@martial-quill has a long story with the premise 'Maglor is Tom Bombadil' and has somehow managed to make this strange idea oddly compelling.
We were chatting about this, and the idea of writing a story where Maglor and Goldberry get drunk together in the Second Age, and Martial_quill said, would be fun to do that, but I don't fancy writing drunken Maglor talking in verse. So, I said, why don't I write drunken versifying Maglor, and you write Goldberry (called Neniel in this Second Age version) and we'll set it in this weird universe you have made.
So this was all rather ridiculous from a certain point of view but we ended up with this :
Now Let the Song Begin
Second Age 595. The river-daughter visits Maglor son of Fëanor, and brings a gift that unlocks songs and thought.
It contains among many other things, a drunken poem about Maglor stealing honey from bees of which I am rather absurdly proud, drunkenness and cultural misunderstandings and kissing!
Maglor & Neniel make a weirdly sweet couple, and Martial_quill has put one hell of a lot of effort into Avari worldbuilding, no question.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Characters: Twelfth Doctor, Missy (Doctor Who), Bill Potts, Nardole (Doctor Who)
Additional Tags: Prequel, Episode: s10e11 World Enough and Time, Diana Ross Why Not, Missy is ridiculous everyone suffers, Nardole the poor long-suffering cinnamon bun, Dialogue Heavy, Collaboration, POV Missy (Doctor Who)
Summary: Even Missy thinks this is a stupid idea, which should really tell him something. [A prequel/fill-in-the-gap of sorts, set before World Enough and Time.]
They kiss lazely for a few moments, their hands stroking over the other's back. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me yet. We still need to shower," he says as he notices her breathing is starting to even out. "Mhh kay," she replies without making a move to get up. He chuckles and gets off the bed before cradling her in his arms and carrying her to the bathroom. Once he made sure she can stand on her feet he turns on the shower. She leans into his back and mumbles, "we're gonna finish this. Someday."
He turns her, tipping her chin upward so he can press a lingering kiss to her lips. Oliver pulls back slightly, a huge smile spreading across his face as he looks down at her, the love of his life, his Felicity. He can't help but lean down to kiss her again, their foreheads pressed together. "Someday," he whispers against her lips. "I'm looking forward to it."
Thea walks in on them one night while their having dinner at the kitchen island. She stands by the door and just watches them. She is amazed by the bright smile on his brothers face as Felicity talks about something and her hands swirl around. It's been way too long since she's seen him this happy and carefree. She once thought that it'd be gross to see him all lovey dovey but seeing him lean across the kitchen island to place a soft kiss against Felicity's cheek, she's happy that he is happy.
Thea can tell right away that this right here, with Felicity, is the real thing for Oliver and she just grins like an idiot as she silently starts to plan their wedding. Thea actually walks in on them a lot when they’re just lounging around, sometimes even slowly dancing in the living room, and she takes pictures and videos on her phone. She’s got a whole album saved that she puts together and shows at the reception dinner.
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Memories of Days to Come - fic!badminton - coauthored with loup-malin for Doctor Who Fest 2014 (2/2)
Doctor Who Fest: day 7, week 2
↳ Prompt name: collaboration
Disclaimer: We own nothing, Jon Snow.
Pairing: Ten/Donna, Twelve/Clara
Summary: Twelve and Clara are stranded without their TARDIS and are in need of rescue. Ten and Donna are just trying to take a leisure trip to see Nessie, but they’re pulled off course and don’t know why…
Note: Co-authored with the absolutely wonderful loup-malin for the Doctor Who Fest, Team Allons-y! She wrote the Ten/Donna sections, I wrote the Twelve/Clara ones. Go us!
Read chapter 1 here
---------
As the mystery woman retreated from view, Donna turned on the Doctor. “What’s all this about? Who’s she?”
“I have no idea,” the Doctor murmured. The brunette who had greeted them looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place where or when he had seen her before. Neither could he understand why they had wound up here, of all places. The call for help that had appeared on his psychic paper had explained the uneasiness he felt when they had landed the TARDIS just over the hill, but it had provided just as much new confusion, as well. Who would have summoned them to Torchwood House? “I don’t understand what’s happening, I’m sorry.” The Doctor’s face was drawn, his jaw clenched as he considered all of the people that might have been able to call them here. Lady Isobel, King George V, perhaps one of the former Torchwood staff… No, he dismissed that thought. No one who was actually attached to the Royal Family would have called him here. Could it be Jack? But no, that didn’t make sense either. Jack would just call him to Cardiff if he was needed. There was no telling what kind of danger they might have stumbled upon here, and he tensed himself for whatever confrontation might be coming.
“Donna,” the Doctor turned slightly as the sound of heavy footsteps approached. “If I tell you to run…” He glanced at her over his shoulder and she nodded, backing up so that she was within reach of the heavy wooden door.
“Have you been here before?” Donna asked quietly, looking around. She noticed that the Doctor had been unnaturally still since their arrival, that he hadn’t even bothered to examine their surroundings, hadn’t bounded off into the depths of the house to investigate why they had been called to this place.
“A long time ago,” he said, his frown growing more pronounced, hands fisted in his pockets. She knew what that meant. ‘A long time ago’ was what he said when he had been somewhere with Rose. Donna started to take a step forward to lay a hand on his arm in comfort - how difficult this must be for him, to be here without understanding why - when the hall door swung open and the woman reappeared, accompanied by -
“Lucius Caecilius?!” Donna was so shocked that she jumped backwards, bumping into the door behind her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Donna Noble.” A small smile quavered on his face and then disappeared. “Wait, who?” His eyes crinkled in confusion.
“How did you get here? You’re supposed to be in Ro-”
“How did you get here?” the Doctor interrupted Donna’s question to step towards the other man. He unfolded his specs and put them on, peering at him. “Oh…” he breathed. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, aye,” nodded the man in the black coat. “An’ fer god’s sake, don’t do tha’. Don’t act like I’m some great specimen to be examined. Now, who is Lucius Caecilius?”
“Nobody,” the Doctor replied. “Forget it.” He shot Donna a look as she made an indignant noise. She didn’t say anything else, but glared at him, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms.
“Hello Doctor, you probably don’t remember me. I’m Clara. Clara Oswald.” The younger woman stuck out her hand and he shook it, wondering how she knew him if he didn’t remember her. This day was making less sense by the minute.
“Donna Noble." The redhead thrust her hand towards the younger woman. "I travel with the Doctor.” Despite the lateness of the season, the Torchwood House was cold and drafty in the wind, and Donna hugged her jumper more tightly to herself as Clara dropped her hand. “Who are you, exactly? And will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
The two men exchanged a look, seeming to communicate without words. The Doctor nodded as though they had come to some kind of agreement, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll tell her,” he sniffed. “Donna, let’s have a word over here.” He gestured towards one of the anterooms, grabbing his companion by the arm and nearly dragging her out of the hall.
“Oi! I can walk on my own, thank you very much!” She swatted his arm as the door closed behind them.
“Don’t say anything about Pompeii.” He ignored her scowl. “You can’t say anything to him about it. It hasn’t happened for him yet. Well, except that it has, but he won’t remember it when it does.”
“English?” Donna asked, looking at him as though he had three heads.
“Right, sorry. That out there...that’s me.” It took Donna a moment to understand what he meant, and he saw understanding dawn in her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she looked from the Doctor to the door and then back again.
“That man - he’s you?”
“Yep!”
“Have you been him before?”
“Nope!”
“So... he’s a future version of you…”
“Seems so.”
“And Clara?”
“His - my companion, I expect.”
“What about me?” Donna looked at him with serious eyes. She seemed to shrink into herself as her mouth turned downward, shoulders slumping forward. “Doctor?”
“Donna,” he stepped forward to grasp her shoulders, looking her in the eye. “I have no idea how much older he is. He could be hundreds of years older. Millennia. You’re not going anywhere, are you?”
“No.” She gave him a small smile, then took a deep breath to dispel her fear. She would never leave this life behind, how could she? “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I’m like the cat who came back.”
The Doctor caught her in a tight hug. “That’s more like it.”
“So, I can’t say anything to him about Rome, I get that, but why would he go around masquerading as a Roman?” she asked, releasing herself from the embrace.
The Doctor sniffed again, carding a hand through his hair. Dunno. But Clara wasn’t with him when we met him in Pompeii. He - I, rather - might be hiding there, might’ve fobwatched myself. I hope I’m smarter about it than I was last time… but if I’m married, with children even…” he trailed off, mind working at a gallop at what it might all mean. Clara seemed clever and kind, and though she had an air of mystery about her that he couldn’t quite place, he hoped that he didn’t wind up driving her off in some far-flung future-past the way had almost done with Martha. No matter. He had explained the concept of the Chameleon Arch to Donna before, and she was brilliant enough to figure the rest out on her own. She wouldn’t risk complicating the paradox by letting anything else slip to his future self and companion. “Anyway,” he said, shaking himself, “shall we go see what this is all about?”
########
“Well, this is interesting. Right?”
From her tone, the Doctor could tell his companion was a bit peeved.
“Clara…”
“We get stuck in the past, and you didn’t think it was necessary to mention that the pick-up we’re waiting for is yourself? Do you even remember last time?”
“We are stuck. I have been up against the Weepin’ Angels before, and there is nae much ye can do. They took…” He fell silent, as if regretting the direction the conversation was going. “I’m tryin’ me best, Clara. This is the only way for us tae get back, hitchin’ a ride with one of my earlier regenerations. As soon as I knew where and when we were I knew we wouldn’t have tae be here long.”
“Because you remembered yourself coming to rescue… yourself?” Clara furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of the temporal conundrum.
