"Got it!" Fiona announces, jumping up from the terminal with a chip in hand. Hawk follows, looking severely disgruntled. "Turns out we really did just have to enter the code. Hah."

"I told you," Hawk begins, but Fiona waves him off.

"You were right once, don't go getting a big head. You got the ring ready, sweetie?"

"Everyone over here! You miss the ring, we're leavin' you behind!" Scourge doesn't wait for a response and throws the warp ring. The portal spins into existence, glistening faintly in the electric light, and they all pile in. Simian fires off a final missile salvo before the ring vanishes and they tumble haphazardly into the Doc's lair to the sound of the entire base going up.

For a second, no one moves, too tired and bruised and tangled together to bother getting up. Lightning sighs heavily from the bottom of the heap. Scourge laughs.

"I trust you have what I asked for?" Finitevus asks from literally two feet away, and Scourge isn't even going to question how he knew where they'd end up. After all, they are at his mercy inside his weird evil lair, and Scourge knows how to be tactful.

Scourge props himself up on an elbow. "So do you like, practice being creepy, or is it natural?"

Without looking, Fiona smacks him in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"We have it," Fiona says, extricating herself from the tangle. Scourge considers tripping her as she walks past, decides against it, and settles for hooking his ankle around Hawk's heel as he stands up. The bird goes down with a satisfying squawk right on top of Lightning and the ensuing chaos lets Scourge hop up onto his own feet.

Fiona ignores it.

"All the files relating to the roboticization process are on this USB," she says, holding it out. Finitevus takes it and, after a moment's inspection, slips it into his robes.

"So why'd you want that, Doc?" Scourge asks, adjusting his sunglasses. "Woulda thought that robot stuff wasn't quite your style."

"It is true that roboticization is a perversion of the natural order and representative of that which I seek to destroy," Finitevus concedes. "But I am not opposed to much that will give me the advantage against my nemeses. And I must admit the idea of enslaving your opponent's will to your own has a certain... charm."

Scourge and Fiona exchange a look - of the literally why is he like this and the why do we talk to him again variety - and Scourge shoves his hands in his pockets and steps up. "Uh... yeah, man. Totally. Anyway, if we're done here, can we have the beryl now?"

"Of course. But first, I have one more task for you."

Scourge scoffs disbelievingly. "Are you kidding? The deal was we break into Eggman's lab, steal your stupid information, and hand it over. We've done that. It took like forever and it was a massive pain in the butt the whole time, we are not adding anything else onto that and that's final."

"...I'll double the amount of beryl."

Scourge hesitates.

... which is how they ended up here. Scourge crouches on the windy rooftop, tugging his dumb fancy suit jacket closer and hoping idly that something happens soon. "Can we go in yet?" he asks.

Hawk, who's busy adjusting his own disguise, shakes his head. "You really have no patience at all, do you?"

"Nope!" Scourge tugs on his overly-tight tie and mostly just makes it worse. "How 'bout now?"

"If you were any good at infiltration, Fiona would've let you go in already," Hawk says. He's typing on his communicator, syncing all their devices into something they can actually use. It's not that Hawk's particularly adept at technology, or anything; it's just that all the rest of them are so abysmal at anything electric that tech duty usually falls to him or Fiona. "Unless Plan C falls through, you're not headed in 'till the last minute."

Scourge sighs loudly, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building. "I could just walk in and grab him. They wouldn't even see me coming. Then we wouldn't have to spend a million years sitting out in the cold."

Hawk doesn't look up. "And then Sonic would pursue, and then we'd have to fight him off while trying to kidnap a geriatric former soldier without killing him. Which, given our previous track record..."

The bird trails off and Scourge grimaces. Yeah. They'd given up on kidnappings for a reason. They wouldn't have even considered this one if not for the offer of Anarchy beryl - which has been in extremely short supply recently, given they can't hop dimensions without instantly snagging Zonic's individual attention. And it's not like Scourge isn't flattered that the self-important dimensional cop will drop everything for a chance at catching him, but he's not planning on seeing the inside of Zone Jail ever again.

Anyway. It's a small blessing that Zonic hasn't come looking for them personally, or sent Sonic after them, but it's one Scourge isn't willing to throw away just for a power-up. Thus the kidnapping mission.

Scourge swings his legs contemplatively and longs for Fiona to hurry up so he can bash some heads.

Right on cue, their communicators ring. "Alright, boys," Fiona's voice comes through a little tinnily. "You ready?"

"Heck yeah," Scourge says immediately.

"Ready to go whenever," Hawk confirms.

"Roger. Meet me where we agreed." The comms unit crackles and goes silent. Scourge hops up and starts stretching quickly, trying to limber up his half-frozen muscles. Hawk sets his communicator down and picks the lock on the trapdoor they'd been sitting next to. Once it's open, they slip down a small flight of stairs and through an empty hallway. At the end, they take a right through another hall and stop outside a janitor's closet.

Scourge raps on the door. "Knock, knock," he says.

There's a moment of silence. Then Lightning opens the door. "Hurry up," he whispers, peering over their shoulders.

Scourge clicks his tongue in disappointment. "Dude, you're supposed to say 'who's there.'"

"Yeah, Lightning," Fiona says from inside. "You're ruining the script."

"I- what?" Lightning sputters. "You people are so immature. Simian, can you tell them to shut up?"

There's a good fifteen seconds of judgemental silence. "...you should've said 'who's there.'"

Lightning rolls his eyes and Scourge pushes past him into the room. Simian nods as he enters and Fly, who's doing something he can't quite make out, cackles in a corner. Scourge spreads his arms wide. "Alright, I'm here now, the party can start!"

"Good to have you," Fiona says. She's sitting on an overturned bucket, one ankle folded over her knee and eyes glued to her phone. "Alright, so Plan A failed."

"Yes!" Scourge cheers, pumping a fist in the air.

Fiona shoots him a glare. "We weren't able to get him away from his bodyguards and the speech is about to start soon. I didn't want to do this in front of a crowd, but we may not have a choice. Right now, we only have to deal with the normal security and Sonic. After the ceremony, they're going to meet up with a bunch of Sonic's friends before going back home to Knothole."

"Wouldn't it be better to wait, then?" Simian asks, folding his arms.

Fiona shakes her head. "No for two reasons. We can handle the normal security easily, especially if we use the crowd for meatshields while Scourge is distracting Sonic. Sonic's friends are, frankly, a much greater threat than the security, and they will not be holding back. And if we wait until they go back to Knothole, we have that... woman to deal with."

Everyone shudders at the mention of Nicole. Their last attempt on Knothole is not a memory anyone wants to relive.

"So if we use the crowd for cover and Scourge's able to distract Sonic for long enough, this is doable," Fiona resumes. "We'll just have to time it right. And we can not let Sonic know our target at all costs. If he realizes we're trying to kidnap his uncle, he won't let the old man out of his sight, and our job will get a lot harder. Got that?"

A quick briefing on everyone's roles later and it's time to go. Scourge starts to follow the guys out the door and is caught short by Fiona's hand on his wrist. "Sweetie, can I talk to you for a second?" she asks and drags him back inside before he can answer.

She turns him loose and Scourge spins around, rubbing his wrist. "Alright, if this is about what I think it's about-"

"Don't worry, I'm not yelling at you. Just..." she trails off to stare at him.

Scourge tries not to fidget and goes for a confident smile, propped up against the wall. "Babe, don't worry about me. This'll be a lark."

"It's... you know." Fiona shrugs and apparently decides to just go for it. "You've been having issues about your dad. I need to know if that'll affect your performance here."

"What?" Scourge is almost kind of offended. If it was anyone but Fi asking, he would be offended. "Babe, my uncle was a total nutjob. Like, worse than my old man. No issues here."

Fiona looks at him a second longer. "Alright," she says at last. "If you say so. I'm counting on you."

She brushes past him on her way out, squeezing his hand on the way, which is nice since she's weird about stuff like that. Scourge follows a minute later.

I require one more thing for my research, Finitevus had said. Charles the Hedgehog. Inventor of the roboticization process. He is receiving an award for his technological advancements in Central City in two days. Bring him to me alive and you will have your full reward.

Scourge scans the crowd for Charles now, leaning on the fancy railing of the fancy indoors balcony overlooking the fancy banquet hall. There's a name for a balcony like this - a mezzasomething - but he can't remember what it is. Maybe Fiona would know.

Scourge tugs at the collar of his unbearably fancy suit jacket and longs for his sunglasses.

He'd told Fiona the truth earlier - his uncle was a wackjob. Paranoid, jittery, simultaneously ravenous for power and terrified of it - no one had liked him, least of all his nephew.

Jules had liked him, probably. Enough to give him a home and a laboratory for his crazy experiments and to turn a blind eye when they started getting darker and more deadly. That had gone on up until Charles had invented a machine that turned moebians to robots, and its first (unwilling) test subject had been Jules.

Yeah. After Ivo managed to save Jules' life, they'd put a stop to that real quick.

They'd told Scourge that Charles had gone far away to someplace he could be happy. He still remembers that scene - Jules crouching down before him with mournful eyes, one arm cold and stiff where the roboticization process had gotten it before Ivo had pulled him out. His flesh hand had been warm and comforting on his shoulder, and Scourge had been so distracted by the touch that he hadn't even cared that his uncle was gone. He'd faked tears just to get Jules to stay with him a little longer.

Scourge shakes his head wildly, dissipating the memories. Anyway, it was painfully obvious in hindsight that Charles had either been jailed or executed for treason. Not that Scourge would have cared either way. Mostly, he's just vaguely curious to see what Charles is like in this world. Still a mad scientist, or something more benevolent?

A mass of whispering erupts at the main entryway of the hall. Scourge straightens up.

A bunch of bodyguards in black enter, followed by a few people who could be family or friends. Sonic's there, obviously, and next to him can only be Uncle Charles.

Scourge doesn't really remember his uncle; he was, after all, a kid when the guy vanished, and he avoided him whenever possible. But the face before him is undeniably like his own. He has the same sloping forehead, the same pointed muzzle. Honestly, he looks exactly like Sonic with a mustache.

Scourge leans forward, intrigued, as the old guy says something that has Sonic pitching forward in laughter. It's weird, seeing him. Not like seeing Jules, or even like seeing the mom. Just... weird.

Not the kind of weird that Fiona's worried about, thank Chaos. No, he'll have no problems handing this schmuck over to the Doc.

Charles and his little squad sit down in the front row while the bodyguards split up to cover the exits. Scourge tracks their positions automatically, mostly focused on the target. Charles claps his nephew on the back and leans over to whisper something in his ear. Scourge looks away with a sneer.

The ceremony starts. A bunch of people Scourge doesn't know talk about a bunch of things he doesn't understand, blah blah blah. Scourge yawns and taps a tattoo on the railing with his claws. Luckily, all the civilians seem to have gone down to the seating area, so he's alone on the balcony. As long as the security doesn't notice him, he should have no problem staying under the radar until it's time to make his move. Until then, he amuses himself trying to find the rest of the Destructix hidden in the crowd.

Down below, the speeches start wrapping up. Charles ruffles his nephew's quills one last time and heads up to the stage. Scourge straightens up as he accepts his award and takes the mic.

"First, I'd like to thank you all for being here today," the hedgehog says. Scourge taps his foot impatiently. "I know it's a bit of a long way for a lot of you - we've got some visitors from Holoska, even! - and it means a lot to me that you'd take the time to make it here today. So thank you."

Ugh, so boring. Can't Fiona hurry up? At this rate, they'll be doing the audience a favor by sparing them all this drivel.

"- of the University of Spagonia for funding my research and going out of his way to help me whenever I needed it. Thank you, old friend."

Scourge taps his communicator and almost jumps when it crackles to life.

"Alright, everyone's in position," Fiona says. "On my mark, Scourge, you're going to distract Sonic. Jump down there, challenge him to a fight, anything. His sole concern needs to be beating you up."

"All he has to do is be himself and Sonic'll be jumping at the chance to tear him a new one," Lightning interjects. "Works on me."

"Oh, shut up," Scourge says. "Fiona, tell him to shut up."

"...well, he has a point."

Lightning's amused huff is audible over the comm. Scourge rolls his eyes. Traitors, all of them.

Fiona's voice goes serious. "But for real. Get him mad and get him out of here. Make him chase you 'till I call you back, and don't give him a second to realize there's more going on. If he comes back here before we're done, it's over. Okay?"

"I got it handled, babe," Scourge says. "Worry about yourself."

