Torchwood/Doctor Who - Vera/Female!Doctor - Stars renewed (1/2)
The last thing she feels is fire. The smoke is inside of her, wrapping itself around her bones, turning them brittle, and breaking them. Smoke is in her eyes, she is blind, she feels it filling up her veins and burning them up.
She hears a noise in the burning darkness. It is not the shouting from outside, that was long gone, and that had never been. It’s a strange whirring noise; it fills her ears like rage. A light flashes above her, and with the last of her strength, pulls herself up on her hands to see it. Is this her death? She had never believed in heaven, but so many patients of hers had. She willed them to get there, if they could, she wanted them to believe. She wanted it to be true, in that moment.
The next thing she feels is light. It is not like the fire. It is soothing. She doesn’t understand it, but it flows through her, and she can feel the universe inside her, her fingertips glow, she has in her hands the burning hearts of stars, but it doesn’t hurt this time.
She opens her eyes. She is in the netherworld no longer, nor in the strange illuminated in between...she’s in...well, she has no idea what. A large place. A chaotic but strangely warm and welcoming place. She sings her legs from the bed she had found herself on, and wiggles her toes with a laugh. Her legs had been shot through, she had been bullet ridden, got by a gun. Well, not anymore. Starting forward, she let out a large “Ow! Fuck!” of pain as she bashed her head. She peered upwards at the offending article.
“Bunk beds. Really.” She mutters with a frown.
She wonders if this is heaven, or hell, if she is dead. No one could have really healed her injuries. She looks around the room she is in and thinks “No. Definitely not”. She would never have bunk beds in her heaven.
She wanders through the strange place, as if she is lost in a dream. Doors open for her, she doesn’t know how, all she knows is that as she walks through the place, she can feel the whispers of memories all over her skin. She comes to the last door. She feels...her father, winging her round as a child. Staying in bed on a snow day. Donuts that cute doctors brought on the late shift at the hospital. And to her happiness at finally knowingly opening one of the doors, the entrance slides open into a room wider than the others. It is Bright and colourful and loud.
She isn’t nervous. She thinks maybe she should be, but this place feels...natural. Like she understood it, and it understood her. This was of course, impossible, but the feeling stays as strong as it was and for once, she let it.
She comes to a platform; she was in the heart of the place. Everything in her felt stronger now as she neared the centre. She ran her hands along the edge of the casing that held the heart. Over buttons and levers and screens.
“I wouldn’t touch anything if I were you. Especially not that green lever thingy. She hates it when you do that. Never hear the end of it. Would I?”
Vera whirled round in shock. The voice belonged to a woman who was now bounding noisily up metal steps toward her, waving her hands in protest.
no subject
The last thing she feels is fire. The smoke is inside of her, wrapping itself around her bones, turning them brittle, and breaking them. Smoke is in her eyes, she is blind, she feels it filling up her veins and burning them up.
She hears a noise in the burning darkness. It is not the shouting from outside, that was long gone, and that had never been. It’s a strange whirring noise; it fills her ears like rage. A light flashes above her, and with the last of her strength, pulls herself up on her hands to see it. Is this her death? She had never believed in heaven, but so many patients of hers had. She willed them to get there, if they could, she wanted them to believe. She wanted it to be true, in that moment.
The next thing she feels is light. It is not like the fire. It is soothing. She doesn’t understand it, but it flows through her, and she can feel the universe inside her, her fingertips glow, she has in her hands the burning hearts of stars, but it doesn’t hurt this time.
She opens her eyes. She is in the netherworld no longer, nor in the strange illuminated in between...she’s in...well, she has no idea what. A large place. A chaotic but strangely warm and welcoming place. She sings her legs from the bed she had found herself on, and wiggles her toes with a laugh. Her legs had been shot through, she had been bullet ridden, got by a gun. Well, not anymore. Starting forward, she let out a large “Ow! Fuck!” of pain as she bashed her head. She peered upwards at the offending article.
“Bunk beds. Really.” She mutters with a frown.
She wonders if this is heaven, or hell, if she is dead. No one could have really healed her injuries. She looks around the room she is in and thinks “No. Definitely not”. She would never have bunk beds in her heaven.
She wanders through the strange place, as if she is lost in a dream. Doors open for her, she doesn’t know how, all she knows is that as she walks through the place, she can feel the whispers of memories all over her skin. She comes to the last door. She feels...her father, winging her round as a child. Staying in bed on a snow day. Donuts that cute doctors brought on the late shift at the hospital. And to her happiness at finally knowingly opening one of the doors, the entrance slides open into a room wider than the others. It is Bright and colourful and loud.
She isn’t nervous. She thinks maybe she should be, but this place feels...natural. Like she understood it, and it understood her. This was of course, impossible, but the feeling stays as strong as it was and for once, she let it.
She comes to a platform; she was in the heart of the place. Everything in her felt stronger now as she neared the centre. She ran her hands along the edge of the casing that held the heart. Over buttons and levers and screens.
“I wouldn’t touch anything if I were you. Especially not that green lever thingy. She hates it when you do that. Never hear the end of it. Would I?”
Vera whirled round in shock.
The voice belonged to a woman who was now bounding noisily up metal steps toward her, waving her hands in protest.