“Did I ever claim tae be logical?”
They exchanged a smile. The Doctor looked back toward the door behind which his younger self and his best mate stood. Donna. Had it really been that long? He thought back, remembering the events on the diamond planet of Midnight with a shudder. This was the last leisurely visit before everything unfolded, before the time bug on Donna’s shoulder would split her timeline, before the Earth disappeared from the sky, before Rose, before… He mentally scolded himself. At least he had learned to stop promising his companions forever.
“Who is she?”
He whipped his head around to find Clara observing him. She did that a lot, as if testing him. But this was not merely trying to find out if certain things would make him tick in this regeneration. This was pure, unbridled curiosity. He had never talked much about his former regenerations, least of all his tenth. He’d told her about Rose, kind of had to after the events on Gallifrey with the War Doctor and his tenth regeneration, but even then he’d only skimmed over the details. He had shown her pictures of all of his previous bodies, putting them in order, making sense of the men she had seen swooshing by in the limbo-like space inside his timeline. His companions, however, were mostly left out, because revisiting them hurt. She knew of Rose, he had briefly mentioned travelling with the Ponds before her, joked about the feisty Leela and stubborn Tegan. After regenerating into his current body, he had mentioned Jamie and how odd it felt to hear the Scottish brogue coming out of his mouth instead of someone else’s. But there were some of them, a precious few that he kept close to his heart, memories he was reluctant to share.
“Donna. Donna Noble,” he replied plaintively.
“She seems… nice,” Clara said, thinking about the abrasive woman.
The Doctor chuckled. “She might take some gettin’ used tae. But she kept me in line when I needed it the most. Used tae call me Spaceman. I was supposed tae take her tae see Nessie when we got rerouted. My fault, I sent out a distress call to me psychic paper. She chased me around the moor for a bit afair we came here. She was me best friend.”
“What happened to her?”
“I happened.” The Doctor lowered his voice to make sure no one but Clara could hear him. “Things are about to unfold in their present, things that will end in a bit ay a mess. Donna will cause a metacrisis, resulting in a half-human me and a half-timelord Donna. Tha’ is nae meant to happen.”
“Wait, a half-human you?”
“The mechanics are complicated, but yes. Another one of me, a me tha’ has one heart and a fair bit ay Donna’s personality.”
Clara tilted her head, trying to imagine a human Doctor with the personality of the redheaded woman. It was preposterous enough to try to imagine the Doctor as anything less than Time Lord, but with a different personality than that of his tenth incarnation? She shook her head, as if trying to dispel the jarring image.
“Did she… did she die?” Clara whispered, apprehensive about the answer.
“Worse.”
“What could possibly be worse than dying?”
“Tae nae remember at all. A human mind is nae meant to contain a Time Lord consciousness, they cannae… they cannae coexist, the Time Lord part would eventually burn through human brain synapses an’ ye would die. So I had tae pull it out o’ her, and I had tae make her forget anythin’ tha’ was related to Time Lords an’ travellin’ with me.”
The Doctor sighed, remembering in painstaking detail the expression on Donna’s face as she had realized what he intended to do, her desperate pleads to not let her forget. I was gonna be with you forever… The DoctorDonna… Erasing the timelord part of her mind was easy. Removing her memories, from her materialisation in the TARDIS to her heartwrenching no’s broke his hearts. Seeing Donna again was like a stab to the chest, because in a few short days her memories would only live inside his mind and she would have no recollection of him and the magnificent things they had done. He wanted so desperately to say something, but he knew all too well what happened when you interfered in a set timeline. Things had to play out.
“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t poke around and cause a metacrisis.” Clara came up to him, took his hand and squeezed it gently.
“If only it was tha’ easy…” he thought humourlessly, affectionately squeezing her hand back. Maybe he could make this work, a happy ending when it was time. He hadn’t seen one of those in a long time. Behind him, the door opened.
“Allright, Spaceman, you better have a good explanation as to why I’m in the middle of flippin’ nowhere and not seeing Nessie!”
########
She was ready to give him what-for. Ready to shout and rail at him for disturbing her holiday. Who did he think he was, ruining their trip, calling himself in for an inter-galactic tow? He was him, wasn't he? If she could yell at one of him, she could yell at any of him. All of him. Blimey, it was confusing being best friends with a man who could change his face and be in two places at once.
But she wasn't ready for the tiny smile and apology that he gave her.
"Terribly sorry, Donna love," he said, taking half a step forward before seeming to think the better of it, rocking on the heels of his heavy boots. "I wouldnae interrupted things if there was another way. He's told you, then?" He nodded towards his younger self.
"Yes, he told me. As if I need two of you skinny gits around, driving me bonkers! One of you at a time is plenty, thank you very much!" She had regained her mental footing quickly, and narrowed her eyes at the Crombie-coated Doctor. "Why're you Scottish?"
"I've nae idea. Some things are mysteries, even tae me." Donna snorted in disbelief. "'S true! Now, can we please get down tae business!" He turned towards his younger self, grimacing. "Sandshoes, I’ve a rather embarrassing favour to ask... I need yer sonic.”
"Sandshoes?" The Doctor in pinstripes asked indignantly, "Sandshoes?! Oh no. You don't get to have a go at my dress sense, mister 'regressing to past regenerations.' My Chucks are brilliant - form and function all in one." He tapped the toe of one trainer against the other, and the two men glared at each other. Donna and Clara rolled their eyes in tandem and then grinned as they caught each other in the act. If this was what it was going to be like being in a room with the two Doctors together, Donna thought she might prefer to spend the night out on the moors. She decided to try to move things along a bit.
"Doctor," she started, breaking the stalemate. They turned towards her, eyebrows quirked in identical question. "Maybe we should go somewhere that isn't a drafty entryway? Try to figure out what's going on?"
"I already know what's going on," the grey-haired Doctor growled, "and I need yer sonic tae make sure we're safe here." He had turned back towards his younger self, setting his jaw in a look of utter impatience.
"I'm quite certain you can make sure we're safe somewhere I don't have to freeze my arse off!" Donna snapped at him.
"I'm trying tae make sure you'll still have an arse to freeze off after this, Donna!"
"What's that supposed to mean? Don't you look at my bum!"
"I mean gettin' us out of this predicament is a bit more important than a wee case o' the chills. And I've not looked at yer bum, nor do I have any desire tae do so!"
"Oi, watch it, Spaceman!"
They were toe to toe, glaring at each other, but at this admonishment the Doctor's face crumpled and he took a step back, shaking his head. "Yer right, I'm sorry. We've a fire goin' in the kitchen. 'S warmer in there." He turned on his heel and led the way down the hall, Clara following a step behind.
Donna quirked her head to the side, wondering why he had relented, but looking forward to warming her freezing hands over the promised flames nonetheless. She was about to follow behind Clara when she realized that her Doctor was still frozen in place.
"You coming?" she asked, stepping back towards him, searching his face for a clue about what was going on in that brain of his.
The Doctor swallowed, setting his jaw the same way his elder self had only a moment ago. Some things never changed. "Yeah," he replied hoarsely, "yeah, I'm right behind you." But she saw him out of the corner of her eye, dragging his feet and touching the deep gouges in the wood paneling as he passed. She sighed.
"What happened here?" she asked, wondering if he would actually tell her or if he would retreat further into "kicked puppy mode." He exhaled roughly.
"Werewolf. Well, not really a werewolf, more like a Lupine Wavelength... oh, it doesn't matter, it was a werewolf. We saved Queen Victoria. Her Majesty knighted us both the next day and then banished us from the empire." He smiled at the memory. "She was brilliant. Gave the lady of the house and all of the staff hope, gave them a reason to fight. That's what she did for everyone she met." He looked up, finally meeting Donna's eye and gave her a brave smile. She was about to hug him when the kitchen door swung open, slamming into the wall as the other Doctor peered out.
"Are ye gonna stand there emoting all day or did ye want to get this over with?"
#########
The Doctor exchanged a look with his younger self, trying to tell him without words that everything would be okay. This place would always be a source of pain, but he would get a reason to live again if only they could get out of here. Rose would return, and for a single moment in time, caught in a wild sprint, he would be sure that time and space and the universe would even everything out. Despite everything that happened afterwards, that one moment made it hurt a little less. They would always find a way back to each other.
His younger self and Donna walked towards him and followed him into the kitchen. Clara was sitting on the table, illuminated by warm light of the crackling fire. It felt a bit like they were sitting down to a top secret meeting, each person standing a good five feet apart.
"Now, yer sonic, if I may?" the older Doctor demanded, a tad gruffly.
The younger Doctor picked it out from inside his suit, reluctantly handing it over.
"What kind of Doctor are you, going somewhere without your sonic, or are we going handsfree again? Don't tell me you're going back to wearing vegetables again?"
"Was I really tha' cheeky?" the older Doctor asked Donna, ignoring himself.
Donna snorted, earning her an incredulous look from her Doctor. The older Doctor pressed the sonic, the blue tip lighting up and extending. He scanned the kitchen, changed the setting and set about doing a long-range scan of the rest of the house.
"Doctor?" Clara spoke, recognizing the furrowed brow as worry.
"Sand... Doctor," he asked, correcting himself. "How far away is yer TARDIS?"
"Five miles, why are you scanning for quantum signatures?" came the spitfire reply.
"We were sent here by Weepin' Angels, an' they've learned."
"Weeping what now?" Donna questioned before her Doctor had time to reply.
"Donna, we need to get to the TARDIS now," the younger Doctor said, taking hold of Donna's hand, then turned back to his counterpart. "She's not going to like this."