"Believe me, I am." The comms go silent a second later. Scourge stands up, shakes the stiffness from his limbs, and hops up to crouch on the railing. It's showtime.

On stage, Charles is still talking. Does the hedgehog not know how to shut up? "And finally, I'd like to thank my family, who loved and supported me every step of the way, up to and including being here with me today as I accept this award. Sonic, my amazing nephew - you've grown so much and, while I wasn't there for all of it-"

Well, that's enough of that. Scourge leaps into the air, curls up, and lands a perfectly executed homing attack on the podium. Splinters, chunks of wood, and a massive dust cloud fly everywhere. Someone in the audience screams, and behind him he can hear Charles stumbling back and coughing furiously.

"Uncle Chuck!" In the front row, Sonic rockets to his feet and dashes forward, only to come skidding to a stop. As the dust dissipates, Scourge grins. He can feel the light glinting off his fangs.

"Long time no see, faker," Scourge spits. He pulls his sunglasses out of the stupid suit jacket's pocket and slides them on with a flourish. "Can't exactly say it's a pleasure seeing you... then again, I always look forward to a chance to kick your butt."

"Wh- Scourge?" the blue idiot sputters. The shock only lasts a matter of seconds before fading, as the flabbergasted expression turns into something more like a smirk. "Well, well. I haven't heard from you since I demolished you and left Zonic to drag your sorry carcass away. Did they let you out on good behavior?"

Good behavior. Hah. As if Sonic knows anything about what goes on in Zone Jail. "Please. I smashed my way out of there the first week. The Zone Jail's in shambles; just ask Zonic! Oh wait - you can't." He laughs.

Sonic's smile slips a notch and the quills on his back bristle. "What happened to Zonic?"

Scourge keeps laughing.

"Alright, pincushion. Maybe you'll tell me when I beat it out of you!" Apparently done talking, Sonic curls up into a spindash. Scourge, still laughing, topples off the wrecked podium and leaves Sonic to smash into the stage where he'd been standing. People are screaming, someone's escorting Charles off the stage, and Scourge is reveling in the chaos.

"Slowing down, blue boy?" he mocks him. "You'll never find out about your stupid friend if you can't even touch me." Zonic's perfectly fine, actually, unless you count the truckload of paperwork Scourge saddled him with after his escape from Zone Jail. Not that Sonic needs to know that, 'cause if anything ticks him off, it's a threat to one of his friends.

And, true to form, Sonic snarls wordlessly and Scourge knows he's got him.

"You're looking kind of slow today - let's see if those legs of yours still work," Scourge calls over his shoulder and takes off. The world blurs around him as he taps into his speed, rockets between panicked partygoers and confused waiters and angry bodyguards. Out of the corner of his eye, he briefly spots Fiona crouching behind a pillar before she's blown away in his wake. Like this, outside sounds, sights, everything drops away, leaving him alone with himself and the wind.

It's nice. Peaceful, even.

And then the only other being who can keep up with him barrels into his side, sending them tumbling over each other right through the big open doors outside. Scourge lands a kick to Sonic's chest, sending him spinning away, and sprints down a sidestreet towards the marketplace. A moment later, the sound of footsteps running at 300 mph picks up behind him.

Scourge grins. The plan's working, then - Sonic's so ticked that he hasn't even stopped to wonder why Scourge isn't stopping to fight, or why he crashed the party in the first place. Now he just has to play this out 'till Fiona's done.

"Been slacking your exercise regimen lately? 'Cause I thought you were faster than this!" Scourge calls out.

"That so?" Sonic returns. The sound is unexpectedly close and Scourge looks back to see Sonic running only a few paces behind him. "I could say the same for you."

Scourge growls and vaults a fruit cart, sending it flying with a back kick. Sonic dodges the cart and dives through the onslaught of flying fruit, coming up without a scratch. Scourge's gained a precious few seconds, but in a contest of speed, those seconds mean everything. He blocks Sonic's path - kicking over trash cans, dodging in front of moving cars, knocking a baby out of its mother's arms with a well placed swipe. Sonic dodges the trash cans, goes over or around the vehicles, and loses a good fifteen seconds saving the baby. By the time they've cleared the marketplace, Scourge is about thirty feet ahead and gaining.

"What's wrong?" Sonic yells. "Scared of a little fight?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scourge yells back. "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not wasting my time fighting someone too slow to keep up!" Up ahead, a pile of trash bags is stacked against a sloping wall, reaching up to the edge of the roof. Scourge leaps up in a single bound and sprints along the rooftop. Behind, the trash bags crinkle as Sonic races up, and tiles creak as the hedgehog fights for balance. Scourge snorts and picks up speed.

The rooftop run is fraught with near-misses and almost-falls. This area of town has a mixture of buildings; some are modern and boxy, with flat tops, but there's a number of older structures with pointed tile roofs. Scourge skids down the sloping ridge of one of these, slips off the building, snags a flagpole on the way down and turns his fall into a launch point. He lands upright on the narrow ledge of a skyscraper and darts along the line of windows, flashing a mock salute at some goggle-eyed kid in its bedroom.

Sneakered feet hit the concrete behind him as Sonic pursues, grinning despite his ferocious eyes.

Scourge hooks a fast right as the ledge ends and drops down to the top level of the parking garage nestled against the 'scraper. Mostly he's planning on going back down to street level, but Sonic puts on a burst of speed and tackles him right there.

They roll head over heels across the concrete, colliding with a dusty pickup truck hard enough to dent in the side. Scourge throws himself out of the way and rolls onto his feet just as Sonic picks himself up. The blaring car alarm is the only sound as they stare each other down.

Sonic moves first. He doesn't bother curling up, just lunges fist first at Scourge's face. Scourge ducks the punch and goes in low for Sonic's solar plexus, narrowly dodging a knee to his face. Sonic slams his heel down on Scourge's foot and drives an elbow into his neck. Scourge stumbles back, falling into a roll to avoid Sonic's left hook, and comes up on his feet with room to spare.

There's another moment of staring and circling as they pant heavily and pretend they're not.

And then Sonic steps something that crunches and looks down.

Scourge lunges. Sonic sidesteps him easily and snatches it up - and wait, Chaosdammit that's his communicator-

"Is this a mic?" Sonic asks disbelievingly and then the pieces click.

He stares at Scourge blankly, and Scourge can practically see his train of thought - comms means accomplices, accomplices means there's a plan, a plan means Sonic was intentionally drawn out here away from the ceremony, and if Sonic's out here then -

Then -

Scourge swears and moves to tackle Sonic but the idiot's already gone. Instinctively, his hand goes to his ear - "Fiona, he's coming your way, I-" No, wait, Sonic's got the communicator and it's broken anyway, dammit. The plan's falling apart and it's entirely his fault.

Well. It hasn't fallen apart yet.

Scourge takes off, running full-tilt after Sonic. The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, not that he appreciates it. Sonic's trail is a direct beeline back to the hall. It should be easy to follow, but for some reason Scourge can't catch up those last few feet.

"I thought you wanted to fight, you dingus!" Scourge snaps. "Make up your mind already, sheesh!"

"You tricked me," Sonic growls.

"Uh, yeah? I'm the bad guy. It's kinda what I do."

"What's your actual plan?"

"Thought you were gonna beat me up and find out?"

Sonic snarls and, impossibly, picks up speed. Scourge has to drop the conversation entirely to focus on just keeping up.

They hit the convention hall scarce minutes later. There's clearly a fight going on inside; explosions and the faint sound of screaming accompany the flood of people battering down the doors in their desperation to escape. The Destructix are clearly having fun... and more importantly, haven't escaped yet. What on Moebius are they doing?!

Sonic zips through the crowd, dodging panicking mobians with practiced ease. Scourge doesn't bother; he kicks one middle-aged cat into the heart of the rush and vaults over the resulting pileup without missing a step. "Babe! Hope you're wrapping it up in there!" he yells as they burst into the ceremony hall.

The Destructix are more than holding their own. The security has been almost entirely cleared out; fallen guards litter the area while none of their own are even scratched. Fiona, wielding a G.U.N. issue stun pistol, jerks up in surprise as Sonic skids into the room. "Scourge, you had one job!" she screeches.

"So did you!" Scourge rams into Sonic from behind, sending them both flying into a row of seating. Scourge comes out on top. "What happened to Ch- the target?" he asks, pinning Sonic down with an elbow to his throat.

"Escaped," Fiona says grimly. "We've already informed the Doc... and, uh, we have a new objective now."

Sonic makes a choked-off sound and Scourge leans down harder. Something shifts behind him but he ignores it. "Alright, what is it?"

Fiona hesitates.

And then cold metal claws clamp down around his shoulder and tear him off Sonic, lifting him bodily into the air. The hedgehog wheezes for breath on the ground, but Scourge isn't paying attention. He's not paying attention to anything anymore, because in front of him-

"What the hell are you doing here," Scourge breathes.

Artificial red eyes burn into his own. "Don't touch my son," says Jules, and the anger in his voice causes every limb in Scourge's body to lock up with instinctive fear.

Of course Jules is here, Charles is his brother, why wouldn't he attend the ceremony - hadn't the blasted hedgehog said as much during his speech? Scourge should've realized it then. This was a bad idea, they need to get out of here, why did Scourge even come here in the first place-

Something in Jules' mechanical expression thaws.

The clawhold on his shoulder eases as he's lowered to his feet, but Scourge's brain is still spinning in circles. He's gone completely unresponsive, some part of him knows, but he can't think.

"Get away from him!" Fiona yells and plants a high kick right in the center of Jules' chest. The robian goes flying, pursued by Simian, and Hawk swoops down behind them to tackle Sonic away. "Babe," Fiona says, kneeling down beside Scourge, feeling frantically at his shoulder. "Did he get you?"

The world shifts a little bit back into place. "No," Scourge mutters. "Fiona, I don't-"

"Save it." Fiona's eyes are full of worry as she grabs his wrist and hauls him to his feet. "I think you need to sit this one out, sweetie."

"What? No." Scourge grips her hand like a lifeline. "I can fight. I can still fight."

"Scourge... the new target is Jules."

Something in his chest catches. Scourge stares at her, and around them, the noise of the battle seems to fade. "...what? Why?"

Fiona grimaces. "We lost the inventor of roboticization. Next best thing is its last survivor."

"No. We're not doing that." Scourge has no idea what he's doing, only that they cannot hand his- hand Jules over to Finitevus. He catches both her hands in his own and squeezes them tight. "Call off the mission, we're going home."

Fiona stares at him. "What? Scourge, you can't be serious! After all the work we've put into this? And what about the beryl?"

"We already got the beryl from the first mission. We'll be careful and save it until we can restock. We've gotten this far without any beryl at all, we don't need it that badly!" Scourge hesitates. "...Fiona, please."

It's the last word that breaks her. She knows how bad he hates saying it, knows how much this means to him that he's saying it now. Her shoulders slump in defeat. "...fine. But you get to explain this to the Doc - and please, let's try to avoid burning that bridge again."

Scourge squeezes her hand one last time before letting go. "Thanks, Fi. And don't worry about the Doc; I'll take care of him."

"That's what I'm worried about," Fiona grumbles, but she's smiling. "Alright, team," she calls out, pulling out her warp ring. "Mission's off. We're going home."

"Wait, what?" Hawk asks and nearly gets clobbered by Sonic for his trouble. "Why?"

"Ask questions when we get home," Fiona says and throws the ring. As the portal whooshes open, Scourge turns to survey the troops. Lightning and Simian are slowly retreating back to the portal, fighting Jules every step of the way, while Hawk and Fly are trying without much success to fend off Sonic long enough to run.

Scourge spindashes into Sonic, knocking him off-balance. "Get to the portal, idiots!" To Sonic, he adds, "Sorry, but it looks like we're cutting this date short." If Chaos has even a drop of mercy in its unforgiving soul, Sonic will have been too thoroughly distracted by the fight to have overheard his exchange with Fiona.

And it looks like for once, his prayers are answered, because Sonic's grin, strained with exhaustion though it is, hints at nothing off. "I'm not letting you get away this time," he says and launches into another spindash. "I still have some questions for you to answer!"

"Then they'll have to wait for next time." Scourge ducks the attack and slams his heel into Sonic as he passes, boosting his momentum to slam into the opposite wall. "Alright, time to go!" he yells, scrambling for the portal. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the rest of the Destructix doing the same.

Fiona's already waiting at the portal, with one leg halfway through, and-

"-aaaaaAAAUGH, WHAT THE HELL," she screams and falls back, pinwheeling wildly.

