6A/N/: Greetings my fellow Whovians (I love this word)! In case you didn't see, I'm Ms. Unusual-in-Groovy-Ways and I welcome you to my very first Doctor Who fanfic! I usually write X-Men and Glee stuff, but I've been recently watching the Doctor on Netflix and, needless to say, I was inspired. As a fair warning, I'm notoriously slow at updating because I do so while I am interested, but, when I move on to another idea, I forget about my stories. (Which explains my 7 pending fanfics.)
All right, I'm babbling like 10, so let's move on! As you may know, this story is about the Doctor finding out that someone from his past is actually alive - I'm not telling you who, though. Despite the fact that I only finished series 2 days ago (emotionally shocked, people), I'm writing about 11. This is preferably non-canon so Rory and Amy are still here. Got that?
O.K., lastly, please read and review! I adore feedback - especially for stories that are my first in a fandom. And because I haven't met the Eleventh Doctor yet, please tell me when my personally traits stray from the real thing, 'kay?
I'm talking too much again, so bid thee good byes!
~Ms. Unusual-in-Groovy-Ways
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Doctor Who or any references to the show or anything else. 'Cause if I did, I'd be killing more people off than Moffat.
Penance
I
The Aftermath is Secondary
Their voices croak out orders all around her, surrounding her in a sphere of barking frustration. They yell and command, but she can tell nothing is being accomplished. The leader's voice is the deepest and as it orders his subjects to obey, she can feel his vibrations rattle her spine in absolute terror. His voice creeps up and down whatever holding area she is in, bringing back the suppressed memories of her far away youth.
She can remember the dark rooms of the war prisons. Merely medium-to-large metal cages that they were forced into, like dogs. They would throw prisoners in there, in the black dark, and make them just sit there, simply. But it was not so simple as just sitting there. It was the lack of food and the howling of the dying wounded that was torture. You would hear the calling, the pleading of your fellow soldiers - sometimes civilians, like her - for their loved ones. Or, when they were feeling "generous" they would put families in the same holding chamber, making them scream for wives, husbands from across the corridor- anyone to quench the thrist of death they all craved in that black-hole of a war ship.
The immensely disturbing memories flooded her head as the leader commanded more soldiers to go to the landing area in level 5. She heard them comfirm and then fly off to the destination, knowing that her friends were doomed at best if they continued to be outnumbered. But as she kneeled on bloodied knees, blind-folded and chained, in front of the King Dalek, she had a flicker of faith that Amy, Rory, and her Doctor would come for her, as he had promised all those years ago.
*Rhea was her name, the name of our prisoner. She was taken three days ago from the TARDIS in the middle of the night in surprise raid. She had not seen a Dalek in years, or so she thought. They had stunned her, leaving paralyzed as she bared to hear the sound of Amelia Pond's frantic screaming or Rory hysterically yelling his wife's name or the Doctor, whose voice roared louder than any gun shot she had ever witnessed, begging the Daleks over and over again "to leave them alone".
Rhea fainted as running footsteps came towards her room. She awoke dazed two days later in this very spot, bound and blinded, hearing only the sounds of the Daleks, wo were always calling out orders to kill.
Now she knew that her friends were in level 5, fighting off hordes of enemies, only to rescue them. The second-in-command kept the King informed. She'd overheard that none of them were injured, that they were coming in and out of the TARDIS for protection. However, she could not possibly believe their words until her friends, those three clowns, walk in, all cut and bruises, ready to take her home.
"Your Majesty," the second-in-command Dalek drawled, "the Doctor has escaped capture. He is heading to the boarding area on level one hundred."
"What of the inferiors?" the King inquired in his hauntingly deep voice. It really frightened her when he spoke; it was no understatement. It sounded like a hum of an engine, smooth and low, but it cracked like lightning and barked like thunder. The ground rumbled when he talked.
"They have escaped in the TARDIS. They have fled."
Rhea's hearts failed to beat. Having her sight taken away, she relied heavily on her sense of sound to perceive her surroundings. From the noises around her and what her captors have said, she knew she was in boarding area level 100. This where only the most élite Daleks generals stayed and received the worst weapons. Her Doctor was now alone, merely equiped a screwdriver (for heaven's sake!), and was going to walk in and defeat all those villains?! Rhea had learned that the Doctor was the Messiah of worlds and had brought down threats with six simple words. But to single-handed destroy hundreds of furious, dangerous Daleks and come back alive? Rhea's faith fell as the lift's door blasted open.
She may not have seen him walk in, but the Dalek's frantic "EX-TER-MI-NATE!"s told her that the Doctor had arrived. But what she did not hear was the liquid fear in those funny robot voices, the pure, untouched fear in their trembling calls. She could not see that the Doctor was bloodied and battered, his clothes torn and smoking. She couldn't see the rapid rising and falling of his chest as he casually strutted toward the King. But what she did not see - or wanted to, nonetheless - was the murderous expression on his usually beautifully cheeky face. His eyes were lined with black-and-blue marks, their color so bright that the brown was drowned with red. His bleeding lips could not even cover the hateful sneer his mouth made. But what Rhea never, ever, ever saw coming was the small, silver gun in his hand...
...Or the fact that as he came closer, he shot a tiny but fatal bullet through the back of her head.
* Rhea (pronounced REE-ah), Greek goddess of the earth, mother of the Olympians, and wife of Chronos