built with a heart broken from the start [open to multiple]

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS is feeling her insides burst. Something has grabbed hold of her, pulling at her with a force as violent and unpredictable as a torrent, and for some reason that she can't quite remember all her shields are offline. She is vulnerable and she is being gutted. Corridors are on fire, rooms are filling with toxic fumes, fuel is running out and choking and burning her like blood-filled lungs. As she writhes in agony, the flow of time and her dimensions twist with her, and suddenly there are creatures in her that don't belong, pained, furious things, but she has no thought to waste on them. They roam her halls unchecked, skulking in the dark and the debris and the unsteady flashes of emergency lighting, taking their clue from the destruction they were born into.

Her only thought now is to keep the Doctor safe. So she struggles to control her panic and the chaos, to hold herself together, to hold onto... something, yes, there's something she mustn't let go of, but her memory is failing her again and everything hurts. The Doctor is back now, she pushed him away but he came back to her, of course he wouldn't let her die alone. He brought someone with him and she hates them immediately, smells the greed in their minds, like scavengers eager to tear apart their prey while she's still alive. She wants them out, but the Doctor isn't listening to her and maybe that's why she pushed him away, because he can't bear to listen to her cries and she didn't want him to hear. He's talking about the girl instead, another thing she can't quite remember, though hardly surprising; there's always a girl. A hot flash of bitterness is cut short by a hotter explosion as the last fuel cell tears up her interior, and her tenuous control wavers.

She knows she's clinging to something so important, but it feels like pressing down on glass splinters, piercing and ripping her hold. She's screaming, and her  screams turn into the reverberating voice of a heavy grim bell, tolling doom throughout her structures and into the void.

Comments

[johnny_truant]

He should be used to this by now.

He's not.

Johnny is lying on his back in a room that feels wrong in every conceivable way. He doesn't know how he knows this, but he is very certain. That's been happening a lot lately, too.

He picks himself up. The room presses in around him, shuddering, unhappy. It exudes unhappiness, frantic, dissembling fear, hysteria and madness. This is not a stable enclosure.

There's also a tree in the middle of it. Not a real tree, but one comprised of wires and metal, with spherical lamps hanging like houses from its branches. It's beautiful. It's terrifying.

"Yggdrasil," he whispers, barely conscious as he does it. The connection is rooted complexly in his head, something he would be hard pressed to explain if anyone had heard him. A lot of his thoughts are instinctual right now; he's not comprehending, not thinking, just reacting. The tree is wrong, and the structure is alive, and its dimensions are inconsistent. It's the tree, no, the house, the house at 1 Ash Tree Lane -- or it's not, but it's so much like that. He doesn't know why this doesn't frighten him more. But there are other things to be frightened of at the moment.

He staggers back, and one of them touches him with a mottled, grasping hand.

[theoldgirl]

Intruder. The thought flashes through her pain, a new harrowing alarm briefly eclipsing all the others. Her attention is divided among her panic, her numerous failing systems and the need to keep the Doctor as safe as she can, to keep even that girl safe for his sake. Nonetheless, she spares enough to assess this new danger.

It's a boy, staring at the Architectural Reconfiguration System. She can't tell how he got inside, nor does she know him, doesn't even feel like she should. And she doesn't care, because he's disturbing one of the most vital rooms she has, one of a precious few untouched by the destruction, and she wants him out. The tree shivers angrily, a metal rustling high in the ceiling, the lights of the reconfiguration circuits swaying almost imperceptibly. They are the seeds with which she creates reality and they will be protected.

The door shifts to his back and opens, and then one of the awful creatures takes care of the rest. This one is tall, burnt to a crisp like the others, but with one hand painfully fused to its face and the only sentient thought left in its irradiated brain that of defending the ship. It pulls the boy out of the room and hurls him against the wall of a dimly lit corridor, stopping to growl at him as it prepares to lunge for his throat.

[johnny_truant]

"Shit!" Johnny can't react fast enough to keep from being thrown back, colliding heavily with the wall, and then the monster is on top of him, wrapping its hand around his throat and squeezing. It burns into his skin.

Johnny releases a strangled cry and thrashes wildly, managing just barely to dislodge the creature, shoving it down into the dark shadows of the corridor before propelling himself unsteadily in the opposite direction. He can hear it following him, scraping against the floor, and he might be a little faster, but he doesn't know where he's going.

The world vibrates, and he is hit by a deafening roar, a hum and a snarl are an impossibly deep rumble all curled into one awful sound. He stumbles and catches his head, covering his ears. He passes trippingly around the corner to find himself in a massive library.

He stops, startled by the unexpected shift in venue, and struggles to catch his breath. He doesn't know if the creature is still behind him, and he's afraid to look back.