"Fiona!" Scourge yells and then the world blurs briefly and he's at her side, hauling her to her feet. "Fi, what's-" and then he screams too, because Finitevus is literally right there, climbing through the ring like a monster in a horror movie.

The battle cuts off. A few feet away, a newly recovered Sonic skids to a stop, staring incredulously. The Destructix are sort of ranged out behind him, looking to Scourge and Fiona for the next move. And who knows where Jules is.

"Dude," Scourge says emphatically, putting a hand to his chest. "Don't do that."

"What are you doing," Finitevus hisses.

Scourge makes a show of looking around. "Uh, escaping? I mean, what does it look like?"

"I should have known better than expect you lot to pull through," Finitevus mutters, and hey, that's actually kind of offensive.

"Hey! Screw you, man!" Scourge yells, shaking his fist. "We're leaving 'cause we want to, not 'cause we're losing!" Fiona slaps a palm to her face.

"Oh? And what possible reason could you have to do that?" Finitevus asks, but he doesn't seem very interested in an answer, because his hands flare with dark energy a second later, and Scourge knows what that means.

"Scatter!" he yells and hits the ground with Fiona as a bolt of Chaos energy goes right over their heads. Fiona rolls out from under him as he leaps to his feet.

Sonic seems to have switched targets. Currently, he's hammering away at Finitevus' defenses, running his mouth the whole time. The ring portal is still open behind Finitevus, but they need to get the crazy echidna out of the way first.

Fiona, as usual, is two steps ahead. "You're going to need to team up with Sonic."

"What, seriously? Can't we just let Sonic take care of the Doc and ditch?"

She gives him a flat look. "I don't know how he did it, but Finitevus must have hijacked the ring's signal and keyed it to his lair. I need time to reset it before we can leave. Just, you know-" she waves a hand vaguely. "Move the fight away. Whale on Finitevus. Keep them both off my back long enough for me to work."

"Ugh. Fine." Scourge turns around on his heel. "Hey, loser!" he calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Five minute truce?"

Sonic uncurls in midair long enough to yell, "Make it two!"

Fiona had better work fast, because this isn't going to take long. "Destructix, watch Fiona's back," he orders and throws himself into the fight.

Finitevus was clearly anticipating something like this, because he moves smoothly into defending against the both of them without hesitation. And it's - frustrating. Whenever Scourge throws a punch, a ring portal swirls into being in just the right place to take his hit. If he tries a kick, the same thing. And Chaos forbid he spindashes, or he'll wind up on the opposite side of the room (or, more accurately, slamming into Sonic).

Between the ring portals and the constant misdirection, the two minute mark passes and they haven't landed a single hit. The guy isn't on their level, exactly, but he's unpredictable with enough tricks that he could probably take either of them on their own. Against both of them, he doesn't stand a chance - or he wouldn't if Sonic would get out of his way.

"Dude, we're supposed to be working together!" Sonic snaps.

Scourge flicks his ear (it's been ringing since Finitevus dropped a portal that sent a spindashing Sonic on a collision course with Scourge's face) and ducks beneath a Chaos-infused punch. "Not my fault you can't keep up."

He sidesteps a second punch and follows up with a roundhouse kick that comes inches from the Doc's face before another ring portal intercepts. Dammit.

Sonic, of course, chooses that moment to go for a homing attack, which takes him right into the portal as Finitevus dodges. From somewhere on the other side of the room, the moron makes a faint oomph sound as the portal spits him out.

Scourge rolls his eyes and sweeps his legs under Finitevus' ankles, forcing the echidna to stumble back. "You make a remarkably disloyal minion," Finitevus says and drops into a portal.

On a hunch, Scourge spins around and slams a haymaker into Finitevus' face when the echidna reappears behind him. "Calling me a minion was your first mistake, Doc," Scourge says. "I'm the king, baby."

Finitevus snarls and vanishes again. "I must wonder at the cause of this particular instance," his voice says. Scourge whirls around, fists up before him, but the scientist is nowhere to be seen. "You were, after all, so eager to serve at first. What changed your mind?"

"You really gotta learn the difference between serving and making a deal, bud," Scourge says. "This why your friends always leave you?"

Finitevus ignores him. "Nothing changed between then and now. Nothing... except the target." Something flickers in the corner of Scourge's eye and he starts to turn, but he's met with a blow to the jaw followed by one to the shin. Scourge crumples to his knee with a cry of pain and looks up to see Finitevus' Chaos-powered boot swing for his face-

And then someone's hand snags his wrist and they're moving.

The world blurs just a little as Sonic hauls him across the room at lightning speed to drag him behind an overturned table. Scourge clutches the lapels of his jacket and tries to force his racing heartbeat to settle. For a second, they just breathe.

"Okay, we need to coordinate," Sonic says belatedly.

"Don't tell me what to do," Scourge says, mostly on reflex.

Sonic rolls his eyes. "If you draw his fire, I'll go behind to take him offguard. Think you can do that?"

"What? No. You draw his fire and I'll sneak up behind him."

"Yeah, maybe I'd do that if I had any faith at all in your stealth. You aren't exactly subtle, bud."

Scourge thinks back to every mission that involved some level of sabotage/stealth/general sneakery and their inevitably disastrous ends and winces. Unfortunately, he has a point. "Fine, whatever. Don't mess this up, dweeb." A blast of chaos energy rocks the floor beneath their feet - time's up. Finitevus is here.

Scourge breaks for the left.

"Hey old man, having trouble keeping up?" He leaps into the air as Finitevus goes for a sweeping kick and curls into a spindash, aimed at the scientist's head. Predictably, he sails right into a ring portal and falls out several feet away. In midair, he uncurls and kicks off the ground to rebound towards Finietvus.

The Doc raises his hands coated in Chaos energy and actually catches the spindash. For a moment, they war against each other - dark energy to living buzzsaw - before Finitevus shoves back and they break apart.

Scourge hits the ground in a crouch and lunges again. This time, he feints an uppercut followed up with a knee strike to the gut. The echidna stumbles back, but recovers almost instantly. As Scourge goes in for another strike, Finitevus snags his collar and yanks him off-balance, slamming him into the dirt. Scourge tries to wriggle out of his grip, but the Doc pins him to the ground with a hand on his throat and a knee on his chest.

"I can't say I haven't been waiting for this," the mad scientist breathes, and raises a handful of swirling black energy.

Scourge scrabbles helplessly at his wrist and wonders, briefly, if this is it.

And then a blue ball of spikes rockets out of nowhere, smacking into the back of Finitevus' head so hard the floor creaks when he faceplants. Scourge kicks him off and rolls back onto his feet, smacking away Sonic's outstretched hand. The echidna staggers upright, but his shield is broken and Sonic and Scourge poised on either side of him. The echidna eyes them warily, rings at the ready, and for a second no one moves.

"Got it!" Fiona's voice breaks the spell.

Sonic's concentration slips. Scourge can see it; the way his posture straightens slightly, the way he half-turns to face her. Finitevus sees it too.

And then Finitevus' hands are up, radiating dark energy, and Scourge drops into a defensive stance 'cause the blue buffoon can get himself killed if he wants but Scourge is going down fighting- but Finitevus isn't looking at either of them.

He's looking behind them.

At Jules.

Jules, who has no Chaos abilities, can't break the sound barrier on a whim, can't dodge bullets point-blank.

Jules, who both is his father and isn't, who's a machine but still alive, who stood across from Scourge in a dark room and didn't flinch though Scourge held his life in his hands, who loves his wife and child and wouldn't hesitate to die for either of them.

Jules, who would walk a random stranger through a panic attack on the street but can't dodge a Chaos spear if it's pointed at his chest.

Time slows down to a crawl. Scourge doesn't think.

He just moves.

The last thing he sees, as pain erupts from his chest like lightning and the world is drowned out by the black of corrupted Chaos energy, is the bright red of Jules' horrified eyes.

There's a beeping noise somewhere near his ear. Fiona's phone, probably (even though it sounds nothing like her alarm). Scourge reaches up to shut it off and is stopped halfway by the clink of cold metal.

...huh?

He opens his eyes to dim electric light and a pounding headache. There's a hard surface beneath his back, thin sheets around him, and a metallic chill around his wrists, ankles, and throat.

Through the haze, something about the last one feels familiar.

Beside him, something rustles, and a soft voice says, "Awake, then?"

"Dad?" Scourge mumbles foggily. For a moment he's eight again, in the hospital after a near-drowning, and his dad took a whole day off from work to rush to his bedside and hold his hand. It was the first time he'd seen him in a week.

Then reality catches up and reminds him that no, his dad is dead and whatever's going on here is something to worry about. The fog is gone in an instant.

Scourge's eyes snap open and he throws himself as much he can to the far side of the bed from the figure standing there now. Jules is there - a little scratched and dinged up but very much alive.

There's a flicker of something like relief inside him before Scourge stuffs it down and crushes it very firmly. Chaos, Fiona was right. He let his stupid hangups about this robian get out of hand, and now look what's happened - the mission went south, Scourge is chained to a hospital bed, the rest of the Destructix are nowhere to be seen, and worst of all, he made a heroic sacrifice like he's Sonic or something.

Chaos, Scourge is never living this one down.

"It's good to see you're moving around already," Da- Jules says in that same too-soft tone. "Some of the doctors were convinced you wouldn't live another day. I suppose any son of mine, even from another dimension, is just too durned stubborn to go out like that..."

"Don't," Scourge rasps.

Jules blinks at him. "Pardon?"

"That." Scourge lets go of the bed's railing just long enough to gesture irritably. "I'm not your son. Don't call me that."

Instead of rearing back in offense or dropping the nice act altogether, Jules tilts his head slightly, as though in recognition. "Ah," he says after a moment. "So that was you."

Scourge freezes and tries to play it off. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That day in front of Chuck's diner," Jules says. "That was you. I wasn't sure, since you were still supposed to be in Zone Jail then."

"Chuck's diner? What?" Scourge forces a laugh. It comes out entirely fake and just a little unhinged.

"You had a panic attack," Jules continues, unperturbed. "I walked you through it. Honestly, at the time, I thought it was because of me."

It was because of you, Scourge wants to say. Instead, he asks, "Whaddya mean?"

Jules gestures vaguely to himself. "I'm a robian," he says. "Robotnik put Knothole through a lot when the roboticizor was still functioning. Plenty of people have had... adverse reactions to my body in the past. It's unfortunate but can't really be helped, except through time and patience."

...for some reason, that stings. Scourge pushes the thought away and snorts. "Sucks to be you. Don't see what that has to do with me."

"You did ask," Jules reminds him, which is fair. He supposes. They lapse into silence.

Scourge slumps against the bed, a little more relaxed with no attack evidently imminent, and holds up a hand to the light. The dangling cuff glints coldly. He can't reach the collar on his neck, but he suspects it shines the same way - like the inhibitors back at Zone Jail. "You guys already talked to Zonic, then?" he guesses.

He's not really expecting an answer, but Jules gives one anyway. "We did. He gave us that inhibitor collar you're wearing right now." Nailed it. "He wanted to take you back with him to Zone Jail right away, but with the condition you were in, we didn't want to risk moving you until you were stable."

Scourge flexes his fingers, watching the muscles move. He'd suspected already, given how drained he feels right now, but knowing that he's wearing the collar is... disheartening. That level of powerlessness is something he'd never wanted to feel again. "I'm stable now. So when will you be moving me?"

Jules hesitates. "Now that you're awake, we'll probably call Zonic to pick you up sometime tomorrow. It's nighttime right now."

"What? How long was I out?"

"Two days."

Two days, and he's still here? Either the Destructix got nabbed too (possible), are planning a rescue mission (unlikely), or ditched (most likely). That... also stings. A lot. He'd liked Fiona, and he was getting used to the rest of the idiots, too.

"What about my team?" he asks.

"Vanished. They tried to retrieve you but retreated when reinforcements arrived."

It doesn't mean much - he is, after all, their strongest fighter and tactically it makes sense to avoid losing him if possible - but it makes Scourge feel better to know they'd at least tried. He lets his hand fall back to the bed with a metallic jingle.

"I still don't understand," Jules says, and Chaos, why won't he shut up? Is this something inherent to Sonic's family? "Why did you save me?"

Scourge inspects the patterns of cracks on the ceiling. That one looks like Sleuth Dog's face. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he mumbles.

"You took an attack meant for me. That much concentrated Chaos energy would've killed me - it's likely the only reason you survived is because you're a very adept controller."

"Sounds like you already have an answer to me."

