Disclaimer: Don't own the Doctors/Companions whoever and whatever. The BBC I think own them, well the British do at lest! (yay!)
Warning: slashiness 5th/Adric, suicide, depression. Great.
Inspirations: "Main Titles/The Trenches- A Very Long Engagement Soundtrack.
Christina Rossetti's poem, "A Dirge". a poem I discovered thanks to a lady called Deanna who does some nice LOTR fic. Go you!
Why were you born when the snow was falling?
Why were you born when the snow was falling?
The planet is in the Autumnal Equinox with the heavy mists of winter. Mountains thick with the mists, gloomy with the trees ravaged of their former beauty. Their colourful leaves gone and gnarled bark stretching up to the long chilled sun, bleak through the grey overcast of the sky.
A lake here, well, a sort of large pond to be more accurate. The surface devoid of all colour which that of the clouds above it. A chilly breeze causes ripples and for the bare few dead leaves still hanging on the trees to be cast off and fall, like a corpse at long last being laid to rest after an eternity of hopeless hanging to the threads of existence.
Even the TARDIS looks dank huddled between a tree and the sloping sides of the mountains. Here by the water Adric lies, in black, his pale skin fitting disturbingly well with his surroundings. There is a wasted darkness round his eyes, tiredness has long crept in and made a home. His face is passive and his pale lips firm.
the Doctor lies, propped up on an elbow beside him, looking down on him. He too, baptised in black, his hair no longer soft gold but dulled as is his skin and as is his eyes.
There is no more enigmatic mystery to the Doctor here, he is too tired and worn, emaciated.
You should have come to the cuckoo's calling
Adric looks up at the Doctor, a cold wetness in his tired eyes. the Doctor looks down upon Adric, slowly placing his hand on Adric's protruding stomach. The life inside long died and stilled.
There is a strange soft pernicious air in the place. A lone Crow cries the loss.
Without removing his soft, yet passive, stare at the Doctor, Adric places his own hand atop the Doctor's. Their hands are pale and raw with cold, neither cares.
The wind ruffles their hair, there is no life here, save the Crow. Slowly the Doctor rises and leaves, walking to the waters edge, feet numb with the cold wetness. Looking out over the lake. Again, slowly like he wishes not to disturb the truly dead, he turns and extends his hand to Adric. Sincereness is The only readable expression between them.
Adric gets up. the Crow lands nearby, feeding on a hare, who gave up life to the cold.
The water still ripples by the wind. There are no fish here.
He walks to the Doctor and stands beside him. They join hands, lips firm, eyes tired, they walk further into the dark waters.
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
The Doctor looks down at his hands, they are old, he is an old man. The good old gentleman's boot. His granddaughter was somewhere, he tired hard to remember where.
Suddenly he sees before him a lake on a deserted planet with mountains and mist. He sees a more youthful version of himself, to come in future proceedings, slip beneath the waters with a dark haired boy. A Crow feeding.
the Doctor feels a sense of depressed tiredness wash over him, the vision leaves him and he sits there, feeling like an old man, who knows his time draws nearer.
The Cold water rises t their waist. The lifeless form inside Adric would now be numb, if at all, it could feel. They continue deeper.
Under the Consul, the Doctor is fixing something, a mess of wiring is out and Jamie is laughing at him for getting in the fix in the first place. Beneath the TARDIS he sees a vision of water and damp undergrowth, of a Crow feeding and two heads, one of blonde one of dark, slowly sink beneath the surface. He stops his work as the vision vanishes and lies there unable to remember how the fix anything. A gloomy dispossession overcomes him.
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
To their shoulders, nearly into deeper waters and they continue hand in hand. Adric's lips are turning blue.
Dressed in purple velvet, the Doctor admires the coat in a mirror. The vision befalls him too in the mirror, of a Crow and of two heads disappearing beneath the surface of the water. the Doctor sits down and places his head in his hands. He has a headache from seeing too much purple velvet.
They are here. the Doctor turns and faces Adric, taking his other hand in his own. The wind picks up and stirs the water more.
The Doctor chews on a jelly baby, walking down the corridor with K-9, he suddenly stops wide-eyed.
"Master? What is it?" enquires his companion.
"Oh K-9, I do believe I have just witness something terrible!"
"How so Master?"
"I saw a desolate place, with a Crow feeding and two heads disappearing beneath the surface of a lake…..why I do believe one of those heads were mine K-9!"
For their far off flying
Here the Doctor gives a gentle smile, which Adric returns. They move closer as the Doctor moves his hand to the nap of Adric's neck, wet and cold. He slips his other arm round Adric's waist as Adric moves his arms to encircle the Doctor's neck. They slowly draw into a kiss, eyes closing, like the relief of sleep.
the Doctor in his motley great coat, trudges down the sewer corridor. Somewhere behind him Peri complains about something or other, he is not paying attention.
He suddenly stops in his tracks, Peri almost colliding with him.
"What the- hey what's up?"
The Doctor blinks several times and his face softens.
He slowly turns to Peri with slightly confusion on his face.
"Nothing Peri, nothing, we shall continue."
They descend. Their hair floating amuck in the water. Their heads disappearing beneath the surface. They continue their kiss.
From summer dying.
In one of the café's on IceWorld the Doctor half listens to the tedious conversations of Mel and Glitz. He look vacantly within himself only to find a Crow and a lake, two heads disappearing beneath a lake.
"Doctor? You alright?"
Mel is shaking his arm.
"What? Oh yes, quite."
Descending still, the Doctor's TARDIS key slips from his hand and falls further into the Inky blackness. Adric's hold round the Doctor's neck tightens as the fight to breathes continues with Adric purposely failing.
The Doctor walks San Francisco, why the hell is he here? He stops briefly under a street light and gazes up at it. He too sees the Crow, the lake and the heads. But he has no wish to see the future, past or present of things tonight.
The Doctor opens his eyes. He can see Adric looking back through the murky water. He gently opens his mouth to allow another meeting of tongues. His hand on Adric's waist moves momentarily to his rounded stomach, in idolatry thought, before moving back to Adric's waist.
Adric feels it too, a phantom kick. He refused to have the dead weight removed from him. It is not referred to as he.
Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?
The Doctor shoots up. He is in bed, a cold sweat coats him. In his suddenly uprising he wakes Jack next to him.
"hmm? Doc, did you have another one?"
The Doctor stares at him for a moment before weakly nodding.
"About satellite five?"
"Yes" the Doctor's lies.
Jack looks at him with a look of undecided certainty. They can hear Rose down the corridor, talking to her mum on her adapted mobile.
Jack lies down again and the Doctor's breathing evens out. He lies down to staring at the ceiling.
You should have died at the apples' dropping,
Adric gives up first. He falls against the Doctor's shoulder, breaking their kiss. The Doctor runs his hand through Adric's hair, wishing he could smell the soap Adric washes it with. He closes his eyes as he teeters on the edge of tears, swallowing hard, Before he too gives up.
The Bodies sink further, no telling how deep this lake goes. On the surface the last of the ripples depletes and the area is calm again. The TARDIS being the only thing new. It has already begun to rust brown. It's metal mingling with the stony damp moss of the earth around it, and the moss covering the TARDIS.
The Crow cries out and flies off searching for it's next feed.
When the grasshopper comes to trouble,
The Doctor stares at himself in the mirror, the new him. A shock to everyone, always is. He knows that his previous self has gone to someplace he doesn't understand, but he will when he himself moves on.
He has seen the image, like all the other before him, sometimes happens, a single event that effects each of the incarnations previous and future.
He commiserates the passing.
And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,
And all winds go sighing
For sweet things dying.