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wintercompanion2014-07-10 06:59 pm
trobadora) wrote in wintercompanion2014-07-10 06:59 pm
donnaimmaculata: the boy without a name was silent (Jack/Ten) [PG-13] - SUMMER HOLIDAYS PROMPT #14
Title: the boy without a name was silent
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
donnaimmaculata
Prompt: #14 - Author, in the Sanatorium, with an umbrella, in a mobile library
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Tenth Doctor
Spoilers/warnings: none
Summary: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Told in five drabbles of 100 words each.
Notes: Title taken from Michael Ende’s Neverending Story. Many thanks to L. for the beta!
**
1. For it is written
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES
“Doctor?” Jack felt his own voice force its way out of his mouth, past a suddenly spongy tongue and chattering teeth. “Doctor, you’ve got to see this.”
“Oh.” The Doctor was by his side in a flash, running his sonic screwdriver over the sheet of paper, over the typewriter. It bared the teeth of its keyboard at them in a mocking grin.
“What does that mean?”
“It means somebody is writing you out of life.”
2. Taking over the asylum
“We’ve got to find him… them… it. Before it reaches the end of the page.” The Doctor was striding down the corridor, from flickering light into the darkness that loomed before them. As they passed, doors opened left and right, but neither of them looked. Guests or patients, it didn’t matter, anyone who’d ever stepped through them was gone.
“Do you think it’s an It then?”
The light above their head flickered, a bright flash that hurt Jack’s eyes, and then a shadow, imprinting itself on the inside of his eyelids.
“I hope it is. It’d make it so much easier.”
3. Shade from grey
“Doctor!” His voice had faded to grey and Jack hated himself for it. “I don’t think…” A dull fog was twirling through his mind, filling his head from the inside out. He sensed rather than saw the Doctor beside him and grabbed the sleeve of his coat with trembling fingers. Why should the Doctor bother? He was nothing, nothing, nothing…
“Jack!” Like a slap. “Think of colours. Think of something really flamboyant. Gaudy, even.”
With a final burst of energy, Jack snorted. “What, like that umbrella of yours?”
“Yeah.” A warm puff of breath against his cheek. “If you must.”
4. Knowledge is power
“Jack, look at me!” He was being shaken, but he was being dragged into greyness, and it was easier to succumb, to fall. “Oh no, no, no, no!” Another shake, one that almost lifted him off the ground. “Look at me! Look at this!” He willed his eyes open, blinking into the light of the green-shaded lamp. “You are not fading, Jack,” the Doctor was frantic, babbling, full of that energy that Jack lacked. “Look around, see these books? You’re in them, Jack, your life’s in them. You’re not gone, the universe has not lost you. You are a Fact.”
5. Playtime
“Is that your recipe for stopping me from non-existing?” Jack asked, still shaky, but no longer immaterial. “Reading books? Really? It’s like a lesson for pre-schoolers.”
“You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“And that’s got nothing to do with me being a Fact?”
The Doctor grimaced. “Don’t say that like it’s something to be proud of.”
“I think it is, though.” Jack put both hands on the Doctor’s hips. “Me, being a Fact. Flesh and blood. And I think all that work made me weak,” he breathed. “I think,” he brushed his lips against the Doctor’s jaw, “it’s time to play.”
Author:
donnaimmaculataPrompt: #14 - Author, in the Sanatorium, with an umbrella, in a mobile library
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Tenth Doctor
Spoilers/warnings: none
Summary: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Told in five drabbles of 100 words each.
Notes: Title taken from Michael Ende’s Neverending Story. Many thanks to L. for the beta!
**
1. For it is written
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES
“Doctor?” Jack felt his own voice force its way out of his mouth, past a suddenly spongy tongue and chattering teeth. “Doctor, you’ve got to see this.”
“Oh.” The Doctor was by his side in a flash, running his sonic screwdriver over the sheet of paper, over the typewriter. It bared the teeth of its keyboard at them in a mocking grin.
“What does that mean?”
“It means somebody is writing you out of life.”
2. Taking over the asylum
“We’ve got to find him… them… it. Before it reaches the end of the page.” The Doctor was striding down the corridor, from flickering light into the darkness that loomed before them. As they passed, doors opened left and right, but neither of them looked. Guests or patients, it didn’t matter, anyone who’d ever stepped through them was gone.
“Do you think it’s an It then?”
The light above their head flickered, a bright flash that hurt Jack’s eyes, and then a shadow, imprinting itself on the inside of his eyelids.
“I hope it is. It’d make it so much easier.”
3. Shade from grey
“Doctor!” His voice had faded to grey and Jack hated himself for it. “I don’t think…” A dull fog was twirling through his mind, filling his head from the inside out. He sensed rather than saw the Doctor beside him and grabbed the sleeve of his coat with trembling fingers. Why should the Doctor bother? He was nothing, nothing, nothing…
“Jack!” Like a slap. “Think of colours. Think of something really flamboyant. Gaudy, even.”
With a final burst of energy, Jack snorted. “What, like that umbrella of yours?”
“Yeah.” A warm puff of breath against his cheek. “If you must.”
4. Knowledge is power
“Jack, look at me!” He was being shaken, but he was being dragged into greyness, and it was easier to succumb, to fall. “Oh no, no, no, no!” Another shake, one that almost lifted him off the ground. “Look at me! Look at this!” He willed his eyes open, blinking into the light of the green-shaded lamp. “You are not fading, Jack,” the Doctor was frantic, babbling, full of that energy that Jack lacked. “Look around, see these books? You’re in them, Jack, your life’s in them. You’re not gone, the universe has not lost you. You are a Fact.”
5. Playtime
“Is that your recipe for stopping me from non-existing?” Jack asked, still shaky, but no longer immaterial. “Reading books? Really? It’s like a lesson for pre-schoolers.”
“You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“And that’s got nothing to do with me being a Fact?”
The Doctor grimaced. “Don’t say that like it’s something to be proud of.”
“I think it is, though.” Jack put both hands on the Doctor’s hips. “Me, being a Fact. Flesh and blood. And I think all that work made me weak,” he breathed. “I think,” he brushed his lips against the Doctor’s jaw, “it’s time to play.”
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*HUGS*
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arameth
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