Bitter Sweet
Chasing The Angels
She ran, as fast as she could. Whenever she turned street corners she could see him, racing after her, weaving his way through the crowds. There had to be something – a way to get away from this place, away from The Doctor… she just needed to think. Where could she think, in this vast city, there had to be somewhere… Maria raced up a set of stone steps leading to the Old Memorial. She knew Parisetta so well, they’d brought her when she was only 2 years old and she’d loved so much she’d insisted they come back time and time again. It felt more like home than anywhere else, but she didn’t really belong, even then…
The Doctor ran up the stone steps after the disappearing figure of Maria, why did she keep running? He stumbled round a stone tower and watched as she raced down the other side,
“Maria!” he shouted after her, “Maria!” She didn’t even turn round at the sound of her name, but disappeared into a road of derelict factories. “This girl’ll be the death of me…” he muttered under his breath as he set off again.
He just had to know what she meant; so much of the stuff she had said hadn’t made sense to him, but there was such a look in her eyes… He knew it made sense, he could couldn’t figure out how. It was as if she spoke another language. If only he could translate what she was saying. The Doctor’s thoughts raced as he jumped down the last steps. There had to be a way to figure it out, there always was. He just needed the facts – then he could speak her language.
Maria smashed her way through the lock on a door to one of the derelict buildings, kicking it in. She had to get away from The Doctor - he couldn’t follow her. She took something out of her pocket, using it to repair the broken lock… She had to lose him or, more precisely, he had to lose her. The teenager ran up to a set of cast-iron stairs in the corner of the draughty work-hall, dodging the long production tables and leaping towards the next floor. Up and up she went, climbing higher and higher, hoping and praying that The Doctor hadn’t seen where she’d gone. Eventually the stairs stopped and Maria found herself in a large, musty room full of long rolls of material. She peered around in the half-light, looking at the ceiling, until… ah, she found what she was looking for – a roof port, the number stamped around the rim.
The young girl spoke clearly upwards,
“Port 73. Open.”
A small red light flashed and a revolving metal lid opened. A few seconds later, a small metal and wire ladder dropped to her waist. She hoisted herself up easily, clambering on to rooftop and dragging the ladder up with her, before instructing the port to close. Maria dropped to her knees and crawled towards the sheer roof edge, to see if she could spot The Doctor. Peering over the edge, she caught sight of a pinstripe shoulder and drew back suddenly. Then she looked over again, and saw him wandering the street below, shaking his head.
He’d lost her. The time-traveller stamped his foot in frustration, slamming his hand into the rotten wood of the factory doors. Honestly, a teenager… a teenage girl had got the better of him, she’d just disappeared round the corner into a dead end street. He’d tried to open all the door, but they were all locked and had been for years. She had just disappeared. He needed to get back to the TARDIS; to think this whole thing through. He needed to find what he’d missed, something she’d said or something he could do to find her. There had to be a way, there was always a way to find the answer – and he always found it. He just had to think… and calm down. All he needed was a nice mug of tea, a sit down, a bit of Iggi Pop and to think. He was The Doctor… and if anybody could sort out this whole sorry mess, it was him. He turned back, and headed back up the monument steps.
Maria watched him go, heard his footsteps – and then it hit her… she was really, truly alone. Even after all the things that had happened, every horrific step that had been taken, every awful consequence of a decision - there had still been hope. There had still been the hope that her last ditch might work, the hope of another future… and it had worked. Was that the worst bit? Because, in theory, her plan had worked. She was where she had wanted to be, everything had gone exactly as she planned – but still it had gone wrong, and her master plan had been wrong all along? Or was it worse that she’d even dared dream up this plan in the first place… although she’d known all the dangers? She didn’t know – it all seemed as bad as ever.
The young girl crawled to a pile of dusty boxes piled against the air conditioning unit, and sat, all huddled up in between the boxes. She drew her knees into her chest and held them there – trying to hide from the world. Tears fell thick and fast from her deep, chestnut eyes, as she sobbed. She was all alone, in a universe she didn’t belong to, with no idea what to do. He had always been there, The Doctor, but she’d never really appreciated him. He’d always just… been there, getting in the way she’d thought, most of the time. She’d been so independent – never needing his help when he was there, so competent, but now… when he wasn’t with her, she needed him more than she’d ever needed him before. Then she knew what the worst thing was. The very worst thing, was the fact that she needed her Doctor, and he was right there, but she just couldn’t get to him. They were two separates – this Doctor and her. It wasn’t like it had been before all the trouble started, before the war. Life had been easy then. Life had been easy before everything had started to explode around them.
