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[personal profile] misskass

I have a whole bunch of drabbley things that I've written over time that I should post, but... meh. I'll get around to it. Here is one I wrote last night, though, which is all crazy and vague and I like it. Yes, indeed, I have been listening to The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack too much.

Title: Paper Faces on Parade
Author: Miss Kass
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: G
Characters: The Doctor (ninth and tenth), and various companions.
Word Count: 1183
Summary: Flawed memories. Garish masks. He searches desperately for a way to save them, but could he ever really find one?
Spoilers: Spoilers for all NuWho episodes, up to and including Voyage of the Damned, so be careful. This is purposefully written to be vague on who the characters are (and the events that they experience), though it's probably quite easy to work out who is who.
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah not making money, not even vaguely British, David Tennant is a sexy man.

Paper faces on parade!
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!

In his sleep he wanders restlessly, traversing the vast hoard of memories inside his skull. He tries incessantly to find a way to bring them back, those he has lost, those he can never see again because of death, or their decision to leave, or a parallel universe. His memories, playing over again, plague his path, and prevent him from finding the answers he so desperately seeks.

But, the memories are flawed. Faces are covered by garish masks, beautiful girls in gigantic gowns and one strong man in a stunning tuxedo whirling across his vision.

One girl, a blonde, stands out so brightly in his mind it’s as though she is his only source of light. She calls him towards her, the mask of a wolf hiding her face, but he knows who she is. Flashes of memory as he dances with her, around her, trying to get past. The first time they met, an explosion, and a pair of ears far too big for his head. The Earth explodes and he can’t shield her from it, glowing beings try to destroy Cardiff. Raxacoricofallapatorious, Raxacoricofallapatorious, Raxacoricofallapatorious, and the incessant Dalek forces, always chasing, always killing.

The man, the strong young man suddenly whirls into his vision. His mask covers only his eyes, ever the mysterious charmer, the rest of his face left unobscured. Somehow he is now dancing with the two of them, memories forcing themselves into his path faster than before. World War III, gas mask children, and a Union Jack hanging in the sky. Stories being told in a dingy restaurant, those bastard aliens again, from Raxacoricofallapatorious, and then a bright light, brighter than even the woman he dances with. The man stumbles away, clutching his chest as though he has been shot. Of course, he probably has.

He feels himself changing, though of course he isn’t. The oversized ears are gone, replaced by scruffy brown hair and a mole. The blonde woman stays the same, though, ever the same, still blocking his path to her rescue. Santa Claus, somehow evil, a woman and her cloned pet make their return, and he kisses his wolf for the very first time. An old friend returns, swirling by for only a second, curled brown hair shadowing her face before he can see it, but he knows who she is, how could he forget?

As soon as the brown hair has swept away, another head of blonde hair takes its place, though only for a moment. She has on the painted white face of royalty, stealing a kiss from him while his other blonde is turned away, then vanishing into sudden darkness. The sounds of metal men haunt his ears, shooting, killing, the wolfish mask disappearing to reveal no facial features. It is swiftly replaced, and then it seems that the Earth is exploding once more, colours flashing across the sky, and the devil haunting the dark aftermath.

Now the blonde begins to fade, her golden light failing. A great green man, a drawing comes to life, and suddenly everything is dark. Her light has burned out, her wolfish mask fluttering to the ground, the sound of the ocean in his ears. He is still in the darkness, silence pressing down on him. Her memory no longer blocks him, but the darkness is too absolute for him to find a way.

Suddenly, lights again, and a redhead has whirled into view. She is dressed all in white, the mask on her face showing two opposites of her emotions, the left is wild, the right is peaceable. She doesn’t dance for long, only long enough to tease him into thinking she might never leave, but then she does, white dress melting into the darkness and a terrifying scream piercing his ears.

She is soon replaced, a dark skinned and dark haired woman taking her place in preventing him from finding the path he desires. Her mask is white, again, a red cross standing out starkly against the light background. She grasps his hands and twirls him, knowing that she could be in charge of him before he even had time to accept it. The memories begin again, they are in a hospital, and then his first kiss with her, but it is meaningless at the time. Witches, and a famous writer, the smell of acrid smoke filling his lungs, and the Daleks return again, the only things he can name aloud in his strange fantasies.

Life flashes before his eyes, old and young, then all turns to evil and flashes away. The brightness of the sun, burning his eyes, burning his soul, he knows he can’t face anything like that without his dancing doctor. He is human, but his dreams still resemble this, faces are only flashes, memories are there to hinder instead of guide. A watch, an important watch, and a group who are more like murderers than a family. Angels of death, hearts as hard as stone.

The man who had been shot has returned, his eye mask and tuxedo the same as before, though the man has changed in a way he dares not speak. He is dancing with both of them, the group of three swirling around, his doctor and his mystery not letting him go, not letting him save them. Another man, another lord of time, but this one is evil. His mask is black, like the man’s intentions, and then there is pain everywhere, in his body and in his heart, and he can only hope his two are safe. The pain is gone, the man is gone, and all he wants to do is weep, but they won’t let him. They spin him, ever faster, until they both let go and are gone, and the darkness has returned.

He steadies himself, looks around for a way out, and finds none. He won’t give up, he won’t stop fighting, but there is nowhere to turn.

Another blonde, a pale blue mask on her face, a reminder of the calming ocean, and a spring in her step. She dances with him, quick steps leading him around his mind to find his most recent memories. A ship, the Earth, his favourite place. More people, they are dying, and he can’t save them. Angels of death once more, killing humans, murdering humans. Some fall, even he is willing to kill when the time is right. He kisses this one too, but it is difficult, different, she is not entirely there. He pleads with her, pleads with himself, pleads with anyone who will listen, but they cannot save her, he cannot save her. She dissolves, speckles of light flying off into god knows where, and he is alone.

He is destined to be alone, always, forever. Eternal life with no one. This is the end of his dream, this realisation. He cannot save them. He can never save them.

He knows this, but he will always try.

Also linked to at [livejournal.com profile] dwfiction here.


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