Just A Memory
DISCLAIMER: I do not Own Doctor Who or any of it's characters. They are the sole property of the BBC etc.
I hadn't intended to Write about Miss Martha Jones because to be honest I don't think she's that good an actress but the idea just poured onto the page. The intention was the write a drabbled turning out to be a ficlet. I guess I could only ever write a ficlet concerning her anyway. There will be another chapter.
Oh and it's Miss Martha Jones speaking...
The Year That Never Was was just a memory. It never happened for most but for me it did. It will always live with me and for that I am grateful.
I know you must be wondering why. I endured such terrible things. I saw destruction and death, went without food for days, the water I did manage to find was often unclean but that doesn't matter. The Year That Never Was helped me understand Humanity as a whole. I know now what we are. We are not the Apes that he calls us. We are not the strongest, the best nor the most intelligent of the species in the Universe and cannot be brilliant at everything but one thing we are is resiliant. We endured all the horror, the blood, the gore, the appoloclypse and still he surivived. Even after our minds were scarred and our lives were ruined we retained a hope that this was not everything. That one day, one day this would end and we could go back to the way we were. Back to the life that we dreamt of and once took for granted.
But not now. Never now. We long for a proper bed and a mattress and no matter where I go I see people happy and laughing through it all. The undercurrent of fear and sorrow is far too strong. It's too real and vital to ignore. Without that fear we would give up. WE would accept the squalar, the rotten wood and the falling down buildings. The shelter that was breaking above us and allowing the rain to pour down upon our heads. That would be our everything. It would be acceptable if we lost that fear. The fear keeps us hoping. It keeps us living and fighting in our own ways.
Everywhere I went I saw people living in the slave camps. Living and working for that monster that once called itself our leader. That fake ruler of Great Britain that would strive to undo us, that struck fear into our hearts was nothing without us. Somehow they all knew that. They kept working in fear of being sliced and diced by the 'Toclafane'. Even now I snap at people if they mention them. If they call them that because they aren't that. The Toclafane don't exist they never did.
The most horrifying thing that came out of all of this was the knowledge that we did this to ourselves. There was no invasion, no taking over. It was us that destroyed us.
The Year That Never Was is just a memory.