"Dont I know it. I'll apologize to her when I get back tae my own. Just bring her here an' try tae nae park her on top of us!"
The younger Doctor pointed at him, wanting to say something. But just like his older self, he realized the severity of the situation, and with a protesting Donna in tow, he shot out of the kitchen. They could hea him yell, "Don't blink!" until their voices died out.
"Who are they?" Clara wondered, coming to stand next to her Doctor.
For a few seconds he just stared wildly at her. Hadn't they been through this already? Realizing he still had the sonic, the Doctor recalibrated it and began scanning his companion. Had he been wrong..?
"Stop waving that at me!" she exclaimed, pushing the Doctor’s hand away. "I meant who are the monsters, since you looked so worried."
"The angels again. They know getting rid o' me is hard, so they have come back. His- my sonic detected quantum signatures, meaning there's an angel in the house. It has detected the presence of two Time Lords, so it will try tae send us back in time again to where any version of me cannae find us before the other me can come pick us up in the TARDIS."
"But shouldn't they have picked us up already? It's a time machine, isn't it?" Clara pointed out, her eyes zipping around the kitchen, not sure what she was keeping a look out for.
"Well, the TARDIS might try tae resist coming any closer tae prevent time line entanglement. You remember what happened when we were three of me present? Plus, I'm the one driving. First thing I did when I stole her was tae toss the manual in a supernova."
"So what do we do in the meantime?"
"Corner, make sure we have an open line of sigh and enough space fer the TARDIS to land. Anythin' shiny is good, too. Weepin' angels are quantum locked, they can only move when they are not observed, even by themselves."
"So... sort of like we are not looking at the door right now?" Clara said with a nervous laugh.
They both looked up simultaneously. Clara's eyes bugged. The door to the kitchen was open and in the opening stood a Weeping angel, its left hand reached out with fingers clawed menacingly towards them.
"I hate repeating meself, but fer God's sake... Don't blink."
########
"Come on, we've got to hurry." The Doctor was ten paces ahead of Donna as they made their way towards the TARDIS, and he turned back, trying to rush her along.
"What was he talking about? Who's weeping?" He slowed to a brisk walk beside her as she clutched at a stitch in her side.
"Weeping Angels. They look like stone statues, but they're not. The Angels are incredibly fast and incredibly dangerous, as long as no one is looking at them. When they're being observed, they're quantum locked, completely immobilized. But if you so much as blink when there's one nearby, they move faster than you could even imagine." The Doctor shook his head. "One touch and you're sent back in time, no telling where you might end up. They feed off the time energy that's released by forcing the jump. And if they've gotten clever..." He trailed off, carding a hand through his hair absently. "Come on, Donna! Just over this hill!" He broke away again, coat flaring behind him as he ran towards the TARDIS.
"What happens if they've gotten clever?" She shouted after him.
"They'll know that we're here, and they'll try to get to him and Clara before we do. Send them back somewhere we can't find them, gorge themselves on the energy in the process. We've got to get back to Torchwood House before it's too late!"
Donna groaned and summoned the energy from god-knows-where to run after him. It was another half-mile back to the TARDIS, and the Doctor was already racing around the console by the time she closed the door behind her.
"We're going to need to be precise. If I'm remembering the layout of the house correctly, I know just the place to land us." He knew that he remembered every detail of every room in Torchwood House, but it wouldn't do to brag. Donna would tell him off for being a smug git if he did, anyway. "Stand there and flip that lever when I tell you." He pointed at the a lever that looked like something from an airplane and Donna rounded the console to stand at the ready. "We're just going to relocate into the house. Should only take a tick, but hopefully we'll get there in time."
"Can't we go back and meet them just after we left?"
"Too dangerous, we've got to keep this linear. The TARDIS is already going to be upset about the paradox that we're creating just by having two of me in the same place at the same time, can't risk crossing the time stream again and running into ourselves, as well" he explained, patting the time rotor. "We'll just have to hope for the best." He released the handbrake and nodded at Donna to engage the engine as the TARDIS groaned into action.
The trip took only seconds, and the Doctor was relieved to see that his ship had cooperated this time, landing them in the bedroom that had been occupied by Queen Victoria during their visit, directly in front of an enormous mirror. Donna was already at the door, about to fling it open when he stopped her.
“Wait! I’ve got to scan and make sure the room is empty. We can’t just dash out there if there’s already an Angel in the room.” He patted himself, searching for his sonic screwdriver. “Oh, did he nick it from me?” he groaned. “Typical. I’ll have to do a manual scan, just… wait there, don’t go anywhere.” He typed in a few commands at the console, examining the display closely. “This room is clear, it looks like there’s only one Angel in the house at the moment. But more will join them, so we’ll need to move fast.”
“So much for pleasure trip, yeah?” Donna grinned, and he couldn’t help but return the smile.
“You would’ve been bored to tears in five minutes,” he smirked, laughing as she rolled her eyes at him. “Be careful, and remember: if you see an Angel, don’t look away, not even for a second.”
They crept out of the ship into the mouldering suite. The four-poster bed had fallen in at one corner, the linens and mattress stained and eerie looking. The Doctor paid no attention to these details as he crossed to the door, opening it quietly. They could hear movement coming from the servants’ stairway, and two voices, one low and gruff, the other high and strained, coming closer.
“You’ve got a good foot on me, I am trying to keep up with you!”
“Try harder, then! Are yeh looking?”
“Of course I’m looking, I’ve been doing nothing but looking! What else do you think I’ve been - ow! You kicked me again!”
“Fer god’s sake Clara, we’re almost there, jest keep going.” Donna was fighting back a laugh as she listened to them bicker.
“Is that what we sound like?” she asked the Doctor who stood before her, and he gave her a look over the top of his specs.
“I’d prefer not to think about that at the moment. Come on, let’s give them a hand.” He crossed to the door at the end of the hall and threw it open. Clara and her Doctor stood back to back, creeping their way up the narrow stairway sideways. The younger man quirked an eyebrow at them both, as Donna shook her head, trying not to laugh at them. The situation was grave, but the sight of them crab-walking up the staircase almost made it worthwhile.
“We heard yeh land. The Angel’s in the kitchen, and we’ve been coverin’ our line of sight this way,” the elder man explained. “Come on, let’s not waste any more time here.”
It was only a second, not even. A half-second when all four of them tore their gaze from the stairway, or blinked, or paused to examine the scratches in the hallway once again, looking towards the door that had led to a different bedroom, containing different memories. All that was needed was a second.
“Doctor,” Donna started, grabbing for a hand, anyone’s hand, to get someone’s attention. Both men turned simultaneously.
“Bloody bollocking… didnae I tell yeh not tae blink?!”
“Oh, yes! Wish I’d known at the start, though. All of time and space, but your eyeballs will shrivel in their sockets, Donna, because you won’t be able to blink!” She didn’t dare tear her gaze from the Angel that had joined them at the other end of the hallway. “What do we do?”
“Oh, come on, you know the drill,” her Doctor grinned, grabbing her hand. “Run!”
########
“You do know that running implies turning your back at the object you’re trying to flee from!” Clara yelled over her shoulder after the suitclad Doctor and his companion.
She was left standing in the hallway with her Doctor, trying not to blink.
“Typical me,” the Doctor huffed, grabbing hold of Clara’s hand. “Loved the running back then.”
“But you don’t anymore?”
“Sure I do, but this is nae the time for running. They cannae be far, just take one step at a time.”
They inched slowly backwards, keeping their eyes fixed on the angel, taking turns blinking when their eyes started to water. When they were nearing the corner, the Doctor sent Clara to check that the hallways was clear after the turn. He silently cursed this house, making a mental note to never return for any reason. Werewolves and banishments and angels, this house was a magnet for danger.
“Clara?” he called. “Can ye see them?”
“Depends on who you’re referring to!” his companion replied, her voice trembling slightly.
It could only mean one thing. The presence of two incarnations of him, plus the TARDIS, had attracted the attention of at least one more angel. They had not been quick enough. With two Doctors, two companions and one TARDIS within reach the angels could very well send each Doctor and companion to a different time and place and feast on the time energy inside his ship. The implications could be disastrous.
“I’m nae much for callin’ in reinforcements,” he said as steadily as he could. “But now would be a good time tae call fer help.”
Together, they called for the other Doctor and Donna, all while fighting the urge to blink. The Doctor slowly walked backwards until he was once again back to back with Clara. Still nothing from the other him and Donna. They had to have heard them. Unless… No. That was not how this should play out. Concentrating, he focused on his timeline, searching it for disturbances. Nothing yet, everything lined up as it should. No, wait, there. This exact moment, the timeline was in the tiniest flux, meaning this precise moment could be changed in the most dire of ways. If the angels got to them, Donna would never encounter Rose, they would not be present when the Earth was transported to the Medusa Cascade and the Daleks would establish their new empire. They couldn’t let it happen.
“How far away is yer angel?” the Doctor asked, quickly formulating a plan.
“I… Thirty, maybe forty feet. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinkin’... that I’m gonna blink.”
“What?” Clara exclaimed, her voice rising an octave.
Taking a deep breath, the Doctor blinked. When he opened his eyes, the angel had moved from the farther end of the hallway to only three feet from him, it’s arms reaching towards him. Almost too close for his plan to work. They’d have to be quick.
“Clara, I need ye tae blink. Do it quickly, almost as if yer not quite closing your eyes.”
“Why?”
“I need ye tae get the angel closer, about ten feet or sae.”
“And then?”
“And then we dae what we always dae, we hope fer the best.”
