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Thursday, August 7, 2014

Reminders of You (Doctor Who fanfiction)

Warning: this fanfic is set after series 4 (of New Who, not Classic Who), so be prepared for feels and/or spoilers.

Sometimes, I wonder why my life is so... dull. Nothing ever happens to me. Nothing ever has. Nothing ever will. I'm nobody special. I tell this to Gramps, and he smiles and tells me that's not true. He says I'm the most important woman in the whole wide universe. Mum tells me that, too. I don't know why, but she's been a lot nicer to me recently. It's strange. My life is pretty good; I should be happy... but I'm not. I keep feeling like I'm missing something. Like there's something... someone... I'm forgetting.

I've got a headache again. Typical. I've been getting a lot of headaches recently. Gramps says it's nothing to worry about. I wonder if I should go to the doctor about it. The doctor... something seems strange about that. Why? There's nothing wrong with a doctor. No, not a doctor. The doctor. So big he doesn't need a name. Just a great big "The". Again, something sounds wrong with that sentence. It seems so familiar, and yet so distant. What is wrong with me?

The headache is getting worse. I take some medicine. I don't know why I bother, it never helps. It's like I keep repeating... repeating... copycat... why does that sound familiar? It'll be midnight by the time I figure it out. It's really a mystery. Mystery... like the ones Agatha Christie writes. "Writes"? I mean "wrote", past tense.

What's going on? I can't remember. I look down and see a stag beetle. Thankfully, it doesn't head for me. It goes back and turns left. I should be trying to kill it, but I can't stop staring at it. Something is wrong... there's something I'm not remembering. If only I can stimulate the inhibited brain cells into reversal...

My head is hurting even more. I go into my room to lie down. I see a spider. I should be screaming, but for some inexplicable reason, I'm wondering why it isn't red. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the burning sensation. Even though I'm going to try to sleep this off, I draw open the curtains. I have to stay out of the shadows.

My head is getting hotter and hotter. I feel like I'm in Pompeii on volcano day. It's a strange vision, I know.

I curl up in a ball from the pain. No, not a ball, a circle. The circle must be broken. I can hear a song. A song of the Doctor-Donna. Wait, I'm Donna. What?

My head is about to explode, like it's been hit by some sort of reality bomb. If it's a bomb. I have to run. There's an outrageous amount of running.

Something's wrong. Is there something wrong with me? Or am I just remembering wrong? Remember, forget... Oi, watch it, spaceman!

I gasp. There's definitely something I'm forgetting. A lot of something. But trying to remember is... killing me. I have to stop. I have to forget. I have to live my life like nothing's happened, knowing that a part of me is missing, knowing that I can never, ever find it. I feel alone. Like I'm somehow the last of my kind. The only one of my kind. I am, or was, different.

Whatever it was, it's gone now. The memories are fading now. Not that they ever quite surfaced. But one thing seeped through, and I can remember it without hurting my brain: I am important. No matter how useless I feel, I am special. And I don't know what I'm missing out on, but that information is enough for me.

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