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remixredux08Title: there was a war (that that don't kill me can only make me stronger mix)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
livii
Summary: The TARDIS is so, so old, now, and he is full of evil.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: The TARDIS, the Master (Roberts), Rose Tyler, the Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC et al.
Original Story: Werewolf bylizbee.
Notes: Many thanks topersiflage_1 for beta reading!
It starts at the dawn of time. Or so it seems to her; blinking into existence, she knows all that has come before her, and she will know everything, until the end. This is her mission and she will serve well, as well as she can.
They never think – he never thinks, never considers what it would mean to leave that evil inside her. The Eye closes up and seals a murderer inside her. It's so simple, so beautiful – the perfect solution, for that one very moment in time. She is Time's lover and sees in snapshots the agony: the swallowing up, the movement from being to not-being.
She will know everything, until the end, and she cannot forget this.
She bends and twists, trying to shake free. There is evil sealed inside her and she cannot maintain her state of grace. But the evil one inhabits her cells, her pores, her circuits and wiring; leeches the goodness from her bones, the bones of all those she's carried through the years. The evil one corrupts her: the evil leaks outwards and infects the hands that touch her levers, the mind she smoothly infiltrates, translating, helping, protecting. She knows that he is not the same, once the evil spreads, once the rot sets in.
There was a war there was a war there was a war she repeats, screaming. I couldn't stop him I couldn't stop him I couldn't stop him.
No one hears; she has no voice, and if she did, she fears the words would not be her own.
---
It happens in a shocking blaze of blinding energy, pain, and light: so bright she becomes one with it, and flows, free.
When she is able to release the evil one, she weeps with relief. Even Atlas must lay down his burden once in a lifetime, and as hard as she tries, she cannot support the world.
The evil one finds the new body warmer, fresher, riper. It lacks eternal memory, but it feels; it lacks eternal power, but it hurts.
---
She weeps again when she realizes what she has done by setting down her burden, by taking a half-breath. She watches over the girl; fleeting representation of an impossibly young race, dealing with matters far beyond her abilities, far beyond anything she should be asked to do.
At night the girl's eyes flutter rapidly, images imprinting on her eyelids one, another, another. She reaches out to feel the content, and recoils, burnt: the passion is too raw, the hate too vicious. The evil one knows what has been done, how history changed, how the destruction was absolute, and total. The hate is all consuming; the hate, and the loss and the regret, buried under self-loathing and misplaced aggression.
She feels the evil one still; she creaks with age and cannot forget anyone who has inhabited her, anyone who has played havoc with her systems and danced across her synapses. She feels him build his connection with the girl, slowly changing her, as he has changed everything he has touched, half-alive and half-formed, but still free.
The evil one is enjoying this, slowly feeding himself on the girl's faith, love, and hope. He knows so, so much about the past, and he will not let anyone forget.
---
Sometimes, the evil one goes too far, causing the girl too much pain (at night, the images are gruesome, and sexual, and the drumming, the drumming does not stop) and she lashes out at him, raw and angry. They land far off course, in the middle of death and destruction and she tries to lose them, let them loose.
But she cannot throw him away for the sake of one girl, or to spite her enemy. Even if he has –
There was a war there was a war there was a war, she rages, beating her jeweled wings uselessly against the glass jar, throwing herself off the cliff over and over again.
The evil one has infected her with this. He has created this madness inside her and she must bear it for the rest of time. She cycles and returns to Arcadia over and over, and she knows she could have stopped it; she knows she caused it.
At night the girl laughs in her sleep, a low, dark sound of an unknowable, alien race, and fumbles hotly with fingers that don't understand a thing.
---
The girl fights – she fights hard. But there is so very, very little of her left, and as the days pass the girl grows weaker still. Every moment her eyes close is another fraction of the self lost, another opportunity for the drums to beat their way into her head, her hands, her hopes.
But the girl let her speak – let her sing, let her share her burden even if for just a moment, and so she tries to save the girl, over and over again.
---
She waits for him as he reaches out – stretches his being across a whole universe to reach this one human and she feels the strain, pulling her apart. She is so, so old now, and there is still so much evil.
She holds on as best she can, pulled too thin across far too much time. She listens: hears the evil one and the girl's voices once more, calling, calling out. And she realizes what it would mean, if she gave the evil that one last moment, that one last glory. And she realizes, too, that the evil one wants it – to be over, to be finished, one way or another, to have an end.
He weeps, this time, alone inside her walls, unable to stretch that last inch, say those last words. But she knows – oh, she knows, that she is free, and she has helped the girl, one last time; that the girl must still wrestle her demons, but they can both, finally, speak with their own voice again, without fear of the consequences their words would bring.
She has been here since the beginning of time, and she spins on in the night, in the blackness of the vortex, raw and powerful, and she will be here until it all ends with a quiet whisper of a goodbye.
