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If You Close Your Eyes

Yes.  This is a fic.  And it's sad.  Very sad.  I'm sorry.  But...I got this thing while listening to the radio a few days ago. Had to wait until the hubby was at work though because it's really hard to write with him around.  It'd be even easier to write while Cheeky's at pre-k, but I like to take that time to sleep in.

So the title comes from "Pompeii" by Bastille, as do the lyrics at the end.  Quite obviously I don't own the song or the band.  I saw the Doctor that appears in this Twelve, but I suppose Eleven could work.  Let me know which one you visualized.

As always, I don't own the Doctor, Donna, Wilf, Sylvia, or Doctor Who.  The BBC does.  Please read and enjoy.  And I do apologize for the sadness...

He came into the building quietly, the service having already started.  Choosing a seat somewhat in the middle, he adjusted his jacket as he sat.  He knew the two people in the front wouldn’t recognize him, but he felt better safe than sorry.  He watched as the minister spoke, and he found himself sinking down in the pew despite the fact that he wouldn’t be recognized when one of the two people in front, got up to speak.  It had been centuries for him since he’d seen this family, yet for them it had been mere months, perhaps a couple of years.  And he had been too late.

“Wilfred Mott I am so sorry,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the side glace from the people beside him.  He waited until Wilf sat back down next to Sylvia, and the minister spoke yet again.  When Wilf and Sylvia and the rest of the congregation stood, he stood as well, and quietly slipped out of the doors, to the yard on the side where the TARDIS stood, hidden between some trees.  Standing in between the trees that hid his timeship, he watched the people leave the church, and he wiped a tear from his eye, at the sight of what Wilf and Sylvia followed.  He felt the TARDIS singing in his mind, trying to comfort him, and he closed his eyes listening to the song.  It did little to comfort him, and even less so when he felt a hand on his arm.  His eyes flew open to see Wilf’s face in front of him.  He had no words, as the old man’s eyes looked him over, and then looked behind him. 

“She asked for you,” Wilf said.  “Right before she…before she…,” he shook his head and turned away, leaving the Doctor to stand alone.

           Entering the TARDIS, he shut the door and sent her into the vortex.  Sitting on the pilot seat his hearts stuttered at the realization that no more could be done.  Centuries of searching and he was still too late.  Slamming his hand against the seat with one hand, he scrubbed his face with the other.  He stood up, and rummaged in a compartment near the console, and with a weakly triumphant shout, he pulled out a flat platform seemingly made of glass.  He popped the latches on the right side of the platform and it opened with a hiss.  Going to his wardrobe room, he rifled through clothes until he found what he was looking for.  A long brown duster.  He sighed as he held it in his arms, then turned and went back to the console room.  He laid the coat on the open platform, and then stood again and disappeared down another corridor.

           He opened a door to a room he hadn’t seen in the centuries he’d been looking for a solution.  Her room.  His eyes watered, and he hastily brushed a few errant tears away.  Going inside he went to the tall cherrywood wardrobe on the far side of the room, and opened it, inhaling the scent of the fruity perfume she always wore.  He pulled out the long purple dress she’d worn the day she’d seared herself upon his hearts, and gave it a loving caress.  Sinking to the floor he gave into his tears, and sobbed loudly, drenching the fabric. 

           Several minutes later, maybe a hour, he wasn’t sure, he became aware of soft singing in his head.  Bolstered by the TARDIS once more, he stood and took the dress to the console room.  He laid it gently on the pilot seat and knelt where he laid the coat.  He opened the coat wide, and then laid the dress inside, and reverently closed the coat around it. He blew a kiss at both articles of clothing, before closing the platform and sealing it forever. 

           He then stood, moved to the console and began flipping switches, and twisting dials.  The TARDIS shuddered then shook and she headed to her Doctor’s selected destination.  When they arrived, he opened the doors just to check and gave a small smile.  He’d arrived before archaeologists had discovered the site.  Picking up the platform, he carried it out to an area behind a buried city where he knew it would never be disturbed and with his sonic he carved out a large hole in the ash and rock.  He laid the platform inside, and covered it, then ionized the ash and rock around it to make it impervious to anything including future excavation.  Even though he knew this particular area of Pompeii would never be excavated, he had learned in his experience with the human race to never discount their ingenuity. 

           He stood there watching the spot, before straightening his shoulders, turning and walking back to the TARDIS.  Once inside, he sent her straight into the vortex, and went to his library, where he curled up on a large couch and watched the fire in the fireplace.  Closing his eyes, he resolved that in time he would accept the fact that what he had done would be the closest he would get to holding his love.  He had buried his Tenth self with his love to be together forever. 

But if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?


( 8 Thoughts — Thoughts )
Sep. 25th, 2014 09:32 pm (UTC)
ARGH!!! *sobs* That was beautiful and wonderfully bittersweet. I love it. This seems so apt; and so right.
Sep. 26th, 2014 05:43 am (UTC)
I'm so glad you liked it. =) Thank you so much for the comments.

~Ali ♥︎
Sep. 25th, 2014 10:40 pm (UTC)
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And fitting. Of course, he would spend centuries trying to find a way to change things. And when he failed, he had to create a memorial, even if he was the only onw who knew it existed.

These two lines got me: "the day she’d seared herself upon his hearts" and " He had buried his Tenth self with his love to be together forever". No one else would ever see or touch those two garments that so represented the wearers.
Sep. 26th, 2014 05:45 am (UTC)
I'm so glad you liked it. I spent a great deal of tim trying to think of what he'd do for a memorial. I'd like to think he'd tell someone, like Jack, about the memorial, but you never know.

Thank you for the comments.

~Ali ♥︎
Sep. 26th, 2014 05:14 am (UTC)

Ouch. That hit some powerful feelings right there. A memorial only he knows about. A memorial that will die with him. :'(

Wow. Eleven is the one I know since I haven't figured out a way to watch BBC or BBCA stuff on my computer. Not that I've had much time. But it could've easily been either him or Twelve. But given how much running Eleven did, I think Twelve is more likely. Especially after my hearing about those lines about not being seen.

Bravo. Beautifully painful.
Sep. 26th, 2014 05:51 am (UTC)
I'm so glad you like it. Like I said above, I'd like to think he'd tell Jack at least about it.

I wrote it with Twelve in mind, but Eleven can work. As for watching BBC stuff, I use the Hola Better Internet extension on Chrome as a VPN proxy to unblock iPlayer. You can find it in the Chrome Web Store and it's free. I used to use Media Hint, but they recently required an account, and $3.95 a month.

Thank you for the comments.

~Ali ♥︎
Sep. 28th, 2014 04:37 pm (UTC)
Sorry I'm so late, but the holidays and all...

I knew Wilf would find him. He might have figured the Doctor would try to be there.

Twelve would be quite appropriate, actually, considering his connection to Pompeii. I agree with Serenityslady, those two garments so represented their wearers, and the fact that he wrapped his coat around her dress so well expressed his desire to protect her and keep her close, even in their deaths. So tragic that Donna's time with him was cut so short and that she was forced to leave and he was forced to leave her. Eleven, on the other hand, was trying to run away from all of that, so it didn't seem that he would ever go back. Twelve is trying to resolve the mystery of where he knew his face from, so it would be the right thing to do for him.

Every time I hear that song, I think of Donna and her memory loss. Well done!
Cynthia Hoover
Mar. 6th, 2015 05:55 am (UTC)
I just read this and it made me cry. Absolutely love it. Hope you come back to writing soon; feel better.
( 8 Thoughts — Thoughts )