A Servant to Time and Consequence (rude_not_ginger) wrote,
A Servant to Time and Consequence
rude_not_ginger

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for mind_the_muse: Music From Another Room

You know how when you're listening to music playing from another room? And you're singing along because it's a tune that you really love? When a door closes or a train passes so you can't hear the music anymore, but you sing along anyway... then, no matter how much time passes, when you hear the music again you're still in exact same time with it. That's what it's like.
- Music From Another Room


We sing the song of the universe together.

When we met, you were an ember, coiling hot and tight. Desperate for release, desperate to run. Get away. Be free. One cool, the other hot, we stabilize each other. Complete each other. A time ship and a traveler, a maniac and a mediator, vessel and visionary. We need each other.

Shoot across the galaxies, see worlds and skies and feel strange soil beneath us. We take companions (they are ours), but they're always so temporary. They find other lives, other worlds. Permanent things that fluid moving creatures like us can't understand. We want more. We sleep in the hum of each other's embrace and ride on the waves of each other's excitement.

Together, we burn like starfire.

We've been separated before. Once, in our youth. Made a mistake, pushed those of our homeworld too far. One is silenced, the other is forced to live with a hole in their mind. We both feel the pain of the loss equally and the touch of a hand to a silent police box wall isn’t enough to console. We're together but apart.

The song of the spheres is so far away. In our minds, we hum the tune while we wait and work and try to live without each other.

It's months of agony. Months that drag on like decades. And then a deal is struck and we're reunited. The song was only quiet for a time and now it blazes through hallways and vortexes, through timelines and mountainsides. We age and grow and change and regenerate in our own ways but our hearts are still connected, still beat in a time just opposite to each other.

Wars come. Planets fall. Decades at War instead of singing, flying. We ache together, call each other back.

The music of the spheres has fewer spheres to add to its resonance.

We're all we have.

We promise each other it'll never happen again. Never separate, never think about being alone. The song is quiet in our hearts but it's ours. Ours together. Our scars are thick across our backs but we'll pull it through. We always do.

We never expected the end of the universe to separate us. Of his arrival. We find each other (we always do) and no smiles, no gentle touches, nothing is enough. The paradox tightens and holds and we try to support each other through the pain. It hurts so much.

There's torture. There's humiliation. There's loneliness. There's a ship between us but it might as well be the opposite end of the universe for all the comfort we can give each other.

The universe is so wrong, now. It's like the song is blaring through a static-filled radio. We know there's supposed to be music but we can't hear it.

Days stretch on. Waiting. Aching. And when the day comes for the paradox to be lifted, there's still so much grief. We lean on each other and when we're alone again it's still us. We're still together. We're all we've got.

"The TARDIS is all I've got. Literally, the only thing."

Something always tries to separate us.

"That's the box, the blue box. It's always there."

You'd think when moments happen like this, we'd expect them.

"You have got to send it back to me."

We don't of course.

Always so wrapped up in the song we forget there are others who want to change the tune.

"You are connected to the TARDIS. Now feel it die."

And then there we are. One in the core of a Dalek Crucible and the other forced to watch. There's pain. Agony. It burns up the sides and cooks us in the middle. It's death. It's death, and it's coming. Each of us begs the other will survive and, failing that, that we can at least be together when it happens. Save the human, let us die together.

The song is so muffled. The heat and the pain keeps it quiet. We long for it, for each other. The timer ticks off the seconds we have left. Soon it will be an "I" and the "we" will end and we can't figure out if that hurts worse than this slow, agonizing death.

It's all right, though. We're never truly over.

And when we meet again, it'll be like the song never stopped.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 803
Tags: community: mind the muse, featuring: the tardis
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