The Doctor gripped Clara’s hand tighter, letting her know that he would be with her. If the angel got to her, they would at least be stranded together. He could the thought of her risking her life and be stranded alone. Not here, not in this house. Seconds ticked by. He could hear Clara’s shallow breaths, feel her racing pulse through the palm of her hand.
“Okay, it’s close. Now what?”
Now came the hard part. Now he had to ask her to blink again, hoping that the two angels would come around the corner and freeze at the sight of one another. This was the cause of the flux, this was where it all could change.
“On the count ay three, we’re gonna duck an’ blink. We can lure them intae lookin’ at themselves.”
“Will that actually work?”
“I’ve done it afair, sort of.”
“What does that mean?” Clara demanded. “Have you or have you not done this before?”
“I don’t want tae lie to ye, so will ye please trust me an’ duck?”
“Only because I presently dislike these angels more than I dislike you!”
“That’s my lassie.”
Slowly, they knelt, hands still clasped tightly. The Doctor’s hearts were beating double time. For Clara, this was just a serious situation, another predicament. He knew exactly the ramifications of this incident if it didn’t pan out. The things that would never be, and the timelines that would come into play instead. He really needed to tell Clara about himself, about the crucial points in time that he fought the universe to keep intact.
“Are ye ready?”
“Not particularly.”
“On three then. One… Two… Three.”
#######
"If we live through this, I'm gonna kill you," Donna complained. "Explain to me how there can possibly be two more in here?"
"I told you they were fast," the Doctor replied, eyes never wandering from the stone figures in front of them. "Maybe running wasn't exactly the best idea, under the circumstances."
"Nooo..." she snarked, "you think?"
"Listen, all we have to do is keep them in view. We've made it this far, haven't we? All we need to do is get to the TARDIS and we'll be alright. We'll go back-to-back, the way Grandad and Clara did."
"Grandad?" Donna snorted, knowing that this was the wrong time to question what he was calling his future self, but unable to contain the question.
"Let's keep on task, shall we?" The Doctor pointed towards the TARDIS, only a few metres away on the far side of the room. Two angels flanked the police box, hands covering their faces. If she didn't know better, Donna would have thought they looked more like benign guardians than deadly assassins. She could hear the other Doctor and Clara in the hall calling for them, but her breath seemed to catch in her throat, fear rising up and killing the reply before it could leave her lips. She nodded tersely at her Doctor, and she could feel the heels of his trainers bump into hers as he leaned against her back.
"Is there a plan?" She already knew the answer, but held out hope for at least one pleasant surprise today.
"Don't blink?"
"The other you has a plan," she scoffed.
"Well this me doesn't."
"Alright, not blinking it is," she sighed. "Still. There's got to be other options. Can we turn them? Make them face the mirror?"
"They're stone, Donna. Are you strong enough to move a stone statue on your own?"
They both looked around the bedroom, searching for a solution, neither one daring to let the angels leave their line of sight. The Doctor dug into the pockets of his overcoat, elbowing Donna hard in the ribs, and she lost her balance, crashing to the ground.
"Donna!" He whirled around to see a stone hand already closed around his companion's ankle. He had forgotten, had glanced away, and he berated himself for his stupidity. How could he have been so foolish? The Angel gripping Donna's leg looked feral, its teeth bared as it crouched on the floor to grasp her leg. He glared at it, wishing he could say something to reassure her. Donna's eyes were wide with terror, though she had managed to turn herself to maintain a view of the other Angel. If he hadn’t been afraid for her life, he would have praised her quick thinking.
"Doctor, why didn't it send me back in time?" she whispered.
"I don't know. Sometimes... when they're weak or feeling particularly threatened..." he trailed off. She didn't need to know.
"What? What do they do?"
"Nevermind. We'll get you out of this." He could feel the anger now, building inside of him. They were threatening Donna, his best friend, and that was a very dangerous thing to do. It was him they wanted, him and the TARDIS, but he would die a thousand deaths before he let these pestilential scavengers hurt either his companion or his ship. The Angel who was holding onto Donna's leg was clever. It was no coincidence that she hadn't been sent back in time. It was trying to use her as a bargaining chip. Bad luck for the Weeping Angels, he thought grimly, Donna Noble was nobody's pawn.
Nevertheless, they had to find a solution fast. There was little more than an hour of daylight left. If they didn't all get to the TARDIS before nightfall, the consequences would be dire.
"Doctor? Clara?" He called, turning his head slightly in hopes of throwing his voice into the hallway. There was no response, but he hoped they had heard him nonetheless. "You’d better have the sonic! And bring something heavy, a torch or candelabra or something!" Donna shifted, trying to find a comfortable position as her leg remained suspended in the Angel’s grasp.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked, closing one eye at a time as she continued to train her gaze behind the Doctor’s head.
“There’s no way to convince it to let go of you, Donna. It’s impossible to reason with the Angels. They’re only after a power source, that’s all they care about.” He paused, trying to decide how to explain his plan to her in a way that she would accept. He wished he could meet her eye. “I won’t let it hurt you, alright? But that doesn’t leave us many options.”
“What are you gonna do?” she repeated.
“If we can’t get your leg out of the Angel’s hand, we’ll take the hand with us,” he said grimly. “You hear that?” he growled at the Angel. “This is not a negotiation. Her life is not up for trade!”
#######
The sound of a voice calling out for her and the Doctor made Clara slowly open her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She was still holding the Doctor’s hand tightly, and she carefully took in her surroundings. Wooden floor, stone... Letting her gaze wander upwards, her breath caught in her throat. The Angel was crouched over her, its face contorted with rage. Looking over her shoulder she saw the other Angel, hands reaching out for the Doctor. An inch. That was the only thing separating it from the Doctor.
"Doctor?" She shook the hand she was holding. "Doctor, look!"
"Did we make it?"
He looked up before she could answer, quickly turning to embrace her. There was something very urgent and desperate about his hug, and Clara tried her best to let him know they were safe. Suddenly, he stiffened, his jubilant face turning almost ashen. He uttered only one word:
"Donna."
They crawled out of the cage created by the Angels, rushing down the hallway. They found the other pair in what must have once been a very stately bedroom. The TARDIS stood parked in the corner, but even though the sight of his beloved ship should have elated him, the Doctor’s hearts broke at the sight of the scene before him.
"Donna..." he breathed, feeling a wave of unbridled rage rise inside him. The Angel holding Donna's foot would feel his anger, would taste the force of the Oncoming Storm.
"Took you bloody long enough, did you stop for tea and biscuits?" Donna's shrill exclamation cut through his rage, and he flicked his gaze to her.
"I'm sorry m'lady, I woulda come sooner, but I was tryin' nae to get carted off to god knows where by the friend of your leg cuff," he sneered back.
"Oi!"
Both Donna, Clara and his younger self called at him at the same time, and he glared at them all in turn. He did not just gamble time lines to be sassed like this.
"Right," Clara interrupting, attempting to diffuse the tension. "What do we need to do?"
"Isn't it obvious? Get me out of this creepy monster's grip before it... eats me!"
"It won't eat ye, Donna..."
Donna was ready to fire another volley at the older Doctor, but her own spoke up before she had time to cuss the Scottish Spaceman out.
"We need something heavy to break the arm off. It won't let go of her, and we are losing daylight by the second."
"Is there a tool shed or anything outside?" Clara asked, looking over her shoulder to make sure the hallway was clear.
"Do ye really want to go all the way outside? They will come in hoards, we need tae act quickly," her Doctor replied.
"The sonic!" Donna exclaimed. "You told him to bring your sonic!"
The older Doctor fished out the sonic screwdriver and set it in the outreached hand of his younger self.
"Try checking the adjacent rooms, look for anything sturdy enough to break stone. I'll try resonating the stone while you're gone. It won't break it for us, but it should render it porous enough that we can break it with some force," the younger Doctor explained, already busy calibrating the sonic.
The older Doctor nodded, and together with Clara, he hurried out of the room. Out in the corridor, they once again positioned themselves back to back and scurried into the room on the opposite side of the corridor. They found nothing useful, a dilapitated bedframe, a broken vanity mirror and dusty linens. Next room was the same, nothing sturdy enough to break stone. The Doctor could feel his pulse racing, knowing that time was running out. Evening was approaching, and who knew how many more angels were hiding in the house, just waiting to catch them off guard.
The fifth room they entered had been a drawing room or a parlor. The Doctor stood guard just inside the doorway while Clara scrambled around, searching for something they could use.
"I think I've found something!" she called triumphantly after almost five minutes of searching. "Turn around, I'll watch the door."
Whipping around, the Doctor searched the room until he saw Clara in the west corner. Her eyes were trained on the doorway behind him, but her left hand was pointing to the floor. There, among shards of china, almost hidden under a treadbare rug was a heavy gilded mantle clock. A manic grin slowly spread on the Doctor's face.
######
Donna lay her head on her arms, one foot still suspended in the grip of the Angel behind her. She watched its partner as the Doctor kept an eye on the wild-eyed creature behind her, the high-pitched whir of the sonic screwdriver ringing in their ears.
"They've been gone a good long while," she observed, and her tone was far more bored than it would have been a few months previously. "What happens if the sun goes down before they get back?"
They could hear muffled voices and the odd thump now and then coming from adjacent rooms, but the sounds never seemed to be coming closer.
"They'll get back in time, don't worry." He hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt. He couldn't lose Donna, not like this. He wished there was something else he could do instead of standing here resonating solid stone. It made him restless, knowing that Clara and his future self were only metres away, actively looking for a solution.
