Chapter 1: The Nightmares of the Soldier
Blood.
Blood everywhere.
He's drenched. Blood covering every inch of his body. He's trembling.
He looks up and sees bodies surrounding him. The bodies of people he hates. The bodies of people he loves. The bodies of people he never even knew. Their blood is what's covering him.
He starts to walk, or at least he tries to.
He staggers and falls to his hands and knees. Breathing faster and harder.
Something grabs at him and he pulls away, falling onto his back.
There at his feet lies a child. She's trying to use her arms to move because her legs are severed. She's trying to reach him; almost like she's sure he can save her. But a closer look of her face doesn't reveal trust or hope. But hatred. Pure hatred.
He looks at her outstretched hand and sees that she's holding a piece of broken glass that's cutting away at her palm.
She's trying to stab him. Trying to make him bleed like she is. She must know that the blood covering him isn't his but of the evil like him. Of the innocent like her.
I didn't mean for this to happen.
He tries to back away but hits a wall instead. He looks toward the child again and sees that others are with her. They're all headed his way. They're all trying to kill him like he killed them.
He picks himself up, trying to find a way out. But he's trapped.
Please. I didn't have a choice. Please don't.
They're coming in waves now, from all sides. Covered in scars and cuts. They're crawling on their hands or knees, never on both.
He's crying out now. Shouting for someone to help him. But he knows it's useless. Who would want to help a murderer?
They close in on him, carrying the same piece of broken glass, ready to pierce it in and rip his skin. They're so close now that he can see the reds of their eyes. They all lift their arms up high.
"DON'T!"
He's drenched. Not in blood but in sweat. He gasps for air but the tightening in his chest makes him feel like he can't get enough. He hears the low hum of the TARDIS trying to sooth him. It only works to agitate him even more. For a ship with infinite space, why does it make him feel so claustrophobic?
He reaches for his jacket and clutches it around himself as he desperately stumbles for the exit.
The sudden rush of cold air against hot skin serves to wake him up. It's snowing.
He tries to calm his breathing as he grips the jacket tighter around himself. The cold air numbs his senses and for a second he feels calmer.
A crash behind him makes him jump, causing him to hit his shoulder on the corner of the TARDIS. Muttering curses under his breath, he looks around and sees a young woman lying on the ground. The snow around her turns from bright white to crimson red as blood seeps out of her head and onto the snow.
She looks strangely familiar, a fact that causes a shiver to go down his spine.
He's too shaken to do anything except stare. Cries from nearby knock him out of his stupor, and he rushes back into the TARDIS, frantically pushing buttons and pulling levers. He doesn't even think about helping. It's too late for that. He needs to escape.
It takes a while for him to calm down again. Once he's sure he's far away he lets his mind wander back to the young woman lying dead in the snow.
Jealousy surges through him.
She may be drenched in blood, but at least it's her own.
Author's Note: So how was it? I've never done anything like this before and it's my first Doctor Who fic. I was trying to convey his feelings right after the Time War - I hope that came across. Thanks for reading!