There's a brief pause. Scourge continues avoiding eye contact. "I do have an idea," Jules says softly. "But I'd like to hear a confirmation from your own mouth."

Scourge doesn't say anything.

What's he supposed to say - that every time he sees Jules some stupid, long-dead part of him longs for his approval? That Jules is dredging up memories better left buried? That when he saw his dad - any version of him - in danger, that his first instinct was to protect him, despite everything he'd done?

Ha. Yeah, right.

"Think what you want, old man." Scourge bares his teeth. "It doesn't mean anything. It was an accident."

Jules doesn't waver. "I think we both know that's not true."

Can't this guy take no for an answer? Scourge huffs and rolls over as much as he can so his back is toward Jules. "Leave," he says. It's what you're best at, after all.

"Sonic heard that you attacked the ceremony to kidnap Chuck."

Scourge has a sudden, sinking feeling he knows where this is going. "I don't care. Go away."

Jules marches on, implacable. "He said that halfway through, after Chuck escaped, Finitevus told you to switch targets. That the new target was me."

"Shut up!"

"And that when you heard I was in danger, you-"

"So I called it off, alright?" Scourge bolts upright. The handcuffs snap back against his wrists painfully and his ankles scream as the cuffs cut into his skin, but he's too furious and aching and raw to care. "Yeah, I called off the mission. Yeah, I took that stupid attack. It doesn't change anything! I'm still your enemy, I'm still going to kill Sonic, I'm still going to tear apart your world and everything you love! So what if I- if I..."

"Risked all that to save one broken-down, tactically unimportant robian?" Jules finishes quietly.

"Yes! No!" Scourge tries to bury his face in his hands and can't even do that, damn this tiny range of motion. "Will you leave me alone?" Metal glints in the corner of his eye as Jules reaches out a hand. Scourge growls deep in his throat until the hand is slowly drawn back.

Mercifully, the robian is silent while Scourge desperately tries to keep himself from falling apart. Chaos, what is wrong with him?

"What do you want from me," he mutters.

This time, it's Jules who looks away. "There's not much time before I have to call Zonic in," he says. "Before he left the first time, there was talk of... life in solitary confinement. Or execution."

Breathe. It's fine. Scourge has been in worse scrapes before. "I can see where the similarities between you and my dad come in," he says softly. Venomously. "He never hesitated to lock me away, either." Sure, it hadn't exactly been tossing him in a prison cell and throwing away the key, but the perpetual grounding to an empty mansion, the total abandonment of him to an endless stream of nannies... and then, of course, that fiasco right before he died.

Dads. So eager to foist their screwups on other people, wash their hands and move on.

"Doesn't any of this setup seem odd to you?" Jules asks abruptly.

Scourge blinks, thrown. "What? You hit your head somewhere, old man?"

"Think about it. You're a top-priority prisoner. You've broken out of Zone Jail. And yet your only security here is an inhibitor collar, some handcuffs, and a broken-down old robian."

...there's a trap here somewhere, Scourge knows it. "Yesss?" He eyes Jules warily. Is this some kinda reverse-psychology thing?

Jules laughs wearily. "You're not the only one with emotional ties he can't quite cut, son."

"Don't call me that," Scourge says reflexively before the weight of Jules' words catch up to him. "Wait, what? Are you saying-" and then he cuts off, because that's so ridiculous it shouldn't be said out loud.

"Yes," Jules confirms. "I volunteered for guard duty because I had to ask, first. To make sure for myself that something of my son is in there."

"I am not your son," Scourge snaps. Distantly, some part of him recognizes that he's being actively detrimental - that if he plays his cards right he could actually walk out of this free - but he's past that kind of rational behavior now. "You're chasing ghosts, old man! Stop looking for stuff that isn't gonna happen!"

"You're not my son," Jules agrees. "You're not my Sonic. But you're a Sonic, and somewhere... that potential for great good is inside you."

And isn't that exactly what Sonic had said on their last birthday - the day he'd finally ditched that lame Anti-Sonic moniker, had finally stepped out of Sonic's shadow into his own light - that all it'd take is a bit of decency, and Scourge would be just like him? The echo stills him.

"You're making a mistake," he says hoarsely. He's not going back to Zone Jail, he'll die before he goes back to that hellhole, but he needs Jules to understand this. "I'm not Sonic. I'm no hero. If you let me go, I'm just gonna go right back to doing what I did before. People will die because of you."

"No, they won't," Jules says, half-smiling. "I've done my research. The Destructix don't kill. You wreak havoc and destroy things, but... no bodies. I understand it's to avoid trouble with G.U.N.," he adds, holding up a hand to forestall Scourge's protests, "But you don't have a body count. That's important."

Shows what he knows - but Scourge can't bring himself to point out the obvious. "I still ruin lives," Scourge says instead. "There's other ways to kill people without holding a gun to their heads."

"I know. And that's where I'm being selfish." The half-smile turns into a full smile, but it's so sad and wracked with exhaustion and bitterness that Scourge has to look away. "I... I lost my son once. I can't help it... I can't watch a son of mine - from any universe - be destroyed while I can do anything to stop it. I'm not a good person, Scourge. I've lost too much to try. So I'm going to be selfish, just this once, and hope you don't make me regret it."

Scourge is silent. He's silent when Jules stands up and unlocks the cuffs, one by one. He's silent when Jules reaches up to his throat to unlock the inhibitor, and he's silent when it falls away and power rushes freely beneath his skin once more.

His boots are on the floor, suit jacket draped over a chair. He pulls on the shoes and digs through the pockets until he finds his sunglasses, but leaves the jacket behind.

"Scourge," Jules says quietly, as Scourge pushes the window open. He hesitates over the window sill, half inside and half out.

If Jules asks him to stay, he doesn't know what he'll do.

But he doesn't. In the end, Jules looks down and whispers, "If you ever need somewhere to rest, my home is always open. Till then... be safe, son."

The words catch in Scourge's throat. He nods, wordlessly, and drops out of the window to land lightly on his feet on the ground below. For a moment, he dallies beneath the window, waiting for-

For...

He doesn't know. Scourge shivers in the cool night air and starts running.

...thanks, Dad.

He finds the base a few hours later, jogging to the next town over and hopping a train the rest of the way. When he walks in, the base goes dead silent.

Fiona leaps up from the circle of Destructix - planning a rescue mission, he later finds out - and tackles him, hugging and pounding him in equal measure. She cries a little too, which he only discovers when she points out he's tearing up himself. The Destructix surround them, yelling over each other and clapping him on the back until Simian picks them all up in a group hug. It's at that point that Scourge declares he's done with all this mushy stuff and if they don't knock it off he won't bother coming back next time. Fiona announces that if there is a next time he won't have to worry about coming back because she'll kill him first, and Simian gives them all one last squeeze before turning them loose.

Scourge retrieves his leather jacket with a sense of great relief and they all end up watching another trashy samurai movie, which Lightning ruins again. Fiona holds him tight the whole time and doesn't chew him out like he deserves, for which Scourge is unendingly grateful.

He doesn't go back to the house. He pulls jobs with the Destructix, they beat up on Sonic and his lackeys, they have one run-in which Finitevus that they come off much worse for. And they watch crappy movies, eat ridiculous amounts of junk food, and get personally banned from every arcade and amusement park across the continent. He's... not gonna lie, it's actually pretty fun.

But in the back of his head, the house is always there. The robian bustling around the empty kitchen in a pink apron. The scent of pancakes frying. Till then... be safe, son.

It takes a long time - months of denial, of wondering and longing and furious self-restraint - but he caves eventually.

He shows up on a morning he knows Sonic and his mom won't be there. He doesn't knock on the door, or ring the bell. Mostly, he just hovers outside, unable to work up his nerve to do anything.

He's about to leave when the door swings open. Jules stands there, looking exactly the same as he did that night by the hospital bed, with eyes too soft for his wayward not-son. Scourge, half-frozen on the sidewalk, searches for something to say and comes up empty. They stare at each other silently.

Scourge shoves his hands in his pockets and forces back the lump in his throat. "I was in the area, so I dropped by," he mutters. "Don't think this means anything."

Jules looks at him for a long moment and Scourge forgets to breathe. Slowly, softly, his dad smiles. "Welcome home, son."

#sth #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #fiona fox #jules the hedgehog #destructix #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #i cant look at it anymore take it

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Chapter 10: The Lesser Evil

Tranzelore

“Don’t go, please my love, it’s too dangerous.“ River pleaded, grabbing her husband’s arm as he headed for his time stream that pulsed and flared in the middle of his supposed tomb.“You can’t cross into your own time stream.“ It was done, Vastra, Jenny and Strax where back, so were Amy and Rory. Clara had done it, jumping into his time stream, she had stopped the Great Intelligence at every turn, keeping the timeline intact. There was nothing left to do.

“I’ve got to get her out.“ He insisted stepping closer to his time stream.

“You could die, you could cease to exist.“ River argued trying to stop him.

“She’s always there, all over my time stream, that is why she is important.“ The pieces were falling into place. This was why they had been encountering Clara over and over again. He had been so intrigued and finally, he had figured it out. “Run you clever boy and remember.“ He echoed the words she had said to him many times over.

“Darling.“ River could sense she wasn’t getting anywhere, her husband was in a world of his own thoughts.

“Finally I’ve worked her out.“ He grinned, pleased with the accomplishment. Initially he’d only kept her close out of curiosity, trying to work out how she could be appearing and dying again and again but what a nice surprise that she was actually a loyal friend all along. Sacrificing herself by jumping into his time stream, he could hardly think of a greater proof of loyalty.

“Then leave it at that.“ River tried to reason with him. “We’re safe, the timeline is intact, don’t risk it now, making her sacrifice pointless.“

“I won’t fail.“ He reassured her, a confident smile on his handsome features.

“But what if you do.“ River exclaimed. “You can’t risk your life for hers!“

“Why not?“ He looked back at her confused.

“Why not?!“ River echoed his words in disbelief.

“There are only very few people we can truly trust River, we need to keep them close. She’s just proven her loyalty.“ He looked back to the pulsing energy as if he could see Clara within it. “I owe her to get her out of there.“

“Is that all? Loyalty?“ River’s words were sharper than she had intended, revealing more than she meant to.

“River.“ He groaned in annoyance. Jealousy was not an attractive quality.

“I think it’s a fair question, you’d make me a widow of me in a pointless attempt at saving her?“ River retorted accusingly. Surely he had to know how this would make her feel.

“River, I love you, you must know that.“ He started reaching for her hand, trying to reassure her.

“Then listen to me!“ River insisted, her expression one of both anger and fear. What if he did, in fact, lose himself in there? She couldn’t bare the idea of losing him.

“I always listen.“ He told her and pulled her into his arms. “You’re the one that always here by my side, you’re the first thing I see when I wake and the last when I go to sleep. And I always listen.“ He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But sometimes, you have to listen to me too when I tell that this is what I have to do.“ He took her face in his hands and kissed her, hoping to convey his love and devotion. “Trust me?“ He asked softly as they parted.

“Always.“ River smiled. That impossible, infuriating man.

“See you in a minute, Professor Song.“ He gave her a wink, straightened his bowtie and jumped into his time stream.

——

“Now isn’t that a bit forward, seeing as you’re still fully dressed, Doctor?“ River smirked as she grabbed the Doctor by the collar and ripped her shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. The Doctor jolted back, colour draining from her face. She was too shocked to respond and River took advantage of her stupor. She pulled her around, knocking her into the wall face first. The Doctor tried to pull away but River pinned her against the wall with her own weight. “What? Should I not have said anything? Would you like to keep going and we pretend I don’t know who you really are?“ River hummed against the shell of her ear as she pressed herself against her. She brushed her hair aside and pushed her other hand around her, fumbling with the button of her trousers.

“You knew.“ The Doctor groaned as River trailed kisses up the side of her neck. She tried to pull away from her touch. This had been a terrible idea. She was already regretting her moment of weakness. “When did you realise?“

“About five seconds in.“ The amusement was audible in River’s sultry voice.

“Then why did you…“ The Doctor tried to throw her off, anxiety building as River succeeded in unbuttoning her trousers. She should have realised this was a trap, she should have questioned why River had fallen for her act so completely. She should have known she wouldn’t be able to imitate the Emperor well enough to fool her own wife.

