![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Fic: We Might as Well be Strangers (2/2)
Master post for the whole verse here. This is a one-shot (in two parts) dealing with the Seeker's second regeneration, and companion fic to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luckweaver’s Goodbye, Lover
Part One here
Summary: He woke to devastation. (How the Seeker regenerated the second time)
Setting: Some 30 years prior to A Good Day.
Characters: 3rd Seeker (OC), Roda (OC), Jack, the Master, the Doctor (11th)
Rating: PG-13 (i guess)
Word count: 1400 words (altogether)
Dedication: Happy birthdayenevarim
We Might as Well be Strangers
We might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in a another time
We might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in a different world
We might as well be strangers
Be strangers
For all I know of you now
(x)
Two
“I just don’t want you anymore,” Roda said; upset or angry or maybe both, almost physically recoiling from his touch.
Another failure, but on a much deeper level, and not one that could be mended the way his body had knitted back together…
The reason why she had such an innate aversion for his new face would probably reveal itself in time - it could be that he reminded her of someone who had hurt her… Or maybe he would go on to upset her in future? Whatever the cause for her withdrawal, it was not for him to ask, nor for her to reveal. But it closed a chapter, leaving him with only devastation for a second time, surveying the broken remains of what had once been something approaching a relationship.
Had it been vanity again, thinking that it was him she wanted, the constant beneath the changing faces? (She was the Redjay, he should count himself lucky that she’d chosen to perch by him, even for a short while.)
Returning home, he stopped at a lake, throwing away the badly fitting clothing before swimming for more than an hour. The cold water refreshing and stinging his newly born skin.
He studied his reflection in the water as much as he was able; shifting, shimmering, fragmented. Black unruly hair, green eyes, a face still foreign and unknown…
One of the suns set, and he could glimpse stars at the edge of the horizon. The loneliness was biting, but in that moment he also knew the cure.
Creating a TARDIS couldn’t be called easy, but compared to a Matrix it was relatively straightforward. He would sit in his garden under his plum tree, working out the schematics, half-smiling to himself as he remembered his childhood, some of the human children thinking him so odd he ‘should go build himself a robot pal’. Little did they know.
One day he found a dark purple coat at the back of a wardrobe, and liked it. It set off his eyes nicely.
He went to see Jack, but - as he had more than half-suspected - Jack was ‘off’ with him as well. Analysing Jack’s behaviour, there was awkwardness, but also (beneath that) something the Seeker categorised as ‘attraction’ - appreciation in glances and halted touches, so subtle that Jack might not even be aware of them himself. The Seeker pretended not to notice, and left with a half-smile and a nod, by now automatically covering the discomfort with detachment. Jack’s loyalty was forever, the Seeker knew that, whether brotherly or otherwise. Still - he’d keep a distance this time round.
His father remarked that he missed the red hair.
Roda, when asked for help with the more complicated mechanics, gave it without question, but also without any warmth. As if they were practically strangers.
The Doctor - when he accidentally landed in the Seeker’s courtyard one afternoon, clearly expecting to be somewhere else - was wearing a purple coat instead of tweed and thought a TARDIS was an excellent idea. He also approved of the Seeker’s coat, and the Seeker let him have his moment. The invisible wall between himself and those closest to him was beginning to feel like protection; even the Doctor had betrayed him, and not just once.
The silence and the quiet seemed to settle within him, growing deeper with every solitary day. The suns would rise and the suns would set, celestial beauty that marked out his time; and in the cold nights that followed the warm days, he heard whispers from his earliest days.
“The last of humanity screaming at the dark.”
“There was no solution, no diamonds. Just the dark and the cold.”
For the first time he wondered what lay at the end of the universe, which had also been the beginning of him - a sight that had driven his father to pity, his mother to madness. And at the end of which undertaking lay a failed and futile attempt at empire, a broken timeline from which he had been born.
It seemed a fitting maiden voyage for his TARDIS.
He could never pinpoint the day or the hour when the symbiotic link had started. It had grown, unseen, like a seed sending out roots below ground, and by the time he became aware of it the only thing he could think to compare it to was falling in love. Except it was a love of the kind he had always shied away from, ever since the unforgivable mistakes of his early youth that still haunted him. And yet here it was - as simple, and vital, as breathing. He laid his hands on the central console (white, but with a cozy golden glow) and knew he would never more be lonely. And - for the first time since he’d woken in the remains of what had once almost been a Matrix - smiled.
Before he set off, he took a final look at his home. Watched as the planet turned, golden and warm and singular. Something from nothing. His own creation.
But he now fully understood the knife edge between creation and catastrophe, how one could turn from the former to the latter with no warning, a single misstep searing untold destruction into the world; into his own flesh.
As he surveyed the crater where he had met his doom he nodded in silent satisfaction. He’d sent the droids to clear up the wreckage, but also to create a message and reminder for himself, using the shrapnel as building blocks. A little like the geoglyphs of ancient Earth, readable only from space. It stood out starkly against the orange dust, a somewhat grandiose monument to what had been.
Lesson learned.