"You owe me a fun trip next, Spaceman," Donna yawned. "This one was rubbish." She smiled at him, though, letting him know that, despite the uncertainty of the current situation, she was okay. That was because she had no idea the danger they were in, and that she was in more immediate danger than anyone else. Donna shook her head, propping her chin on her hands in an effort to stave off the weariness that was sinking into her body.
"I'm sorry, I really am." He was biting back his anger - she wasn't the one he was cross with, anyway. He always felt this sense of annoyance when he encountered another one of himself, and he was more than a little impatient for it to all be over with. He didn't like the way his older self had snarled at Donna earlier, and he wondered about the circumstances under which she would have stopped traveling with him. A falling-out seemed unlikely; as much as they might get on one another's nerves, they were never truly angry. Was it a regeneration that sent her home? Could she not bear a new face, a new temperament? Was this new Doctor even surlier than he seemed and if so, how did Clara ever manage with him? He hoped not, just as he hoped that it wasn't some twisted sense of chivalry that might eventually make him send his best friend away for her own good.
Donna had been right the first time, on Christmas, that he needed somebody. And he was finally feeling like himself again (whoever that was), thanks for her combination of patience and brash unwillingness to let him wallow in self-pity and grief. Martha, too, had done that. Pulled him out of himself when he needed it most, and the debt that he owed them both was greater than he could ever hope to repay. He wondered how he had gotten so lucky as to befriend the two of them.
Noises from down the hall broke his reverie and he called out, never breaking his concentration on the stone figure whose fingers were wrapped tightly around Donna's ankle. "Is that you Clara? Doctor?"
"It's either us or a very clumsy Weeping Angel!" came Clara's response. He heard Donna sigh in relief as they shuffled into view, Clara's hands grasping the back of the older Time Lord's coat as he carried a heavy clock in his hands.
"Any other Angels?" he asked.
"Jest one," the older Doctor replied. "It was in the doorway o' one o' the bedchambers. We kept an eye on it 'til we rounded the corner, but it'll be here any moment."
"Clara, can you keep an eye on the door, then? You and I will work on freeing Donna. Let's get out of here." Clara nodded, turning towards the door as the two men exchanged a look of grim determination between them.
Readjusting the heavy mantle clock in his hands, the Doctor who wasn't hers addressed her. "Donna, I'm going tae break the arm off o' this great nuisance of a thing and you get tae the TARDIS as quick as you can, yeah? Do not look back. That goes for you, too, Sandshoes."
"Oi!" Donna shouted as her Doctor began to protest the ridiculous nickname once again, "you lot can have a proper row later, just get me out of here!" Both Doctors snapped their mouths shut in unison, nodding.
The grey-haired Doctor glanced over his shoulder at Clara, who was glaring at the stone figure who had appeared in the doorway, hands covering its face. "Holding steady, Clara?"
"Holding steady and not blinking," she confirmed. "But let's not tempt fate, shall we?"
"Hold still, Donna," he said quietly. "We'll have you free in a moment." He raised the mantle clock above his head and brought it down on the Angel's arm.
Nothing.
Donna groaned and shook her head as her Doctor spoke up.
"Let me try resonating it while you do that again," he suggested, and the other Doctor nodded.
"Aye, let's try it." He brought the mantle clock down on the Angel's forearm again as the sonic whirred. Donna could feel pieces of stone hitting the fabric of her trousers.
"Almost," the Doctor growled, and he brought the clock down again, once, twice, and then Donna was free, a stone hand still gripping her ankle as she scrambled to her feet and threw her arms around her Doctor.
She turned to Clara's Doctor and hugged him as well, and the man in the pinstriped suit watched a look of melancholy delight cross the other's face as he reassured her of her safety.
"Yer okay, Donna. Now, let's get out of here." The grey-haired Doctor gave her one last squeeze and grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the TARDIS and calling to the others. "Time to go!" There was a manic sort of glee in his face.
The younger Doctor and Clara were both backing towards the TARDIS, eyes focused on the three Angels in their midst. Except now there were five, arms outstretched and teeth bared at them.
"Clara," the Doctor in pinstripes began, "I'm right here. Just keep walking straight back, and you'll bump into the TARDIS." Clara nodded silently, not wanting to risk taking her eyes off the monsters to reply. There were six of them now, the four outside the room looking as though they were clamoring to get in. The sunlight must have been fading from various rooms around the house, setting them free for the night.
"Augh - why did yeh lock the door, Pretty Boy?" the Crombie-coated Doctor cried, jiggling the handle.
"Did you want them in there waiting for us?" came the retort as Donna unlocked the door and tumbled into console room. Clara was ten seconds behind her, shuffling backwards quickly so as not to fall over anything in her path. The two Doctors exchanged a grin.
"Well done," the grey-haired Doctor said to his younger self. "Thanks for the rescue."
"Well, I didn't have much choice did I?" he couldn’t help but grin at the other man, eyebrow cocked. "Let's never come back here, shall we?"
"Agreed." The younger man backed into the TARDIS, pulling his older self in behind him as the doors swung shut. Donna let out a triumphant whoop as her Doctor sent them into the vortex.
#######
As soon as they were safely in the vortex, Donna disappeared into the corridor, intent on finding a hammer and a chisel to hack off the broken stone hand that was still clutching her leg. Clara offered to help, following the other woman.
"So, where to?" the pinstriped Doctor asked, pushing a switch to stabilize them.
The older Doctor was quiet. He knew what would come next, but if he asked his younger self directly to go to Shan Shen he would know something was up, and he might not let Donna roam around the market place freely, might keep her from the fortune teller. This had to be handled with care.
"Omniset Alpha, the year 4062-epsilon-3, my TARDIS is parked jest outside the capital. Put us down somewhere out o' sight an' we'll get back on our own," he replied, his mind working on a way to get his younger self and Donna to their right destination.
He watched as the coordinates were entered, smiling at the ease with which his previous body navigated the timeship.
"Feeling nostalgic?" The younger Doctor asked, having noticed the other doctor looking.
"Nay, nae really. Jest... I didnae how to fly when I regenerated intae this body. One minute I'm the old me, an' the next, I'm me and I have terrible-coloured kidney an' I cannae remember how tae fly the TARDIS."
"Well, it seems like you've learned," the other him pointed out with a crooked smile. He fell quiet, the smile slowly dying out. "You're the last me, aren't you?"
"Why would ye think that?" The older Doctor furrowed his brow.
" I'm guessing, that’s all. The way you look at Donna, the Scottish accent. We sound like Jamie. Are we rehashing old regenerations and companions because this is it?"
"Ye know I can't tell ye anythin', nae which you I am, nae why we stop travelling with Donna."
"I know, timelines, I am not supposed to ask."
He could sense the younger him wanted to ask more, and he desperately wanted to give this version of himself something to hold on to. But at this point, any and all information could be dangerous. This was a new addition to an already established timeline, and he had to minimize their visible impact on them. He could already sense the TARDIS was not happy with two Time Lords from two separate time streams on board. The Doctor patted the console affectionately.
"Don't worry, old girl, we'll be out o' ye hair soon."
The sound of footsteps alerted them to the return of Donna and Clara. The two women were talking animatedly, with Donna holding a steady grip on a black plastic bag.
"Right, how do we dispose of this?" she held the bag, containing a very mangled angel hand, in front of her.
"Ye toss it into a black hole," the elder Doctor replied with a smile. "The force o' the collapse will crush it into microdust."
"So, first planet Omniset, then a black hole, and then some R & R," Donna said, looking at her Doctor. "No trains, no diamonds, nothing that tries to kill you just by setting foot on its surface."
The pinstriped Doctor smiled, but his older self could see the strain behind it. A bit too soon. It reminded him of Donna's first trip in the TARDIS. She had been so brash, so angry, and he felt like he was being kicked. Bad Wolf Bay had been fresh in his memory then. If only he knew what was to come...
"What's so special about this Omniset-planet you were visiting?" Donna asked, turning to Clara for answers.
"It has this amazing market place, or, well, it's supposed to have an amazing market place that stretches for several blocks," Clara told the redhaired woman animatedly. "We never made it to the city at all before we were poofed back in time."
"Sounds like fun." Donna turned to her Doctor, "Hey, why don't we go to a market. Get some silly hats or something?"
Both of the Doctors smirked. Donna was still waiting for the day when he would take her to Planet of the Hats.
"There's a festival worth visiting on 62nd century Pylonius," the pinstriped Doctor suggested. The older Doctor tensed. He needed to get them to Shan Shen.
"Any hats?"
"Hats are outlawed. They were the indirect cause of a major war."
"Then no dice, Spaceman."
"Then..." The younger Doctor squinted, going through his long list of planets with market places that sold hats.
"He should have one of those hourglass icons over him, like on my laptop," Clara remarked under her breath, causing Donna to let out a strangled laugh. "Ooh, or the Apple spin wheel!"
The two of them laughed together, and Clara's Doctor shook his head.
"Ye do know, yer making fun o' me, too?"
"Does he do that, too?" Donna asked, ignoring his question.
"No, but he-" Clara began, but was interrupted by the other Doctor.
"Shan Shen!"
Donna stared at him, not sure if he had just named a place or expressed some sort of irritation. She looked towards the older Doctor for clarification.
"Shan Shen is a trading planet. Lots o' different trading stations and market places." He could see Donna forming the question. "Yes, they have hats."
"Sold!" she cried jubilantly.
Doctor breathed a sigh of relief, they had gotten there without interference. He touched a hand to the console, asking his ship to take them to Shan Shen without detours. He could feel the affirming nudge in his mind. What was it Idris had told him at the junkyard? She always took him where he needed to go.
A short while later they landed on Omniset. Clara and Donna hugged, the two Doctors shook hands. As they switched, the older Doctor felt a slight stab in his hearts. He really didn't want to say goodbye to Donna again.
