kaffy_r (kaffy_r) wrote,


After Journey's End I was a mite exercised, yes I was. I remained so when I awoke this morning.

What to do, what to do? Put pen to paper, of course. Fanfic solves nothing in the long run, but it felt like the right thing to do. Ever so much better than breaking crockery. If I ever have the chance to chat with RTD, why then I might brew up a cuppa and ask him what the hell he was smoking (Monkey! On Crack! Jacob(tm)) when he wrote this. Until then? This.

Title: Binary
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Character death
Spoilers for: Doctor Who, S04E13, Journey's End.
Summary: Not one memory, Space Boy. Not one bloody memory. They're mine.
***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  *** 

    Binary, binary, binary.
    Reality’s building blocks, things I think they tried to teach me about in school. M’sure they did. On-off, on-off, on-off.
    Really, it’s the universe’s flickering neon sign, isn’t it?
    I was Donna – tempchiswickloudtellyvoicedesperatemanhunteroiyoulookatmenow – and then I wasn’t.
    (Binary, binary, binary, on-off, on-off, on-off.)
    He was the Doctor. Still is, and what is he saying that I can’t say now, what does he know that I don’t already know?
    (Binary, binary, binary, on-off, on-off, on-off.)
    What’s my sign? Neon sign, that’s what it is. Pointing to me. DoctorDonna – nah, change that around, I will. DonnaDoctor, that’s me.
    In neon.
    There, he’s looking at me, stretching out those hands to my head, gonna say he’s so, so sorry. I know it. He can just shut the hell up, right now.
    I took him. I took him out of the golden river, and the blue lightning lit me on fire. It was amazing, it was, absolutely brilliant. Wizard, I’d have said – and he’s said it. He really did, good lad, nice in the tee-and-jacket combo, I think, he really did, and he’s gone. The one that’s left? He’s planning to kill me.
    Binary, binary, binary, and when it goes on and off fast enough, why then,  you can’t even hear the clicking of the cosmos, but it’s there, it really is. On. And off.
    I took him in, gave him me, and there he was. Just one heart, fascinating, must look that up.
    (Binary, binary, binary.)
    Then he got all Time Lord on us. He dropped the poor man off in a parallel world. At least he has Rose. She’s brilliant, bit of all right, fantastic, fantastico! Multo bene, how do they spell it, I wonder, it really, really suits her, and I’m not jealous at all, and all I can think is, must be him in me remembering her.
    On. Off. On again-off again, like a romance. Poor sod.
    Odd to feel (binary, binary, binary) and remember (binary, binary, binary) things I never did, or felt. I’ll need to tend to that later –
    On-off, on-off, on-off, binary-binary-binary-going too far, going too fast.
    Christ, it hurts. My head, it hurts.
    (Binary, binary, binary.)
    The sign really does flicker. I can feel it, and it’s going to go off. I just turned it on, though. It is not fair.

    (Binary, binary, binary.)
    Binary-binary-binary, and I will not, will not think of the beautiful curving letters and the language of maths they’re trying to sing to me, telling me about the nature of neon, and how many worlds it shines on and who’s made it an art, and who worships it, and where it’s a life-form all by itself.
    Of course. Of course it’ll kill me.
    But you? You ought to know me better now. Take it all away from me?
    From me? Me, Space Boy?
    Not likely, sunshine.
    (Binary, binary, binary, on-off, on-off, on-off.)
    Not one bloody memory, not little fat things, not fire, not Ood – ood, they were, and are, no doubt, knew too bloody much – not wasps, nor shadows, nor Lee – god, Lee! (On, then off.)
    Not one piece of you.
    Not one piece of me.
    Only song ending here, Sunny Bubbles, is when I say it is.
    Watch me – can y’hear me in your head, Doctor? Thought so. Good.
    Listen up.
    My terms, my time.
    Simple, really – hands off me!
    Handy hand, I love the hand, I’m an old hand at this, really. See how  much I can think in just one flicker of the (on-off, on-off, on-off) sign? I think like you do, now.
    You’ve got a glass jaw there, you know that?
    Sign’s flickering gold, then blue, gold-blue, gold-blue. Life and death, life and death, Time Lord.
    Ah. Time’s speeding up again, and I’m dying.
    Don’t you dare save me, you sanctimonious bastard.
    Binary, binary, binary.


Tags: dr. who, fanfic, my fanfic, writing

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