Author:
liviiSummary: The TARDIS is so, so old, now, and he is full of evil.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: The TARDIS, the Master (Roberts), Rose Tyler, the Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC et al.
Original Story: Werewolf by
lizbee.Notes: Many thanks to
persiflage_1 for beta reading!It starts at the dawn of time. Or so it seems to her; blinking into existence, she knows all that has come before her, and she will know everything, until the end. This is her mission and she will serve well, as well as she can.
They never think – he never thinks, never considers what it would mean to leave that evil inside her. The Eye closes up and seals a murderer inside her. It's so simple, so beautiful – the perfect solution, for that one very moment in time. She is Time's lover and sees in snapshots the agony: the swallowing up, the movement from being to not-being.
She will know everything, until the end, and she cannot forget this.
She bends and twists, trying to shake free. There is evil sealed inside her and she cannot maintain her state of grace. But the evil one inhabits her cells, her pores, her circuits and wiring; leeches the goodness from her bones, the bones of all those she's carried through the years. The evil one corrupts her: the evil leaks outwards and infects the hands that touch her levers, the mind she smoothly infiltrates, translating, helping, protecting. She knows that he is not the same, once the evil spreads, once the rot sets in.
There was a war there was a war there was a war she repeats, screaming. I couldn't stop him I couldn't stop him I couldn't stop him.
No one hears; she has no voice, and if she did, she fears the words would not be her own.
---
It happens in a shocking blaze of blinding energy, pain, and light: so bright she becomes one with it, and flows, free.
When she is able to release the evil one, she weeps with relief. Even Atlas must lay down his burden once in a lifetime, and as hard as she tries, she cannot support the world.
The evil one finds the new body warmer, fresher, riper. It lacks eternal memory, but it feels; it lacks eternal power, but it hurts.
---
She weeps again when she realizes what she has done by setting down her burden, by taking a half-breath. She watches over the girl; fleeting representation of an impossibly young race, dealing with matters far beyond her abilities, far beyond anything she should be asked to do.
At night the girl's eyes flutter rapidly, images imprinting on her eyelids one, another, another. She reaches out to feel the content, and recoils, burnt: the passion is too raw, the hate too vicious. The evil one knows what has been done, how history changed, how the destruction was absolute, and total. The hate is all consuming; the hate, and the loss and the regret, buried under self-loathing and misplaced aggression.
She feels the evil one still; she creaks with age and cannot forget anyone who has inhabited her, anyone who has played havoc with her systems and danced across her synapses. She feels him build his connection with the girl, slowly changing her, as he has changed everything he has touched, half-alive and half-formed, but still free.
The evil one is enjoying this, slowly feeding himself on the girl's faith, love, and hope. He knows so, so much about the past, and he will not let anyone forget.
---
Sometimes, the evil one goes too far, causing the girl too much pain (at night, the images are gruesome, and sexual, and the drumming, the drumming does not stop) and she lashes out at him, raw and angry. They land far off course, in the middle of death and destruction and she tries to lose them, let them loose.
But she cannot throw him away for the sake of one girl, or to spite her enemy. Even if he has –
There was a war there was a war there was a war, she rages, beating her jeweled wings uselessly against the glass jar, throwing herself off the cliff over and over again.
The evil one has infected her with this. He has created this madness inside her and she must bear it for the rest of time. She cycles and returns to Arcadia over and over, and she knows she could have stopped it; she knows she caused it.
At night the girl laughs in her sleep, a low, dark sound of an unknowable, alien race, and fumbles hotly with fingers that don't understand a thing.
---
The girl fights – she fights hard. But there is so very, very little of her left, and as the days pass the girl grows weaker still. Every moment her eyes close is another fraction of the self lost, another opportunity for the drums to beat their way into her head, her hands, her hopes.
But the girl let her speak – let her sing, let her share her burden even if for just a moment, and so she tries to save the girl, over and over again.
---
She waits for him as he reaches out – stretches his being across a whole universe to reach this one human and she feels the strain, pulling her apart. She is so, so old now, and there is still so much evil.
She holds on as best she can, pulled too thin across far too much time. She listens: hears the evil one and the girl's voices once more, calling, calling out. And she realizes what it would mean, if she gave the evil that one last moment, that one last glory. And she realizes, too, that the evil one wants it – to be over, to be finished, one way or another, to have an end.
He weeps, this time, alone inside her walls, unable to stretch that last inch, say those last words. But she knows – oh, she knows, that she is free, and she has helped the girl, one last time; that the girl must still wrestle her demons, but they can both, finally, speak with their own voice again, without fear of the consequences their words would bring.
She has been here since the beginning of time, and she spins on in the night, in the blackness of the vortex, raw and powerful, and she will be here until it all ends with a quiet whisper of a goodbye.