"Don't give me that look, it makes me feel like someone died," his best friend told him in an admonishing tone.
"It was good seeing you again, Donna, me dear," he replied, fighting back tears.
"Thank you for saving me, you and Clara. You take good care of her, you hear?"
"I promise."
"I will hold you to that, and so help me God if I should find out you are being a rude old bugger, I will kick this one..." She nodded towards her own Doctor. "...so hard you will feel it, Spaceman.
"Oh, Donna... you always were the best part o' me me."
He brought her in for one final hug, revelling in it. This would be his last hug with Donna. Even if she would forget it, he could remember it, knowing that at least this time, she wouldn't be forced to forget. He offered clara his arm, and they exited the TARDIS, faintly hearing Donna order the Doctor to take her to a black hole and then... to Shan Shen.
Nomura's typical knock went to the rhythm of 'Shave and a Haircut,' because he was a little shit. But not this one. This was soft but not hesitant. It was a purposeful rap, quick and clean, meant to be heard by only one set of ears in the beach house, and not the other.
It was a sound that marked the beginning of an end. A bell tolling to signal an emancipation from eternity.
Vanitas reflected that as far as stealth went, wearing bright red jeans probably wasn't the best idea. His black Arctic Monkeys t-shirt and black leather jacket definitely blended in well with the night--but it wouldn't matter soon. Soon, him and the godling he called Kitten would be out of here, stepping into the nothingness between worlds.
The knock startled him, but he was in no way asleep. He was sitting up in bed, watching the blond he was so damn lucky to still have. And that knock was about to make everything better.
Maybe once this was over--once this mortality thing was dealt with--he could ask what he wanted.
But not tonight. Tonight, he got up and walked to the door, opening it and staring down his brother with ethereal golden eyes. Eyes he intended to rid himself of.
A heavy sigh, and then he cast one last look to Ven before shifting out the door and closing it behind him. "Ready?"
Nomura met those ethereal eyes, his own gold glinting catlike in the dimness, taking every scrap of ambient light in the night air and refracting it twentyfold to let him see in the darkness as clearly as if by the light of a midday sun.
He nodded, just once, sombre--and then cracked a ghost of a grin. "Ready." He kept his voice at a whisper; there was no need to risk waking Ven. "You can drive. This'll be the only time I get to see you do your god-jump thing; might as well take the novelty."
He didn't expect to get any more mirth out of this venture than that meager smile, either. He knew what he was doing; he'd checked, double-checked, triple and quadruple checked. He knew the spell by heart and still planned to have the book on hand. But no matter how prepared he was, there was still a possibility that something could go wrong. That possibility always existed with magic, no matter how great someone's skill.
So he'd take his smiles where he could find them.
Kitten smiles back. Obviously. Because regardless of the risk, he's about to make his life so much better. Incomprehensibly better. Mortality is just around the corner and it's not hard at all to give a little grin. "It's not that cool, y'know."
But he steps forward and wraps his arms around his brother, who's really only a few inches taller. Their necklaces clink together when he does, and by the time he says, "Close your eyes" he's already concentrating on stepping.
He doesn't do it often. It makes him feel unnatural and he hates it. But also he likes to pretend that he's his brother, and only able to use portals. And he sort of is his brother, really--they both recognize the destination in the exact same way.
"Let's do this."
Nomura obeyed, shutting his eyes with a rueful little smile. Kid was excited about this, and had every reason to be, and Nomura was excited for him. Excited to do this for him, excited to see his brother happy again. To give him his own life. But Nomura bore the burden of consequence, for all of this. He didn't want anything to happen--and though he'd taken all possible precautions, he was scared.
But fear came with the package of constant anxiety that Nomura possessed. He'd accepted that. The trick was just not to show it.
"Hit it, Kid."
Easier said than done. The idea of the jump didn't unnerve him, no--he'd hopped through the Multiverse with Sora before, and that the way Sora used the Heartless to pull his way between worlds felt quite similar to the way that Kid yanked the two of them through worlds. But it was the task before him--and their damned destination--that set his teeth on edge.
He had absolutely zero desire to return to the place where he'd been 'born.' But it was the best place for this. It had to be done.
Vanitas immediately got to work. He focused his energy--the power behind a million galaxies and countless stars, because that's what it took to make a body from scratch. It was still effortless. Although the buildup created a glow in his hands matching the one on the ground, and for a few moments he was just spinning the golden tendrils of light. Like a spider making a web.
"Want anything before all this power goes away?" he tried to joke as he worked on his new vessel. Nomura was supposed to be working on setting them up--getting the book ready and reading over the spell one last time. "Food? New clothes?"
It's a light approach to something so dark. Something so scary. But by the time his body was finished--and he spent extra time on the eyes--the nerves had started to kick in. "You deserve it. After this I swear to myself I'm taking you somewhere cool and spending a shitton of money I don't have."
Yes, Nomura was supposed to be setting up the spell circle, but for a moment, all he could do was stare. Most people would have found it unnerving watching a god spin a body out of golden threads of light, but to Vanitas, the sight was nothing less than a blessing. Did he want anything? For the moment, he was just content to watch, to admire the use of a magic more masterful and more intense than anything he'd be able to accomplish in his own lifetime. As a student of magic, it was a privilege to witness.
But he shook himself out of his miniature trance as the new body formed. He took a moment to marvel at his "baby brother's" work, his gaze settling particularly on the eyes. The deep blue of those orbs made a bright, genial grin split Nomura's face in two.
"Shit," he muttered to himself, delighted. He'd comment on how much he approved of the change later. "Honestly Kid, I don't ask for a lot." It was true, too; Nomura wasn't really a materialistic person. Sure he collected dead things, but that was a hobby, not an act of covetousness, and sure he made clothes, but that was also a hobby, not an act of vanity. ...Okay, well, maybe a little vanity was involved. ...Or more than a little. But really. "I fuckin' love good food, you know that, but right now all I want is to see you lookin' out those new eyes." He nearly wiggled in delighted anticipation--nothing would make him happier than to see his family happy.
Without further ado, Nomura stepped over to the broken boulder on which he'd left the ancient tome he needed, the spellbook that served as the key to the whole process. He'd also stashed the reagents here at the Keyblade Graveyard in advance.
And what reagents. The spell had been vague--which could be either fortuitous or disastrous, depending on the spell--but Vanitas had cross-referenced every source he could think of to verify that he had the right stuff. The book called for Hair of the Undying, Dust of the Sanctified, and Blood of the Redeemed.
Hair of the Undying...hair from a god. The god that Nomura called Godi had been the unwitting donor. That had been the last time Nomura saw him...and the first time he saw him after what he'd done to Kid...he'd never be forgiven, not by Nomura, not this century.
Dust of the Sanctified. Now this had been a hell of a task. After an exorbitant amount of research, Nomura had confirmed that "dust" referred to bone. The spell probably intended for the caster to abduct the bone-dust from some ancient saint's reliquary, but an even stranger solution had presented itself: Kingdom Hearts, personified. Godi's boss and creator. The one who'd put Godi, Kid, and his Ven through so much hell...had actually come forward, and of his own volition, donated a piece of himself for the ritual. The entity that was practically the embodiment of self-preservation had cut off his own finger to donate to Nomura's spell. To atone for the way he'd treated Kid, was the implication. Nomura had had a hard time expressing the true extent of his gratitude to the ethereal being...but there'd be time for that later. Now, he had the severed finger in a cooler, just in case. Best to keep the ingredients fresh.
And lastly, Blood of the Redeemed. Kid and Nomura had talked about this one extensively, and Nomura agreed that it had to be Kid's blood in the mix as the third reagent. He was the one getting redeemed--and he had already been redeemed, in Nomura's eyes. His old lives had been so chaotic, so horrific...now was the time to move forward. For an end. For peace. For love.
Nomura scuttled around in silence, concentrating as he scraped out the spell circle with a ceremonial dagger--a silver alloy sharp enough to cleave flesh, but only long enough for a quick shanking--cutting through the hard, crusty layer of dried dirt just below the surface of the powdery dust that covered this godsforsaken place. He sheathed the knife in his boot, set the old book down on the boulder again, and retrieved the first two reagents, placing them with utmost care in the center of the circle. Then, stepping lightly so as to not disturb the lines he'd carved, Nomura tiptoed through the circle and moved to pick up the book from the boulder again.
But he hesitated. Both he and Kid knew what was next--Kid needed to move to the center of the circle with his new body in tow, and on Nomura's cue, he'd slice open his finger and let fall a few drops of blood into the triangle where the third reagent belonged.
But something else needed to happen first. Nomura turned, lurched over to Kid, and snatched him up into a clinging hug. His dogtag-necklace clinked against Kid's matching one, but he didn't seem to notice.
"...You ready for this?"
Once the body was finished, Kid stood there staring at it, imagining himself animating it. This was so weird. He'd never made a human body before, and there was something ironic about that, wasn't there? Shivering, he allowed himself to be swooped into the hug.
"F'course I am," he muttered into Nomura's chest. "I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I wasn't ready. We'll be okay."
He hoped. Maybe this wouldn't work? Maybe they both would get hit with backfire and blow themselves up. There was always that chance. But thinking about that wouldn't get them very far, and it certainly wouldn't make him mortal. Kid smiled tightly at his brother and then dragged his new body into the circle, careful not to disturb any of the lines.
Kid held out his finger. His heart might have been pounding, but he had to appear stronger for Nomura. This was his moment. It was his magic that was going to make this work, and Kid was just the subject. The object. "See you when I'm mortal, bro."