“It got you here, didn’t it? Also… I was curious to see how far you’d go…“ River chuckled as she buried her hand in the Doctor’s hair and pulled her head back. “Maybe I should have let you carry on, now we will never know.“ She ran her hand along the waistband of her Doctor’s pants, clearly enjoying the Doctor’s near-panic as she fought against her. “But alas, I couldn’t do that to my wife.“ Unexpectedly, she let go of her and took a step back, tying up her nightgown. “I didn’t think that I would have to be the one to stop.“ She tilted her head in amusement as she watched the Doctor turn around quickly doing up her trousers, she tried to pull the shirt shut to cover herself up but the buttons were all but two ripped off. Her eyes darted around the room for a way out as River regarded her like a lioness her prey. “Don’t even think about it. I triggered a silent alarm ages ago when I went to get changed.“ River smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Of course you did.“ The Doctor groaned, annoyed by her own stupidity, she really should have known.

“Well, I didn’t know how much time I would have. How was I to know you were that easily to keep close.“ River chuckled. “The guards are outside the door and my wife should be home any minute. You think you had a hard time last time? Just wait till she finds out what you’ve been up to.“

——

“Fine, no more games.“ Clara chuckled, there was no need for theatrics now that she had got River out of sight of anyone else. “I think that’s quite enough of that.“ Somewhere in the other room the squark of a raven sounded making River look around for a second. As she looked back to Clara, her tattoos began to blur, rising up into the air.

“A quantum shade.“ River jerked back, immediately realising what she was dealing with.

“Aren’t you the perceptive one.“ Clara replied patronisingly as she pushed River’s hand with the knife away. “Now, I suggest you stop this.“ She tried to shove her off and River obliged, she got to her feet and stepped back, keeping the swirling darkness in her sights. She knew when something could be fought and when it was better to take a step back and reevaluate her options. “There’s a good girl.“ Clara got to her feet as River tried to formulate an escape plan.

“You’re trying to use me to get to the Doctor. Is she even here?“ River tried her best to control her anger, as she realised what was going on. She wanted answers. She didn’t do well at the mercy of others. She threw the butter knife across the room in anger.

“Oh she’s here alright.“ Clara said softly. “And yes, I am going to use you to get her help.“

“Her help? If you need help, you just ask for it! You don’t have to blackmail the Doctor, the Doctor always helps if…“ River exclaimed but Clara started laughing, interrupting her.

“The Doctor always helps.“ She mimicked her. “I bet she does as well… You’re so naive. Both of you are. It’s laughable. Just between us girls, River, I don’t think it’s the sort of help she’ll want to give.“

The Raven burst out of the other room making River take a step back. It landed on Clara’s shoulder as she held out the note she’d written earlier.

——

“Alright, fine, shouldn’t have done this, I get it.“ The Doctor tried her best to steady her voice. “Brain short-circuited, physically you could be my wife after all.“

“Yes yes and since she’s dead, it’s not really cheating, is it? You tell yourself that. I thought you were someone who would be kept up at night by this sort of thing but maybe I underestimated you after all. Or I overestimated your devotion to your wife.“ River hummed with no small measure of gratification in her voice. “Do you still want my hand between your legs, Doctor?“

“That’s quite alright, I can sort that out for myself later.“ The Doctor bit back, trying to give as good as she got and gloss over how much her words stung.

“I very much doubt you’ll get the opportunity.“ River grinned briefly glancing to the door. The Doctor couldn’t be sure if she actually expected her wife to return any moment now or if she was only trying to intimidate her by acting like she would. Either way, she needed to get out of here now.

“You really are remarkably like my River, witty, determined, strong… but there’s just one thing, one mistake my River never would have made.“ The Doctor said as River returned her attention to her.

“Yeah? And what’s that?“ River laughed.

“My River never let’s me keep my sonic when she doesn’t want me to get out of handcuffs.“ The Doctor grabbed her sonic screwdriver from her back pocket and blasted River with it. It wasn’t much, not harmful, not debilitating but for a moment, she blinded her, disoriented her, scrambling the signals from the nerves in her eyes to her brain. A moment was all the Doctor needed to bolt and rush to the TARDIS. River screamed, not in pain but in anger as she needed a moment to recover. The Doctor wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore, she didn’t look back, when she found the TARDIS wasn’t locked. She rushed inside and the lights came on. It wasn’t the warm golden light she knew, it was red and garish against the black walls.

“Really bloody cheerful.“ The Doctor mumbled to herself as she hurried to the console. She started pressing buttons and pulling levers but the TARDIS revolted. The humming and wheezing was loud, unhappy, the Doctor got an electric shock and she pulled her hand back. The TARDIS knew she wasn’t the Emperor and she was refusing to cooperate.

“She won’t let just anyone fly her.“ The Doctor whirled around to see River heading for her. The diversion had been even less effective than she had hoped. “You’re going to regret this, Doctor.“ River snarled.

“Emergency teleport then!“ The Doctor used her sonic to blast the TARDIS console. Sparks flew and River lunged forward but the TARDIS control room around her disappeared. It wasn’t ideal, she didn’t have the TARDIS like she had hoped, but it was a way out.

When the Doctor materialised she looked around panicked, trying to orient herself.

“Great, it worked!“ She exclaimed as she recognised Clara’s quarters. “Clara! We need to talk!“ She looked around for Clara but froze when she found a second person with her. “River…“ The Doctor’s eyes widened in shock. There was no way the Emperor’s wife would have been able to get here before her. She wouldn’t have known where the teleport went and this River was wearing the environmental suit she had worn in the Library. There was only one explanation. The Doctor’s head was spinning, she felt sick as her emotions overwhelmed her. The extraction chamber had worked, River was here.

River looked back at her in surprise. This woman had just appeared out of thin air and judging by the look on Clara’s face, she hadn’t expected her sudden appearance either. The blonde looked at her as if she was a ghost or perhaps a wish come true? There were all sorts of emotions painted on her soft features and tears were welling up in her big eyes that were so impossibly deep and old, not at all matching the youthfulness of her pretty face.

“Doctor?“ River asked slowly remember what Clara had told her. The Doctor was a woman now and this woman looked at her as if she was her sun and stars.

“River, you’re alive!“ The Doctor exclaimed and throwing caution to the wind she rushed to her, flinging herself around her neck. River was overwhelmed, she nearly knocked her off her feet but she pulled her close, held her, reflex more than anything else, as she tried to wrap her head around what she already knew to be true.

“Is it really you?“ She asked tentatively as she pulled back and looked the blonde up and down.

“Oh right, you haven’t seen this face before.“ The Doctor smiled as she took a step back and wiped away a few stray tears in embarrassment.

“Can’t say that I mind…“ River chuckled. “What have you been up to?“ She raised her eyebrows at her barely buttoned shirt.

“Ah… uhh…“ The Doctor blushed and a crushing wave of guilt came over her, overshadowing her joy for seeing her. What had she done? How could she? She struggled to breath as she was searching for the right words.

“Sorry to interrupt this touching moment, but you are in my quarters.“ Clara interrupted at last, fed up of being ignored. She scrunched up the note she had been about to give her Raven. There was no need for it now. This was even better than she could have imagined.

“Clara.“ The Doctor pulled River behind herself as she turned to face her.

“How nice of you to join us, Doctor.“ Clara smirked, observing her protective gesture with amusement. Yes, this would work very well indeed. “It seems as though you forgot something in the extraction chamber.“

“What’s going on here?“ The Doctor demanded to know.

“What’s going on is that I was just trying to work out what exactly happened when you came here, Doctor, and as I was having my look around the extraction chamber, your wife appeared.“ Clara explained with a smug smile.

“River, are you okay, are you…“ The Doctor glanced to her wife and grabbed her hand to assure herself she was here.

“Alive? I think so. As alive as one is coming out of an extraction chamber…“ River replied giving her hand a squeeze. “I know what it does Doctor, you sentimental idiot, you couldn’t just let me die, could you? I’ll have to go back eventually, you know, unless you want a paradox ripping time apart… again…“ She knew the sad truth behind what the Doctor had done. As much as she appreciated the sentiment, there was more heartbreak to come for them, it couldn’t be avoided. And yet, she was grateful for every moment she got to spend with her husband… wife.

“But not for a while. How about we deal with all that when we get out of here.“ The Doctor suggested, trying not to think about what she was implying.

“Sounds like a good idea.“ River nodded looking around for an escape route again.

“You are not going anywhere, Doctor, not just yet. Mind you, we probably haven’t got long to have this conversation. Your teleport, I’m sure they’ll be able to trace it.“ Clara pointed out.

“I don’t think there are any guards at the door.“ River said and the Doctor nodded, having come to the same conclusion.

“Run?“ The Doctor suggested as they inched away from Clara.

“Let’s.“ River agreed and they bolted to the door but Clara had other ideas. The Raven took off and sailed in front of them, barring the door.

“I don’t think so.“ Clara hummed and the tattoos dissolved, swirling into to air and jolted forward. The dark smoke struck the back of River’s neck forming a quantum lock.

“No!“ The Doctor shouted whipping back around to Clara.

“Do I have your attention now, Doctor? I said we need to have a conversation.“ Clara crossed her arms in front of her chest expectantly.

“Take it off her.“ The Doctor yelled taking a threatening step towards Clara who grinned:

“I will, eventually, if you agree to help me with a little something.“

“What?“ The Doctor asked and looked to River with great worry. River touched the back of her neck her expression darkening. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“I would like your help, Doctor. Your wife assures me one only needs to ask for your help? Well, I thought it would be more convincing if I had your wife as collateral.“ Clara revealed and the Doctor squared her jaw.

“What do you want?“

“You’ve been here long enough now to know, Doctor, that this is not a nice place. You’ve been to the streets, you’ve seen the poverty, the state of the Empire? Perhaps you will reconsider what we talked about before?“ Clara smiled.

“You want to topple the Emperor.“ The Doctor concluded with a sigh.

“I’d never be able to do it by myself as you know and it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to convince her that I am a far more suitable match for her… so I’m left with few options.“ Clara confirmed with a shrug.

“I won’t kill anyone, not even her…“ The Doctor retorted firmly.

“I realise that and I don’t expect you to. What I do need you to do is play a role. It looks like you have been having a practice run already. There is a ceremony tomorrow, celebrating the Emperor’s return to Gallifrey, it’s the most important holiday. That is why the Emperor has been so eager to get information out of you so quickly, I presume she was trying to announce the next big chapter for the Empire tomorrow.“ Clara explained crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“That’s never going to happen, I would sooner die than tell you how…“ The Doctor shook her head. River looked on in confusion. Who was this mysterious Emperor they were referring to? It sounded like the Doctor had been here a while already and was one step ahead of her.

“Oh I know and I’ve accepted that. I want you to announce the next big chapter in the history of the Empire in her stead tomorrow.“ Clara clarified and the Doctor understood:

“Transfer power to you.“

“Exactly. Not so difficult, is it? Small price to pay for your wife’s life isn’t it?“ Clara glanced to River who still had confusion painted all over her face.

“And how are you going get rid of the Emperor?“ The Doctor asked which seemed to be the one big catch.

“You leave that to me. You just be back here tomorrow at noon. I would keep you here but you’ve ruined it now with your teleport trick. It they find you here we’re both done for, they need to see you fleeing the palace so the don’t suspect me.“ Clara sighed, what an inconvenience. Likelihood was they had traced the teleport by now and were on their way here. She had to wrap this up.

“And what if I don’t agree?“ The Doctor huffed.

“You will do this for me, Doctor, or your wife, who was so very fortunate to get a second lease on life, will die.“ Clara shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s really a very easy decision to make. I will contact you with the details, my Raven will find you.“

“Take off the lock.“ The Doctor demanded, her voice firm.

“Once I can be sure of your cooperation.“ Clara smiled giving River a wink.

“Fine, alright, I’ll do it, but you leave her alone.“ The Doctor threatened.

“I’ll take the mark off her once it’s done.“ Clara clapped her hands together in excitement.

“No! You take it off her and you take it off her NOW!“ The Doctor yelled jabbing her finger at her.

“Alright, fine. Just remember I can put it back whenever I please.“ Clara huffed and with a wave of her hand, the chrono lock disappeared from River’s neck. River gave a sigh of relief.

“And you take it off the Monk.“ The Doctor went on, remembering why she had come here in the first place.

“The Monk?“ Clara frowned confused.

“Sign of good faith. If you want my help, do it.“ The Doctor insisted.

“Alright, fine, don’t care about him either way.“ Clara gave another wave of her hand. It wasn’t like the Emperor had any way of finding out about this.

“Doctor, you can’t help her…“ River spoke up. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on but the Doctor was being blackmailed into doing something she didn’t want to do, and that in itself was enough information for her to protest.