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS' attention has already returned to more pressing matters, but the creature isn't giving up its pursuit. It prowls the corridor on the boy's trail and reaches the library only shortly after him, resting its good hand on the door frame and staring at him out of glowing red eyes. There are precious things in this room, secrets that must be protected, so it leaps forward and knocks him down with its weight, already grabbing for his face, his throat.

Somewhere close by, dimensional stabilizers for the area malfunction and the library tilts, sending books and shelves and furniture tumbling chaotically. A heavy chair is thrown against one of the wall-mounted shelves and dislodges it curiously, pushes it in - a secret tunnel, though it looks more like a blood vessel, organic and diffusely lit. The creature is knocked off Johnny's back by the shifting gravity but otherwise hardly deterred, wailing and scrambling for purchase to reach him again.

[johnny_truant]

"Fuck!" Johnny falls to his knees when the creature hits him, its arm locked around him, growling like a rabid animal into his ear. Oh god it hurts, it's burning his skin, digging claws in to draw blood.

Then everything tilts, and it loses its hold and goes careening down the inclined floor. Johnny barely manages to grab onto a pillar, curling up as books and furnishings tumble around him. He hears the violent creak of as the shelf moves aside, opening up the aortic pathway. Johnny stares up at the new exit, lit red and pulsing, and he doesn't want to, he really doesn't want to, but this library is not safe and he has to keep moving.

He scrambles to his feet, motivated largely by the continued wailing and gnashing coming from the creature as it struggles to get back up toward him, and launches himself up the steep floor toward the opening.

He doesn't know where this leads, but it's better than the library, maybe.

Now that he has a moment to catch his breath, he doesn't feel any better. He still doesn't know where he is, but he knows it's not safe, and he knows it's familiar. The creature that wants to tear him apart, the architecture that doesn't obey physics... He wants to get out. Has to get out.

Where the hell does this tunnel lead?

[theoldgirl]

One of the TARDIS' more subconscious systems detects Johnny in another place he shouldn't be and the tunnel contracts, sealing off the entrance and sending ripples through the living walls. At first, they're only disgruntled shivers, but they quickly gain in intensity until the tunnel is pushing him forward, squeezing him out.

The passage ends among a few boulders in a wide open space, a picturesque hillside covered with lush grass and flowers. Some distance away there's a group of trees shading a porch swing. The usually clear blue sky is in turmoil; massive black clouds are driven across it at great speed by a vicious storm and the sweltering air is pierced by cracks of thunder, though there is no lightning or rain. The porch swing creaks loudly as the harsh wind tears at the trees and the grass. And every available surface is covered in butterflies of all shapes, sizes and colors, struggling for their lives, losing to the increasingly strong gusts of wind.

[wildmage_daine]

This is wrong. This is wrong. That is the first thing Daine realizes, sharp and certain, before anything else sinks in.

She is surrounded by shelves and shelves of books, and it should be a comfort (how bad could a bunch of books be?), but it's not. A half-remembered labyrinth comes to mind, and she turns her head sharply, looking for… what? A coldfang? The Master? Something awful, something stalking her from another row...

No. That can't be right. She knows this library; she's been here before. It's the TARDIS. The TARDIS wouldn't hurt her. But the friendly little minds of the bats are gone, and the air is heavy, sweltering, and she coughs as she makes her way over to the balcony.

"TARDIS?" she calls as she peers down over the railing. "Doctor?"

[theoldgirl]

There's that girl again, appearing all over her rooms, running around like a chicken with its head cut off rather than letting the TARDIS protect her. Except, no, that's not who this human is, she likes this one. Nyssa maybe, or Victoria or LeelaorDonnaorAmeliaorLuciestop. With a jolt and a high-pitched keening up in the vaulted ceiling she halts her reeling thought processes, realigns her priorities and decides that whoever it is, she doesn't want her hurt.

That, however, is easier thought than done. A corner of the library is in flames, the hearth exploded and set fire to the bench in front of it, and from there it spread to the unique and flammable collection, eating away at the pillars that support the upper levels. And then the doors open and a terrified, scrawny boy runs in, pauses to catch his breath, and is attacked by a grotesquely burnt figure. As they struggle, the image suddenly flickers out of existence, then repeats itself. It's a temporal mirage, a past or future echo that doesn't even belong to this particular library, but time and space are as unstable as the ship herself, bending all wrong like broken bones.

[wildmage_daine]

"Goddess!" Daine gasps as she sees the flames below her, clapping her hands over her ears as the room reverberates with a high-pitched wail. Her eyes sting, both in sympathy and from the smoke, and she turns away from the balcony to look for a way down. If she can get down to the main floor, maybe she can fight the fire somehow. Is there a hose? Could the TARDIS make one?