And without a sound the time capsule vanished into the unknowable space between what was and what would be.
luckweaver’s Goodbye, LoverPart One here
Summary: He woke to devastation. (How the Seeker regenerated the second time)
Setting: Some 30 years prior to A Good Day.
Characters: 3rd Seeker (OC), Roda (OC), Jack, the Master, the Doctor (11th)
Rating: PG-13 (i guess)
Word count: 1400 words (altogether)
Dedication: Happy birthday
enevarimWe might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in a another time
We might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in a different world
We might as well be strangers
Be strangers
For all I know of you now
(x)
“I just don’t want you anymore,” Roda said; upset or angry or maybe both, almost physically recoiling from his touch.
Another failure, but on a much deeper level, and not one that could be mended the way his body had knitted back together…
The reason why she had such an innate aversion for his new face would probably reveal itself in time - it could be that he reminded her of someone who had hurt her… Or maybe he would go on to upset her in future? Whatever the cause for her withdrawal, it was not for him to ask, nor for her to reveal. But it closed a chapter, leaving him with only devastation for a second time, surveying the broken remains of what had once been something approaching a relationship.
Had it been vanity again, thinking that it was him she wanted, the constant beneath the changing faces? (She was the Redjay, he should count himself lucky that she’d chosen to perch by him, even for a short while.)
Returning home, he stopped at a lake, throwing away the badly fitting clothing before swimming for more than an hour. The cold water refreshing and stinging his newly born skin.
He studied his reflection in the water as much as he was able; shifting, shimmering, fragmented. Black unruly hair, green eyes, a face still foreign and unknown…
One of the suns set, and he could glimpse stars at the edge of the horizon. The loneliness was biting, but in that moment he also knew the cure.
Creating a TARDIS couldn’t be called easy, but compared to a Matrix it was relatively straightforward. He would sit in his garden under his plum tree, working out the schematics, half-smiling to himself as he remembered his childhood, some of the human children thinking him so odd he ‘should go build himself a robot pal’. Little did they know.
One day he found a dark purple coat at the back of a wardrobe, and liked it. It set off his eyes nicely.
He went to see Jack, but - as he had more than half-suspected - Jack was ‘off’ with him as well. Analysing Jack’s behaviour, there was awkwardness, but also (beneath that) something the Seeker categorised as ‘attraction’ - appreciation in glances and halted touches, so subtle that Jack might not even be aware of them himself. The Seeker pretended not to notice, and left with a half-smile and a nod, by now automatically covering the discomfort with detachment. Jack’s loyalty was forever, the Seeker knew that, whether brotherly or otherwise. Still - he’d keep a distance this time round.
His father remarked that he missed the red hair.
Roda, when asked for help with the more complicated mechanics, gave it without question, but also without any warmth. As if they were practically strangers.
The Doctor - when he accidentally landed in the Seeker’s courtyard one afternoon, clearly expecting to be somewhere else - was wearing a purple coat instead of tweed and thought a TARDIS was an excellent idea. He also approved of the Seeker’s coat, and the Seeker let him have his moment. The invisible wall between himself and those closest to him was beginning to feel like protection; even the Doctor had betrayed him, and not just once.
The silence and the quiet seemed to settle within him, growing deeper with every solitary day. The suns would rise and the suns would set, celestial beauty that marked out his time; and in the cold nights that followed the warm days, he heard whispers from his earliest days.
“The last of humanity screaming at the dark.”
“There was no solution, no diamonds. Just the dark and the cold.”
For the first time he wondered what lay at the end of the universe, which had also been the beginning of him - a sight that had driven his father to pity, his mother to madness. And at the end of which undertaking lay a failed and futile attempt at empire, a broken timeline from which he had been born.
It seemed a fitting maiden voyage for his TARDIS.
He could never pinpoint the day or the hour when the symbiotic link had started. It had grown, unseen, like a seed sending out roots below ground, and by the time he became aware of it the only thing he could think to compare it to was falling in love. Except it was a love of the kind he had always shied away from, ever since the unforgivable mistakes of his early youth that still haunted him. And yet here it was - as simple, and vital, as breathing. He laid his hands on the central console (white, but with a cozy golden glow) and knew he would never more be lonely. And - for the first time since he’d woken in the remains of what had once almost been a Matrix - smiled.
Before he set off, he took a final look at his home. Watched as the planet turned, golden and warm and singular. Something from nothing. His own creation.
But he now fully understood the knife edge between creation and catastrophe, how one could turn from the former to the latter with no warning, a single misstep searing untold destruction into the world; into his own flesh.
As he surveyed the crater where he had met his doom he nodded in silent satisfaction. He’d sent the droids to clear up the wreckage, but also to create a message and reminder for himself, using the shrapnel as building blocks. A little like the geoglyphs of ancient Earth, readable only from space. It stood out starkly against the orange dust, a somewhat grandiose monument to what had been.
(The Seeker’s Folly)
Lesson learned.
And without a sound the time capsule vanished into the unknowable space between what was and what would be.
no subject
What he tries not to think is that he might look too much like his father for comfort. Like the first time round. So she doesn't see *him* she only sees whose son he is. Which is actually completely accurate, but not in the way he thinks.