“It’s a matter of the lesser evil, River. You haven’t met the Emperor yet… and her wife.“ The Doctor replied, hoping she never would come across them. “They deserve it.“

“Yes they do, Doctor. I’m glad you have come to your senses.“ Clara agreed.

“When it’s done, I’m taking the TARDIS. You can’t fly it anyway. I will need it to find a way home.“ The Doctor realised this was the right moment to bargain. If she wanted to find a way back to her own universe, the TARDIS would be her best bet.

“Fine.“ Clara smiled at her graciously. She had no use for the TARDIS anyway. The Emperor and her wife were the only ones that could fly her. She couldn’t imagine the Doctor would even find a way of using it. “See, the things we can accomplish when we work together.“

“Then you have yourself a deal.“ The Doctor nodded. Her best and only cause of action right now was to agree. She could reevaluate her options later when her and River had got to relative safety.

“Now, I suggest you go, before the guards turn up.“ Clara engaged a screen on the wall, surveillance of the corridor outside.

“River…“ The Doctor grabbed her wife’s hand again but Clara cut in:

“…will be my honoured guest until tomorrow. No harm will come to her, I need her as assurance and you know I wouldn’t harm her, else I would have nothing to pressure you with.“ The Raven squawked for emphasis. “You know I’m right.“ She extended her hand to River. “Unless you’d like that chrono lock back?“

“I’ll be fine, Sweetie.“ River gave her wife’s hand a squeeze before letting go and joining Clara though ignoring her hand. “I’m sure Clara and I have a lot to talk about.“ Perhaps she could find out more about this place.

“We’ll braid each other’s hair and drink champagne, nothing for you to worry about, Doctor.“ Clara smirked at the Doctor who balled her fists, feeling anxious. She didn’t like the idea of leaving River here but under the circumstances she might not have another choice. She glanced to the screen and spotted guards heading their way. They were running out of time. “Now be a dear and make sure they see you as you bolt down the corridor so they leave us alone in here.“ Clara said going her a little wave.

“Everything will be fine, River, I promise, I will come back for you.“ The Doctor looked to her wife who gave her a little smile.

“Well, you better, what good was all that business with the extraction chamber if you don’t.“ River winked. “Go before they catch up with you.“

“I will be back.“ The Doctor insisted. There was so much she wanted to say, she had played it out so many times in her mind of what she would say if she ever got to see River again, but now there was no time. And very little hope. But she took what she could from the little smile and nod River gave her. There was time for words later.

The Doctor had hardly pulled the door shut behind her, when she heard voices. She hurried towards the hidden passage way but hung on by the corner where she could still see the door to Clara’s rooms. She couldn’t allow for River to get caught. If they had in fact traced her teleport signal, they would be searching for her there. When she realised the guards indeed headed straight for the door, she knocked over a nearby bust that crashed to the ground and drew their attention. Calling “Oi! Over here.“ would have been too obvious, they couldn’t realise she was drawing their attention on purpose. When she was sure they’d seen her, she bolted down the corridor. Luckily, she knew more than one secret shortcut to the city below.

——

Clara knocked over a table and some vases, creating traces of a struggle. She picked up a shard from the broken vase and cut her own arm, barely flinching. River raised her eyebrows, concluding that she had to be very scared of the Emperor to go to such lengths to not be found out.

“I don’t think I have to explain to you what will happen if anyone finds you in here.“ Clara caught the questioning expression on River’s face and ushered her to a small room further into her quarters.

“No, you don’t but there is something you do need to explain to me: the Emperor, who is she? And why do you need the Doctor?“ River asked.

“Miss Oswald, please open up.“ There was knocking on the door.

“We haven’t got time for this, get in here and not a sound.“ Clara pushed her into the room and locked the door. River didn’t struggle, she didn’t trust Clara but she trusted the Doctor and if she was concerned for her safety should anyone find her, she know she should try her best to hide. She looked around the room, a small spare bedroom by the looks of it. Nothing much to it, nothing that she could fashion a weapon out of if needed. The vase on the dresser appeared to be her best bet so she grabbed it and stood against the door, pressing her ear to it. She had to find out more about what was going on here.

“Emperor…“ Clara’s voice was distant but clear.

“Don’t even start, Clara! We know she was here. Using my own TARDIS, she’s going to pay for that!“

River froze when she recognised a voice that sounded exactly like the Doctor’s, only with an icy edge to it. Suddenly, Clara’s demands were making a lot more sense. The puzzle pieces were falling into place and River didn’t care for the picture they were revealing.

#Really hope you like this next chapter!!#Doctor Who #river song #river x thirteen #river x 13 #thirteen/river #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #dark!13 #Mirror Universe #mirrorverse #fanfiction #yowzah #space wives #eleventh doctor #clara oswald

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bimboamyrose · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic (Ch. 7)

Ch. 7: Source Decay

First two chapters

Previous (Ch.6) (mild blood tw)

Amy repacked the first aid kit carefully and deliberately. Even now, she was trying to think of what to say to Sonic. They each usually had plenty to talk about, but a rare silence filled the tense air as both sat speechlessly. Sonic and Metal sat across from one another, resuming their staring contest. But Sonic was no match for the robot’s unblinking gaze and his frustration hit a boiling point.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Sonic snapped, turning to Amy.

The metal latches on the first aid box clicked shut. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I guess it’s about time.” She lifted her wide eyes to Sonic slowly. She breathed deeply, a pleading look painted across her face as she explained. “Tails and I found Metal about a week ago. He was pretty damaged and doesn’t remember a whole lot. I thought he could use a place to stay while Tails made some repairs.” Her eyes were begging him to remain discreet. Either he didn’t get the message, or he didn’t care.

“What do you mean ‘found him’? You mean after we beat him up last week?” Amy’s sudden scowl didn’t seem to deter him either. “Why are you trying to repair him after he tried to kill-”

“I told you what happened,” Amy interjected, getting up from her seat. “Metal’s staying with me until Tails can fix him. I don’t know what’s so confusing about that.” She shrugged as she marched her way back to the pantry, tossing the kit back inside the cabinet.

Metal’s suspicions seemed to be correct. He and Sonic’s team were fighting just before Amy and Tails found him that day. The damage, no doubt, was due to the battle. The esoteric puzzle was unfolding before him. Metal remembered the cast on Tails’ arm- also injured- and he knew he must have been the one to hurt him. He turned his palms up on the table in front of him. The blood may as well have still been there.

Sonic wasn’t done. “You know exactly why it’s confusing! What aren’t you- Hey!”

The chair across from him scraped across the floor as Metal stood up abruptly. Sonic did the same, standing ready to strike. His robotic counterpart stared for a moment more before turning, taking steps toward the back door.

“Metal, wait!” Amy sprinted to get ahead of him and block his exit. “Don’t go, please!” A series of quick tones come from him as he waved his arm, motioning for her to get out of his way. She stood her ground, expertly reaching up to take his hand in both of hers. All at once, Metal saw her- the stains on her gloves, the mist in her eyes- and the bandage around her arm. When he felt her delicate fingers wrap tightly around his own it was as if he was no longer made of steel and wires but soft flesh and blood. His defenses fell. The extraordinarily gentle feeling that was nothing short of overwhelming enveloped him. He didn’t need his memory to know that nothing else could have made him feel that way. Could she really sway him so easily?

“Metal, I owe you an explanation. You can leave after that if you still really want to. Give me a chance,” she begged.

She misunderstood him. He did not feel angry or resentful toward her- not even toward Sonic. He wasn’t leaving out of spite. No, Metal’s impulse, however unusual, was to protect Amy. He didn’t understand why and truthfully did not see her as weak or inept, but he did understand the potential threat he posed by simply being around others. She wouldn’t be safe as long as he stayed there. The conflict came when he felt her inexplicable tenderness and realized he’d never get himself to leave as long as her influence tethered him there. Metal reached up slowly with his other hand, toward Amy’s face. Her rosy cheeks looked so warm.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Sonic stood irate just behind him. “Don’t lay a finger on her or you’ll regret it.” Metal’s outstretched hand contorted into a fist as he turned back to meet Sonic’s eyes. The humming of his engine grew louder.

“Hey,” Amy reached to suppress Metal’s raised fist. “That’s enough of that.” She turned her attention to Sonic, brushing his grip from Metal’s shoulder. “Hands off. No one’s fighting today. I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I’m not leaving you here with this pile of scrap,” Sonic crossed his arms. His glare didn’t break from Metal’s.

“Leaving me where? In my house?” she scoffed. “I invited him to stay. You have no right to-”

“To what, Amy? Care about your safety?” Sonic finally turned to look directly at her.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me ‘cause I’m not afraid of Metal.”

“You should be!” He pointed at her bandaged arm. “We both know that’s not the worst that could have happened.”

Amy’s blood was boiling now. After all those years, all the battles they’d endured together, how could he be so sure that she couldn’t look after herself? Did he think she was stupid or had no sense of self-preservation? “He didn’t mean it!”

“Well, what if he had? What could he have done to you? He’s not gonna hold back if he remembers!”

Metal lowered his gaze until his eyes landed to where Sonic had pointed. That was his fear, too. If he could hurt Amy without intention, what was he capable of if he wanted to do real damage? He couldn’t imagine hating her after the kindness she’d shown him, but it seemed his memories could prove him wrong.

“You don’t have any faith in me, Sonic!” Amy exploded. “I’m not a kid anymore! I know what I’m doing.” Her eyes dampened as she tore into him. “ You always doubt me! But I know we can help Metal if we give him a chance- He’s staying here and that’s final, so get used to it!” She was yelling again, her throat straining.

Sonic’s brows raised, taken aback by her response. He shifted to a gentler tone. “Amy, I just-”

“Well, don’t!” she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it! You must think I’m stupid if you don’t think I can handle things for myself. If you won’t help me, then at least don’t make it any harder!” Tears were filling her eyes now, threatening to overflow onto her red-hot cheeks.

Sonic didn’t know how to respond. He shifted his weight uncomfortably and softened his expression at the sight of her mounting frustration- he could never stand to see her cry. He sighed. “I do trust you, Ames…” his eyes shifted to Metal begrudgingly. Sonic wanted to add something but left it at that.

“Great.” Amy was choking back a whimper. She turned away from both of them, back into the kitchen, and began wiping down the counter aggressively. “You can go, then. I have to finish cleaning up now.” She didn’t look up.

Sonic rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. He wasn’t one to doubt his friends, least of all Amy; But it didn’t stop him from worrying. Her passions ran high and she was thoughtful and compassionate to a fault, her kindness often landing her in trouble. He resented that his care for her came off as distrustful. They weren’t the naive children they once were and his protective nature seemed to clash with that idea. But even if she could be incredibly stubborn, there was no shortage of care or intellect in her that could reasonably give Sonic pause in trusting her judgment. There was, however, Metal Sonic to contend with. That was the wild card he didn’t trust. Sonic shifted his attention to him. Metal Sonic had hardly moved except to turn to Amy. He watched her, no longer engaging in a battle of glares with Sonic. His expressionless eyes were impossible to read and Sonic wondered if the robot could feel anything, least of all guilt. Still, Sonic couldn’t deny that there was something different about his steely counterpart that day.

Finally, he addressed Amy begrudgingly. “Call me if there’s trouble.” He saw Amy nod but she still didn’t look up. He took one last look at Metal, who shot back a glare before Sonic made his way out the front door. “I’ll see ya, Ames.” He hesitated before making his way out. “Be careful.”

The door closed behind Sonic. Amy couldn’t contain her emotions anymore. Tears made their way onto the counter that she wiped away immediately. It wasn’t quick enough to keep Metal from noticing. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, suppressing a sob. Then she felt something cold and firm around her wrist. Metal had taken hold of it lightly- he peered into her as she finally turned up to look at him. “I guess I owe you an explanation,” she sniffled. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He shifted his focus to her hand and Amy seemed to finally understand the sorry state she was in. The blood had soaked into her white gloves, drying into a muddy stain. The sleeveless dress she wore was dusty and damp. Her focus had been so divided as she was caring for her cut. She had done it mechanically, without thinking; finding the words to persuade Sonic had taken her full attention instead. Now, she thought of herself for the first time since the encounter, realizing how pitiful she must look.

