TARDIS Files 2363: Not By Choice
Dec. 15th, 2013 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starjargonA/N- In honor of the anniversary, here’s my take on the TARDIS in the Time War. The File number was also chosen to commemorate the date- not the amount thus far produced. Written pre- 50th but post “Night of the Doctor “. Due to the nature of the war and the confusion I’m trying to convey, the verb changes are intentional. The tense changes are used to convey a TARDIS mindset. Based on Nine’s declaration that he survived the war “not by choice.” Please let me know what you think.
She saw sees will always see the Great War. She fights fought will always fight alongside her sisters, her thief as he yields to the call of his people, fighting, killing, deceiving, plotting until he no longer, will ever, can now resemble the man she once stole. Neither is she the same one who stole had stolen did steal him. They have been will forever be changed by their actions against their eternal enemies. Against their once friends. Amongst their faded families.
They fight fought are fighting and will win, until her beautiful idiot is so unrecognizable even his name is lost. Her sisters are dying will die have died just as surely as his brothers, his sisters, his offspring and parents, his lovers and friends.
Every day becomes became continues to be just another full of death. Another body. Another soul. Another face. Another consciousness lost forever more to both their minds. He fought, she helps. He kills, she carried. He commanded, she mourns. They are lost to one another now.
So many battles. So much death. So much hatred. Little of it from the enemy.
She forsakes will forsake has forsaken her blue box form. Policemen are Earth’s helpers. They will rescue have rescued come to rescue those who need help. The Lords of Time are not helpless. They are not were not will not be worthy of rescue. She mourns the shape of the helpers. He mourns the name of the healer.
Their people are have become will be corrupted by the anger and power that burns is burning through them. Too much control. Too little control. They have forgotten will forsake have forgone mercy and cunning in the name of power and victory. The blood will wash is washing has flooded countless planets and peoples, their inhabitants forgotten, lost, erased.
She gets caught up, will catch up, has gotten caught up in the battle as well. She alters will modify has amended her form just as surely as her thief, both warriors capable of horror now. So little of compassion is remembered. So little of hatred is forgotten. They now count the bodies as surely as their souls once counted still count will continue to count time. They are both lost, though they always know where and when they are.
The unspeakable deeds, necessary horrors, scream- filled tears will never can never be erased from their souls, weaving themselves into their very essences. The fighting was will be has been good. Until it was not. Because it was not. Because it never will be.
At the final cries of his mate and youngest she- child, he at last sees saw looks at his actions and mourns. His hearts break broke have rent asunder at the man he cannot recognize in his own eyes. Her being pulsates with the grief at what she allowed, has allowed, has assisted in allowing him and herself to turn into.
They look out over the devastation and carnage they create are creating have created and weep for what they become. What their people forced them to become. What they allowed themselves to become. What they no longer recognize they’ve become. She leaves him then. He left her long ago. They are too close. They’ve grown too far apart. She cannot stand to stay. He will not stand to leave.
At the corruption of their people, the desolation of their planet, the devastation by their hands, they run. She did run he ran they are running, for the first time since they started, in opposite directions, no longer willing or able to be the one assisting in the distortion of the other.
They each make need to make will have to make their own choices, neither deciding for the other. She runs far from the creatures they’ve become are becoming. He stops running for once. He looks back and has forgotten himself. She looks forward and sees him once more.
His choice is an end to all the now distorted races. Hers is an end to the distortion. So when he tries to lose all they have known will know will now never know, they give up their forms once more.
As he falls ever farther and farther from the war, hoping at last from peace from the destruction, she runs is running already ran to him, embracing him as she carries has carried will always carry him away, a helper and her healer once more.
She saw sees will always see the Great War. She fights fought will always fight alongside her sisters, her thief as he yields to the call of his people, fighting, killing, deceiving, plotting until he no longer, will ever, can now resemble the man she once stole. Neither is she the same one who stole had stolen did steal him. They have been will forever be changed by their actions against their eternal enemies. Against their once friends. Amongst their faded families.
They fight fought are fighting and will win, until her beautiful idiot is so unrecognizable even his name is lost. Her sisters are dying will die have died just as surely as his brothers, his sisters, his offspring and parents, his lovers and friends.
Every day becomes became continues to be just another full of death. Another body. Another soul. Another face. Another consciousness lost forever more to both their minds. He fought, she helps. He kills, she carried. He commanded, she mourns. They are lost to one another now.
So many battles. So much death. So much hatred. Little of it from the enemy.
She forsakes will forsake has forsaken her blue box form. Policemen are Earth’s helpers. They will rescue have rescued come to rescue those who need help. The Lords of Time are not helpless. They are not were not will not be worthy of rescue. She mourns the shape of the helpers. He mourns the name of the healer.
Their people are have become will be corrupted by the anger and power that burns is burning through them. Too much control. Too little control. They have forgotten will forsake have forgone mercy and cunning in the name of power and victory. The blood will wash is washing has flooded countless planets and peoples, their inhabitants forgotten, lost, erased.
She gets caught up, will catch up, has gotten caught up in the battle as well. She alters will modify has amended her form just as surely as her thief, both warriors capable of horror now. So little of compassion is remembered. So little of hatred is forgotten. They now count the bodies as surely as their souls once counted still count will continue to count time. They are both lost, though they always know where and when they are.
The unspeakable deeds, necessary horrors, scream- filled tears will never can never be erased from their souls, weaving themselves into their very essences. The fighting was will be has been good. Until it was not. Because it was not. Because it never will be.
At the final cries of his mate and youngest she- child, he at last sees saw looks at his actions and mourns. His hearts break broke have rent asunder at the man he cannot recognize in his own eyes. Her being pulsates with the grief at what she allowed, has allowed, has assisted in allowing him and herself to turn into.
They look out over the devastation and carnage they create are creating have created and weep for what they become. What their people forced them to become. What they allowed themselves to become. What they no longer recognize they’ve become. She leaves him then. He left her long ago. They are too close. They’ve grown too far apart. She cannot stand to stay. He will not stand to leave.
At the corruption of their people, the desolation of their planet, the devastation by their hands, they run. She did run he ran they are running, for the first time since they started, in opposite directions, no longer willing or able to be the one assisting in the distortion of the other.
They each make need to make will have to make their own choices, neither deciding for the other. She runs far from the creatures they’ve become are becoming. He stops running for once. He looks back and has forgotten himself. She looks forward and sees him once more.
His choice is an end to all the now distorted races. Hers is an end to the distortion. So when he tries to lose all they have known will know will now never know, they give up their forms once more.
As he falls ever farther and farther from the war, hoping at last from peace from the destruction, she runs is running already ran to him, embracing him as she carries has carried will always carry him away, a helper and her healer once more.