A/N: Comments are love... && I'd love to know what you like and what you don't =].
Love, Hann xox <3.
The Doctor ran up the stone steps after the disappearing figure of Maria, why did she keep running? He stumbled round a stone tower and watched as she raced down the other side,
“Maria!” he shouted after her, “Maria!” She didn’t even turn round at the sound of her name, but disappeared into a road of derelict factories. “This girl’ll be the death of me…” he muttered under his breath as he set off again.
He just had to know what she meant; so much of the stuff she had said hadn’t made sense to him, but there was such a look in her eyes… He knew it made sense, he could couldn’t figure out how. It was as if she spoke another language. If only he could translate what she was saying. The Doctor’s thoughts raced as he jumped down the last steps. There had to be a way to figure it out, there always was. He just needed the facts – then he could speak her language.
Maria smashed her way through the lock on a door to one of the derelict buildings, kicking it in. She had to get away from The Doctor - he couldn’t follow her. She took something out of her pocket, using it to repair the broken lock… She had to lose him or, more precisely, he had to lose her. The teenager ran up to a set of cast-iron stairs in the corner of the draughty work-hall, dodging the long production tables and leaping towards the next floor. Up and up she went, climbing higher and higher, hoping and praying that The Doctor hadn’t seen where she’d gone. Eventually the stairs stopped and Maria found herself in a large, musty room full of long rolls of material. She peered around in the half-light, looking at the ceiling, until… ah, she found what she was looking for – a roof port, the number stamped around the rim.
The young girl spoke clearly upwards,
“Port 73. Open.”
A small red light flashed and a revolving metal lid opened. A few seconds later, a small metal and wire ladder dropped to her waist. She hoisted herself up easily, clambering on to rooftop and dragging the ladder up with her, before instructing the port to close. Maria dropped to her knees and crawled towards the sheer roof edge, to see if she could spot The Doctor. Peering over the edge, she caught sight of a pinstripe shoulder and drew back suddenly. Then she looked over again, and saw him wandering the street below, shaking his head.
He’d lost her. The time-traveller stamped his foot in frustration, slamming his hand into the rotten wood of the factory doors. Honestly, a teenager… a teenage girl had got the better of him, she’d just disappeared round the corner into a dead end street. He’d tried to open all the door, but they were all locked and had been for years. She had just disappeared. He needed to get back to the TARDIS; to think this whole thing through. He needed to find what he’d missed, something she’d said or something he could do to find her. There had to be a way, there was always a way to find the answer – and he always found it. He just had to think… and calm down. All he needed was a nice mug of tea, a sit down, a bit of Iggi Pop and to think. He was The Doctor… and if anybody could sort out this whole sorry mess, it was him. He turned back, and headed back up the monument steps.
Maria watched him go, heard his footsteps – and then it hit her… she was really, truly alone. Even after all the things that had happened, every horrific step that had been taken, every awful consequence of a decision - there had still been hope. There had still been the hope that her last ditch might work, the hope of another future… and it had worked. Was that the worst bit? Because, in theory, her plan had worked. She was where she had wanted to be, everything had gone exactly as she planned – but still it had gone wrong, and her master plan had been wrong all along? Or was it worse that she’d even dared dream up this plan in the first place… although she’d known all the dangers? She didn’t know – it all seemed as bad as ever.
The young girl crawled to a pile of dusty boxes piled against the air conditioning unit, and sat, all huddled up in between the boxes. She drew her knees into her chest and held them there – trying to hide from the world. Tears fell thick and fast from her deep, chestnut eyes, as she sobbed. She was all alone, in a universe she didn’t belong to, with no idea what to do. He had always been there, The Doctor, but she’d never really appreciated him. He’d always just… been there, getting in the way she’d thought, most of the time. She’d been so independent – never needing his help when he was there, so competent, but now… when he wasn’t with her, she needed him more than she’d ever needed him before. Then she knew what the worst thing was. The very worst thing, was the fact that she needed her Doctor, and he was right there, but she just couldn’t get to him. They were two separates – this Doctor and her. It wasn’t like it had been before all the trouble started, before the war. Life had been easy then. Life had been easy before everything had started to explode around them.
A/N: Comments are love... && I'd love to know what you like and what you don't =].
Love, Hann xox <3.