A little smile. Genuine. Let's do this, I trust you.
He was scared. Scared enough that as he stared at Kid, as his golden eyes roved over the circle and its occupant and ingredients to double check that everything was in order, his head felt giddy. What if he'd read the text wrong? He tried to take a deep breath and that only made the light-headedness grow. What if this spell was forbidden by some higher power, and the cost was more than he could pay? His pallid face paled a shade. What if he failed? What if he hurt Kid? What if he killed him? Trying to help him, make him mortal, so he could be with the man he loved, and all of it for naught--
Something in that smile eased the tension in his Heart. Kid trusted him. Part of him hated that; what if he let him down? But part of him took comfort in that--and that part clung to that comfort, wrapped itself around it, assimilated it and spread it along the rest of his being.
Nomura managed a wan smile. He picked up the book. He took a deep breath, held it in, let it out. Still giddy, but not hysterical. Calm. Level-headed. He didn't even need to look at the text in his hand; he knew it by heart.
"Here we go."
Pale lids slid shut over amber eyes. When they opened again, they glittered with the power that the shadowy being gathered in his body. Wisps of Dark magic danced at his feet as he sucked in the mana of this Dark, desolate world, as he drew from the Nothing inside the Corridors, as he tapped into the endless night between the fabric of world, channeled it and shaped it and molded it to his will.
His voice started out low, baritone notes issuing from him in a perfunctory, measured cadence. The chant was in a language that had been dead since the Multiverse was young, a language that tumbled from his tongue with both the youthful gaiety of a wind ruffling a field of high grass, and with the sonorous gravity of an ancient angel singing alone in a hallowed hall.
His voice grew in strength as he recited the first verse of the chant, and with that change, the spell-circle began to glow.
And then his words fell through the air like a hail of flaming brimstone, fierce and commanding, calling forth a light from the etched lines of the arcane circle, a light that reminded of a stormclouds wrath and made the caster quake in his own skin, but still he chanted, eyes ablaze.
The light devoured the reagents--hair, flesh and bone, blood. It seeped into the empty body with the blue eyes, seeped into the occupied body with gold. It burrowed into the immortal's flesh and merged with the energy of his innermost being, insulating it, guiding it, and then--a snap. Like a guillotine blade falling to the condemned, something was severed.
And in the same instant, Nomura's voice grew to booming strength, echoing with the force of his magic, and the light called the flesh and spirit within the circle to become one.
Seconds. Chaotic seconds of silence and cacophony, of radiance and nothingness. Then, a snap. Stillness.
The light was gone. The circle was gone. The reagents were gone. One body stood where two had once been. One body with blue eyes.
Panting and with shaking hands, Nomura set the tome down on the boulder again, and staggered towards Kid, eyes huge, alight with hope.
It hurt.
Nomura probably had those syllables memorized, and had worked so hard to make the spell perfect, and Kid couldn't even listen because he was doubled over. He'd felt pain. They'd both felt pain, for years, and Kid had felt it for millennia. But this--holy Christ.
When it was over, he tumbled forward into Nomura's chest. The pain was real, and tangible, and mortal and he didn't know what to think. It felt like he could actually die for the first time in his life. The breaths he heaved were important, his heart was pounding for a reason, and it felt...odd. Really odd.
"It worked," he breathed out, pulling away to steady himself using Nomura's shoulders and blinking rapidly. Cerulean eyes sparkled, and he looked up to his brother with a grin. "You did it--I fuckin' told you--"
They did it. And they could go home to Ven and open the door and run at him, Kid scooping him up into a kiss--oh, god. His brother.
"You're the best brother I could ever fuckin' ask for," Kid choked out. He was already crying, fuck. "Thank you--"
He'd never attempted spellcasting of this magnitude before, and even if this endeavor hadn't been something he was thoroughly emotionally invested in, it would have been taxing for him. He was frazzled, but so high on adrenaline that he didn't give two shits.
It had worked.
And there was Kid with his sparking blue eyes, smiling like an innocent child and laughing, laughing...
His Heart soared.
He let out a laugh of his own, young and unburdened. "You're welcome. S'cause I'm your brother, lil' bro, and don't you ever forget it--"
He wasn't sure what it is, but he felt it, and instinctively, he knew something was wrong. So he turned on his heel, and stepped.
He wasn't expecting to show up in the graveyard, of all places. Nor did he expect what he saw--Kitten. Mortal. Mortal. The rage was instant, sweeping through him, and another step brought him right up behind Nommy--he'd done this.
Vanitas had planned to do this himself, give Kitten one last gift, and Nommy had taken it--
It wasn't a conscious decision, but only seconds after the realization, his hand slammed forward, aimed straight for the heart.
Something stopped.
What, though? His laughter, his thoughts. They'd ground to a halt. Something else. His breath. But something else.
He looked down.
Oh. Must've been his heart, too.
Being that it was currently outside of his chest, in Godi's hand.
His brain stayed turned on for a few more seconds. Long enough to direct his eyes back up--laboriously, dragging for a lifetime--into the face of the one who'd killed him.
Nomura had every reason to be livid. But he wasn't--or at least, it didn't show on his face. There was shock of course, but something else. Something soft, young.
The confused betrayal of a child. A being with the body, mind and Heart of a 21-year-old, who had only been alive and awake for 9 years. Staring into the face of his killer and asking, why.
An instant later, his body collapsed into the dust.
No.
Nonononono. No, not--no. There was confusion for a few moments, and then--oh god. Nomura. Nom. Nommy--
Van was there. He didn't even have time to be afraid. Didn't have time to yell or run or cower in fear because he was too busy falling to his knees next to the broken form of his brother. The necklace they shared was destroyed, the chain ripped apart and settled next to the bloody cavity in his chest.
"Nommy," Kid sobbed, tears falling without him realizing. Van wasn't even there. This--no, this wasn't--how? "Nommy, no...Nommy please wake up, no--you can't--"
And then anger. Van did this to him. Van...Van destroyed him, and threw his body away in the dust like it was nothing. Kid didn't even look up as he hissed, "I'm going to kill you."
Bright blue irises glanced up, teary and furious, staring at the god. "I'll fucking kill you."
He stares back at him for a moment, silent before he slams his hand through his chest too.
"I'd like to see you try."
Kid didn't feel anything for a moment. And then sharp pain, although much duller than what he had experienced earlier. The fury didn't fade from his eyes as he faded and the darkness crept around his vision.
He wanted to whisper out something threatening. Something about how he'd never be forgiven. About how Van had destroyed him, emotionally and physically, for the rest of eternity. But he couldn't speak, because he fell to the ground next to his brother, their cold fingers brushing against each other as the wind of the Graveyard swept across their faces.
((Co-authored; continued on Skype from this thread. First person voice is me; third person voice is the one and only Matt Engarde.))
That caught him off guard as he felt his body weight pulled back, but it didn't bring him down. /This fucking twat is serious about fighting me.../ Matt was reaching his boiling point now and it took all of his strength to not fall to the floor. He twisted around to glare at the body on the floor, “Fuck off, I have no further business with you.”
I didn't care anymore. I was seeing red. I was sick of this asshole--sick of looking at him, sick of the sound of his voice, sick of being nice and polite while all I could think about was the horrific things he'd done to innocent people. I wanted to beat him bloody and toss him at Cabanela's feet. I was done.
I staggered to my feet and, without preamble, took a swing at his jaw.
Engarde just tutted and grabbed his fist, though the force of the blow caused him to stagger back. "You won't beat me in a fight, android or whatever...You're obviously not trained to fight like I have been." He bent the hand back, tightening his grip as he narrowed his eyes at Sissel.
"Ackgh--!" One eye squinted shut as I winced--but the other eye stayed fixed on his face, burning. "Let go!" I shifted one leg forward and stomped on his foot, hoping he'd reel enough to release me.
He scoffed at such a childish attempt to get him to let go. "What are you 5? That only worked on the play ground kid..." He yanked Sissel forwards and drove his other (damaged) hand into his stomach (or whatever it was, Matt didn't really give a shit).
Whatever it was, it was enough to get a choked noise out of me. Fists did not belong digging into ribcages; that hurt. Reeling, I tried to stagger backwards, but my hand was still captive. I found myself at a loss of what to do, and my mind screaming at me to lash out at him didn't help at all with thinking straight.
He let go of Sissel's fist, pushing him backwards. "Look isn't that enough proof you won't last this fight?"
It took me a moment for words to form. Right then, the only thing my mind wanted to process was rage--and it took some doing to fight out of that mire and string together a sentence again. When I finally did, I was still panting.
"I could kill you." The growl was a statement of fact. "You're better at this than me, but all it would take would be me bashing your head against the wall, or snapping your neck. I'm stronger than you. Hell...I wouldn't even need this body to kill you." My eyes narrowed. "Your body could be mine if I wanted. That doesn't scare you?"
He only smirked. "You wouldn't be the first to jump into my body to try and scare me...He was a right side better at it that I would assume you to be. I know you can only possess inanimate objects and last time I checked, I'm pretty fucking animate."
I pulled in a sharp breath. Yomiel. Crimson, that is. Just hearing mention of the man from Matt's lips made my blood boil.
"What you know is only what you heard from him," I spat. "Truth is, I've had the power to manipulate organic things since the moment I died. I just haven't explored it till recently...but, I have."
I was bluffing. I was out of options, too livid to stay silent, and bluffing. If I could instill even a spark of fear into my opponent, I could use it somehow. I wasn't sure how--hadn't planned that far ahead yet--but somehow. I genuinely could manipulate Matt's body if I wanted to. Every word out of my mouth was true. But that didn't mean I wanted to. It was wrong. It had felt wrong the first time, and it would always feel wrong, no matter the circumstances.
