Just See Me
Wow it's been FOREVER. Oh well. I really should be doing my English essay on reclamation. Eeeeh I'll do it later.
Getting back into Doctor Who. Oh how I've missed you {coincidentally, this also applies to writing FF}. So, to start of my Doctor Who FF career, here's a fanfic about 12th/Clara, from 12th's point of view. This involves some of my favourite quotes, including my NUMBER ONE 12th quote, at the end {spoilers~, though it's kind of already spoiled **ehem the title**}. There's so much you can do with 12th/Clara, and it's also one of my favourite Doctor Who ships.
Thinking about it more, maybe I should've done this about Martha, as she is one of my favourites, if not my favourite, companion . . . Oh well~
Stories, stories, stories.
Tales as old as time, songs as old as rhyme, you know the rest.
He was a boy, she was a girl, can it be any more obvious.
Sure there may be a side character here or there, but that doesn't matter now, does it? Because boy like girl and girl likes boy, and they all live happily ever after. The end.
We don't need to learn about what's his name on the sidelines, because even though he likes her, she doesn't like him, and that's all there is to it.
Now, let me tell you another story.
Space man meets the impossible girl. The impossible Girl meets space man. Space man ends up changing his looks for, ehem, survival reasons, near the height of their relationship, and the impossible girl leaves space man. Well, it's a tad bit more complicated than that. The impossible girl meets P.E, a teacher of sorts, and space man gets booted off the main character seat.
They fall in love.
Happily ever after.
The end.
So, wasn't that a lovely story? How touching. The story of a man who liked a girl, and because his chin was a bit smaller and his eyebrows were a bit thicker, she didn't like back. But it's a happy ending, ain't it?
But what you didn't know, was that the story goes on. Yes, it really does.
Space boy brings her to space, and they see aliens. They befriend some, and they fight some. They meet the most dangerous alien race in the entire galaxy, in all of time, and the run.
They fly through the stars, a mosaic of purples, red, oranges, blues, and so many other glowing colours you can't even begin to describe. Stars being born, stars dying out, planets forming, seemingly out of nothing, and yet begins the start of a new life, before their very own eyes.
Adventures seem to pop out of every corner. Astronauts, monsters made of dust, and ghosts under the sea. A girl, once mortal, who now lives forever, a race that can shapeshift, and trap streets, hidden in plain sight. Mummys, sentient snowmen, and even snakes that fuse to make a being, alive and breathing.
And at the end of the line, what we find, is Mr. P.E. He's now a man made of steel, metal, cold and unfeeling. His face looks worn out now, with wrinkles all over, as if he hasn't had a wink of sleep for years, decades, centuries. His voice is quiet, ragged, tired. He's aged since I've seen him. He's aged since the impossible girl's seen him too.
And yet, she loves him just the same, if not more.
The touch of his hand bring warmth, not to her own soft palms, but to her heart, beating faster and faster every second. She's missed his looks, no matter how they've changed. His voice too, though now unappealing to others, is a symphony to her ears.
How beautiful, you might say, what a touching sight.
But all I can say is, why?
Why do you hold him like that, the way you use to hug me?
Why does your weak laugh sound happier than the strong one you now entertain me with?
Why are you gazing at him, the way you once gazed at me, when I was young, and ran like the wind, when nothing could catch me? Before this transformation of age, the palettes of grey, drowning any form of light, golden brown that use to be there atop my forehead.
Before, when my back was straight and I flitted here and there, my words, jumpy and disconnected, childish yet welcoming, though now my words are colder, stronger, bolder, with deeper tones, while being spoken by a slightly hunched figure, miles more dominant, yet, caring, always caring.
Before, when my eyes were bright like the stars that we saw on so many adventures, looking back and forth, nervous at your arrival, though always so joyful. Do I not do the same with my older, more knowledgeable irises? I only want to know what you are thinking of me.
Before, when I smiled at you, and you smiled back, just the way you do, just the perfect way to make me sing on the inside. Yet when I smile with these tighter lips, these wrinkles under my eyes, on my cheeks, what has changed your smile? Has age changed me?
Am I not the same man you met so long ago?
Do I not practically jump for joy on the inside when you walk through those blue doors?
Do I not look so much more tired the next time I see you, because I've been waiting for your return?
Would I not give you anything you want. Any object, any act, any form of currency. I would fill your shelves with more books than people on earth, more dresses, shoes, shirts, to fill your entire house. I would even give you more coffee than you and your whole family could consume for the rest of your lives. Anything you ask, I would do my best to achieve. I'd kill for you, I'd kill myself for you. I'd give you both my hearts.
I still would. I still will.
Sometimes, when I see you, I jump up to the control board at the speed of light.
Sometimes, when I see you, I practically fall on your shoulders, because it's been killing me, not seeing those brunette locks, those red lips, those hazelnut pupils.
And at every beck and call, I watch over you, I wait on every opportunity to assist you, save you, impress you.
Can P.E do that? No, he can't. But guess who's the prince charming in this story. Guess who gets the girl. Guess who has the happily ever after.
The worst thing is that he's been away longer than I have, and you still believe in him more than I.
The worst thing is that though both our looks have changed, only your view on me has differed.
The worst thing is that you begged to go to hell for him, yet I'm not sure you would do that for me.
The worst thing is that he's not the same person, but I am. I'm still the exact same man. Why can't you see that?
I am.
I am still the doctor.
Just look at me.
Just, really look at me.
You can't see me, can you?
You . . . You look at me and you can't see me.
Do you have any idea what that's like?
I'm not on the phone, I'm right here.
Standing in front of you.
Please, just
. . .
Just see me.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Please.