To Be Continued (A Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter Nine: Magic Man

*Today is the birthday of one of my very good friends. Unfortunately, we are forced to celebrate at his grave, as he commited suicide two years ago. I know the "quota" for votes on the last chapter has not yet been met, but this is for him.*

It's strange to see the things people do on significant days. Oblivious. Completely and utterly oblivious. 

But it's an incorrigible ignorance. A hopeful ignorance. 

Because if so many can happily live their lives without knowledge of the boy who should have been 24 that day, that means there are plenty of painful things I am ignorant to. And that means I was spared.

And for that, I am forever grateful.

But at that moment, I stood at his grave and didn't cry because I still couldn't fathom the fact that he was six feet under my shoes.

I was still waiting for him to pop out & yell "SURPRISE!" like it was just another one of his magic tricks. One that took six years to get to the punchline.

But the wind blew, and the birds chirped, and I just went on staring at a stone with the name "Dylon" on it.

I stood there so long, that eventually, all I could hear was a whirring noise & I was afraid I was about to pass out.

Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder & a man beside me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I stared wide-eyed at the Doctor as his eyes remained fixed on Dylon's tombstone.

"He was your friend." I'm sure it was a question, but he certainly didn't ask it like one. His tone was soft and serious and sorrowful.

We both stared at what remained of my dead best friend: a rock with letters engraved on it.

"Knowing why doesn't help, you know," he reassured me. I panicked, wondering if he could read minds. "The why, the how...the who," he turned his head to look at me, "It hurts all the sam--"

When I turned to him to see why he'd stopped so abruptly, he was staring intently behind us...at a statue of an angel.

It stood at an odd place for a statue. It seemed as though someone had placed it between two headstones about four rows away from where we stood, and its head was turned so that its blank, cement eyes stared...directly at the Doctor and I.

"No," he said, a tear in his eye and a crack in his low, raspy voice.

"No!" he was shouting now, "You WILL NOT have anyone else."

"Doctor?"

"Talia, you need to run. You need to go, now."

"But you only just got her--"

"Talia, do you see that statue, there?" I looked over at the strange angel again, thoroughly confused, and then back at the Doctor.

"Well, yea--"

He looked away from the statue for the first time since he'd noticed it, & looked me right in the eyes. "Look again."

"But wh--"

"LOOK. AGAIN."

I did as he said & gasped. Standing only two yards away was the angel statue, the very one that had been much farther away a moment ago, only now with barred teeth and outstreched arms, reaching toward us.

"Doctor," I whispered,"What is that thing?"

"It's a weeping angel. One of the most dangerous creatures in the universe.  But it cannot move so long as it's being seen."

"What do we do?"

"We don't do a thing. You do as I say and you run."

"But--"

"RUN."

I wanted to punch him. I was not useless & I'll be damned if I let anyone insinuate it.

But the Doctor isn't just anyone, and though I hated following orders, he had never misled me. So, with clenched fists and tear-filled eyes, I turned and ran.

As I ran through the maze of gravestones, i thought about Dylon and I thought about the Doctor and I cried. Because although I may have been the one leaving this time, it was by his hand. In the end, I was always alone.

Everything was more than a bit blurred, but even still I could see it through the tears: another weeping angel, staring me right in the eyes.

*Suicide is never a thing to joke about, or to take lightly. And it most definitely is never an answer. So if you're feeling even a little down & you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. We can fangirl over DW or Sherlock; I know that always makes me happy.*