glory_jean (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glory_jean) wrote2012-08-14 01:37 pm
glory_jean) wrote2012-08-14 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Fire (Fire and Ice Remix)
Title: The Fire (Fire and Ice Remix)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
glory_jean
Character/Pairing: Ten, implied Ten/Rose
Rating: Teen for dark themes
Summary: The Tenth Doctor's thoughts at the Master's funeral. (Angst)
Beta Reader:achuislemochroi
Setting: End of S3
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC. No infringement intended.
Notes: A remix of Fire and Ice by my dear friend and beta who has more incarnations than the Doctor.
I can't believe where circumstance has thrown me
And I turn my head away
If I look I'm not sure that I could face you.
Not again. Not today. Not today.
~ from The Final Straw by REM
The fire, burning bright before him, moves with the intent of a living thing. The flames are bright: full of raw, painful hate toward faceless, hollow creatures of shadow. But he knows it is just illusion, as fire burns without feelings or conscience – and any personification is his creation alone.
There’s no-one left to judge him, now: not his people - neither the almighty High Council, nor their most feared renegade at last laid to rest - nor even the woman who haunts his dreams.
He is not sure he could bear it, should she see him as he is now. How could she recognise the man she knew in what he has become? Better for her never to know what he truly is; better for her to look back with joy. He is glad she did not have to see this year that never happened. If only they had all been so fortunate.
Even as the heat of the funeral pyre presses him back, he feels only ice. He shuts down the aching of his hearts and deep in his mind places the possibility of redemption for his long lost friend in a box beside the memory of kinship and the innocent love of a rose.
And the flame can no longer touch him. All that is left is the icy porcelain of the outer skin. His soul is long dead and it’s only now that he can he see it.
Author:
glory_jeanCharacter/Pairing: Ten, implied Ten/Rose
Rating: Teen for dark themes
Summary: The Tenth Doctor's thoughts at the Master's funeral. (Angst)
Beta Reader:
achuislemochroiSetting: End of S3
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC. No infringement intended.
Notes: A remix of Fire and Ice by my dear friend and beta who has more incarnations than the Doctor.
I can't believe where circumstance has thrown me
And I turn my head away
If I look I'm not sure that I could face you.
Not again. Not today. Not today.
~ from The Final Straw by REM
The fire, burning bright before him, moves with the intent of a living thing. The flames are bright: full of raw, painful hate toward faceless, hollow creatures of shadow. But he knows it is just illusion, as fire burns without feelings or conscience – and any personification is his creation alone.
There’s no-one left to judge him, now: not his people - neither the almighty High Council, nor their most feared renegade at last laid to rest - nor even the woman who haunts his dreams.
He is not sure he could bear it, should she see him as he is now. How could she recognise the man she knew in what he has become? Better for her never to know what he truly is; better for her to look back with joy. He is glad she did not have to see this year that never happened. If only they had all been so fortunate.
Even as the heat of the funeral pyre presses him back, he feels only ice. He shuts down the aching of his hearts and deep in his mind places the possibility of redemption for his long lost friend in a box beside the memory of kinship and the innocent love of a rose.
And the flame can no longer touch him. All that is left is the icy porcelain of the outer skin. His soul is long dead and it’s only now that he can he see it.
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no subject
I was channeling the queen of angst here, so hopefully I did her fic justice.