Fitz never told the Doctor about the fourth time Guernica was destroyed.
It had been a nothingness; a great big nothingness that suddenly resolved itself into a clattering thunder. There were planes; there were retreating troops setting the town alight; it was everything and nothing happening at once, like a film, like a dream.
He glanced over at Sasha, and was shocked at what he saw. The other man was blinking rapidly, in time with each new roar - no, a little ahead of each one. He was conducting a symphony; he was manipulating reality.
Fitz hit him. It seemed the only logical solution at the time. Sasha's glasses were knocked from his face. The world went quiet.
"This isn't real," Sasha said, strangely smaller, more ephemeral, without the wire frames.
"It feels the most real of all," Fitz replied. He reached out a hand, and Sasha took it. They stood up, and walked in silence towards the town.
*
"I didn't mean to use you," Sasha said later. He reached a hand out to Fitz's cheek, touched it gently. They were hunkered down in the remains of a barn, sitting close together in the hay. They were the only ones left; maybe the only ones who had ever existed.
"You're out of time," Sasha continued, but gently, so gently. "Not in the colloquial sense, but the metaphysical, of course."
"Will this start over?" Fitz asked. He shuddered; it was cold. It was cold and Sasha still hadn't put his glasses back on.
Sasha shrugged. "Probably. I'm not an expert, just a bit player. An agent."
"Bit like me," Fitz said, laughing a little. "Why have you stuck with me? What's my role in all this?"
Sasha looked at him, a little sadly. "A pawn, mostly; a useful acquaintance. But intriguing, too. I couldn't leave you behind."
Sasha reached out his hand again, and leaned in as well. Fitz froze. Sasha's hand was on his waist and his mouth was there by his own and the world was shivering, taking great big lungfuls of air like Fitz was, trying to keep from drowning, trying to stay afloat.
Sasha smelled like dirt and musty hay and blood and the unknown, in many senses of the word. Sasha's eyes were dark and faraway. Fitz took a breath again as they connected. The world stopped -
- they kissed like long-lost lovers, reunited at last, hands and lips and bodies colliding through space -
- they watched in horror as the universe rejected them, wind rushing in their ears, wiping their connection out of history -
- Fitz's eyes opened wide as Sasha merely breathed gently onto his lips, a sigh, a regret, and it was over -
*
They were heading home. Sasha picked up his glasses from the ground and carefully put them back on his face, balanced on his nose. The world became more focused for everyone; Fitz shook his head.
"Don't speak for a moment," Sasha said quietly. "Get your bearings. Only one is real. Your choice which one."
"What?" Fitz hadn't caught what Sasha had said. His ears were still ringing, his head still buzzing with three realities, and a shadow, a creeping sensation of something terrifyingly large in the fourth.
Sasha smiled; it was wide and harmless. "We walk now, my friend," he said, slapping Fitz on the back.
Fitz smiled back. The light reflected off Sasha's glasses, threw shadows against the ground.
Fitz/Sasha (History 101)
Fitz never told the Doctor about the fourth time Guernica was destroyed.
It had been a nothingness; a great big nothingness that suddenly resolved itself into a clattering thunder. There were planes; there were retreating troops setting the town alight; it was everything and nothing happening at once, like a film, like a dream.
He glanced over at Sasha, and was shocked at what he saw. The other man was blinking rapidly, in time with each new roar - no, a little ahead of each one. He was conducting a symphony; he was manipulating reality.
Fitz hit him. It seemed the only logical solution at the time. Sasha's glasses were knocked from his face. The world went quiet.
"This isn't real," Sasha said, strangely smaller, more ephemeral, without the wire frames.
"It feels the most real of all," Fitz replied. He reached out a hand, and Sasha took it. They stood up, and walked in silence towards the town.
*
"I didn't mean to use you," Sasha said later. He reached a hand out to Fitz's cheek, touched it gently. They were hunkered down in the remains of a barn, sitting close together in the hay. They were the only ones left; maybe the only ones who had ever existed.
"You're out of time," Sasha continued, but gently, so gently. "Not in the colloquial sense, but the metaphysical, of course."
"Will this start over?" Fitz asked. He shuddered; it was cold. It was cold and Sasha still hadn't put his glasses back on.
Sasha shrugged. "Probably. I'm not an expert, just a bit player. An agent."
"Bit like me," Fitz said, laughing a little. "Why have you stuck with me? What's my role in all this?"
Sasha looked at him, a little sadly. "A pawn, mostly; a useful acquaintance. But intriguing, too. I couldn't leave you behind."
Sasha reached out his hand again, and leaned in as well. Fitz froze. Sasha's hand was on his waist and his mouth was there by his own and the world was shivering, taking great big lungfuls of air like Fitz was, trying to keep from drowning, trying to stay afloat.
Sasha smelled like dirt and musty hay and blood and the unknown, in many senses of the word. Sasha's eyes were dark and faraway. Fitz took a breath again as they connected. The world stopped -
- they kissed like long-lost lovers, reunited at last, hands and lips and bodies colliding through space -
- they watched in horror as the universe rejected them, wind rushing in their ears, wiping their connection out of history -
- Fitz's eyes opened wide as Sasha merely breathed gently onto his lips, a sigh, a regret, and it was over -
*
They were heading home. Sasha picked up his glasses from the ground and carefully put them back on his face, balanced on his nose. The world became more focused for everyone; Fitz shook his head.
"Don't speak for a moment," Sasha said quietly. "Get your bearings. Only one is real. Your choice which one."
"What?" Fitz hadn't caught what Sasha had said. His ears were still ringing, his head still buzzing with three realities, and a shadow, a creeping sensation of something terrifyingly large in the fourth.
Sasha smiled; it was wide and harmless. "We walk now, my friend," he said, slapping Fitz on the back.
Fitz smiled back. The light reflected off Sasha's glasses, threw shadows against the ground.
Requests: Eight/Sabbath, Nine/Sabbath, Rosita/Ten