Amy’s eyes opened like faucets. She tossed away the rag she’d been cleaning the kitchen with and brought her blood-stained hand up to her mouth to muffle her sobs in its palm. Metal was frozen. The sight of Amy weeping was deeply discomforting and it felt like there was a role he should be playing, but he didn’t fully understand what it was. Slowly, he raised an unassertive arm around the front of her, just meeting her right shoulder above the banged wound with his hand. The small nudge was invitation enough. Amy took hold of his shoulder and pulled herself onto him, nestling her face in his chest. If Metal had a heart she would have felt it hammering against her cheek.

Emotions can be quite overwhelming, he learned. He felt relieved that Amy didn’t recoil at his touch. Sympathy for her sadness. Most surprisingly, he felt exhilarated from their embrace. It all happened in a second. The feelings overcame Metal as he reached behind Amy, gently pressing a cold arm around her. His other hand was still gripping her wrist, so he let his fingers crawl up to meet hers. He cradled her delicate hand in his and pressed it against his other shoulder. From her tears to her back, Amy was warm and soft and trembling- a stark contrast to Metal’s still and steely body. A deep comfort built within him as he held her for a while. Sobs eventually turned to sniffles but Amy didn’t immediately let go after her shaky breaths slowed to their regular rhythm.

Wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, Amy took an unsteady breath. “I’m sorry. I guess I got pretty frustrated there.” Slowly, she pushed away from Metal and slipped out of his grasp, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to be so forward.” Her voice cracked. “I should really change,” Amy blurted out, making her way to her bedroom at the quickest pace she could muster without literally running out of the room. She closed the door hard behind her. Her heartbeat mounted again and blood rushed to her face. It was bad enough to lose her cool like that in front of someone, but to hug Metal so presumptuously? I bet I made him so uncomfortable, she lamented silently, not knowing how wrong she was.

A bit confused by her sudden and unexpected exit, Metal simply stood wondering if Amy’s mercurial nature would ever cease to surprise him. Still, her ability to express herself earnestly remained as admirable as it was fascinating. After thinking about it for some time, Metal turned his attention to the disarray before him.

Meanwhile, Amy had forced herself into a cold shower to cool off. Rather than the hamper, her gloves went straight to the garbage, trashed beyond any reasonable repair. Having taken her time, she wondered if he’d still be there when she returned.

Amy emerged in a cozy red sweater that obscured her injury, figuring neither of them would want to be reminded of it. She found Metal sitting at the dining table, staring out the glass door and into the skyline as the sun prepared to set. She’d found him that way a couple of times in the past few days, seemingly getting some enjoyment out of watching the brilliant colors mingle overhead.

Then, suddenly remembering the mess in the kitchen, she shuffled past him around the counter only to find it spotless. “Did you clean up?” she called to Metal. She saw him nod from across the room but he didn’t take his eyes off the scenery. “You shouldn’t have- thanks.”

Amy made her way back around sheepishly. She took a seat just next Metal, joining him in watching the colorful sky. After a few minutes, Amy sighed. “Isn’t it pretty? You should see how it looks from up on the mountains. You can see the whole horizon and everything.” It took him a moment, but Metal looked back toward her this time before nodding. Amy felt her stomach knitting nervously. “But first, I think I should tell you about how we met.”

As the pinkish-orange glow faded and the sky grew dim, Amy made her way to the sliding door, stopping to grab a blanket and flipping on the outdoor light as she went. “Let’s get comfortable,” she beckoned, wrapping the blanket around her. They both sat on lounge chairs under the eroding sunlight for another few minutes as Amy mustered the courage to speak. She was afraid he would leave abruptly to find his master once he found out the truth about his origins. “I haven’t been honest with you,” she finally admitted. “Can you promise you won’t leave before I tell you everything, though?”

Metal thought he wanted nothing more than to remember who he was. Now, he wasn't so sure he wished to find out- though he knew he had to. He gave her a nod. “Okay,” she breathed, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I’ll tell you what I know.” Metal copied her posture, crossing lanky arms over knees. He stared back expectantly.

“I do know who Eggman is. He built you to fight us- well, Sonic specifically.” She met his gaze as confidently as she could. “But I think you’re capable of so much more than that, Metal.” Even as the stars emerged from hiding, they were no match for the way Amy’s smile illuminated the darkening night.

............................................................

Notes:

So I was reading up on the song “Source Decay” by The Mountain Goats as it gave me some inspiration for this chapter. It has an interesting narrative. This is what the lyricist had to say about the lyrics:

“The backstory blurs and won’t cohere, the evidence mounts and is available but it just won’t gel into a satisfying narrative… you sometimes really deeply and desperately need to get a clean narrative line through some story in your life… the song is about how those outlines are like blurry shapes in fading light that you eventually have to just accept as they are.”

ANYWAY not to get corny with y’all but just wanted to share my thoughts. I scribble so much dumb bullshit down as I’m writing and thought this one was actually worth sharing lol. TY again to everyone who has been reading!!

A special thanks to @maggy-world for her very sweet fanart. Please check out her lovely art!

Next chapter will be up by next week. Its’s a long one. ✌️

#i made a few changes from the beta chapter #so feel free to tive this one a glance if u read that version #metamy #metal sonic x amy rose #metal sonic #amy rose #sonic fanfiction #sth #unfamiliar #ch 7 #truthfully i was not so confident with this chapter but i think it turned out alright #maybe a little cheesy #but idk i can appreciate that in a fanfic so why not let myself go there lol

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amillionmillionvoices · 4 years

Note

12/river trapped in a closet

She doesn’t quite know what to do. After dinner on the balcony, after they return to the TARDIS, after she showers and slips on familiar clothes.

There’s so much she wants to say, even more she needs to hear. Her stomach still hasn’t settled and she can feel her hearts pick up every time he looks at her. She feels like she’s on a precipice, getting ready to jump and for the first time in as long as she can remember, she doesn’t know if he’ll catch her.

Isn’t certain anymore that he wants to.

The Doctor, of course, says nothing. She finds him in the console room, and barely has a chance to breathe before he drags her off on a completely unnecessary tour. He takes her to the 19th deck where there’s a perpetual desert storm and down below where there’s a room full of nothing but carousels; he shows her the replica of Coney Island and a new library and a meadow with thousands of butterflies.

“Not actually butterflies,” he admits as one lands on his arm. “Tiny robots.”

He grins, like it’s a huge secret he couldn’t wait to share, and oh, how she’s missed him. She wonders how long he’s been alone, that he’s this eager, chattering away like he’s been starved for company.

Though his voice is different, she still loves the sound of it, the way he narrates each room. She loves the smell of him, though she has to keep stopping herself from getting too close, from breathing him in. She wants to—wants, so much, to simply stop, to close her arms around him and bury her face in his shoulder and just stay there, for as long as he’ll let her.

But he doesn’t seem interested in that this go around, and his touches are fleeting at best. The occasional hand on her spine, or her arm. He doesn’t take her hand.

She supposes she deserves it.

After Manhattan, after Hydroflax, Fleming and Ramone, she understands why he’d be reluctant to touch her. Now that he knows, now that he’s seen the parts of her she’s tried so hard to keep hidden from him, to protect him from.

She doesn’t blame him. Couldn’t fathom it, but it hurts—the way his body doesn’t lean toward hers anymore. The way he barely looks her in the eye. She wonders what he sees, now, when he looks at her—a thief, a murderer.

A monster.

He touches her arm again to steer her from the room, and she flinches. His touch is too light, too absent, too unintentional.

She doesn’t deserve it, regardless, but her chest aches and she has to take slow, measured breaths, has to dig her nails into her palms to keep from crying.

There will be time for that, later. When he finally tells her the truth.

When he leaves.

She tries to pay attention, to ask questions and offer the occasional innuendo that doesn’t make him blush any more. Instead, he just looks at her strangely, like he doesn’t know how to process the words, and she bites her tongue the next time there’s an opportunity; the very thought of making him genuinely uncomfortable makes her feel ill.

Pushing the feeling aside, she forces a smile as he explains how the waterfalls work, and where the stream goes. It’s beautiful, and wonderful, and she wants to know everything but all she feels is tired.

It’s been so long since she’s seen him, so long since Manhattan and she’s been running nonstop and she just wants quiet. Wants one night without nightmares, without his words ringing in her ears, things he’d said in his grief to make her angry, things he said to finally make her leave.

Looking down at the railing, she stares at their hands, both curled around the metal. There was a time when she wouldn’t have hesitated to cover his fingers with hers; a time when he would have done the same. Now, he keeps himself at a distance, the physical space between them almost more than she can bear.

And still, she smiles.

She smiles when he takes her to a diamond cave and smiles when he shows her badminton courts and smiles when he grumbles about the new training room the TARDIS made. She smiles behind a flinch when he touches her elbow to guide her into the room, at the same time he declares how horrible guns are and how much he hates having a whole room of them on board.

Though the room is dark, she steps away from him, closing her eyes briefly against the lance of pain in her chest.

She knows he hates weapons. She isn’t sure why it’s taken her so long to realize she isn’t an exception.

Behind her, she hears the Doctor shuffle around for a light switch, hears the door click shut behind him.

“It was right here the last time I was here,” he mutters.

She doesn’t want to know why he was in here. The air around them feels dense, and she can’t see anything in the black, not even with the sliver of light from under the door.

“It’s fine,” she says. “We can come back another time.”

She reaches past him and fumbles for the door handle.

“It’s stuck.”

“No it isn’t,” he says, and she huffs.

“Yes, it is.”

She feels him press up against her, and stumbles out of the way, knocking into something that feels suspiciously like a broom.

“Doctor.”

She feels her way along the wall: shelving, a few bottles, pails, and what she hopes are sponges.

The Doctor is muttering at the door.

“You locked us in a cupboard.”

“I did not. It’s the training room.”

“It’s the maintenance cupboard.”

He kicks the door and then grunts. “Why would I take us to the maintenance cupboard? It was supposed to be a grand tour.”

“Sonic?”

“My other coat,” he says, and his voice is strange, almost disembodied. She can’t see him at all.

“Seriously?”

“No, you’ve been Punk’d,” he says, and she tries not to flinch at his tone.

“There must be some way out of here,” she says, trying to feel around; but it’s a small space, barely big enough for three people, and it’s only a moment before she bumps into him, and quickly steps away, shrinking herself into the furthest corner. She knocks over what she thinks is a mop, hears it hit something hard and then clatter to the floor.

“Ow.”

She almost smiles.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he says, and her smile drops, her hearts like a lead weight.

Part of her assumes he’s joking, but in the dark, without his smirk or glimmering eyes she can’t tell, and the words fall flat between them. She doesn’t have a reply, words stuck in her throat, and because he can’t see, she wraps her arms around her stomach in some kind of embrace.

Oblivious, the Doctor sighs. “We’ll just have to wait until she lets us out.”

“She? The TARDIS?”

“Who else?”

River frowns. “Why would the TARDIS lock us in a cupboard?”

There’s a beat, then, “Seriously?”

River glares, then realizes that won’t do any good and huffs loudly. “Forgive me for not being a mind reader.”

“If you were this would be a lot easier,” he says, low and almost reluctant, and her breathing stalls.

She knew this was coming. She just thought, maybe, a few hours… that she could have just a few more hours with him, to say goodbye for good before he flies away.

“River,” he starts, and she can hear the hesitation, the guilt, and slams her eyes shut.

“Don’t,” she manages.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say it.” She’s nearly begging, but she can’t bring herself to care. She can’t hear him say it’s over. That’s it’s been over for years. She knows, if he says it she’ll break and she can’t afford to, not here, not now. “I know—” Her voice catches and she clears her throat, tries again. “I know this isn’t what you want. I understand. I appreciate—everything.” Her eyes sting and she has to take two slow breaths to calm her trembling.

“You appreciate it,” he echoes, and it sounds angry, bitter.

“I just meant—I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s unnecessary. As soon as we’re out of here, I’ll leave you alone.”

He’s silent, and it weighs on her. In the dark; she starts to see faces, gaunt and howling.

“If that’s what you want,” he says finally, flatly, and she resists the urge to laugh, almost hysterically.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” she says. “What matters is that you—” She stops, hesitates. “What matters is that you’re happy,” she says quietly, and it feels like a secret, too hushed.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

Because you haven’t kissed me, she thinks. Because you haven’t touched me. Because it’s been so long without me.

Instead, she forces a laugh. “I can’t imagine anyone would be thrilled to discover their wife’s a homicidal maniac.”

“I already knew that,” he says, and she flinches, hard.

Breathless, she barely manages, “Well, you certainly seemed surprised.”

“I’m always surprised when I’m with you,” he says, and she can’t tell what he means, how he’s saying it, his voice low and gruff in the dark.

“Surprised isn’t happy.”

