Daphne in the wood (bromantic) wrote,
Daphne in the wood
bromantic

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dw fic - do not go gentle

Title - Do not go gentle
Fandom - Doctor Who/Torchwood
Pairings - mostly gen. really. Jack-centric I think
Summary - "Rage, Rage against the dying light". Meta-fic about the doctor, the captain and the master.
Notes - Lol. Spoilers for the end of season three mostly. also, very vague stuff :|



There were many and too little things that the Doctor appreciated. One was words, the way they wrapped around people, choked them into submission or uplifted them. What humans took for granted was just how simply amazing words were and how they captivated people at just the right moment.

Time Lords never did talk much amongst themselves. They never used words. All they needed was a presence to keep their hearts filled with that everglow that touched every part of their world of solitude.

The Doctor remembers that glow. It is all but gone now, but he remembers it. In words.




What kind of person was the Doctor, Ianto asked him once.

Jack replied with a nostalgic smile, a heart breaker.




The Master once, during a regularly scheduled torture session, asked him why he loved the Doctor.

Jack replied, "What, you mean you don't?"

The Master killed him particularly violently that day.




"It's not easy looking at you, Jack. Because you're Wrong."

No, he wasn't. He wasn't Wrong. He had to believe he wasn't Wrong, that he was Right. Not because the Doctor told him he was, but because one scared girl with too much golden power in her eyes and sunshine in her tears told him he was RIGHT, and he had to live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live...

If he believed he was Wrong, then he'd have to believe that she was Wrong. And Jack couldn't do that to Rose.




Silly Doctor, the Master thought once, why wouldn't he want a new Gallifrey? Why wouldn't he want a shining new empire?

He once thought of asking, but the words, the words that the Doctor had hidden in his mind like a hood would chase away that question. No, he would not deign to ask.

It would be Gallifrey. Even if the Doctor continues to close his eyes to it.




"So, you're going to live forever?" The Master said, "How tedious."

"So, you're going to live forever?" The Doctor said, "Oh dear."

They mean different things, but they sound the same to Jack.




The Doctor thought it was fitting that he burnt the body.

He burned the home. The least he could give the Master was the same kind of finite burial.

He wonders if he burns them to remove their traces to all but himself or whether the world was just better off knowing the shine of the Master. He doesn't dwell on it for long. The smoke got into his eyes.




Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.






Sob, why do I bother.
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