There: a staircase along the back wall. Daine hurries down, lurching into the banister as the floor shudders beneath her. "How can I help?" she calls as she propels herself between the stacks toward the exploded hearth. "TARDIS--"

A young man - a familiar young man - comes staggering into the room, passing a few feet in front of her without seeming to see her. Is that--? But what follows him is a form so terrifying that Daine's arms jerk instinctively, an aborted grasp for a bow she no longer carries. She jerks back against a bookshelf even as the figures flicker and vanish. "What…" she says quietly as the figures reappear again, and then again. "What's happening?"

[theoldgirl]

So many harrowing things are happening that even the TARDIS, who normally has no trouble at all staying appraised of an infinity within her as well as time and space outside, can't keep track of everyone she is trying to protect. But she manages to pay attention to the girl again fairly quickly, finding her trapped in the burning library.

The cavernous room groans and then a second door appears on the other side, though it's partially obscured by collapsing shelves and it's not enough; the girl is too distracted by the temporal anomaly. Resolving to do whatever she can for her, the TARDIS expends the effort to project a hologram of her human form by the exit, flickering and pale and waving frantically to her. "This way! Hurry!"

[wildmage_daine]

"TARDIS!" There she is - or a version of her that Daine can talk to, anyway. As for hurrying, she doesn't need to be told twice. It's easier said than done, though, and she lurches a little as the floor shudders beneath her feet. Once she reaches the hologram, Daine lifts a hand as if to touch her shoulder, but she holds herself back. It looks as if her hand would go right through the TARDIS as she is now, and she doesn't want to find out for certain by trying it.

"What's wrong?" she asks instead, brow furrowed, wincing as something crashes behind her.

[theoldgirl]

What isn't wrong? The girl couldn't really comprehend the true extent of the damage, and the TARDIS has no words for it anyway. So she settles on a worn out "Too much," and then hurries towards the exit leading into a dimly lit corridor.

"I will take you to the console room. That is the most stable place left. And perhaps you can escape." She's having trouble discerning why the doors to the outside are locked, if it was the Doctor or safety protocols or her own pain clamping them shut, but she'll do what she can to get everyone out. If they make it to the console room in the first place.

[bluesuit_handy]

It's not the Doctor, not the proper Doctor, but the next person to appear in the halls of the TARDIS is at least one from her home universe. Andrew knows where he is immediately, but has no memory of how he got there. He simply is, in that way one accepts one simply is when or where or what one finds oneself in a dream. A sense of urgency fills him -- he needs to get to the console room, and he needs to help -- to help who? James? He can't find James, and that's who he looks for as he hurries through the shaking corridors.

[theoldgirl]

For a terrible moment, the TARDIS thinks another one of those creatures manifested, all wrong, out of their time and place, familiar but not. And so she does nothing when a massive fireball bursts out of another corridor as Andrew is running past the intersection, but then, then she realizes her mistake and the metal beams creak in dismay. He must be safe too, as safe as she can make it, so she throws a heavy wooden door to hide behind in his way. It leads to a storage space with stone walls and shelves laden with memorabilia and toys, bits of attire of varying sizes, a Gallifreyan cot. She wants it to be a comforting place, but she lacks the strength or wherewithal to make it anything more than past adventures gathering dust.

[bluesuit_handy]

Andrew yelps, staggers, and leaps away from the fire and toward a refuge that wasn't there a moment ago. He trusts her immediately, implicitly, and yanks the door open to dive through without hesitation. It's only when he's slammed the door behind him that he realizes his jacket is on fire, and he spends several moments beating at the embers with bare hands before he has the presence of mind to simply take the garment off and stomp it into submission. Breathing hard, he finally looks around at his surroundings for some sort of explanation, or at least some idea where he is within her.

Safe, he decides, for the moment. Heart still thudding in his chest, he reaches down to pick up his scorched jacket before stepping further into the room. This is no good; he can't do anything from here -- but maybe she can give him another door to where he does need to go. "What's happened?" he asks aloud, reaching out to stroke a wall. "Let me help -- I can help, but I need you to give me a way."

[has_a_horn]

When Gabriel falls asleep, the first thing that he feels fade through the edges of the dreaming is pain. It flares out, and he follows it only to rush forward as he realizes just who it is that's in pain. She may not want to see him, but if she's in danger, he needs to help.

When he emerges into the chaos of an unfamiliar console room, he looks around, frantic. "TARDIS!" He reaches out with his mind when he doesn't see her human image immediately, and attempts to calm her. This doesn't feel like just a dream, but he can't yet put his finger on why.

[theoldgirl]

There's a fire on the lower level of the control room, her console is gutted, wiring and organic material spilling from cracked panels, the time rotor silent and dark, and someone's calling to her... Someone important, she realizes, even as she struggles to focus. With a groan, a largely unused system flickers awake and the unsteady holographic image of a man appears by the console, blond and athletic, his features as unclear as the echo of sweeping wings at his back.