“No,” he agrees. “No, it isn’t.”

Tears sting at her eyes and she shuts them tightly. There’s not enough air, not enough space and everything feels like it’s closing in on her, suffocating.

Please, she begs, hears the TARDIS hum soothingly in her mind. Please let me out.

She can almost feel the ship’s disapproval, her defiance.

The Doctor moves, does something she can’t see and then there’s a hand on her arm, but it feels misplaced, feels conciliatory, and she flinches.

She hears what sounds like a sharp intake of breath, and his hand falls away.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop doing that.”

Don’t, she thinks desperately, please don’t stop, please touch me, please hold me—

She can’t bring herself to say the words out loud. Instead, she clears her throat, tries to make herself small in the tight space.

“No,” she says, too hoarse. “No, it’s not—it’s just—”

She doesn’t know how to explain. How his touch unravels her. How it feels like a brand, how she craves and needs it so much, and yet, dreads it.

Because he’s too good. Too kind, too soft, and she knows she cuts him with her hard edges. Knows she’s too violent and too cruel and too sentimental for him, especially now.

She can’t bear to imagine what he’d think of her if he knew, all the things she’s done since Manhattan. Since she lost the only three people she’s ever truly loved.

He wouldn’t understand. He’s lost so much, over and over and somehow remains so, so good, and she’s not like that, never has been. Fear has never made her kind, the way it does him; it makes her weak. Angry.

Unworthy.

“Just what?” he asks, and his voice sounds softer, somehow. Patient, in a way he’s never been, not with her. At least, not lately.

She doesn’t know what to say, without saying everything.

She pushes it aside, tries to keep her voice causal, keep it from cracking.

“It’s just been a while,” she says, and hopes he doesn’t ask. She hopes he does.

“Since Manhattan?”

She nods, and a long silence stretches before she remembers he can’t see her. “Yes.”

“How long?”

She shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. “Almost a year.”

There’s a beat, and his tone is a strange mix of anger and hurt. “Then you lied to me.”

“About what?”

“You said two months.”

River frowns, trying to remember. “When did I say that?”

“At Amy’s. When I followed you, you said—”

“Spoilers,” she says, suddenly breathless, a faint hope knocking at her ribs. She hasn’t been back to her parents house, with its warmth and photographs and memories. She hadn’t wanted to see it empty, hadn’t been able to bring herself to go back, to clear it out. She knows she’ll have to, eventually—she knows he won’t do it.

“What do you mean, spoilers? You’re a professor, you’ve done Manhattan, and then you left and I found you packing up their house—”

“Maybe you did, but I haven’t done it yet.”

“You haven’t,” he echoes. And then, “You haven’t done Arnos yet either, I assume?”

“No,” she says, her mouth dry, suddenly desperate and terrified of seeing her husband, that version of her husband, again. She’d thought that was the end, after—

“So the last time you saw me…” he trails off, and River closes her eyes, tries not to think about his words, the look of betrayal on his face.

This is your fault.

She shudders, exhales, waits for more of his ire.

Instead, he touches her again, fumbling in the dark for her arm. “I’m sorry.”

River blinks. “What for?”

“Everything,” he says. “What I said. What I did. Time travel.” He huffs. “I followed you, River,” he says, and she shakes her head, almost frantic.

“Don’t tell me—”

His hand tightens around her arm. “I followed you, and I did everything in my power to make it up to you. Or rather, I will.” He sighs. “I didn’t realize it had been so long.”

River swallows. “It’s not your fault,” she manages.

“Yeah, it is.” She opens her mouth to protest, and he must know, because he steps closer, still holding her arm. “Don’t. Just because I will apologize doesn’t mean you have to forgive me now.”

“I always forgive you,” she murmurs.

“Even for not loving you enough?”

The words knock the air from her lungs, and she pulls away from him, winded. She’d known, she’d known he didn’t love her, not the way she loved him, but hearing it, she can’t breathe. Her hearts trip and she remembers her father, before he knew he was her father, asking her what she meant by a far worse day and it’s this, she thinks, this moment, all her fears true and the blackness and she can’t stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks. She inhales, body trembling and she’s glad, suddenly, for the dark. If this is what had to happen, and even the TARDIS knew, she’s grateful he can’t see her face.

“River—” he starts, uncertain, and it’s not his fault, no one’s fault but her own, and she shakes her head, her voice cracking just slightly on her reassurance,

“You can’t help it.”

It falls flat, sounds unconvincing even to her own ears but she doesn’t blame him, doesn’t want him to think she does, but when she tries to speak, it’s all air.

“I suppose,” he says, and she tries to breathe, to control herself, but when she exhales it’s a hitched sob, and she claps her hand over her mouth, humiliated and heartbroken and so, so lost.

“You’re crying.”

He sounds surprised, and she doesn’t understand.

“I’m fine,” she manages, swipes at her cheeks, aware her tone is too curt, angry at herself.

“Why?” he asks, and there’s no judgement, no reprimand, just concern, and she supposes she owes him, for whatever good it will do.

“I knew—” she starts, stops when her voice breaks and tries again, softer. “I’ve known for a while. That you don’t feel the same. It’s just another thing to hear you say it, that’s all.”

He moves, and she can feel him closer, and she closes her eyes, wishes he wouldn’t. She wants to bury her head in his chest and cry but she can’t do that to him, won’t do it to herself, and she’s so distracted trying to keep herself together she almost misses his words, the floundering,

“Say—? No, River. That’s not—that’s not what I meant.”

Her hearts pinch. Her Doctor, always trying to make things better.

“It’s alright, Doctor, really. It doesn’t matter—”

“Stop it,” he snaps, and she blinks, momentarily stunned. “Stop saying that, of course it matters.” He sighs, and steps a few paces away from her, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do, now. She knows she doesn’t need him—not to travel or survive or live her life but she wants him, always has, always will, and she supposes this is her punishment, to love so fiercely the person who can never or will never love her back.

She’d thought she’d made peace with that. Apparently she was wrong.

Just as her tears start to well again, the Doctor reaches out, fumbling along her arm for her hands. She tries to pull away but he holds fast, stands so close, his forehead nearly pressed to hers.

“I meant I haven’t shown you. I haven’t been there for you. I haven’t done enough.”

She inhales sharply, rehears his words, and they mean something different, so suddenly, but she doesn’t dare hope.

“Doctor—”

His voice trembles, and she can feel his breath against her cheek. “You really think I don’t love you?”

Hope flutters in her chest and she can’t do this again, can’t be brave any longer. Her mother’s last words ring in her ears, take care of him, but she barely remembers how to take care of herself.

She wants to lie. On instinct, wants to apologize and lie and say it was all a misunderstanding, to chase the guilt and weight from his words. That of course she knows. Of course it’s all pretend.

But she’s so tired. Of running and fighting and lying.

In the silence, the Doctor slides his hand up her arm, and she holds her breath as his fingers slip over her jaw, and his palm, soft and tentative, cradles her cheek.

“I don’t know anymore,” she whispers, doesn’t mean to, wishes she could take it back but instead of the guilt she expects, the groveling, the Doctor’s quiet a moment, and then, so soft, his thumb brushing over her cheek,

“Would it help if I said it?”

She freezes. “What?”

“Would it—”

She shakes her head. It can’t be real, can’t be true. Not once has he told her, never returned her whispers in the dark. She knows he can’t, and doesn’t want to demand it of him but she’s hungered for those words for so long, so much, each time he leaves her with a kiss and nothing else she’s wished.

“You don’t have to—”

His hand falls to her waist and he holds fast. “Would it help, River,” he repeats. “The truth, please, for once.”

He sounds sincere, and desperate, and afraid, and for the first time she wonders if she was wrong. If all of this is wrong, and she’s just been without him so long she can’t remember what it feels like, his love. How he says it without saying anything at all.

But she’s never heard it before.

Amy and Rory never said it, not as children, not as teens. They never said it as her parents, though they certainly seemed to love her in some kind of way. She’s never been close enough to anyone else, and even if she had been, there’s only one person she’s ever wanted those words from and here he is, at last, offering them to her in the dark.

“Please, River,” he whispers, like it matters.

She swallows, breathes out, and admits, so quiet, “Only if you meant it.”

It’s as good as a yes, and the Doctor’s fingers dig briefly into her waist before he drops his hands, and she tries not to panic.

“You know,” he starts, and she can hear his clothing shift, but can’t see what he’s doing. “Gallifreyan has over a thousand words for love. There’s a word you use for brothers, for sisters, for parents and friends and lovers and strangers.”

She knows, remembers learning them all, his voice in her ear, hand over hers as he taught her how to write, those beautiful circles it took her so long to perfect.

“Time matters as well—most languages, they only think in past, present, and future, but Gallifreyan - there’s a word for “I love you right this second.” There’s a word for “I’ll love you tomorrow.” There’s a word for “I don’t love you yet, but I will.””

River bites her lip, feels like she’s waiting, feels like she’s falling, but the Doctor just keeps talking, almost casual, but she can tell he’s choosing each word with care.

“We have words for inevitable love and unrequited love and fleeting love and dancing with someone you love. There’s even a word for falling in love, that roughly translates as “the sound of wind rushing in your ears.””

She can hear the smile in his voice, the fondness for his native tongue.

“Marriages on Gallifrey only last one regeneration,” he continues, “Because personalities change, it’s unfair to assume people will stay together any longer than one life. Sometimes vows are renewed, sometimes people go their separate ways.”

Her hearts plummet again, waiting for the truth, for him to step away. Instead, his voice softens, and he takes her hand again, stroking his thumb over her skin.

“And very rarely, people will stay together through every one of their regenerations. Those people use a different word—there’s no exact translation, but it’s close to endless, boundless, eternal, with the understanding that life isn’t fleeting at all, not for a Time Lord. When humans say forever it just means time. A little more time.” He echoes her words, and she can hear his smile. “When we say it, it means unending.”

Her chest aches and her eyes burn and she can barely breathe. “Doctor.”

“I can’t say I love you, River,” he says, and she feels herself start to slip away, and then: “It’s too small, and too ordinary, and not nearly sentimental enough.”

River inhales sharply. “Sweetie—”

He pushes something into her hand, something soft and worn and she would know it anywhere, that old bow tie. Her fingers fumble for it, follow it, and she nearly gasps when she realizes one end is wrapped around his hand, the other loose for her.

To choose.

Leaning forward, his lips brushing her cheek before they reach her ear, he breathes the words she recognizes, words he just told her. It’s I love you forever. I love you eternal. I love you boundlessly. Her breathing hitches and she strives to stifle the sob, but it creeps up anyway, a shuddering gasp in the quiet room.

“That’s why I don’t say it, River. Not because I don’t feel it. Because it’s just not enough.” His hand settled on her cheek, brushing tears away with his thumb. “Do you believe me?”

She sniffles, and almost laughs. She doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to tamp down her hearts, which feel like they’re flying away. She wants to hug him, kiss him, hold him and never let go. She restrains herself, barely, and takes a deep breath before feeling in the dark for his hands.

“Yes,” she murmurs, wrapping the other end of the bow tie around her hand, the gesture so familiar, so precious.

The Doctor releases a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and she reaches out with her free hand, searching for his face in the dark. She brushes his cheek, and he instantly tilts against her, his other hand coming up to cover hers.

“Good,” he says, his voice scratchy. “Good.”

River smiles, and for the first time in so long, it’s real.

“I love you,” she whispers, in his language, the same words repeated back and the Doctor shivers, and steps closer, crowding her, still clutching her hand. His forehead drops against hers and he tangles his free hand in her hair.

“River.”

“Shut up,” she whispers, and he seems to take it as permission, seems to open some floodgates she hadn’t been aware existed. He surges forward, pushing her back against a shelf and his mouth covers hers and she keeps her hand on his cheek, parts her lips and kisses him back. He makes a sound, gruff and somehow sweet, a moan that turns possessive when she tries to pull back. He grips her tighter, presses himself against her and he’s warm and gentle and all-consuming, his mouth moving over hers and his fingers against her neck.

She startles when the lights come on, and the door clicks, but the Doctor doesn’t seem to notice, breathing heavily, his fingers brushing the remains of her tears from her cheeks.

“Staying?” he asks, and she can hear the insecurity, sees it in his face still when she leans back, just far enough.

Squeezing his hand, she smiles. “Yes,” she murmurs, the single word swallowed in his kiss.

#river song #drfic #twelve #catherine writes fic #asks #replies #sorry this took so long!#i hope you enjoy it!#songsandfairytales

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