"Funny I know a bluff when I hear one...You should know you won't outsmart me with those retarded words ghost cat." He stepped closer, forcing the other to take steps backwards. "Prove it to me. Manipulate me."
I let out a snarl. I was an animal and he was pushing me into a corner; what the hell did he expect? I was angry enough that my reservations vanished like a candle flame in a breeze. I clamped my hands onto his shoulders and dug in, keeping him near enough for me to jump Cores, just in case he should change his mind and bolt.
Without a word, I disengaged from my body, and jumped into Matt's. He didn't have a Core of the Dead, but now that I knew what to look for, he didn't need one for me to be inside him. My own body crumpled at his feet, now nothing more than a lifeless doll.
I could see them all. The Leylines of the body: not just the arteries and veins, but the spiritual channels that carried the lifeblood of the soul. They lit up in my psychic sight like highways in the night, rivers of light crisscrossing every which way. And my spirit surged into them--all of them at once--and took hold.
My will was in his flesh. I commanded that flesh to stand still, to snap his arms to his sides.
"Didn't think you had it in you kitty cat.." Matt spoke out, despite the feeling inside of him of another mind, almost demanding him to follow his orders. No way was he going to be bested by this man or cat or whatever. He resisted the urge to push his arm to his side and instead forced himself to lift his leg at the knee and slam his foot into the chest of the body on the floor
What?! That shouldn't have been possible! How had he been able to move--I was inside his limbs; he should only have been able to move according to my will.
Will. Of course. I remembered what Yomiel had said, about Lynne. That night, he'd found it hard to control her because she had a strong will. That, he said, was when he'd stepped up the control to the next level: to dominate not just the body, but the mind.
I hesitated. The idea of it sickened me. But then, the image came to me of marching Matt into the police station, forcing him to spout out a confession to all the horrific crimes he'd done. It was too tempting.
I isolated the part of the spirit that connected to the mind, and gripped at it with ghostly fingers. If this worked, Matt wouldn't be aware of or remember a thing until I was done with him.
"Are you forgetting something? I'm not the only one IN this body..." He laughed and quickly shifted to his other, more placid persona. "Uhm, what are you doing? I don't want anything to do with this..." Just shut up and deal he can't possess us if we switch over.
What...?! What the hell?! I couldn't hide the confusion or alarm in my mental voice. Was I forgetting something? No! I'd had no idea that this bastard had two personalities!
I felt my budding control over the man's mind reset completely. I needed to take a second look at this. I backed away from the mind, analyzing its pathways of light more closely. How had I missed this? The answer was that I wasn't able to see it at all. There'd been no indication to me that this was the case.
I didn't know enough to truly have mastery over what I was doing. I was fumbling in the dark.
You bastard...
There was one other option. There was another piece of the trinity of humanity that I could still possess. In order to march Engarde into a police station, to bring him to justice...I'd have to take over his soul.
Despair welled up in me at the very thought. The fact that I was even considering doing this was disgusting. The fact that I was actually inside his body, trying to manipulate his mind...My anger drained away, leaving me with a sickening sense of clarity. What was I thinking? What was I...?
I couldn't. I couldn't dominate the soul. I'd promised my brother I would never do that, no matter what the circumstances. But gods, it was so tempting...so, so tempting...and even that disgusted me. Was I becoming addicted to the power-high that this ability brought? I'd already overestimated myself...
I tried dominating the body again, commanding the flesh to turn away from my fallen shell. Once more, I leaped for the mind, hoping for a quick pounce this time, to take Engarde off-guard.
His other side was weaker in many respects so the moment he felt Sissel try to take over his body once more he switched back to his darker side, taking full control of the body and pushing the invading spirit away.
"You won't win this..."
I hated to admit it. Hated it. But he was right. My control wasn't strong enough. My will wasn't in it; my heart wasn't in it. And he could just keep switching personalities on me over and over, giving me the constant run-around. I couldn't fight him physically, and I didn't...I didn't have the nerve to kill him. He was right.
And gods, that made me angry.
You can't just expect me to give up! I raged at him; I knew my mental voice was plenty strong, even without a possible connection to the Ghost World. You torture people--kill people--for FUN, and you expect me to just be okay with that?! To walk away and let you roam free, to keep on hurting people--people I care about! No way in hell! You're a MONSTER, Matt Engarde, and you deserve to spend the rest of your life in a cage!
"For fun? Really? You think that the people I hurt I do so for fun? Oh no, it's all to hurt that man...Phoenix Wright...Sure I'm not denying it's a little amusing to watch your victims bleed and cry at your feet but whatever." He shrugged. "You may as well leave...This is over."
If he was looking to make me see red again, it worked. My rancor surged through my being and bled into his like a flash of fire.
Nick is a good man, you disgusting son of a bitch, I seethed. He doesn't deserve this--no one would.
Don't forget, Engarde--I've got all eternity. I may not be able to control your mind right now, but give me a few hours of me shredding at your psyche and we'll see what happens.
The words curdled in my soul even as I thought them, but gods, I was so angry. I felt helpless, and it sickened me. Helplessness was a wholly alien sensation. I was so used to being invincible--I couldn't be killed because I was already dead; I couldn't be touched because I was a spirit. But this time...there really was nothing I could do. But I still couldn't bear the thought of just slinking away and letting this bastard go.
"...You're weak. Your will is weak, you're holding yourself back. Is it because of your dear little family? You wouldn't want them to be disappointed in you now would you ghost cat? That's why you're so hesitant to take me over isn't it? Pathetic...Just let go of me and return to them before i beat you to it."
Don't...don't you mention my family. He was right, though: I was holding myself back. I'd already gone through the nightmare of facing the Manipulator, only to become one myself...? I'd called Matt a monster, but to which one of us did that term really apply? I'm not letting you go. You're going to answer for what you've done.
"Just give it up! You can't expect to beat me when you're questioning your own morals and how far you're willing to go for fuck's sake." He was losing his patience but he couldn't leave with Sissel holding onto him like this. "Though if you don't let go I can always tell Crimson to come here..."
Anger swelled within me again--a spark of fear, at the thought of what a Yomiel's powers could do in a situation like this--but mostly fear. You leave him out of this! You...! You're a sick fuck, I hissed as something occured to me. You've got no reason to do the things you do...worse, you take PLEASURE in it. Crimson isn't like you at ALL. What the hell did you tell him, anyway? What did you SAY to drag him down with you?!
"Oh woah getting a bit ahead of yourself...And that reaction proves to me you are afraid of him. Ha. Pathetic." Matt shrugged. " I said nothing to him, we're just friends who share several interests"
Friends?! A man like you doesn't have FRIENDS, I seethed indignantly. I was shaken; I couldn't deny that. Was I afraid of Yomiel? Yes. But the innate wrongness of that thought hadn't hit me before now. Why was I afraid of Yomiel? Crimson may have been different from my own Yomiel, but he...he was still a man who'd been put through hell, who suffered through hell even now. Being dead...was hell. I knew that one all too well. I was scared of him though--why? Because he wasn't a nice guy? Because of the possibility that he might do as Matt said, align himself with Matt just because they were 'friends?'
No. Yomiel wouldn't want anything to do with Matt's actions, would he? The way that a Yomiel killed...it all had to do with revenge. He was a man hurt, scarred, push past the point of no return--in his own mind, at least. But what was Matt? A man fixated on a lawyer, who took pleasure from spilling blood. No. They were not the same.
What the hell is wrong with you. My internal voice was haunted, shaken. Why are you going after Nick like this? What did he ever do to you? Nothing Nick could ever be capable of could ask for something like this. What...what the hell are you, Engarde?
"Does it matter what I am? I have my reasons for what I do and that should be enough...You won't ever fucking understand...Nobody will ever fucking understand my choices and reasons for what I do and that's perfectly fine."
You're... Even my internal voice shook a little. ...you're right. I can...I can see your mind, but even then I...I didn't know there were two of you. So how could I...how could anyone...
I was stricken. The walls of my defiance began to crumble on me, adding to the weight of my helplessness. I didn't have the power to control this man, to kill him, to understand him...to stop him. There was nothing I could do.
Shame enveloped me, shame so intense that Matt must have felt it too. I felt disgusted--disgusting, too. I wanted out. I wanted out of this man's body, I wanted him away from me, before being too close tainted me somehow.
"Leave my body and leave me alone. We're done here, Sissel."
I did. I retracted the threads of my spirit out of the Leylines, gathered myself up, and hopped back into the android body's Core. I winced, biting back a groan as I pulled myself up off the ground. Suddenly I remembered the kick to the chest while I hadn't been inside. Then there was the punch to the gut, the bleeding, lacerated hand, the sprained wrist...I had been about to push myself to my feet, but I remained slumped back on my knees, clutching my chest for a moment as I struggled to re-orient myself through the alien sensation of pain.
Matt had nothing more to say. Once Sissel had left his body he turned and left. "Don't try and find me again. Next time I won't be so forgiving."
I did nothing. I sat there, head bowed, hands limp and useless on my knees, and did nothing.
What had been the point of all of this? Calling him out here tonight. Trying to convince him to turn himself in. Allowing myself to get angry enough to try to start a fight--one I was completely unequipped for. What had I been thinking? Did my brain just turn off at midnight or something? In the end, nothing had come of it...I'd gotten my body damaged, something was wrong with it and it wouldn't heal, and I...I was here on my knees...letting Matt go.
It was useless. There really was nothing I could do. I was useless. Why had I even stuck my big nose into this mess in the first place.