"TARDIS voice-visual interface," he intones but suddenly she knows, she knows, her mind twitching forward, eager for the contact for just a moment before she not only knows but also remembers, and then she shoves him away angrily. The image dissolves into one that fits this encounter much better, blue dress and brown curls and pale as a ghost. Betrayal taints the toxic air and her features. "Gabriel? Did you do this to me?"

[has_a_horn]

He takes a frightened step backward as the image of- Michael? appears in front of him. He stumbles and rights himself before he has the chance to wonder why the TARDIS had shown him that. But then, she's there. The brief touch of her mind doesn't do anything to relieve his worries. She seems barely aware of what's going on herself.

"What?" He feels her accusation like a physical blow. Whatever he'd done that she disapproves of, he could never set out to do anything that would harm her. "No. Do you really-" He cuts himself off before he can ask 'Do you really think I'd want to hurt you?' Now isn't the time for that particular conversation. "No. Of course not. I felt you in the Dreaming. Do you know what happened?"

[theoldgirl]

She feels something at his shocked denial, relief perhaps, and affection, but it seems very far away, like it belongs in another universe. Her anger also flows out of her grasp quickly; she used to be so furious with him, so hurt, but it doesn't matter here. She replies to his question with only a vague frown. "I don't dream." He knew this, she told him, there were marble steps.

Then it dawns on her why he feels so far away and she is weighed down by sadness, regarding him with an incongruously melancholy look while she's burning around them. "Of course it wasn't you. You aren't really here, are you." It's not a question; he can't be, so he isn't. But she knows what's happening now. "I am bleeding."

[has_a_horn]

"What do you mean?" He douses the flames in the dream without bothering to even wave his hand to indicate the action. Any urge for style in his gestures has melted away in response to this. He walks toward her console quickly, stiff-limbed, looking down at it as if it might reveal what's wrong. It even might, if he knew what he was looking for. It's extremely frustrating. If they hadn't fought, he might know what's wrong here now.

Finding nothing, he turns back to face her. "I'm here. That's true." What had she meant when she said she doesn't dream? She's dreaming now. It takes him a moment, but then he remembers what she'd called it before. "We're in the telepathic current now. I call it the Dreaming. This isn't real, but we are." Still, there's something else here that's not the Dreaming. She wouldn't be like this if there weren't. "I'm here."

[i_jones]

As though he's only just realized he's drinking a cuppa, only just noticed that the floor of the kitchen is littered with the contents of its cabinets, and the counters covered in upturned pots and pans - as though the room has suddenly changed and he hasn't just appeared, Ianto sets down his cup of tea and looks with a frown at his surroundings. Was he so distracted he didn't notice them hitting turbulence? His next bracing sip of tea somehow ends up down his shirtfront instead of in his mouth and his frown intensifies as he stands to fetch the napkin holder from the corner, pushing detritus aside with his shoe.

"Not cleaning this up," he announces to the walls, dabbing at the stain. He will. It's just nice to complain sometimes.

[theoldgirl]

Oh, oh no, how could she have forgotten about Ianto? He must have been here this whole time, only it's so hard to keep track, he says goodbye so often. But it doesn't matter, he is in her care and always will be, and she's going to protect him.

It takes an effort of will but then she's in the kitchen with him, looking ill and ashen like the day she arrived on his doorstep. "Ianto?," she says to get his attention, and for some reason she is feeling profoundly sad. "You can't be here."

[i_jones]

"And yet," Ianto says under his breath, checking his shirt to see if the stain has come out. Of course it hasn't. He looks up and tenses, fist closing around the napkin, and takes an aborted step forward, breath catching on a vowel. "Are you..." He resolves the step forward into a step back, tying together the threads of the state of the room, of her, and they don't lead him to any answers, but to questions he's afraid to know the answers to.

"Is - has something... happened?" he asks carefully.

[theoldgirl]

"I'm not safe," she says, pained because she should be, and so much is happening that she doesn't even know where to start. "You have to... I have to bring you to the console room, maybe you can get out--" She draws a sharp breath as the room trembles, then convulses, the walls closing in on one side and widening on the other, and she stumbles to the sound of an agonized metallic groan from deep within the bowels of the ship.

[i_jones]

Ianto holds out his hands to keep his balance, looking in alarm at the shifting walls. He steps forward with less courage but more determination, catching her by the shoulders when she stumbles. She looks - bad, like Germany bad, and something about the air feels bad, and you know what, maybe the TARDIS is exploding, maybe life support is shutting off, maybe everyone going to the console room is an okay idea. "Not safe from--? I can help," he insists fiercely, squeezing her shoulders to reassure them both.