FIC: Gravity's Hold
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tamingthemuseTitle: Gravity's Hold
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: N/A
Character(s): Tenth Doctor
Prompt: #57 - Barophobia (7.2)
Warnings: Vague spoilers for season 1 and the end of season 3
Rating: PG
Word Count: 551
Written For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Completed: August 25, 2007
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Russell T. Davis. I'm only playing around. Please don't sue.
Author’s Note: Please excuse all the Americanisms present in this. I love the Doctor, but unfortunately I'm not British.
Summary: Gazing into eternity has unforeseen consequences.
Gravity's Hold
It’s insane really how he, the last being in the universe of his kind, can be afraid of gravity. He has at his means the very thing that breaks all the laws of gravity, with a twist of levers and dials, a few well placed smacks, and the TARDIS is off flying into time without hesitation.
It must be the constraints. Constraints and more constraints. Trapped in the silly time of right now and much as he enjoys larking about, there’s always a time to leave. Must be why he always leaves before too long. Never one for consequences and maybe it’s not the fear of rejection it brings him, but more the fear of being bound to a certain place.
He shifts against the chair placed at the entrance of the TARDIS, one arm looped over the railing, while he gazes out into the dark abyss of space. He happened upon a nebula forming and he couldn’t pass it by. Really, the swirling colors of purple and green blazing against the emptiness of space? How could he resist?
Long legs crossed in front of him, he rubs his chin. How can he be afraid? The TARDIS has her own gravity field. Does that mean he’s afraid of a part of the TARDIS? He runs both hands through his hair, clutching fistfuls in thought. Ruffles it before he lets it settle again and unable to stay still a moment longer, gets up and paces the length of the ramp.
Does this explain why he killed his entire race without a thought? He dashes over to the console, dancing around and hitting dials and levers idly. It takes 900 years, a madman, and a year in captivity for him to realize this? He knew he was thick, but this thick?
You would think he’d know himself better than that. He pulls out his black framed glasses and sets them on his nose. Laces his hands together and holds them against his forehead, his thumbs frame his temple. “Afraid of gravity?” Shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides, and he dashes to the console screen. “Where to go, where to go….”
Maybe it started with the sight of eternity all that power, all that raw untempered force, woven throughout the fabric of existence. Time and space within the grasp of small fingers. He passed on the fate of going mad, but maybe a parting gift was given to him. The fear of gravity, putting down roots, and staying too long.
He’s a Timelord with all of space and time to cavort in. It never mattered until now. Stuck in a form that barely moved for 365 days, thinking of nothing but better days and liberation.
If he’s afraid of gravity then why does this small rock in the middle of an infant solar system draw him back continually? Again and again he returns, picking up companions, leaving them. Chaos and destruction in his wake. Maybe that’s his own gravity. He’s gravity prone, gravity resistant, and every twisting strand of inbetween
He slaps the discombobulator and runs over to shut the doors. “OFF WE GO!” He thinks it’s time to pay a visit to the Slitheen. Check up on baby Margret and her course in life. She should be hatched by now.
Author: Zippit
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: N/A
Character(s): Tenth Doctor
Prompt: #57 - Barophobia (7.2)
Warnings: Vague spoilers for season 1 and the end of season 3
Rating: PG
Word Count: 551
Written For:
tamingthemuseCompleted: August 25, 2007
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Russell T. Davis. I'm only playing around. Please don't sue.
Author’s Note: Please excuse all the Americanisms present in this. I love the Doctor, but unfortunately I'm not British.
Summary: Gazing into eternity has unforeseen consequences.
Gravity's Hold
It’s insane really how he, the last being in the universe of his kind, can be afraid of gravity. He has at his means the very thing that breaks all the laws of gravity, with a twist of levers and dials, a few well placed smacks, and the TARDIS is off flying into time without hesitation.
It must be the constraints. Constraints and more constraints. Trapped in the silly time of right now and much as he enjoys larking about, there’s always a time to leave. Must be why he always leaves before too long. Never one for consequences and maybe it’s not the fear of rejection it brings him, but more the fear of being bound to a certain place.
He shifts against the chair placed at the entrance of the TARDIS, one arm looped over the railing, while he gazes out into the dark abyss of space. He happened upon a nebula forming and he couldn’t pass it by. Really, the swirling colors of purple and green blazing against the emptiness of space? How could he resist?
Long legs crossed in front of him, he rubs his chin. How can he be afraid? The TARDIS has her own gravity field. Does that mean he’s afraid of a part of the TARDIS? He runs both hands through his hair, clutching fistfuls in thought. Ruffles it before he lets it settle again and unable to stay still a moment longer, gets up and paces the length of the ramp.
Does this explain why he killed his entire race without a thought? He dashes over to the console, dancing around and hitting dials and levers idly. It takes 900 years, a madman, and a year in captivity for him to realize this? He knew he was thick, but this thick?
You would think he’d know himself better than that. He pulls out his black framed glasses and sets them on his nose. Laces his hands together and holds them against his forehead, his thumbs frame his temple. “Afraid of gravity?” Shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides, and he dashes to the console screen. “Where to go, where to go….”
Maybe it started with the sight of eternity all that power, all that raw untempered force, woven throughout the fabric of existence. Time and space within the grasp of small fingers. He passed on the fate of going mad, but maybe a parting gift was given to him. The fear of gravity, putting down roots, and staying too long.
He’s a Timelord with all of space and time to cavort in. It never mattered until now. Stuck in a form that barely moved for 365 days, thinking of nothing but better days and liberation.
If he’s afraid of gravity then why does this small rock in the middle of an infant solar system draw him back continually? Again and again he returns, picking up companions, leaving them. Chaos and destruction in his wake. Maybe that’s his own gravity. He’s gravity prone, gravity resistant, and every twisting strand of inbetween
He slaps the discombobulator and runs over to shut the doors. “OFF WE GO!” He thinks it’s time to pay a visit to the Slitheen. Check up on baby Margret and her course in life. She should be hatched by now.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 05:14 pm (UTC)