Ah. Yes. Not quite an idiot, just preferring the less painful interpretation first. And who wouldn’t? Okay, as you were.
Yeah, he knows all about being screwed over by time...
I remember wondering about this when I was reading luckweaver’s part of the story, and thinking what happened to loves between regenerations?
Well, when we look at Doctor/Master (as well as Doctor/River), Missy barely notices which face he's wearing (and the other way round). I'd say that Seeker/Roda, here, is unusual.
Third!Seeker doing the obligatory Colin Firth from Pride and Prejudice scene? :P
It's actually a mirror for the end of A Good Day, when he goes swimming with the twins (and the Toclafane). Loneliness vs. finding new 'friends'.
Oh, Seeker. An idiot, but a delightful idiot. As someone says somewhere else “Hermione’s idea of an instant breakthrough is so much like everyone else’s idea of a major research project.”
Emotional problem = bury self in work
Enjoys cameo of Allison’s mother’s plum tree. Ignore the rapid blinking of my eyes. Nothing to see here, move along.
Oh but this is why his TARDIS takes its preferred shape from that tree. It's all connected.
Oh, right. I’m not sure I remember us having seen Jack post-A Good Day before. Interesting.
The Seeker mis-reads it slightly - yes, Jack (for the first time) is attracted to one of his regenerations, but the discomfort is also there. Not that Jack falls out with him of course, but he knows what's to come, and he can't tell.
Of course he would, just on the off chance that it did make the Doctor’s hearts burst with envy.
He probably also notices the lack of swagger.
And this is the version of the Seeker who drops Marcus Aurelius on Clara; if there had been any doubt beforehand that that was deliberate and not a lucky guess (not that there had been much), it’s gone now.
It sort of ties back to Roda's 'How could he have done it to them?' But because of the timey-wimey they push him away... So he learns detachment (moreso than before), and by the time A Good Day comes round has not been particularly involved with the lives of his family/friends for many years. (Ouroboros, see?)
Because it feels as though the effect of the end of the universe on a less-prepared human mind (less prepared than a “typical” Doctor Who companion, whatever that means) could have been very interesting to explore.
I wrote fic once. Although you've probably read it.
“Well, you say that as if it's a bad thing. But honestly, it's the best thing there is.”
Well, the Doctor/his TARDIS have a very specific start. I liked to take a different route, but with the same sort of outcome.
100% control freak, as you say.
Mmmm.
Of COURSE. Brilliant.
:) It could not be otherwise...
Sad, and beautiful. Thank you.
Thank YOU! Hope it was a good present, despite the sadness. <3
no subject
– ... No, there is too much. Let me sum up. :D
Oh but this is why his TARDIS takes its preferred shape from that tree.
– Oh. Oh. Of course. Brava.
I wrote fic once
– has now started re-reading Not the Last, but let me know if that’s not the one you meant?
no subject
I.e. All My Fic...
Oh. Oh. Of course. Brava.
:) *uses tree icon*
has now started re-reading Not the Last, but let me know if that’s not the one you meant?
Oh no. It's Mrs Saxon's Diary.
no subject
Well, as - I hope - should become clear in 'The Life and Death of Rodageitmososa' there's a lot going on behind the scenes from both of their POVs and this break-up is an important milestone for both of them. It causes the Seeker to detach himself from people, and in the end it does contribute to Roda's regeneration, because she begins to do the same.
And yet they both hold onto Jack.
No, it's interesting. Because Roda doesn't stop loving the Seeker; it's just that right now, she can't be in a relationship with him. She's hurt. She's angry. Roda doesn't do her emotions in half measure. And by the time she regenerates, she knows that perhaps pushing the Seeker away was the wrong thing to do. But Jack and the Seeker, the Seeker and Roda, Roda and Jack, they're always there.
no subject
This. And it was interesting to write this, and realising how it worked (love the song, love love the song. Have hardly listened to anything else over the last few days...).
And yet they both hold onto Jack.
Quoting another comment of enevarim's: 'My Renaissance people (citing Plutarch, apparently, though this is from rapidly-taken notes) keep going on about how all opposites presuppose a third thing to bridge the gap.'
But Jack and the Seeker, the Seeker and Roda, Roda and Jack, they're always there.
The Seeker never locks her out of the planet. (Remember, only she and Jack have access - the Doctor, the Master, they do not.) He still trusts her. And now I'm going to have to quote
I'm a spuffy fan. Do I believe Spike is Buffy's one true love? No, hell no. For me, that's kind of the point of being a spuffy fan. I don't have any romantic ideals about this relationship – or, if it comes to that, any relationship. And these two come back to each other, again and again and again, not because it is their destiny but because it is their duty. They share enough history to owe it to each other to be there for each other.
And, goodness, such a history it is, but the relationship is never defined by that history. If anything, it is defined by the mutual acknowledgement that their history establishes the basis for the relationship, but the relationship exists always and only in the here and now. They never stoop under the weight of their history. Buffy taking Dawn to Spike in 'Villains' is one of many examples that illustrates that. There's always a back doorstep, if you like – always a place the two of them can find where they can sit, side-by-side, and put everything else behind them.
Roda going to the Seeker when mortally wounded is that *exactly*.